We started with a lovely view from the hotel.

We walked back through Looe.

Past houses with boats on the walls, go figure.

Then the inevitable car dodging started again.

This was a special variety of car dodging, because as you can see in the picture above, Mark is walking on a track beside the road, so in theory, no dodging was required. What you have to look more closely for though, is the little gap in the verge, on the other side of the road. What you can’t see is that approximately 1 metre in front of Mark, the track gives out. So this is where we had to cross over and rejoin the track on the other side of the road. We lost count of how many times we had to dodge cars by crossing the road on blind bends, just because someone decided it was a genius idea to run a track, in segments no longer than 1km at a time, down alternating sides of the road.

Eventually we got off the main road and employed our best car dodging skills on quiet country lanes. This requires a lot of listening skills for traffic approaching from ahead or behind, given the number of blind bends and summits we routinely come across. We’ve gotten very good at detecting car noises, which is not always easy if the wind is blowing; a stream is nearby; a plane goes overhead; there’s a main road nearby or, in today’s case, a giant hedge strimmer is being driven up and down the field next to us for a solid half hour. Fun times….

Anyway, we managed to stay alive long enough to see the seasons changing in the fields around us, reminding us that Halloween is just round the corner.

The lanes got narrower and more beautiful.

Until they got ankle twistingly uncomfortable to walk on and we just swore at loose stones for a few km.

Then we hit the ferry to Fowey, which as Mark described is a ferry that costs £3 per person, to go across a river that you can literally throw a stone across to the other shore.

To avoid any thoughts that we may have cheated by taking another ferry, I have evidence that Mark made us walk continuously on this ferry too.

In Fowey we promised ourselves Cornish ice cream, but then we met a lobster roll truck. We’re still pining for the food truck run by Cafe Mor that we found in Pembrokeshire over 10 years ago, which makes the most incredible crab and lobster rolls. Their butter is made with Welsh lava seaweed and the baps seemed to have been made from clouds they were so soft and huge. The food truck in Fowey has very delicious lobster rolls, but they are expensive and small, so the hunt for the perfect lobster roll continues as the Cafe Mor food truck has since closed. The cider and the sunshine went well with the lobster though.

At least Fowey is a place where cars have to watch out for pedestrians, not  the other way around.

It’s also a place where you can buy tea towels with seaweed art on them.

However pretty they are, this tells me something very wrong about Fowey, backed up by this photo as well.

This photo shows three cottages in a row of many in the same street that show one of two things: either the vast majority of people who live in Fowey keep forgetting their keys or dropping them off the ferry into the river, so they put a coded key box outside their home or no one actually lives in Fowey permanently at all.

No resident wakes up in Fowey, makes breakfast and when it comes to washing up the dishes, thinks, “wow, this tea towel needs replacing, but I should do so with a pure linen one that has artsy seaweed prints on it at an extortionate cost.” There are no Screwfix like shops in Fowey where you can buy a jigsaw to help make acoustic panels with your son. It’s not a real town outside of holiday season. A lot of the places we have seen in Cornwall have the same vibe and it’s a shame that they don’t have a community vibe.

So with the expensive holiday village behind us we walked towards the vast and much less expensive looking holiday village in Par. Par seems to be a strange combination of a mineral mining company and a trailer park, with both parties involved in a legal dispute with each other. It’s pure charm. Maybe they should get each other some screen printed linen tea towels to smooth things over.

The final section of the walk was very cool in some places – I love how stone walls have their own in-built stiles.

In other places it was cool, but only by virtue of the fact that we were walking a metre away from the edge of an exposed cliff in a strong wind.

This is the point where Mark realised we could alternatively just walk across the golf course adjacent to the cliff edge and avoid the skinny little scary path. This is the second golf course we’ve walked past located right on a cliff. Perhaps it’s the only dangerous thing golfers get to do that puts their balls in jeopardy. We didn’t manage to avoid the golfers though, who helpfully stopped us walking across the 6th tee and told us where the path was.

This, again, is the only photo I could take of the path when I wasn’t clinging to Mark’s hand. Wouldn’t have let go of that for the world though. Who else would ask me to Google how many people in the UK get hit by golf balls each year.

Distance – 31.2km, less than 100km to go. Don’t want to jinx it, but the end is in sight.