I have that strange swirling confusion of waking up in the middle of the day. Storks of long grass nod their heads close to my face. I rub my eyes. I’ve probably been asleep 5 or 10 minutes. It’s never any longer when I sleep in the day. Strange images flutter around my consciousness like ghostly butterflies. Was dad there? I think so. He appears in my dreams more often these days. The path is between my feet again waiting patiently like a loyal dog. Oh if only I had a dog to tramp with!
The days are long when I sleep out. Is this why I keep on stopping for a snooze? Who knows and who cares? I can sleep when I want and where I want.
I have been drifting while I walk too. Long distance walking is a type of meditation. I lost a whole section before I dozed off. I do remember a father and his two teenage children stopping near where I slept. The teenagers had big rucksacks covered in orange waterproof covers. I’ve seen many coast path walkers with similar gear.
Dad did do a bit of the coast path with me: around the isle of Purbeck. We had a pint and Caribbean hot wings near Corfe Castle afterwards.
I am near Trenow Cove. I’m heading north west round Mount’s Bay. Coming up on my left is St Michael’s Mount, the tidal island and monastery. It’s the brother monastery to Mont Saint-Michel and is a similar shape but smaller.
According to Wikipedia ‘Edward the Confessor gifted the site to the Benedictine order of Mont Saint-Michel’. It would have been sometime before 1066 but many historians now dispute this.
I would love to go but I know it’ll be teeming today and I need to get beyond Penzance before nightfall.
Soon after I am walking up a hill to the road into Marazion. As I go through a gate I spot the father and kids again.
‘Good sleep?’ he says to me with a big smile.
‘Lovely thanks.’
Marazion is heaving. I need energy so I stop at the pub and have a cream tea. The causeway across to St Michael’s Mount is visible. It’s low tide. People are streaming across. I can see the silhouette of the hill leading steeply to the entrance of the monastery. A line of matchstick people wait along the spine of the hill. Definitely move on.
From Marazion a huge expanse of beach curves at least 3 or 4 miles round to Penzance. The sun shines hard on the sea surface creating the dazzle of sea glitter. A road and rail track both follow the great crescent of sand around the bay. The dark green train that has arrived from London Paddington is just pulling in to its final stop. This is the end of the line and almost the end of the land.
I must have walked at least sixteen or seventeen miles today. I don’t feel sore but I have the stiffness and mental tiredness that comes from being out all day in the sea air and not having had much sleep the night before.
When I arrive in Penzance it is after 7. I had planned to walk out of town again tonight so I could sleep out but after dinner I realise it’s getting too late. Everywhere is fully booked but a few roads up from the station a white sign says ‘vacancies’. I manage to get a double for sixty pounds. For once I’m really grateful.
The Slow Walker 