Day 29 Fri 30th Sept Lulworth to Swanage

A break at Kimmeridge

And as the mini heatwave continues to burn us all to a frazzle, September exits stage right with the guiltiest of expressions, having  wrecked havoc amongst South West weather forecasters throughout the month. But the morning had an element of spice injected into it when Radio Solent shocked the nation with a live interview of Jack and his mad- cap ideas.

But, not to be undone, the intrepid duo continued their progress eastwardly from Lulworth, hotly pursued by exploding shells and bullets until we were in sight of the final citadel of Swanage. With only 7.6 miles left until we cross the finishing line (in front of the Royal Box), it was time to call it a day and reflect  on the ups and downs of the last four weeks.

Roger and Joan produced the most enormous pasta, capable of awakening the dead and certain to account for a few more minutes off the final of Jack's dashes. The euphoria of completion is certain to be tinged by elements of sadness and wistfulness but this will be the subject of tomorrow's  illuminating blog. And so to bed.

Day 28: Thurs 29th Sept Langton Herring to Lulworth

Portland Bill

Heat haze over Chesil Bank

 On yet another magnificent Mediterranean-type morning I was able to set off with a spring in my step whilst dragging the other step behind me in a show of petulent non co-operation. The quads injury (of week 1) had now returned to haunt me with a vengance and grew in intensity the further I tried to walk or run.

The first task was to fight off the colossal biblical-like swarms of daddy long-legs that were hi-jacking every thing that moved around the Chesil Beach banks, man or beast. There were thousands of them forming huge dust clouds and determined to take no prisoners. No way were they a threat but they didn't half make you run /limp fast to avoid them.

The September sun now really had his hat on and Portland was beginning to look like a Bank Holiday centre for geriatrics as they, too, came out in their thousands to swarm all over the "island". Again I made good progress but this time I carried no rucksack as Pat was able to supply all my survival needs from the car. Sad to relate however that the progress gradually ground to a near halt as the forces of evil, in the shape of the aforementioned quads muscle,took over the control of my right knee. However, the new product on the market, "Son of Paracetamol", waded in to provide pain relief until I was able to see yet another physiotherapist (my fourth of the campaign) back on the mainland.

Once again, my continuation in the project appeared to be very much in the hands of Fifi la Fizz and it wasn't long before she slapped and tickled me through the pain barrier. Thanks to her intervention, I was soon reconstructed and very much looking forward to tomorrow, the penultimate day of the whole exercise.

Our last 'home' on this adventure is now with Roger and Joan, so many thanks due to them.
Tune in to dashing Jack's blog and discover for yourself whether the spoils of the victor will be delivered to moi or whether the injury vodoo will strike again..............And so to bed.


ps from Pat

Delighted to see anyone on Saturday who is able to turn up for his Lordships return.  South Haven Point, the official end of the South West Coastal Path, is right by the Studland end of the Sandbanks to South Haven Ferry. There is an NT car park and we'll grab a spot on the beach nearby. Hope he'll finish between 12 and 1pm so bring a picnic.

Day 27: Wed. 28th Sept Lyme Regis to Langton Herring

3 lovely supporters - Burton Bradstock

What a difference a day makes!Gone were the mist and fog. Gone were the low temperatures and gone were the grey, grey skies and seas. In their place summer had returned with an astonishing array  of clear horizons, balmy breezes and dazzling turquoise seas .

For me, the weather was perfect and much progress was made as I galloped along the Path at breathtaking speed from Lyme to Langton, conquering the mighty Golden Cap en route. Hands up all those who have read the book, "Moonfleet", a classic tale of smugglers' nefarious deeds located in the heart of Chesil Beach country. It was compulsive reading when I was at school a thousand years ago. Mind you, they never had exploits extending to cliff-top runners and their mad sport.

Once more, there were other fresh air fanatics on the Path only too pleased to learn about G.O.S.H and only too ready to donate there and then to the hospital funds. We were also united again with our very close buddies, Margaret and Jill who scoured the summit of Golden Cap amazed by the enormous dust cloud being generated by dashing Jack shortly after crossing the Devon/Dorset border. All now seems set for Saturday's final fling when I hope to spring across the burning sands of Studland beach around 1 pm, weather and injuries permitting. And so to bed.

Day 26 Tues 27th Sept Budleigh Salterton to Lyme Regis

Blymey Regis. Non-dashing Jack surveys the fog-bound scene in despondent mood.

Well that's Devon done and dusted. It turned out to be only marginally better than Cornwall in so far as running is concerned, i.e., hills not quite so severe and the weather showed a very good improvement.....for a few days, because now we are truly in the doldrums with nothing but but dense mist and fog all around us,from the hill summits to the ocean depths. At one stage I was completely disorientated,lost my way and had to drag myself backwards underneath a barbed wire fence. This event is turning more into an obstacle course or cross-country event but at least we have now done 545 miles in total with ONLY another 85 miles to go until the finish on Saturday. YES!

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Pat was busy decanting all our supplies again as we are now moving on to Pat's cousins Les and Vera to stay in their home near Lyme Regis for a couple of nights. Oh the joy of having family members resident near the Path.

Also, hot from the press,my Achilles tendon has responded miraculously (again) to the treatment from
my personal masseuse, Fifi la blonde, and if anyone would care for an appointment I must warn you that the price has just gone up!  And so to bed.

Day 25: Mon 26th Sept PAIGNTON to BUDLEIGH SALTERTON

Over 500 miles and still smiling

Day 25 Mon 26th Sept          Paignton to Budleigh Salterton

Hands up all those that have been to Torquay, which offers a strange mixture of the vulgar and the elite, but the jewel in her crown has got to be the seven acres of municipal parkland atop Mount Babbacombe.  The park was given in perpetuity  to the Torquaysian citizenry where they have free access to one of the finest views in England. I know this because I passed through there today under warm sunny skies . With my Achilles albatross round my neck,  sustained only by a wish and a prayer,  as I struggled to come terms with the deteriorating condition . How strange that on the one hand my cardiovascular system is tuned like a formula one racing car, yet on the other hand the wheels keep coming off. Forget physiotherapists but does anyone know of a good car mechanic?

Meanwhile back on the caravan ranch we have at last fathomed out how to light the gas cooker and the gas fire giving us warmth from within and without.  And so to bed.

Ps.You may recall that I am trying to complete the 630 miles of coastal path within 30 days, which is a tall order by anyone’s measure. It now appears that we may well meet our target, and I hope to arrive at South Haven Point around lunchtime this coming Saturday even if only on one leg. Not so much Jack’s dash but more likely Jack’s hop. More details coming later for anyone wishing to join us.

Day 24: Sun 25th Sept Torcross to Paignton

Alas Jack was out on the coast til it was nearly dark to complete his scheduled mileage.  By the time I’d gathered him up, driven us to our new caravan home near Dawlish, cooked the usual boring pasta (I’m allowed to say that; Jack isn’t!) and massaged the well known heel,  there was not much time left for the scribe to work on the blog. So here’s today’s saga.

It started off with a long, flat run along Slapton Lea in, believe it or not, low heavy cloud and rain. In fact he soon texted me to request a change from trainers to walking boots knowing that the cliffs would be extremely muddy and wet and he would have a better grip with boots. That accomplished, off he went and we met some time later in Dartmouth where the clouds had cleared and it turned out to be a pleasant sunny afternoon. After a bite to eat Jack left me to take the ferry over the river Dart and continue on his eastward journey. He managed yet again to get a free crossing  upon making his GOSH running vest obvious to the ferryman and relating the tale of his efforts! The next section was as tough as most sections are and he eventually appeared on Paignton’s prom where I was waiting.

Jack will be back tomorrow for the next exciting episode - don't miss it!

Day 23, Sat 24th Sept. Hope Cove to Torcross

As another dry day dawned over delightful Devon we drove the 45 minute journey from our home at Start Point to today's starting line at Hope Cove. (I should add here that "Start Point" is the official Ordnace Survey Map name of one of the Devon headlands, complete with coastwatch and lighthouse. So it's not our starting point but their Start Point. Get it? Good!). Soon I was whistling a merry tune as I dashed over hills and down dales driven by an unquenchable wanderlust (Does anyone actually read this nonsense?). Torcross was the destination, 22.1 miles from Hope Cove which, calibrated  into distance covered from Minehead, is 465 miles, leaving a balance of 165 still to be considered before the 30 days are up. Anyone taking bets yet?

Close to the Erme estuary yesterday I met a chap on the Path from Lancashire ("Trouble at mill, lad, with state of tide;tha won't be crossing on ferry today".) But he went on to say that he was now on the last leg of an 8-year pilgrimage and should complete the saga later that day.He was absolutely beside himself with juvenile excitement but tinged with a touch of lamentation that the enterprise was almost at an end. And then there was a walker who had begun his adventure in Norfolk and was aiming to walk the whole of the British coastline in his retirement, but at age 92 I don't think he stands a chance somehow. But there's comfort to be drawn from the knowledge that I'm not the only idiot on the Path: there's hundreds of 'em!

Today is our last day in Alison's friend's house, which sits immediately next to the Path and commands breathtaking views of the high hills and the high seas. Tomorrow we're off to our next caravan in Dawlish Warren there to commence the conquest of  East Devon. Bring it on! And so to bed .

PS from Pat:
Several people have emailed us to say they cannot fathom out how to make comments on the blog.  Well our sooper dooper techie Pete says:
'if people want to add comments on your blog they have to create a Google account first. Then when you are writing your comment you choose Google from the drop down list. Its a bit temperamental though - sometimes you need to "submit" a couple of times before the confirmation screen pops up - where you will be asked to copy some letters. (It's the security thing that stops computers pretending to be people, remember I mentioned it??)

Creating a google account is simple; its just like creating a new hotmail email account for example.'
So, now you know!

Day 22: Fri 23rd Sept From Wembury to Hope Cove (Devon)

Start Point from our bedroom window just before sunrise

Sunrise at Start point

The "Wow!" factor shot off the scale this morning when we were treated to a fantastic Turner sunrise directly through our new bedroom window: "new" in that we had been decanted again, this time to Alison's friend, Barbara's cosy country cottage. Many thanks, Barbara, for the use of your accommodation; the views are nothing short of sensational.

Up early again shortly after 0500 for more stretching exercises and Achilles treatment  prior to tackling another challenging undulating sector of the Path. But to get to our starting point we had to drive down some of Devon's notoriously narrow river valley lanes with no room on either side to draw breath. Pat regarded this lot with the kind of  terror normally reserved for spiders,creepy crawleys and HMRC Tax Returns. But the girl done good and survived to tell the tale.

Once again, Devon took pity on us and we were provided with an outstanding day of warm autumnal sunshine. The route was much more user-friendly, i.e.,flat! and resulted in another speedo PB for dashing Jack. (Coastal PBs are more or less guaranteed as I've never run  there before!). Much the same was true of dashing Patricia as she succeeded in negociating the tortuous Devonshire lanes. All in all then, it was a dashingly good day followed by an equally dashing good night. And so to bed.

Day 21: Thurs 22nd Sept. Plymouth to Wembury

Farewell to Cornwall! Land of wind and rain, of broken meteorological promises and redundant weather forecasters ("It's going to rain today"). Land of ascending and descending stepped paths smothered in treacherous mud and free-range gravel and boulders. Land of the unexpected slithering and sliding, and hills that rise and rise into eternity.

Yet, to be fair, she is also the land of the wayward fuscia and the wild tamarisk unbowed by nature's extremes of behaviour as they jostle for domination over the coast path. And on those rare occasions when the sun is grudgingly allowed to show its face, the transformation in land and sea-scape is truly electrifying and then all is forgiven.

Oh yes, we will return, but under circumstances of indulgent leisure and not careering along the coast like demented lunatics.

But today was the chance for Devon to shine, and shine she certainly did. From Plymouth to Wembury the whole coast was bathed in sunshine and the glorious transformation reinforced our faith in mother nature. Furthermore the benign conditions and the relatively flat coast path contributed significantly to my fastest run of the challenge so far. However I did have to start the day with another visit to the Plymouth fizzio, Phidippedes Phil (remember?), in order to subdue the resurgence of "Son of Achilles".  Part of the new plan was to immerse my feet in sea water at every opportunity so I told him that I had already immersed my whole body in Cornish rain water several times over!Then it was off to a medical clinic in Plymouth as my home-based doctor had advised me to continue with Warfarin blood sampling. As a result I lost a few valuable running hours but I'm still confident of completing the Coast Path within the 30 days.And so to bed.

Day 20: Wednesday 21st Sept Looe to Plymouth. Total mileage - 411 miles

Pat says:  Jack's a bit weary tonight (aah.....!) so I'll do a brief summary of the day. Set off from Looe - the sun was actually shining and there was NO RAIN. Met him for lunch at a place called Portwrinkle where Jack knocked up the B&B landlord who we'd stayed with 3 years ago! Needless to say he only politely said he remembered us after a few promptings. The coast path then took Jack to Rame Head and along the western  fringe of Plymouth Sound where I met him after his 25 mile run/walk. It was a lovely day for a change - I even managed to sit outside with my Cornish cream tea.  Jack, as usual , had managed to collect a few more pounds for GOSH by making sure passers-by saw his Tshirt and asked what he was up to.

Today was our last day in Cornwall.  Jack has completed 411 miles (plus a few more for wrong turns, diversions etc) but his achilles is still causing problems and concerns.
I guess I'd better sign off with      ' and so to bed'.

Day 19. Tues.20.9.11 Falmouth to Gorran Haven

Due to the social intervention of family and friends plus my appointment with the Plymouth miracle worker, this section, like others, is out of sync. with the blog schedule but rest assured that every inch of the Path has been well trodden by me. Today's stint from Falmouth to Gorran Haven was noteworthy for all the wrong reasons, i.e., non-stop rain ALL day (is this now getting boring or what?), slippery, slithering, muddy surfaces everywhere, no mobile signal availability, son of Achilles was seeking revenge, and worst of all, somebody put too little salt in the porridge!
Speaking of which, hands up all those who think they should hear more about the back-up team and its utterly indispensable contribution to the whole campaign? We've heard quite enough about the prancing prima donna from Camberley, so let's shine the light for a moment or two on the distaff side and what she is providing.

First and foremost Pat is the administrator extraordinaire organising all the accommodation along the Coast Path often at reduced if not zero rates. Transport also comes within her remit as she scours the lanes of the South West Peninsula in search for her missing husband, often to be found in some isolated pub having played the emotional card to obtain a pint, free, gratis and for nothing. She's the chief taxi-driver fetching and carrying me hither and  thither: she's the chief cook and head bottle-washer, clothes washer, ironer, shopper and general factotum. And last but not least she is also my personal physiotherapist, having been given a couple of lessons by Phidippides Phil (see previous blog) on how to inflict maximum pain on her spouse's Achilles heel. So, all in all it's fair to say that I simply could not undertake this challenge on my own and without Pat's colossal support there would have been no gallivanting around the South West Coast Path and no swelling of the GOSH coffers. So, many thanks Tricia and look out for some material recognition coming your way, soon.(A new mop for cleaning the floor, perhaps?)

Day 18: Mon 19th Sept Fowey to Looe

Phidippides Phil's Pheet

Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! Today was a red letter day if ever there was one; the day of reckoning had come for my insurgent Achilles which had an appointment with a Fizz-Wizz (physiotherapist wizard) in Plymouth. One of Alison's mates, Richard, had already made an appointment for me with a leading fizzio known locally as Phidippides Phil., the man who never gives up. (You'll have to look that one up for yourselves). But there was really no contest as Phidippides Phil got stuck into Achilles big time with unexpected frontal attacks on my lower calf muscle and a couple of deceptive pincer movements either side of my heel. The battle lasted about 30 minutes with me wincing at every blow before Achilles threw in the towel and Phidippides Phil was declared outright winner and never even charged me as much as a penny for all his efforts! For those who doubt the deeds of this episode I have reproduced photographic evidence of the fizzio's instruction that I should take any opportunity to drown  said Achilles in cold sea water. Pub Quiz: can you identify the name of this beach?

The end result was that I was then able to zoom along the Coast Path from Fowey to Looe, a section of great difficulty, without fear of hindrance from the hitherto obstructive tendon. Considering that I was almost unable to walk, never mind run during the previous few days, the treatment was next to miraculous and I had the most satisfying run of the campaign to date despite horrendous hills, murderous mud and withering, wet and windy weather (and running out of my ration of alliteration). Albeit that I had now lost some valuable running time, nevertheless a very real threat to the whole challenge had now been lifted and I could now look forward to running without interruption for some time; fingers crossed.

Also, we have now moved on again to our next venue in fabulous Fowey where Sarah has so generously offered us the use of wonderful accommodation in her holiday home. So it's hats off to Sarah and off to bed for us.

Day 17, Sun 18th Sept Goran Haven to Charlestown

By now I’m pretty sure that YOU could tell ME what this morning’s weather was like! Correct! “Changeable”, changing from light rain to heavy rain until noon but thereafter grudgingly improving into the afternoon. Some of the more astute of you will have observed that these latest blogs show my run as being  slightly out of sequence with the anti-clockwise direction from Minehead to Poole. This has been due to the forces of evil ganging up on my Achilles (or should that be “Ochilles for a Jock?) and  sending me off in the direction of the nearest fizzio. In addition we have been indulging in some spectator sport, following our daughter, Alison, as she careered around South Cornwall this morning with her friend, Sarah, and 90 other adrenalin seekers, in the Fowey triathlon. The river estuary crossing (freezing) was followed by a 16-mile bike race and a 9-mile road  run to return to Fowey. Now that’s what I call endurance testing: well done girls.

Meanwhile  I managed to squeeze in a run from Goran Haven to Charlestown near St Austell, a link in the great SWCP which was as tough as they come with severe undulating gradients and never- ending hills. Over this section I wore mountain walking boots to try and give my Achilles more support and I can hardly wait to see the next fizzio early tomorrow morning in Plymouth. Let’s hope he’s a fully qualified member of the Magic Circle!

Tomorrow it will be upwards and onwards again as we will break camp here at Par, and head off to our next accommodation in Fowey provided by Alison’s friend, Sarah. Thanks again, Sarah. And so to bed .

Day 16, Sat 17th Sept. Charlestown to Fowey

C'mon Grandad, I can even run with a broken arm

Neil, Maddie,Jack,Lucy,Alison

No prizes for guessing that today started with heavy showers which continued right into the evening. We have now lost the ridge of high pressure and September has once more stolen the clothes from another month, this time March or April.

But the main focus of attention was  Lucy’s birthday and, just like last night, her excitement was quite tangible as she opened her cards and presents. As for me, it meant a day away from my normal routine of getting up at  5 am and instead,enjoying the luxury of a lie-in until 7am. Mama mia, what joy! But there was to be no slacking and by 1130 we all went to the historic and picturesque village of Charlestown, near St Austell . (Pub quiz question: name a coastal village in Cornwall that is NOT picturesque!) After a photo call with the grandchildren and me imitating the start of the Olympic 100 metres sprint, I shot off like a bullet out of a gun to blast over the hills and far away while the kids were taken to meet some friends in Fowey, the location of Alison’s triathlon tomorrow which starts by swimming across the Fowey estuary at 9 am. (And they have the cheek to call ME mad?!!).

But what the casual onlooker did not appreciate as I disappeared into the far distance, was the fact that my Achilles was as keen for a run as a dog is for a bath. There is no doubt that my Achilles heel is now fast becoming a pain in the neck and that soon, a hunt will be organised to find another  fizzio, this time in the St Austell area: could be painful! Meanwhile all budding hypochondriacs are advised to  watch this space closely. And so to bed

Day 15, Friday 16.9.11. Coverack to Falmouth. Halfway reached 315 miles.

How about this then? Today was the big day when we actually” crossed the line” at Porthallow, the official  HALFWAY point on the South West Coast Path!  Three "Hurrahs!!! The modern monolith at the back of the beach is enormous and covered in abstract poetry ideally chosen for its local surroundings. Also very fitting is the fact that the nearest building is a pub, but it’s not quite  so fitting with its name “The Five Pilchards”. How about something more original such as “The Halfway House”? Anyway from now on its down hill all the way,or maybe even “onwards and upwards”, although on the SWCP the “onwards” are often “downwards”, too! Oh,the Grand Old Duke of Cornwall, he had ten thousand men.......

This section of the Path is significantly different from the norm once you have left Coverack well behind, for it offers soft, low-lying fields with raised beaches and very little of the mountain-like hills of  earlier sections. Incongruous in a way, as it has more of the appearance of the parkland of a stately home, but it was  none the less welcome for all that.

Sadly the crossing of the Gillan Creek could not be assisted by the ferryman as there was no ferryman on duty today! And the instruction to”jump up and down and wave your hands in the air” to attract the attention of some nonchalant passing boatsman 300 yards away on the opposite bank of the estuary ,was a tad mis-guided. So it was off to the alternative route with an additional  2-mile trek to cross the estuary by bridge.Thank you very much, Gillan Creek. But the Helford ferry was much more user-friendly and highly dependable: thanks be to Helford. Soon our final destination , Falmouth, sprinted into view  and before long I was tucking into some delicious home-made soup and home-baked bread, courtesy of Pat’s brother-in-law, Tim, who also taxied us to our next accommodation in a 6-berth caravan near Par where we would be joined by our daughter, Alison and our son, Neil plus our scallywag grandchildren, Maddie,9, and Lucy (of the broken arm) 8, tomorrow.  And so to bed.

Day 14: Thur 15.9.11 Porthleven to Coverack

Once again we were up at dawn and we soon arrived at Porthleven where I was despatched on another 25-mile run over the hills and far away. As usual it was raining first thing but the gloom soon lifted and we were promised another outstanding (i.e., dry) day. Apart from my padding around the Coast Path and dragging a reluctant Achilles everywhere there was an enlightening moment when I came across a dry-stone wall builder not a million miles from Mullion (or was it a mullion miles from Million?) and he took great delight in revealing the skills and techniques of this ancient art to one who was agog with admiration for his knowledge of the craft.

This turned out to be one of my longer runs with a pedometer reading of 33.1 miles but methinks the instrument has a mind of its own somewhere on the Ning Nang Nong (a bit like me,really) and it must have has an estimated margin of error of at least 20%! So much for “Silva” technology.

But apart from the astonishing change in the weather, the  best  news to report from today occurred just outside the “Paris Hotel” pub in Coverack which marked the end of today’s run. There was I, in the middle of my warming down stretches when one of the patrons came down the pub steps, hail fellow, well met, to congratulate me on my wanderings and insisted on buying me a pint. When I asked him how he knew what I was doing, he  replied that he had read about it in “The West Briton” local paper.So here is proof, if proof were needed, that we have now hit the high spots in international sports reporting. Today Cornwall.......tomorrow the World!  And so to bed.....

Day 13 : Wed.14.9.11 Lamorna to Porthleven

St Michael's Mount

Despite the promise of a summery day, by the time I started running from Lamorna beach the heavens had opened up to present me with their normal pluvial calling card....in triplicate. I had to go through the daily sartorial ritual of the Dance of the Seven veils; on/off,on/off,on/off, etc., until by mid-morning another miracle had occurred and September was re-positioned in the calendar from being sandwiched between November and December to its proper slot between August and October. Thank you, God. (Another of our regular bloggers).

The Coast Path from Lamorna to Mousehole  presented another challenge to anyone foolhardy enough to attempt  running on this section as the surface had all the attributes of a bomb site with rubble scattered everywhere. Also, this section probably has one of the most nostalgic heart-rending memorials to those volunteers who man the lifeboats for the RNLI. I would urge everyone to google “The Penlee lifeboat disaster” in the 1960s when the Mousehole lifeboat, “Solomon Browne”, was lost with all her crew. What a debt of gratitude we owe to these remarkable crews who are prepared to sacrifice their own lives in order to save others.

Mousehole,  Newlyn,  Penzance and Marazion (what  wonderful names) were traversed with relative ease as they were all located at sea level and offered flat running for Jack with his Dash and it was now that the sunny weather had completely transformed the sea-scape where the clarity gives a razor-sharp edge to the distant horizon. Although my achilles was still giving me jip, the return of summer boosted my spirits no end as I sped through  the remaining Coast Path via exquisite beaches and coves to Porthleven,  another of Cornwall’s traditional harbour villages.

This marked the end  of another caravan hire as we set forth to Falmouth where  Pat’s brother-in-law, Tim, was preparing a feast fit for a king (and a queen). For Pat, the day had also provided her with the chance to see a production at the famous Minack  theatre, fully air-conditioned and heated by  the solar system. And so to bed.

Penzance

Day 12: Tues.13th Sept. Pendeen to Lamorna via Land's End Tot. Miles=267

Land's End

Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! The news from Land's End will bring joy into the hearts and minds of Bloggers everywhere. The gates have been overwhelmed, the populace have legged it and the citadel has fallen into the hands of the Guthries who had deployed their classical pincer movement when they advanced 10 miles from Pendeen earlier this morning.

Sodden and wind-blasted Pendeen eventually gave way to that section of the Coast Path which leads through the tin mines to Cape Cornwall and beyond to Land's End. The nature of the path was far more user friendly than yesterday's farce and rapid progress was assured despite the objections steaming  from my red hot achilles. Not only was Sennen reached in record time but Land's End, too, welcomed us with open arms. Lamorna was a mere spit away and soon Pat and I were re-united in the local pub, "The Wink" (Cornish for "Smugglers' Speakeasy").

Apart from the conquest of Land's End, the major item of interest was the remarkable change in the weather. Hurricane Katia (?) new better than to meddle with Cornwall's pirates and took evasive action by diverting just that little bit further north and leaving the Peninsula basking in the most Mediterranean of conditions. Come back, Cornwall, all is forgiven! As for the contrary behaviour of my achilles, another visit to the fizzio magician soon banged that to rights so we can now look forward with confidence to the challenges of the Lizard. And so to bed.

ps from Pat

Snowie asked what I'm doing with myself. Well I'm actually quite enjoying it although very busy dropping off (Jack that is, as well as falling asleep), picking up, sorting accommodation, usually trying to meet Jack during the day, (Thats a bit hit and miss due to scarcity of mobile phone signals). I'm also walking bits of the coastal path each day. Wednesday I've booked myself a seat at the open air Minnack theatre at Porthcurno for the matinee performance so lets hope it stays dry.

Keep the comments coming... we love to read them!

Day11: Monday 12th Sept. St Ives to Pendeen Watch

Old tin mines,Pendeen, hurricane Katia day

Self-pity is one of my well-honed skills and there I was, trotting along whilst bemoaning my fate, when ,like a bolt of lightning, my left achilles suddenly morphed into a miniature hedgehog, with every spine targetting the back of my heel. End of running for the day and a likely return visit to see the fizzio. So our original destination for the day was amended from Sennen to Pendeen Watch, a loss of some 9 miles. Furthermore, this section of the Path is notorious for its narrow, rocky, surface strewn with loose boulders, broken slate, etc., none of which was keen to take any passing runners as prisoners. It was by far the worst section yet to be encountered on the SWCP and it certainly took its toll on my schedule, forcing me to abandon my run. "The best laid schemes of mice and men gang aft agley....................... "

However we had in fact been rewarded with a stunning day's weather, albeit with the obligatory shower or two, and to witness Cornwall's wind-blown seas  under clear blue skies really is a sight to behold. And so to bed.

Day 10: Sunday,11th Sept Portreath to St Ives

You're blocking my path!

Culture at the Tate,St Ives

Oh woe is me. As anticipated several weeks ago, I was bound to develop injuries on such a long and tortuous mission and on wakening up I discovered that my achilles hadn't slept at all well that night and my groin was still in aggro mode. But once more, the famous Patricia had come to the rescue by persuading the Penzance Hypochondriacs' Clinic to dehypochondrialise the tendons. The procedure was carried out at 0900 on a SUNDAY morning and after the treatment, I shot off like a dog with two tails over the hills and far away in the general direction of Hayle and St Ives.

And how's this for a tale of unwanted co-incidence? Here we are, Pat and I charging around like the demented souls of the lost tribes trying to boost the coffers of a London children's hospital when, earlier today whilst atop Hell's Mouth near Hayle, we picked up the news on our mobile that one of our two grand-daughters, Lucy, aged 7 and 11/12ths, had just fallen off her scooter, broken her arm and ended up in, yes, the children's A&E  of the local  (Luton) hospital!  Nothing too serious but it's her 8th birthday celebrations next week when she will be joining us on our adventures. Still, she has her big sister, Maddie, 9, to mother her.

But it was "once more into the beach" and the dunes, but although the injuries were complaining furiously I battled bravely on in the face of adversity to overcome the sand-driven horrors and landed in the delightfully sand-free refuge of St Ives. Oh happy day: and so to bed.

Saturday, 10th Sept. Newquay to Portreath

Perranporth

Newquay (or "enkway", as our newly acquired SatNav robot pronounced it) was, as I'm sure you could all guess, wet and windy this morning and with few people around to guide me, I made quite a bodge of finding the mysterious tidal bridge that carries pedestrians over the River Gannel estuary. In fact I leaped unknowingly over a five-bar gate into a saturated meadow only to become the focus of attention for a herd of ne'er do well cattle. But with a virtuoso performance of "Jack's Dash" I showed 'em all a clean pair of heels as I leapt with one bound over the "exit" gate and landed smack in the middle of.................the South West Coast Path (I bet that fooled you!).

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.

Friday, 9th Sept: Tintagel to Padstow

A day of severities: weather, terrain and rebellious injuries all attempted to dampen our  spirits but a quick twist of the ever-faithful hip flask soon put paid to their combined efforts.Ports Gaverne and Isaac extended a warm welcome to Jill, John, Pat and me but it wasn't long before a deafening thunderstorm above Port Isaac scattered the madding crowd. Thereafter Jill and  John returned to Milford on Sea, Pat went back to our romantic caravan while I ran through the storm and on to Padstow convinced that the gods had it in for me.

Tues/Wed/Thurs 6th/7th/8th September

Hartland Point

Clovelly to Bude
Following what is now a regular routine of very late nights and very early mornings compounded by wrinkly-type dithering, we left our delightful caravan (supplied for a week, by Richard, a friend of the family), on Tuesday in time to start the Clovelly to  Bude sector by 1015. My progress was frustratingly slow due to heavy mud, high winds and persistent rain, but I eventually arrived in Bude,(i.e., Cornwall) in time for Pat to shovel me into the car and race to the nearest Fish and Chip shop for a dose of protein, carbohydrate and, of coarse, salt.

More worryingly, there were signs of some spare parts beginning to fall off as I ran along the Path. Calf muscles and groins were beginning to grumble but any attempt at serious mutiny was soon squashed with threatened use of Transvasin and other putrid potions.

Bude to Tintagel
A more dangerous development however was the increasing strength of the wind especially on the cliff tops and Wednesday emerged as the jealous twin to Tuesday, determined to bring about my downfall with a ferocity of unimaginable blasts. On two occasions I was quite literally  thrown to the floor but fortunately landward of the Path. Who said September was always a benign month?  But soonTintagel, where Pat bumped into friends David and  Margaret Cox of Camberley Badminton fame,was conquered and I ran triumphantly into the arms of my ever-patient wife only to be highjacked by our stalwart buddies, Jill and John Reid who had driven all the way from Milford on sea simply to make a gesture of welcome. How about that then at the end of a  28 mile run?

Padstow to Newquay
At last, Thursday,8th, introduced the real September. Gone were the gales and the sheet rain, to be replaced by warm breezes and mainly dry skies although remnants of mist still swirled around the summits. The only interruption of the day was the need to attend a blood-letting clinic for warfarin assessment. In fact the return of sensible weather plus the more level terrain allowed me to overcome an achilles intervention and complete the fastest marathon distance to date on day 7. We finished the day with a pint of superb Cornish ale courtesy of Jill and John on their last day. This marked the end of week 1: and so to bed.

Sunday/Monday 4th/5th September 2011 Woolacombe to Clovelly

The target for Sunday was the 28 miles from Woolacombe's wonderful panoramic beach to Instow on the riverTaw with its unique cricket ground where a well hit '6'  could end up at high tide in the briny. However the 5 miles of soft sand puts the fear of God into any achilles heel and my physio commanded that I should take it easy in the opening week, soft sands included.  Other than that, the only major obstacles were half a dozen Devonshire tsunamis, but a good bowl of pasta and an early bed soon put that to rights.

Monday saw us up at the crack of dawn accommpanied by various other cracking noises emanating from grumbling groins and mutinous muscles. Soon I was galloping high over the River Torridge near Bideford's elegant modern bridge towards Appledore with its array of multi-colourd fisherman's cottages and historic custom house. Then it was off  to clovelly (luvly cluvly) via Westward Ho! (known as Westward Ho! Ho! Ho! around 25th December). In keeping with the weekend's weather there were again many deluges to contend with. Thanks are due to 'Jem' who so readily gave a donation to GOSH on the coast path at Bucks Mills.

Sat Sept 3rd Lynmouth to Woolacombe

Pat doing this one - Jack too busy running. Had a good morning from Lynmouth to Coombe Martin, met up for lunch. He then got absolutely soaked between Coombe Martin and Woolacombe. Dried out, then delicious lasagne at Jack's SWCP mentor's home (Ian and Ro -many thanks) in Barnstable. 26 miles done today.

Sincere acknowledgements are due to the Farnborough Ladies quartet at Hangman Hill and to Jackie Turner on the same route , all of whom made spontaneous donations to the hospital funds.

Friday 2nd September 2011 We're Off

Minehead to Lynmouth
Glorious day to start (maybe a tad too hot but won't grumble). Actually did 24 miles instead of the scheduled 22 as there was land slippage, therefore a diversion, therefore got lost! Quite a haze out at sea so couldnt see far but the coastline is superb.
Home to the caravan at Barnstable and mucho pasta.

Pre run training schedule

The Run up to D-Day

For the benefit of anyone interested in my training programme, my schedule started in November last year when I upgraded my jogging  from 3 or 4,  6-mile runs per week to include an additional 10-miler. These runs were on a mixture of surfaces from soft woodland paths to hard tarmac roads and pavements. Then in February (remember the snow and ice?) I introduced a few 15-milers before I had to consider some tougher terrain and more meaningful gradients in order to simulate the hills of the South West Coast Path.

So, soon it was Lightwater Country Park (near Camberley in Surrey) plus the North Downs around Newlands Corner (south east of Guildford) that were dominating  my schedule and by incremental steps I was eventually churning out 3 half marathon distances per week plus 3 full marathons per week .Apart from 2 very heavy falls when my knee cartilage and a collar bone almost changed places, I was lucky to avoid chronic injuries and was in reasonably good nick for the Big Day. The only other change in my schedule was to rope in the use of Camberley’s multi-storey  car park and run up and down the staircase 10 times in order to simulate the many stepped paths on the coastal route. Great exercise but bloody awful views!

 Other than that, the major part of the preparation was in seeking sponsorship for Great Ormond Street Hospital and with very  generous donations from friends, neighbours, relatives and local companies our target  of £2,000 was soon within range much to GOSH’s delight.  Never have so many dished out such dosh for a dash to help GOSH!  But none of this would have been possible without the input of my 2 secret weapons, namely,  my wife Pat,  administrator extraordinaire,  and the fact that we are both retired!

Our 2 granddaughters, Maddie, 9  and Lucy, 7, Evans (both full-time scallywags) contributed as well by dubbing me with the status of “granddad” .

So, all the preparations have more or less kept to schedule and we just hope that when the Big Day

arrives (Friday 2^nd September) the weather man/lady will smile benignly upon us, humour the gods

and send us the gentlest of Septembers. Don’t forget to tune in to Radio Blog for the next thrilling

instalment........”The Off!”