The coast-less coastal path

It’s another sunny day, but it’s Sunday and parking Agy on a sunny day at the seaside isn’t always easy, so we decided to do a bit more coastal path, this time in the other direction. The path cuts straight through the campsite not far behind our pitch, in fact it goes directly behind the posh pitches. The flat gravel, with all your services on hand: water, waste disposal and your own electric point pitches, not this shared facility on grass with a slight slope that we have (to be fair we have our own electric hook up, but we share the post). I think I’d rather have ours, away from the fairly frequent walkers.

So off we go, away from the coast, but following the signs, down the lane and over the first stile. It’s a really rutted route from the tractor tracks, and on a rainy day this would be a quagmire, for us it’s just a potential ankle breaker. One again we are all alone except for the swifts. They are dancing, circling, sweeping down to drink from the puddles, calling to each other.  It’s years since I've seen them and it’s a wonderful sight. However, every so often we hear another sound – gunfire!

That is a tad concerning as we are trotting across the fields, but this is definitely the path. We pray they aren’t shooting at us and keep going. Several fields and lots of tempting blackberrys later we reach the road. This coastal path is a little deceitful.  As we head down the lane, criss-crossing to avoid certain death on the tight blind corners, we meet fellow walkers who overtake. They seem to be on a mission, rather than our amble. About half way to our final destination on the planned walk we come across the Sportsman’s rest. A pub, with inviting outside tables and it would be rude not to support the local economy, so in we go, masks on.

Why we hadn’t thought about it, I have no idea, but they are serving Sunday lunch and lots of locals are in… a good sign. Roast it is then!

We decide to sit outside and our fellow walkers are at the adjacent table. As always seems to happen, we get chatting, they are here on holiday walking the coastal path, the whole thing in a week, so yes, on a mission. They have a destination much further than ours and a cab waiting to take them to a B&B, so they just have a drink and on they go. Full of absolutely delicious lunch there is no chance of going further, we are far too full to walk miles, may as well head back. Sorry, no photo, too busy eating and wasp wafting.  

On the way back we spot a windsock, just a windsock, in the middle of a field. Nothing else. On closer inspection there’s a grass strip mowed into the field, a very short one, so not for aircraft, but clearly a runway.

With the swifts gone and the gunshots ringing we arrive back at the final stile, spot a huge bird of prey, but have no idea what it is – I need my brother for that, he knows his birds (so to speak) and we are back, happy, full and curious.  A quick google later and we discover a Reserve Forces MOD 'Danger Area' with a light arms firing range explains the gunshots and lack of coast for this stretch of the path. 

We’re far too full for a proper tea, so as you do, I rustle up some home made brownies and serve them hot with a choc ice – don’t judge, it’s what we had available!