Everyone in the world loves kittens, cookies and dolphins. Well actually everyone but me. Kittens kind of freak me out. And dolphins terrify me. Yup they actually terrify me. I know. I guess it’s the fin like presence that reminds me of a shark. It’s the sudden appearance on the water that scares the shit out of me. So I am still getting used to their presence in the water. Anyway back to the point.
From Newquay, the expedition changed. We were all getting into a routine and actually eating a normal amount. When you are supporting someone, their needs are first. You forget to eat and drink and the team were starting to actually look after themselves as well.
From this point on, we were on an endurance adventure. The perfect balance between endurance and adventure with an early and late tide. We moored in idyllic coves, cooked marshmallows on campfires, filmed, swam, photographed, kayaked, visited King Arthur’s castle, caught fish, built campfires, fixed the rib, played crazy golf, swam more, explored secret coves, collected items for the hoarder, swam in private pools.
On day 12, we reached Hartland Quay from Welcome Mouth (yes it is actually called that?!). After some cider and pork scratchings in a very cool fisherman’s pub, we headed to the beach to cook our fish and marshmallows on a fire. After we were full and ready for bed, we got ready to leave and realised, we were going nowhere. Camping on a beach sounds idyllic and it is when you have more than some netting to use as a blanket. Owain’s shoes melted underneath. My jacket was covered in burn holes as we practically slept in the fire. But while I was freezing, I loved it. How often do city slickers get to eat their freshly caught fish on the fire, washed down with some wine and marshmallows and then curl up in front of the fire with Medusa’s hair for a blanket? Not often. And that’s exactly what we did.
After our beach antics, we reached Clovelly. A pedestrian only village. The perfect location for a cult. Privately owned, this little cobbled place is perched on a hill and can only be reached by foot or boat. And it was the perfect end point before a weekend off. What we were going to do without each other for three days, was a scary thought. But off we went. Filled with cream teas and cider.
We are getting into the swing of things. Getting the ‘child’ ready at every moment of the day is a full-time job. I feel like a mother in training. He bleets when he wants something. I pick up after him. I wash his urine covered clothes. I’m joking. (sort of) He’s a very well behaved child but I am in training. And I kept the baby monitor with me at all times over the weekend.