I’ve been yearning for this trip for so long that I’m up and dressed in summer holiday gear (white short dungarees) and we are on the road to Devon by 7am.  Seven hours later, feeling the enthusiasm washed away, we pull into Barnstable train station car park and turn the windscreen wipers off from full speed for the first time today!

Thankfully the storm as eased as we jump onto the 21 bus to Instow, alighting a few minutes later onto a pavement full of puddles.

The road along Instow Quay is lined with grand dwellings and an impressive looking hotel with stunning pine trees. We stop briefly for a sausage roll, feta tortilla and home-made flapjack at John’s Café, before heading towards the sandy estuary and the path away from the road.

A slight false start has us wandering passed the flooded gateway to MOD property, along the converted railway line and some very cute single storey dwellings. We miss the coast path signs and end up doubling back, uncertain as to whether we are on MOD land or footpaths.  Eventually we find a delightful single file sandy path, the long-wet grass swaying against my bare legs, the occasional curious seedheads of wild carrot and brambles laden with blackberries at just the right height for picking.

Dog walkers are out enjoying the break in the weather along the sandy estuary and yet more abandoned looking rusty boats are resting in the sand mirroring the colour of the faded seedheads. The hum of electricity pylons, the banging and crashing in the industrial, we’re guessing, gravel works and the smell from the sewage works keeps us moving quickly along this stretch.

The grassy pathway winds round Isley Marsh nature reserve and joins the loooooong straight tarmacked Tarka trail.  It must have been a fabulous view from the trains but on today’s grey cloudy day at a walking pace it is dull.

We stop to read about the prehistoric “Yelland Stone Row” (try saying that quickly) then continue passed the weeping willows and oaks covered in the fluffy seedheads of clematis known as “old man’s beard”.

A man cycling towards us has bright orange footwear, I’m reminded of the orange trainers so popular at the Paris Olympics this summer, but as he nears, I realise how wrong I am.  Carrier bags from a popular supermarket adorn his feet, tied up round his ankles. Hilarious.  The Tarka trail takes us across the industrial metal bridge over Fremington Pill and the landscape opens out to a delightful grassy area in front of an old railway building.

We stop for our finger-licking chocolatey flapjack and enjoy the view over the railings of the river Taw, streams of water sitting in the sandy estuary, the low-lying hills of tomorrows walk on the far side.

The tarmacked Tark trail continues through woodland thinning to open countryside and finally we start to see and hear the signs of civilisation – the hum of cars crossing the Taw bridge and discarded fast food wrappers littering the verge. Two creatively graffitied underpasses take us under the road to the train station.

Miraculously the heavy rain has held off for the two and half hour walk and its now time to find our Croyde holiday cottage.