Today was like hiking through another country entirely. Things started out cloudy and so misty you could literally see it rolling into backyards in Lizard (I kept thinking of Emily Dickinson's final words: "The fog is rising.") Later on, the sun came out and I considered putting on some lotion, but between the itching and the sweating and the Benadryl I just couldn't be arsed and so I ended up with a nice burn on the arm and part of my face. To complete the picture, after all.

After all, burning was better than itching. It was a small circle of hell to be in to have an unknown, itchy rash made pink by Benadryl lotion that you cover by trousers and socks so you look like a dork but which still itches because you have to walk through the kind of dense foliage the trail presented on this day. Seriously, the overgrowth on the path was almost untenable today; there was always something resembling a space to walk on, but the weeds and plantlife on either side of the path were sometimes at head height, and leaning inward. Thank God for the loan of Richard's titanium walking stick. I didn't lean on it half as much as use it like a scythe, to either whisk away the little bugs that cropped up, or to hack away at the undergrowth. Along the way I also (for the third day) ended up with small red welty bites on my arms primarily, even through clothing, but they never itched and went away with a shower. So I could only determine that I'm actually allergic to the south-west coast of England.

But enough whingeing; it was really quite lovely in retrospect. At the time, I made an executive decision. Today was to be 11 miles, and it was going to be just fine if I felt like shaving some of it off. So rather than return to the most southerly point, I cut through some footpaths not on the coastal path (thank you, Ordinance Survey Map 103) to reach it on the eastward side of the peninsula. That's the first two pictures, cutting through the equivalent of someone's very green backyard. Next came Church Cove, which features what the book calls "a series of curious houses." What they were, really, were homes all but buried in the path. I don't know what they were like, access-wise, on the other side, but I'd walk for some time in this dense overgrowth of a path and suddenly see a gate with a home behind it crop up. Curious indeed, though what a place to get away from it all.

Below the cove and that amazing rock archway is a nearly all-green photo; the flat center area is water. Due to the not-too-specific directions in the book, I'd thought this was the Devil's Frying Pan; now, I think the picture below it is actually the Pan itself. Apparently, in stormy weather, it's not nearly as calm looking.

This photo with the ocean and boats is a shot of the blink-and-you'll-miss it town of Cadgwith, and next in line, a lovely little stream photo for variety's sake.