We are in such a hurry to get back to Cornwall after a three-month break that we leave home at just gone four in the morning, arriving in Zennor at 10:30. There’s a two hour wait for a bus to Morvah to start todays walk so we are forced to go the MooMaids of Zennor café – shame. It’s a gorgeous little café set in a pretty garden – zillionaire shortbread and shipwreck ice cream for breakfast!

Wander up to the bus stop for the 1:55 coaster bus, I’d blissfully forgotten about busses running on Cornish time. After 30 minutes standing on the roadside, we give up and wander back to our car.

Leaving the car outside Morvah church we pick our way down the path to the coast path. At last.

By two in the afternoon, we are walking in the rain donned in waterproof trousers, coats, woolly hats and covers over our back packs. There’s low cloud hanging over the clifftops, our heads are bobbed down, picking out our way along the paths. We barely even notice the beautiful Cornish Sea that we’ve travelled all morning to see, but we have smiles on our faces.

Today’s six-mile walk is tricky – wet, slippery mud with jagged rocky outcrops of all shapes and sizes scattered in a haphazard pattern. The cliff barely gives way to any civilisation the whole walk – just the one house midway and the tiny hamlet of Zennor at the end. Inland from the bracken and grass covered clifftops the path is edged with dry stone walls, this year’s wild flowers coming to an end. Next year promises an abundance of foxgloves.

Each step is leaving a perfect footprint in the dark glossy mud. I imagine having an impression on our boots saying ‘Bourneville’, then carving each footstep into a slab and wrapping it in gold foil with a red coloured paper sleeve. I guess that is me dreaming of the chocolate bar secreted in my handbag for later. Shhhh!

Occasional signs warn of the danger of open mine shafts – we don’t need the reminders to keep to the footpath.

Our rain hoods yo-yo up and down with the movement of the low clouds but by just gone three the sun is out; our hoods are down and the back pack covers are off. Sadly, the damage is done and we are both damp to the skin – our preparations should have included re-proofing our coats. The rain seems to have wicked from our packs through our coats to our clothes. Thankfully my boots have kept my feet dry.

The path dips right down at Porthmeor Cove, a large granite rock forming a bridge over the stream trickling noisily down the hillside. The climb to Porthmeor Cliff is steep and rocky. Arriving on the top I am hit for the one and only time on this walk by a strong wind that nearly knocks me over.

The sea is now reflecting back the stunning blue sky contrasting against the autumn bronzed clifftops. There’s just the one dwelling resting low on the next clifftop, a golden windswept cypress tree in their garden. As we get closer there are spruce, pines and other garden shrubs, maybe a little incongruous to the native blackthorn, bracken and brambles. A little handmade wooden gate, held closed with rope, is painted pastel blue with the name Cove Cottage.

Passing through the next gates there’s a sign advising of farm animals. Expecting cattle, I’m surprised to come across a grey, a dark brown and a chestnut brown horse looking at me from the pathway. We detour around them, me tripping over a bramble and nearly landing in their poo! Nearly my second fall of the day.

Having seen barely another walker all afternoon, as we near Zennor we meet a couple asking for directions. Then two more couples, that’s always a sign we are close to civilisation. We had been rushing to try to catch the last bus back to our car but have realised we are not going to make it so slow back down again.

Below Zennor the garden plants are escaping into the wider countryside – large leaved gunnera along the stream edge dotted with waving pampas grass, look good but I worry about seeing these garden escapees.

A metal hand rail at this last descent and ascent is very welcome as I’m weary now. We can see the handful of dwellings in Zennor and the church spire. One couple had told us about a taxi phone outside the Tinners Arms pub which is where we head. Thankfully just a ten-minute wait for the cab to arrive, taking us back to our car in Morvah and on to our holiday cottage in Lelant.