Most editions of Lighting the Path deal with an aspect of my family’s 2016 or 2023 journeys to the northern hemisphere; sometimes both. So please make sure to carefully note the dates of each post as you browse in order to better understand how it relates to the others.

29 June 2023

Today started with infinite promise, and ended with a warm glow; but in between it tested our patience and resolve as much as it has been tested for some time.

But let’s begin at the beginning.

The beaches of Porthcurno - three, or four, of them between the Minack Theatre and imposing Logan Rock to its south, depending on the tides - are, in my candid opinion, as beautiful and inviting as any to be found in those parts of the world I have visited to date. The white sands, the pristine waters, the impressive and inviting small waves, combine to entice all who see them, surely. Simultaneously the draining hot sun, along with the sheer cliff paths leading down - and, more significantly, back up - together do their best to dissuade otherwise intrepid passers-by from sampling those delights first-hand.

With a long haul ahead of us, and time already a-wasting, I’m sorry to say we shirked this early test of our mettle pitifully. Following on from our failure to visit the Minack barely 18 hours earlier, these weak-willed efforts can hardly have left Porthcurno and surrounds with anything other than a very poor opinion of our fortitude!

Thankfully the energy saved by taking these soft options early doors would prove to be of considerable value to us in the trial that followed. It was a tough day’s hiking - at least the equal of our journey four days ago from St Ives to Gurnards Head, indeed probably moreso.

A big shout out to the (surprisingly) elderly, but especially friendly and generous lifeguard at Porthcurno, who we encountered after discovering there was nowhere between our guesthouse and the coastal path at which to replenish our drinking supplies. His willingness to allow us to fill our water bottles before departure almost certainly avoided an awkward, and potentially dangerous situation unfolding over the ensuing hours.

Even more of the unusual rock formations that have fascinated us over the past few days were on offer today; and these, along with the tiny, quaint fishing villages of Penberth, and Lamorna - where we took the opportunity to lower our rising temperatures, and simultaneously move our heart-rates in a distinctly northerly direction, bathing in the deliciously cool limpid waters of the cove that bears its name - proved the highlights of a challenging day’s walk.

In between we battled a range of elements; most particularly the thickest vegetation we have had to pass through on our entire journey, with thorny undergrowth regularly scratching at our exposed lower legs, and low-hanging branches overhead forcibly removing our hats on numerous occasions. One feels a little more work is needed from our friends at the local council(s) responsible for maintaining this section of the coastal path if it is to continue to remain an attraction for ramblers of all ages. That said, the couple we passed on our final leg today, between Lamorna and Mousehole - half of them dressed as if en route to a garden party at the Palace, and therefore, presumably, local to the area - surely ought to have known better than to take on this sort of terrain at their (advanced) age. Talk about biting off more than you can chew!

We also contended with rainforest-like conditions around the rocky environs of St Loy’s Cove, and confronted a number of seriously muddy inundations spilling onto our walking track on the homeward stretch to Mousehole, leaving us with a decidedly grey mood at the end of what has been, overall, a spectacularly successful trek these past five days.

Any melancholy we may have been harbouring as we reached our destination was quickly resolved however, courtesy of one of those unique and special experiences that overseas travel, open hearts, warm smiles, convivial surroundings, and a couple of hard-earned disinhibiting beverages can supply.

So there we are slurping away on our bevvies - which, it must be acknowledged, were disappearing at warp speed after a long hard day on the trail - when we discover we have arrived at Mousehole’s atmospheric Ship Inn just in time for the commencement of its regular weekly “Pub Quiz”. We being only two, and already intimidated by the appearance nearby of a significant number of (clearly) regular participants - waiting expectantly with answer papers in hand, and pencils poised - we were less than optimistic about our prospects of being competitive in such a hardcore environment.

Yet somehow it took only a passing enquiry from the friendly looking multi-generational group at the adjoining table for us to find ourselves signed up and ready to join the trivial throng within a minute or two of that invitation being extended. Happily, by night’s end we were forced to conclude that either (a) we had just met the nicest family in Norway; or (b) Norwegians are the nicest people on the planet.

So did we win? No. However given the (understandable) British slant to many of the questions posed we were more than chuffed with our 4th place finish from a field of at least a dozen teams or so. But the real triumph of the evening’s frivolity was our comprehensive victory in the Play-Dough Challenge: a section of the quiz which required all participating teams to design a new sport, complete with written rules, and, if that wasn’t difficult enough in the modest time allowed, demonstrate said sport utilising the tub of Play Dough provided to each team for that purpose.

The convenor of the quiz - who was, by this stage, thankfully aware of our team’s international make-up - could not have been more effusive in his praise of our efforts: “The best Play Dough performance ever seen at the Ship Inn” were his words I seem to recall. Something along those lines anyway. Although I now see, looking back, that our comprehensive victory in this round of the event almost certainly reflected the (presumably sub-standard) quality of our competitors’ efforts rather than any significant creative genius from our side. But at the time? Well, at the time we were chockful of what we saw as justifiable jubilation for the magnitude of our achievement.

And just in case any Lighting the Path readers come across it in some other context at any future time, please be aware that the Koala Bear Balloon Shoot was born on June 29, 2023 in the Ship Inn, Mousehole, Cornwall, UK, and that all copyright rests with the Pub Quiz team of North and South, jointly representing the nations of Norway and Australia. Firm friends forever.

P.S Correct; a koala is not a bear. (But good luck telling the rest of the crowd at the Ship Inn that)

P.P.S No, I did not have any involvement whatsoever in the Play Dough component of our task. (More’s the pity, as this was undoubtedly the highlight of our collective efforts. But let’s face it, my teammates knew exactly what they were doing in excluding me!)