26/07/2015 by Carl Reynolds
A fine day amid downpours, I woke and decided to stride out. It’s been a while since I’ve had a longish walk, so along the coastal path with a couple of dips thrown in was most appealing. I started up the steep and narrowing Southdown Hill Lane, after a stroll through ancient Higher Brixham – higgeldly-piggeldy streets and randomly placed houses; and then down the crumbling track to Mansands. The track revealing itself to be a thread of hedgerow hugging a curve down the hillside and sheltering the wanderer from wind and, unfortunately, view. Or perhaps fortunately if you were a smuggler in times past. Then more ascent and descent to a sun and water bathe at Scabbacombe. I was going to set up at the far end of the beach, but the leathery naked fellas lolling around deterred me and I perched on a tide swept log instead.
The sea was murky from run off – further along the coast red clay stained the first ten metres or so – but at Scabbacombe it was mere turbidity. Someone had warned me of seals, but none were to be seen; and after swimming metres away from seals at Fishcombe, I beginning to think my Funky Trunks are a deterrent!
The walk back was a slog up hills, rolling down hairpins one side of Southdown Cliff, directions to lost visitors around the caravan parks above St Mary’s Bay and down to the beaming Mrs Ape at Shoalstone Pool.
Later we ate at the newly opened Shoals – mighty good food with a view across Torbay.