A 7 AM alarm in a tent on a campsite is probably not the “done thing”, but we are planning to catch an early bus.

A mist is hanging in the valley, but today’s forecast is sunshine so my raincoat is left hanging on the hook in the middle of the tent and we make our way to the bus stop. The bus driver nearly doesn’t see us waiting at the West Downs bus stop (called the telephone box, but there’s just a square concrete pad on the ground) as he’s driving very close to the van in front. He makes up for this by dropping us off at the junction outside Polzeath Bee Centre.

We walk through an abandoned allotment area to the coast path. The mist has now cleared, it’s 8:30 in the morning as we start our stroll in lush open countryside, disturbing a group of noisy ravens.

I’ve brought my walking poles today, the first time I’ve used them since we were last in Cornwall. It takes me a while to get into the rhythm and forget that image of feeling like an out-of-control spider that my sister once compared it to.

The cliffs are definitely higher and rockier in Port Quin Bay than they were on the other side of the Camel Estuary. We weave around Pennywilgie Point, Epphaven Cove, Trevan Point, Pigeon Cove and Gilson’s Cove. Slight ups and downs with steps carved into the grassy cliff and stepping stones over little streams. Yellow honeysuckle and the dainty pink and white flowers of bramble poke out of the prickly yellow flowering gorse bushes.

Intricately arranged dry stone walls are punctuated with the tall flowers of Wall Pennywort Umbilicus rupestris, their red stems piercing the gaps. The spike of off-white flowers resembling a miniature narrow fir tree on a snowy mountainside. The stony path, now level on the top of the cliff is a joy to walk along.

We briefly stop to throw a stone into a disused shaft above Gilson’s Cove, with stone pillars and a wire fence protecting us (and animals) from toppling down.

The rolling grassy hills either side of Port Quin harbour almost merge into one, until we reach Doyden Point and can see down to the blue seas between the two headlands. We walk right up to Doyden Castle, which turns out to be a National Trust holiday cottage. It’s a teeny-weeny castle – square with just two windows, one above the other, on each elevation, castellated with a little point on each corner. Sitting on top of a stone wall, perched on the highest part of Doyden Point.

It’s a ten-minute stroll from here to the village of Port Quin, where lads are jumping from rocks into the sea, a few brave souls are swimming from the stone jetty, more arriving and parking in the tiny National Trust car park. Stone built dwellings, now mostly National Trust holiday cottages are delightfully named Carolina Cellar, Guy’s Cottage, Quin Cottage and Lacombe Cottage. Running parallel to the valley is a row of cottages called the Fish Cellars, now also holiday cottages. The village has a calm but empty kind of feeling to it, I later read that the whole community of mostly fisherman, vanished, where they went doesn’t seem clear but the village is said to have died, only inhabited by holidaymakers.

We climb the steps between the cottages out of Port Quin to Kellan Head where we hear an unfamiliar squawking noise. It’s a pair of choughs with their distinctive red beak and feet, just pecking at the grass on the hilltop.

From here we get our first sight of Tintagel Castle. Since 2019, just four years ago, it’s been distinguishable by the cantilevered rope bridging spanning the gap between the two parts of the castle.

It’s a delightful two-hour stroll from Port Quin to Port Isaac – we encounter several steep inclines and declines and meadow like grassland humming with bees, skylarks chirping, butterflies fluttering together in pairs as we swish through the long grass. Our highlight, spotting a dark coloured seal in, then a lighter coloured seal swimming passed and diving down. We stop for a while, waiting for them to reappear and enjoying the still day, the waves barely making a splash as they ebb in and out to the cliff edge below us.

Port Isaac is hidden away in its tiny bay, we are right up close by the time we get a glimpse of the iconic harbour town. Immortalised by Doc Martin and the Fisherman’s Friend’s movies. Despite never visiting before, It feels comforting to arrive.

We’re also ready for lunch. The Chapel Café is the first place we come across and it’s perfect. The hot salmon mega salad is exactly the kind of dish I would create at home, but with a bit more finesse! After lunch we peruse the shop which wrap the first floor of old chapel and read up on the history of Port Isaac and Port Quin.

We wander round the quaint streets and pop into a few more shops, buying my next OS map (Bude, Boscastle and Tintagel) from a friendly chap in the book shop at the top of the hill (familiar to us, as this is where the bus turns round).

We’ve decided to carry on walking today back to our campsite, not really taking on board how far it is. At first, we miss the path and head inland a bit, but end up back on the path near the car park. I overhear a couple on a bench bemoaning the fact that the people of Brighton are not as acceptable as the Cornish of dogs, there definitely does seem to be a lot of dogs around here.

We skirt around the beautiful Port Gaverne cove, feeling very curious as to what is happening? A group of five vessels – a modern fishing boat, little wooden sailing boat, 12-seater speed boat, smaller inflatable speed boat and a lovely wooden boat are all moored together in the cove. Several people are huddled in white vans in Port Gaverne and then we spot people positioned on the next headland with large cameras. Nigel asks them – they are filming a new version of the Famous Five for the BBC. The crew are all on lunch break as we walk past so we don’t get to see any of their “action packed adventures”. We will have to wait until it comes to the small screen in our living room.

As we leave the cliffs above Port Gaverne we can see down to Cartway Cove where canoeists are exploring. The path then weaves through the long grass and bracken on the side of the hillside, the sun beating down on us.

It’s now gone three in the afternoon; we’ve been walking in the heat since half passed eight this morning and I am exhausted. The only shelter I can find is on the far side of a set of stone steps over a dry-stone wall. I collapse there for a while, drinking the last of our water and eating the last of our fruit supplies. For the next hour we have got to the stage where we are just putting one foot in front of the other and walking, only stopping occasionally to capture images of the stunning scenery – rolling green grass, below clear blue skies, studded with the occasional white puffy cloud.

We are heading for an area on the map with close contours and woodland between Crookmoyle Rock and Jacket’s Point. Here there is a footpath that leads us up to our campsite. It looks simple on the map!

We descend to the valley and turn right, the sea and coast path now behind us. The hill to our right evenly furrowed, we follow the footpath alongside the trickling stream. Our first hindrance a lone cow, the rest of her party on the far hillside. She stares and starts to hiss, so we wade over the stream and scramble through high bracken and grass passed her, then back to the pathway. The next problem, finding our way through the farm buildings at Tregragon – the first footpath appears closed so we take the second path out ducking under the trees. This woodland is welcome shade but tricky to work our way through, ducking below the trees our backpacks snaring on the branches. Sheep come through to greet us. We are then heading across open farmland, towards the road near Westdowns when the style is blocked by a sheep, on his back, not moving, legs straight up in the air. At this stage we are wondering if we will ever get back to our tent. The last hindrance losing the path close to a group of houses right beside the road, a man unloading his car directs us.

From here its just a ten-minute stroll along the lanes back to our canvas home for the night. Tomorrow, we walk to Tintagel