by which I do not mean the naughty stuff.
I mean of course the traditional Cornish fishing vessel. I spotted one out at sea from the (steep) road going down to Portloe.
About to tackle the climb back up I noticed the Jasmine was coming in. Any excuse to put off a climb and I went back down to the tiny harbour …
After this I must have had a rush of blood to the head as I decided to walk the coast path from Portloe to Portholland, only 1¾ miles. My excuse for such a rash decision is that the contour lines are so close together on the map that they appear to be a single line. I’m not sure yet of my excuse for ignoring –
a) the time on the hottest day of the year so far (11.30am)
b) the weight of my full camera back pack
c) my age and state of decrepitude
I was totally unaware of the overgrow of undergrowth on the middle, permissive path, third of the walk. (Landowners must allow walkers use of traditional footpaths but are not obliged to maintain them.) The bracken was taller than me and despite quite a few walkers using the path it was almost indiscernible at times; forget the stick a machete would have been more use. I emerged nettle stung and exhausted, 1½ miles having taken an hour.
Before I took the final ¼ mile descent down into Portholland I made the (sensible) decision to forego whatever pleasures it may hold (what goes down must come back up). I therefore turned left rather than right and pursued the bridle path along the top of the cliffs before using the footpath (well maintained) across the fields, 4 of clover and 1 of maize, back to the site.
I almost wished for smack – and not the traditional Cornish fishing vessel type …