After a pleasant evening spent with my now fully recovered nephew, Jamie and Iain, Thursday morning saw us departing early from Sandy Toes the lovely accommodation run by Carla. Jamie was heading back to the smoke, and Iain and I had what we thought would be a fairly long walk, including a ferry at Fowey. So we set off past the industrial part of Par and then on to a much nicer beach and wetland area, with a mizzle in the air. An early climb was to be a taster for the day, but we were in good spirits and were off at a good pace. An up and down drops you into the very pretty villiage of Polkerris, and a climb out of Polkerris to Gribbon Head. Still in good spirits we decide that we would pick up a bacon roll and a tea at Fowey or Polruan across the estuary. We get sight of Polruan and the signs to Fowey, but as always when you think you are nearly there you are not. A drop down to the stunningly beautiful Polridmouth, said to have inspired the setting for Daphne Du Maurier’s “Rebecca”. Up through the woods and I am now counting the nasty climbs, three so far. A nasty climb is when there is at least 50 steps, or equilivant slope, my heart is beating faster, and there is sweat on my brow. It also counts if I am muttering to myself, “what the bloody hell are you doing this for”. All part of the love hate relationship you build with the SWCP. Your heart does raise a beat as you turn the corner and see the wonderful Fowey (Pronounced Foy) and the boats moored as far as the eye can see in the estuary. We skip down to the little ferry which we can see coming this way, and we cross to Polruan. A little Cafe with four local women, who for some reason have to shout at each other, could be their age, welcomes us and we sit for a quick break. At this point a young female ferry operator comes in to purchase her lunch and advises that everything will stop on the river at 11.00 as Ronnie Johnson is being laid to rest. A debate ensues and it is decided that he was a Fowey Boy, remember how you pronounce it, and was well thought of. Our guess is he was a life boat man for sure. So as we climb once more out of Polruan the flotilla passes, two little police boats flank the lifeboat, with outriders being two pilot cutters, a big tug boat and then a flotilla of little boats, what a fiting send off for a man of the sea, and a Foy Boy. It would appear he was not universally loved as we hear a painter and decorator shout “good riddance as far as I’m concerned” how rude. So we are feeling refreshed fueled and up for the challenge. Past Black bottle rock, and on to the impressive Lantic Bay. And then it starts, a massive climb has Iain and I panting at the top, to be greeted by a proper old Cornish Man, who enquire where we are heading. Talland Bay I reply, just after Polperro, I advise, an intake of breath and “thats a fair old walk, this is the toughest section of the path on the South Coast he professes”. Iain, have a little nervous chuckle and wish him well. That salty sea dog knew his stuff. The coves of Watchhouse, Parsons and Palace, all produce nasty climbs. Even the level path has surprises today as I trip on a stump and fall to the right. Now if you have been following this one of the rules is “always keep the sea on the right”. As I hit the vegetation, I am happy I did not go over the same vegetation. I lie there thinking i am not wet yet, and I am not rolling South. So a dust off and up I get, bloody path. After Hard Head and Chapel Cliff we turn the headland to at last sight Polperro, a just truly wonderful little harbour. A soft drink is required as we are both out of water, and we then push on for the final mile and a half to Tallend Bay which also involves another nasty climb. So a very eventful but wonderful day, 26 kilometres, 15 nasty climbs a bit of bruising, but all in a day.