Bude to Upton and back again (4.7 miles, 101m ascent) (in which we see a Escherian surfer and a demonstration of Brownian motion)

Our guest house provided a breakfast to match the opulence of the room, and we took on board enough energy to tackle a mountain marathon. Unfortunately, we weren’t tackling a mountain marathon – in fact what we were doing today would quite literally be a walk in the park compared with yesterday’s “hardest section of the coast path. The purpose of our trip had been to walk from Barnstaple to Bude. Due to the distribution of accommodation we’d done it in four days rather than our allocated five, but had got into Bude far too late on the fourth day to head home. It would actually take quite a large amount of today to get home anyway; a bus to Exeter, then a train to Bristol, then another train to our parents at Chippenham, and finally the 80-mile drive home from there. But we still had a bit of the morning free before our 11:30am bus and didn’t want to waste it, so we decided a short walk was in order. It seemed a shame not to do a bit of the coast path while we were here, and we decided that we’d get as far south as we could before returning to Bude via a shorter inland route.

Our guest house was actually located in Flexbury, which seemed to be a detached northern suburb of Bude. We had a short walk to get into Bude itself, and took the coastal route rather than the shorter inland route from a sense of propriety. Rejoining the coast path at Crooklets, exactly where we’d left it yesterday, we followed it behind some beachfront buildings and soon emerged onto Summerleaze Down. This park-like grass slope was filled with dozens of wooden seats, oddly spaced at regular intervals across the hillside as if to make sure that no-one had to sit too close to anyone else, and no-one was blocking anyone else’s view. Near the top of the slope was something looking exactly the same shape, size and colour as a trig point – and yet it wasn’t marked on the OS map. Excitedly we ran (actually, given the heavy rucksacks, we probably lumbered) up to it, thinking that perhaps we’d found a new one, unknown to anyone other than the scores of Bude residents who come and sit up here each day. Unfortunately it turned out to just be a small monument celebrating Summerleaze Down, but we were sure a trig point cast had been used in its construction – it was identical.

Summerleaze Down curved round into Bude Haven (the mouth of the River Neet) and soon into Bude itself. Our initial impression of Bude coming from this direction was not good; it looked grubby and run-down as we descended on a busy road to the river. A typical surfer (baggy trousers, woolly hat, long blonde hair) passed us on a skateboard the size and shape of a small surfboard, standing in a most unconventional posture – feet together, facing forward and talking into his mobile phone. He looked bored rigid – presumably because the road wasn’t rearing up in white horses and trying to throw him onto a beach – and appeared to be paying almost no attention to where his board was taking him.

We had trouble crossing the little footbridge over the Neet – mainly because our path was blocked by an entire schoolclass carrying canoes. Eventually their teacher (who looked little older than the kids themselves) marshalled them to let us through and we strode bravely forth into what appeared to be the old centre of Bude. Our initial impressions were swept away – this part of Bude, set on an island between the river and canal, is actually a rather pretty collection of older buildings. One oddity to look out for is a huge multicoloured spike outside the council offices, obviously some attempt at modern art.

Emerging at the Bude canal is a bit strange – it’s not often you see a canal that emerges direct into the sea. Normally they enter a river first. You look one way and see a classic English canal, locks and all, whilst looking the other way reveals the wide sandy bay of Bude Haven. Whilst both images are quintessentially English, they somehow don’t sit well together. Slightly unnerved, we rushed to cross the canal at the lock, only to find our way blocked by another party of schoolchildren. These ones bore large fishing nets. School lessons in Bude seemed rather fun!

There’s only a few pretty houses the other side of the canal before you leave Bude and start to climb gentle grassy downland towards Compass Point. Almost immediately you see a squat tower; this is the Storm Tower, an octagonal folly whose sides represent the points of the compass. You can step inside, and the windows offer views out to sea and along the coast. Dominant on the northern horizon were the satellite dishes and giant Mexican we’d passed yesterday. Outside the tower a chap was playing a most unfair game of fetch with his dog – he would throw the ball downhill, so it bounced and ran twice as far as normal. He excused himself by saying his dog liked exercise whilst he didn’t.

The path continued to ascend gently towards the trig point on Efford Beacon. The landscape felt so genteel after yesterday’s steep ascents that we started to pick up a hell of a pace. It wasn’t long before we came to the hamlet of Upton, the furthest south we could realistically go on the coast path if we to make it back in time for our bus. We reluctantly turned inland, and followed a tiny minor road across to the Bude canal, which we would follow back into town. We sadly reflected that five days was just enough to get you up to full physical fitness on the coast path, and by the time we returned in a year or two’s time we would be just unfit enough to suffer again.

We were cheered up by the sight of what was apparently the comedian Bill Bailey, moonlighting as a canoe instructor. The children in his care were taking no notice of him at all, and were bouncing off each other’s canoes and the canal banks in seemingly random movements. We were reminded of the diagrams of Brownian Motion from our physics lessons at school.

On the flat canal towpath we were able to go even faster, and the GPS was soon registering an average speed of 3.6 mph – the fastest of the whole holiday, and most impressive with heavy rucksacks. Jim even ditched the stick that he’d used since day 2, saying it was no help to his knees on the flat and was just slowing him up in our headlong charge for the bus. So it was that we arrived back in Bude about 45 minutes to early for the bus, just in time to see the surfer on the skateboard pass us again. He was still in the same position on the board, still talking on his mobile phone, and still gently cruising along without giving the board any further impetus. Given that he had clearly not changed position in the last hour or more, we could only assume that, in defiance of all the laws of physics, he had somehow found a route around town that was downhill all the way around. M C Escher would be delighted…

So, another 60 miles accomplished. It had been a varied 5 days walking; the first day and a half of estuarine path had been pretty dismal. It’s a real shame there’s no ferry across the Taw estuary. With the exception of Clovelly itself, the section between Westward Ho! and Harland Point had been fairly average too. But from Hartland Point to Bude the landscape had been spectacular and I’d recommend it to anyone – but make sure you get fit first. I’d once again be leaving the coast path with many happy memories, and a steely determination to return and (gradually!) complete it…