A Crackington Day

With the ice melted - yesterday, we had gone to the bother of collecting a bucket full of grit from the new container in the village; a sure sign that the weather would sort itself out - and with a clear drive, we set off today for our intended jaunt to Crackington Haven.

The tide was in, so extensive beach romping wasn't possible, but it was good enough for sandwiches (blue cheese, chicken and salad cream), a flask of tea and a walk along the coast path to Cam Draught.

Whilst on the beach we'd seen a group of youngsters going for a swim in wetsuits. We thought they were brave. But as we' were climbing out of Crackington we looked back to see a family, possibly people from the same group, entering the sea in swiming costumes. I'd go on at this point about relative temperatures between the water and air, but you'd just get bored. We thought they were bloody stupid.

Here's one of me in the AJP overlooking Crackington.

Cam Draught is a deep combe that forms the bottom of a sharp rise up to the cliffs. From its most northerly point, running south,it  forms a sharp shoulder of rising ground beyond which is Cam Beak, a suspicious looking peninsular with a rocky crown. Why suspicious? Well, mostly because it's got a limited approach, a discernable boundary or enclosure and it conforms with the Cam name that is prevalent in the area. It's not Camelot, of course, so don't get any ideas, but it's worth a look around. Not today though, because the weather, perhaps disappointed that it'd done away with the ice and snow, had something else in mind.

That something was an incoming shower which hastened the return journey. At one point - a very fleeting point - I thought we'd beat it, but that hope was dashed pretty quickly. I could clearly see the white-caps raised up on the water approaching and by the time we were descending into Crackington we were being pushed along by stinging sleet. Polite as I am, I stood off from the path to make room for a middle-aged couple going the wrong way with two small dogs in tow.

The woman muttered, as she passed me, " ... I can't think why we're doing this now."

Ten minutes later, as we were sipping the final strains of tea inside the car, we saw them come back, stow the wet dogs in their 4 X 4 and run back to the nearby cafe. We were too wet and cold to laugh for long.