At low tide the Gannel looked positively prehistoric with mud-flats and the remains of ancient trees, etc., but soon opened out into a glorious sandy estuary with not a soul to be seen, except for me. Gawd, it was as if I owned the place.
Sand, sand and moresand, in the shape of beaches and dunes, now dominated the landscape and made for some very heavy running and walking and I suppose it was inevitable that I was going to be caught in another tsunami, this time at the northern end of Perranporth's famously long beach. No shelter of any kind but at least I was able to grit my teeth with all the sand that was being blasted around me.
However, it was while descending one of the mountainous dunes that I came across a lithesome young lass running up in the opposite direction. She repeated this performance, passing me several times before I enquired of her coach at the bottom of the dune as to the purpose of her training. She only happened to be one of Britain's leading young athlete's, having just returned from Europe with her Juniors' 5K silver medal and a very promising career in front of her.The people you bump into on the coast path.......
Eventually the welcoming "Landmark" at the entrance to Portreath harbour sailed into view as did the welcoming arms of the beloved Patricia. (She won't like this for one moment!).Strange to relate that the weather had improved markedly and brought about our best afternoon of the saga to date, but the effects of trudging across the endless sands, ascending and descending giant dunes was beginning to play havoc with my wounded achilles and drop-out groin. "We're duned, we're duned!" I heard someone cry from afar but they were never seen again.(Corr blimey the noo, who's writing this script?). And so to bed.