Day 22 Part 1 - Cliff-tops

Breakfast at Baytrees B&B in Milford-on-Sea is a rather splendid affair, despite the complimentary reading material (guess which paper). After coffee, juice, toast and cereal I opted for the smoked haddock and poached eggs. I'm finding that I can pack away a good deal at the meal table but even I had trouble with this. But perseverance has become my watchword, so every deliciously smoky, fishy, eggy mouthful eventually disappeared.

The day began brighter than I thought and I walked under an overcast sky in mild tee-shirt weather. Only as I got to the cliff path on the coast did the first specks of rain start to fall.

For the long-distance walker, the decision about when and if to get out the wet-weather gear is a tricky one. Like Formula 1 boss Ross Brawn's judgement of the right moment to switch Jenson Button from slicks to wets, it's not easy but it's important. As the drops fell, I kept looking to the sky and trying to decide if the rain would persist.

Half-an-hour's light drizzle isn't much to worry about, the dampness drying almost as fast as the rain falls. But if the drizzle turns to rain, or continues for an hour or more, my legs and my backpack get wetter and wetter.

I made the call. It wasn't going to get any worse. And with a fresh breeze blowing off the misty sea, I continued west.

The cliff-top path would be spectacular on a clear day. As it was, I had to peer through the gloom to make out The Needles on the western end of the Isle of Wight.

This is a coastline that's eroding badly. The path is dotted with warning notices but it's obvious that the soft soil at the edge of the cliff is subsiding regularly. I didn't want to walk any closer than the cracks that were running close to the edge.

At Barton-on-Sea I had to leave the cliffs as the footpath was closed due to "unstable ground conditions". That was a pity, as this was the last stretch of out-of-town walking for a few days.

I turned inland and got lost on a modern housing estate. The twisty roads made it hard to keep my bearings and the thick cloud meant I couldn't judge from the sun which way was north. So for the first time in over two hundred miles, I pulled on the string behind my back and retrieved the compass from a side pocket. I attracted a few curious glances as I stood map and compass in hand, under a waterproof hat, shrouded in coat and rucksack, in the middle of a suburban side street.

"The wise have eyes in their head," writes the Teacher in Ecclesiastes 2.14, "but fools walk in darkness. Yet I perceived that the same fate befalls them all."

Hmm. True enough. Uncertain as to which category I fall into, and a bit frustrated by the obscurity of my route, I found my way through the twists and turns onto the main road.

I paused to eat another bus-shelter lunch of flapjack and water, and the rain began to fall harder. I had congratulated myself on making the right decision earlier and now wondered if it was time to don the full wet-weather gear. With another four hours to go, I thought it was. Turns out that was another good call. Two out of two.

So on came the waterproof overtrousers and the silver rucksack cover. To be a long-distance urban walker, you don't have to mind what you look like.

Highcliffe was quite an upmarket spot, with stylish shops and, by the way people dressed, a significant amount of money around. The hotels and B&Bs were all award-winning and looked very fancy. Out of my league, I thought.

Passing through Friar's Cliff I found myself in the midst of another housing estate, whose road names signalled an aviation connection - De Havilland Close, Comet Road etc.

(Continued in Part Two)