6 days, 70 odd miles, 2 hip flasks, 10 taped toes, 6 blisters and a few special cookies later and we have completed stage 1. We left Falmouth on the St Mawes ferry on Sunday morning and arrived in the village of Cawsand, opposite Plymouth on Friday evening.

To say it was a baptism of fire would be a bit of an understatement, there's really no way to train for walking the coastal path with a heavy pack on other than doing it. It didn't really help that nerves and apprehension had kicked in at 4:30 am on sunday morning, waking me up, making me vomit and then still making me rush around at the last minute to get the ferry - which was 30 mins later than i thought! As we wrestled our packs on in St Mawes and headed off, Dave and I were wondering when this would all hit home and feel real. -> It was about 2 hours later when after a really steep climb we found ourselves crawling on hands and knees under a tree that had fallen across the path.

Not long after this we were on a country lane, leaning into the bank to get out of the way of an oncoming car. After it passed Dave carried on his way and i tried to follow, only to have to call Dave back to pull me off the bank because my backpack was pinning me to it! It hasn't got any lighter but it has got easier to carry. Reaching our B+B on the first evening was a huge relief, especially as we had promised ourselves a rum coffee as reward.

The next few days were a sweaty, exhausting and steep learning curve that revealed a hatred for steps (especially cruelly uneven and sometimes huge National Trust steps) and stiles. But kissing gates, it turns out, are hilarious because with our packs on we can't fit through them normally. Instead we have developed a process of reversing into them, wriggling the gate across infront of us and then ejecting ourselves out. With Dave carrying his tent bag in one hand and his walking stick in the other he looks a bit like a very lost business man trying to get through a turnstile!

There were other hi-lights too, such as a fly-by from a search and rescue helicopter on monday (not for emergency reasons, a farewell from my boss who flies with the navy), meeting a couple walking their dog who were really enthusiastic about our walking plan having met on the coast path 18 months ago,spending an evening playing cards in the campsite ladies toilet block (it was warm and had chairs!), getting a free tent pitch in the garden of a guy we met in a cafe in Par, free pints at the end of the night in Fowey working men's club (the only place that was showing the football), spotting a deer in the twighlight woodland just before getting lost on the way to Fowey, walking through Polperro for the 1st time and seeing Plymouth for the first time from the hills by Tregantle Fort.

Under normal circumstances seeing Plymouth wouldn't really count as a good thing, but it brought on a real sense of achievement having walked to see it. There were huge angry rain squalls all around us and that morning had been the toughest yet. Dave had to resort to coaxing me up hills by rattling some pear drops and reminding me of the rum coffee prize - eyes on the prize. And Cawsand village is quite a prize, especially as it was luxury home for a week!