Looe to Lansallos walk

The long weekend was over. We had all driven down to Wayne's school in Looe the evening before to drop in his school clothes to be ready for him after cycling in to school. However, Wayne's school keys could no longer get him past the alarms. (This school does not encourage teachers coming in after hours.) Foiled, we had a little look at the sea and a stroll around the rocks before driving home. Wayne would need the car in the morning after all.

Since the weather continued so fine, I got Wayne to drop me off in Looe the next morning so I could walk along the coastal path. I arranged for Wayne to pick me up in a village called Lansallos after school, and off I went. This time I had an ordnance map with me. It served me in good stead almost immediately after I had left Looe for the fields and cliffs beyond. I knew there was a celtic chapel site nearby, but the sign just vaguely pointed up an extremely steep hill with no path. Ha! The faithful map indicated a gentler climb to the northwest, and sure enough I soon came upon the site. It was very high up, with a good view over Looe Island straight ahead, and the town to the left. It was a shimmering, still day and the water was very blue. The priest must have felt very close to God here.

I had bought along a little tripod, clingy thing for the camera. Unfortunately, the sun and the slope made a photo of the chapel site impossible. Indeed, the lack of trees or fences made it hard to find somewhere to attach the camera. I did find a fence for this one though! Jumper and windcheater were already stuffed in my pack. It was supposed to be 14 degrees, but it was very warm walking. I suppose I could have broken out the shorts, but since there were a lot of stinging nettles and gorse bushes close to the path in many places, I was happy to stick to my jeans.

From Looe to Talland Bay I had the path to myself for these few miles. Talland Bay to Polperro was a different story. Wayne and I had walked along here before. It is only a little over a mile, and extremely beautiful. Quite a few people were walking along here, mostly the leisured retired. "Go ahead, you have youth on your side," said one lady. Ha! Not often I feel young nowadays!

Bluebells are out now, joining the mouse-ear and celandine and gorse that dominated the walk. There was also plenty of three-cornered leek, and a strong smell of garlic where someone had trimmed the verges. The gorse flowers smelt like coconut oil, but instead of that background tinge of sweat you associate with summer there was the lightest hint of honey. Lovely!

This time I stopped for a photo at the war memorial cross. I got a retired gent to take these photos, and then I did the honours for his walking party. We had a little chat. Further on another couple commented on the summer house someone had somehow built halfway up a cliff. A talkative lot of walkers today! Soon I was in pretty Polperro.

I pottered around the town a while before seeking out some lunch. I went into a place called something like 'The house on props', because indeed several large dark beams held up a portion of the place over a stream. I had to sit at a table over this bit, and hoped that it wouldn't all collapse. I had mussel chowder, piled high with many mussels in their shells. It took ages to winkle them all out and actually get to the soup. That, and home-made bread, was delicious.

Much refreshed, I headed off on the last stretch. A guide-book had said this bit was 'strenuous', and indeed it was down one steep slope and up another in several parts. What the book didn't say was 'dangerous'. The paths were narrow, and there were very steep drops down to the rocks and sea, with no fences. I was glad the children weren't here. (Jack seems to have about 3 left feet at the moment. Ugh.) My nastiest moment was when my right hand, outstretched for balance, brushed a gorse bush and got prickled badly at a very steep place. Thank goodness I not only kept my feet but kept my exclamations to a few sharp 'ouches' (there were some people right behind me). In between tricky stretches, I admired the field forget-me-nots.

Eventually I reached Lantivet Bay. I then headed inland to Lansallos. I had walked 13 kilometres, and the last kilometre stretch was all uphill. Groan! But it was very pretty, with trees arching overhead. These have finally got leaves, a lace mantle of light green. The path ended at an old church. I wasn't too sorry to have to sit on a bench for a while and wait for Wayne to come and pick me up.