I slept extremely well thank you. The forecast for today is excellent. My legs hurt.
Eric tollerates her rehydrated dehydrated dog food for a finite amount of time and we’ve hit the end of the line. I emptied a very expensive tin of fish on to it and she still showed no interest. A bit of primula cheese ? She just ate the cheese. So now we have to carry this heavy food until she stops being such a princess.
We ate sausage rolls which we’d bought from the expensive deli- Probabaly had to pay extra for the bag they came in.
On the road by 8:30 and it was a sunny descent on sunken lanes back to the sea. The rugged gnarley cliffs of yesterday had given way to a shingle beach and rolling green hills beside.
Eric found a ball and her initial tiredness was a distant memory. She carried it in her wide open mouth for miles before she lost it in amongst the sand.
We descended into Torcross which felt apocalyptic, storm damage saw most of the dwellings (of which there were few) on the seafront boarded up. The waves were crashing mere meters from us up and over the sea defence and practically knocking at the doors of these homes. The cafe and pub were shut and it was a bit wild and sad.
A solitary desolate road takes you North out of Torcross, which is penned in by the raging sea on the East and Slapton Ley, the largest freshwater lake in South West England to the West. A small shingle beach is the only thing floating the small settlement and the road.
Severe storms earlier in 2026 battered the South Devon coast, damaging the sea defences. With those defences weakened, waves and high tides eroded the road base, causing sections to collapse or become unsafe. In some spots near Torcross, whole stretches of road and even parts of the car park were washed away overnight.
It was also the site of ‘Operation Tiger’ a large-scale Allied rehearsal for the D-Day, conducted in April 1944 here at Slapton Sands. During the exercise, German E-boats unexpectedly attacked a convoy of U.S. landing ships, sinking several and causing the deaths of around 700 servicemen—more than some actual D-Day beaches. The disaster was kept secret at the time to preserve the invasion plans. In the years since, Ken Small, a local hotelier of the 1980’s made huge efforts to recover and commemorate the event, included raising a submerged Sherman tank from the seabed 3/4 of a mile off shore, which now stands as a memorial to those who lost their lives.
We walked the road that time forgot. Already part covered in sand and tarmac ripped up at the edges it was like being in a cataclysmic film. It was windy and wild and the solitary bus shelter made for a good spot to make coffee and try and force Eric to eat.
From here we climbed back up onto some cliff tops and undulated our way along a very different and much sandier coast. Little detours took us through dingle dells with the blue of the bluebells increasing by the day, three cornered leeks, primrose, alexanders, dog violet all bringing tasty vibrant colour to the springing hedgerows.
We skipped the greasy smelling cafe at Blackpool sands and climbed the hill into Stoke Fleming. The pub was closed so we headed to the village shop where the extremely nice lady told us if we wanted lunch, we’d be better off going to the hotel up the road where there is a glorious patio with a view to sit out on, a pool, a bar and a nice lunch menu, “not that I want to do myself out of any business mind” .
Having done herself out of some business we all left for the hotel.
It was a good as described.
Feeling fat and tired we still had four miles to walk, which we did slowly and tired-ly. It wasn’t long before we rounded the headland to Dartmouth passed by the castle and sauntered into town to Sea La Vie air BnB where scones jam were waiting for us.
We all rinsed our sticky sun kissed corpses and donned our finest town clothes outfits an headed for the nicest bar in Dartmouth who didn’t turn us away on account of our appearance (I’m speaking more about Snakes and me here, Groany is always glamour personified) .
Here the nice bartender made me a negroni and knew not to serve it with a straw.
SONDER 