Day Seven: Strete to Dartmouth

It's the windiest night of the journey so far, the tent flaps with the gusts of wind. But sleep quite well, waking just before 7
My plan is to walk to Dartmouth and take stock of the situation once there.

Strete is a very quaint village

It's only six miles to Dartmouth, and at first sight it looks relatively flat

but of course there are the usual ups and downs

But it's sunny and warm, back to shorts and t-shirt again and I've no complaints

Various scenarios play through my mind. The walking will finish at Dartmouth, that's without question. The question will be whether to meet up in Dartmouth, fine if Chris gets out today, or in Totnes which gives flexibility if he's out tomorrow. Either way I need to get a bus back to Strete to pick up Chris's rucksack, so that will be step one and we can discuss the rest
I learn that Chris hasn't had the best of nights: 3 hours in a chair then four in a bed, and we agree a call at 11.45

Blackpool Sands, more inviting than their northern namesake

The Dartmouth inlet comes into view

A yacht sailing in. I like the cut of their jib

The town comes into view, and soon I'm eating an ice cream and looking across the estuary. Chris and I have our scheduled call. He has booked himself a room in the Royal Castle Hotel, one of the accommodation recommendations from the paramedics last night. Not only can they save your life, they provide tourist information on top

So I will go and retrieve the rucksack, share the room with Chris, and have a night out in Dartmouth. Or possibly just an early evening
I catch the 93 bus. The fare to Strete is £3, which surprises me: I thought all English bus fares were capped at £2

But worth every penny

Its not so much a bus journey as a roller coaster ride, as the bus thunders along narrow roads, round sharp corners, up and down steep inclines. All the while dodging traffic coming the other way, which has to squeeze through in seemingly impossible gaps

Dave at the campsite hands over the rucksack that he has safely stored away. He even insists on returning Chris's £10. He even tries to refund my £10 which I absolutely refuse

Then all of the fun of the bus journey back

I check myself in to the Royal Castle, pretending to be Chris

A perfectly sized room, lovely and warm, perfect for drying my tent. I also have a shower, treat myself to clean socks, and treat the world to a clean t-shirt

Then off to find a cream tea. I feel that I cannot leave the south-west without at least one scone and clotted cream
Chris joins me in the cafe and we are reunited. He looks happy but tired.

The Cherub Inn claims to be the oldest building in Dartmouth. Built using old ships timbers around 1380 as a merchants house this is quite a unique building

where we whiled away a good few hours playing cribbage, dominos, and fix and geese. Chatted to an old sailor, ate cherub smokies, and quaffed fine ales. A great pub

And so this walk has come to an end, not where we had planned, but that is not really important. Life's journey often takes you in directions you weren't expecting, but it's the journey that counts rather than the destination. And it's been a very enjoyable and memorable journey 

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