A misty start as we said cheerio to Cornwall and hello to Devon. The mist burnt off pretty fast, leaving us with a glorious September day – though perhaps just a tad too warm for grinding up Cornwall’s long steady hills – and the uphills last so very much longer than the downhills. But there’s a definite joy in getting enough speed up on a downhill to carry you up the next spot of uphill.
We ate a late lunch at a churchyard in North Tawton – churchyards always being fine spots for picnics: grassy and quiet, and you can’t help but feel the dead are glad of the company.
We carried on to Nomansland, where I now write from my tent, with the sound of a daddy-longlegs fluttering against the… heck, what are tents made of now… well, fluttering against whatever it may be.