The usual drill led us to Fowey in search of a parking space or car park. Imagine my horror at the idea that a long stay car park, on a Sunday, in winter still cost over £5 for any stay over four hours. Fowey may be a nightmare of narrow streets for a driver: unless one has a Chelsea tractor and one is driving to one's weekend retreat of course. Needless to say, the car park was almost empty. I love the way we encourage tourism.
We trusted our satnav to get us to Luxulyan and discovered roads which were barely the width of the car and had a full crop of vegetation down their middle. These were worthy of some of our paths and were undeniably more interesting than some of the roads we had walked down.The sunshine endured as we set off across some muddy fields: The worst it has ever been, said two redoubtable ladies walking two Jack Russells which hopped nervously from stone to tussock, to stone. Someone was going to need a bath at the end of the walk.
There was evidence of past industrial activity, much overgrown, as we made our way through the woods above the valley, the church bells ringing us on our way. A severe gale had blown through during the week and the ground was wetter than ever. As before we found ourselves squelching through mud and then washing our boots in the stream that poured down the paths.
The off-road walking was a pleasant change from last week, even if it did squelch.We skirted the Iron Age Prideaux hill fort which looked inviting for a future visit and found ourselves walking down a valley into St Blazey, and an area that is not one of Cornwall's scenic gems.
Closing our eyes, we crossed the magnum via of the A390 and headed up hill through Kilhallon, dropping down into Tywardreath with its church.Gribbin Head, with its monument, and the sea had been visible for some time: a sight which must have cheered any past pilgrim with its promise of reaching the end of their walk: as long as they did not know about Par. As we climbed the side of the hill above Polkerris, the view was not one to lift the soul: the china clay works, vast white estates and caravan parks spoiled what might have been a grand sweep of coast.
We set off across country once more, aware that Fowey lay just over the brow of the hill.
On the walk we had been pondering deep questions of the universe like one's favourite recitations if one found oneself in an open-air theatre and wished to test the acoustics. How many people could remember a whole speech from Shakespeare: the obvious choice. And what might that speech be if one provided it on a small tablet?
To be or not to be was a natural choice but which others would one include? In Trebah, one might choose A Garden is a Lovesome Thing if were not quite such an awful poem. There is surely a relevant piece in the Midsummer Night's Dream. I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, is short but apposite.And at the Minack: surely the Tempest - Our revels now are ended. But what about John of Gaunt's This precious stone set in a silver sea: a great piece when the waves are not actually crashing over the Minack rock.
The final way down into Fowey was a joy. The sea was a blue mirror only marginally distinguishable from the sky. The path was Love Lane which had natural stone steps leading down to the appropriately-titled Readymoney Cove.
We emerged by the church and declared our trail completed. A final 9 miles (14.3km) in 4.5 hours. There are more pictures here and the map is here.
Having collected our ruinously expensive car, we headed northwards as a light rain started falling, preventing us from enjoying the Tristan Stone as we passed it.
What did we make of the Saints' Way?
It is unquestionably fun to have completed a crossing of the peninsular following what was probably a pilgrimage route. This brings our total to three such crossings: the St Michael's Way and Saints' Way on foot, and the Camel Trail by bicycle.
It was also something of a triumph to have created the trail in the first place, persuading Cornwall Council to invest in signage and limited support material.
At the end, we were left with one big question: how historically accurate is it?
The Tinners' Way, or Old Land's End Road as it is also known, is relatively easy to see on the ground. Passing through under-developed land, the ancient tracks are still evident as they follow sunken lanes or field boundaries consisting of stones of such size that no one has thought to move them for hundreds of years. The track follows the natural fall of the land. It exudes authenticity.
None of this is true for the Saints' Way. It travels through a much more developed landscape where large stones are not the usual field edges. The paths do not head for obvious landmarks. There are few sunken lanes - although where there are, they are lovely - and one rarely follows the natural curve of the land or contours.
The biggest criticism is that there are too many roads. Although these are generally quiet and make for easier walking when it is wet, they do destroy the sense of enjoying the countryside and lead to some pretty zig-zag turns. It is perfectly possible to be walking west then east then south in quick succession.
When Cornwall's roads were modernised they were largely created by laying tarmac over existing tracks, many of which may have been little more than cart tracks. As the Saints' Way had long since fallen out of use and purpose, we do not today have an obvious single road from Padstow to Fowey, nor even part of a road. It really does not look as though any part of the original Way survived long enough to have become part of the modern road network.
Without a very evident series of paths, or roads in place of paths, we were left with a feeling that the original Way was either rather more informal or actually consisted of a variety of routes joining the two coasts.
Where might these have gone? The people who created the modern Way did a good job of linking up the most obvious churches, the wayside crosses which were well-known as route markers, and even some characteristic triple stiles. But the whole does not quite gel.
They may have neglected the importance of water as an early medieval form of transport. Arriving at Padstow, it would have been a simple matter to transfer to a small river craft and use the tide to reach the interior of the county. Little Petherick, with an early version of its church, could have been a stop but Wadebridge or even Bodmin would have been within reach. After all, the Romans built a short-lived trading post at Nanstallon on the edge of Bodmin, a short distance from Lanivet.
On the south coast, Fowey is easily reached in a small boat from Lostwithiel - see our earlier posting about canoeing between the two - and Lostwithiel is a day's walk from Bodmin/Nanstallon. also, as one heads south, the sweep of St Austell bay is very inviting and it is hard to dismiss Par as a possible place of departure.
Even if the journeys themselves were not done by water, then the sides of the river valleys would have provided a natural highway. The original route would have followed a course in a broad strip bounded by Wadebridge, Bodmin and Lostwithiel on the east - is there a hint that a modern road does link these three - and Withiel, Lanivet and Luxulyan to the west. We had followed the western edge of the strip.
The most authentic part of the route is also the most unspoilt. If you are limited for time then walk from Lanivet to Luxulyan or Lanlivery. There are some lovely stretches of path; a great collection of crosses and stiles; some lovely damp copses around streams; simple Cornish churches and rolling countryside. This central section might just be the core of an original route.
But look out for fallen signposts - lack of maintenance means that many have rotted - and don't take a car anywhere near Fowey without a fat credit card.
