Bye Doc Martin hello Boscastle ,Alfie’s journey continues.

Alfie hadn’t quite loved the great outdoors as much as he had convinced himself and his constant tossing and turning in the night had not lessened his lumber pain either.Anyways,Alfie knew that the sea air always woke him and as the tide was out he would take a walk around the Port before breakfast.

7 in the morning represented a civilised time around here for the fishermen who would already have been up hours ago to catch the tide and inspect their pots or put down their nets.This part of the North coast up to Tintagel and around Trebarwith could throws up its surprises with the weather changing by the minute and you had to be on the alert.Before the days on on board radar on the bigger points and sat nav you really had to know your part of the coast as danger was ever present.Alfie realised that smelling danger had stood him in good stead during his life and his sixth sense had saved him on more than one occasion.As he walked to the furthest point of Port Isaac,he realised that the drawn curtains in many of the properties were a sign of the new sedentary nature of the place.People had retired here,and had made the place their home,and kept the local economy afloat which could only be good for the place.Alfie knew that the indigenous Cornish would always struggle as there wasn’t enough jobs for the locals to go around,and many young people had no choice but to leave places like Port Isaac,Tintagel,Camelford,and the like just to make a living.They understood it,but their families struggled wth the displacement of their loved ones and that was just how things developed really.

Well,looking at his watch,he saw that it was now 8,so he headed off with his trusty canine companion to the pub for his breakfast which had always been his favourite meal of the day.

He was set up with this very traditional fare,and he did think that he had had one too many cups of tea,but there you have it,it’s the way of us Cornish,or many of us,we would all suck a tea bag if we needed to.So,departing at around 9:30,he headed towards Boscastle which would be his first walking goal of the day.

He had memories of this beautiful part of the Cornish Coast,and he registered in his mind that he had spent many a happy time cycling around here while he worked in the quarry during his summer holidays.Being away from his home village of St Columb Rd which was say 20 odd miles away,it seemed ,to him,at least,the other side of the county.He indulged his memories as was his muse for a while as a distraction for the severity of the terrace n.Around here,you really had to be fit and while Alfie was an active man ,and one who would walk ,abbé 10 miles per day,he wasn’t as fit as he would have led himself to believe.Now,the adventure of walking form Porth Island,Newquay,to Bude with all its Roma tic is more was beginning to bite him,as the realities of the u forgiving terrain of the coastline was truly sinking in.His walking boots,chosen with this trip in mind were coming in handy and although the £150 they cost hurt Alfie’s pocket at the time,he was now pleased that he had purchased them as they were really coming into their own now.

He hadn’t charged his mobile phone either as the rustic nature of his previous nights sleeping arrangements had meant that the lack of a hostelry with a vacant room left him with his 3rd generation phone struggling to deliver what he really needed now,but that was a conversation to have at another time now.His meandering s a few days ago along the Camel trail were now distant memories,now this about real and tough walking with all his faculties being employed.

From what appeared like hours of almost mountainous walking,Alfie’s resolve was now really tested.With rain coming in from the East and the wind pushing him in the opposite direction,Alfie was now having second  thoughts about the wisdom of this trip.Obviously,it was no good now while he was where he was,he just had to dig in and get climb .As he did so,he thought of how he had let himself go a little,how he had just lost his fitness over the years,and maybe got sidetracked with the big themes in life,but his health had suffered into the bargain.As he now knew that it was his responsibility to look after his health,he was now doing something about it.

As he looked at the time,it was now just before twelve,and he had made steady progress and he was now getting closer to Boscastle.He knew that when he got there that he must get to the Kings arms as there would be a room there surely.Boscastle was popular in the season,but in the winter,it would be deserted,so he was confident of finding a bed for the night.

Just the thought of seeing Stan the Man at the arms spurred him on.Alfie had emailed Stan the man a few weeks ago so he was expected.Stan the man had been around Boscastle  for a few decades,and Stan had been a fixture in the life of this very small Cornish town.As Alfie entered Boscastle,he was exhausted,totally spent ,but happy to have reached his goal for the day.

Alfie’s stay with Stan the man would be the subject of separate blog post.

Kernowsmith.

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