Day 12 - YHA Salcombe, Devon to Hastings, Playing Field

 

Woke up to the above view from the YHA.

Woke up too early for breakfast so got packed and loaded the bikes, luckily there was only a small amount of oil under the bike so must have just been some excess from the air box, phew, tough bike. Paul was extra nervous this morning about the hairpins going back down the hill from the YHA. I plugged into the satnav our next destination and we started the day and luckily half way down it told us to take another turning away from the rest of the hairpins which Paul was happy about but even he said that the one's he did have to do where not as bad as he expected they would be, certainly no Applecross.

We briefly stopped at Slapton Sands and had a really good breakfast at a cute cafe called sea breeze. Slapton Sands is a curios place from a geological point of view. Though having a geotechnical engineer explain their idea of what’s going on it seems logical. If you look from a plan view the seas current travels not directly to the shore but along it. So there’s no force pushing inland to break the land barrier to get the fresh water. There is a bridge on the southern side with a culvert to allow the fresh water to exit out to the sea but no salt water enters due to the pressure of the fresh water. There you go.

 

 

Apart from the geological education there’s some WWII history to the place with a floating Sherman Tank or funny's as they were nick named. They were designed to be launch from landing craft positioned off shore and using a prop driven if the drive shaft, where motored on to the shore where the large skirt that surrounds the tank where dropped and fighting was engaged. The problem with the design was that if the seas where even a bit choppy the water would slosh over the side of the skirt and quickly drown the tank and if the crew where not quick enough to escape they follow it to the bottom. Slapton Sands was where they tested these tanks and off course a few of them sank. In the 1970's a local man, with a lot of effort, found and recovered on that sank 65 meter off shore, to be displayed as a monument. You can just see it to the left in the above image.

 

 

We arrived here at 8 am but the cafe was not open till 9 am so we had a wonder around including the shingle beach with its sea warn rocks and alcoves. There was also a nice route up the cliffs providing a good view. I was very surprised at the warms of the water, having only ever experienced on our shores cold, very cold or F*** etc seas. Wish I'd though I could have brought some swim clothes and enjoyed the sea, next time. Defiantly going to re-visit.

Having had a very enjoyable breakfast, Paul going for the English breakfast and myself the American with pancakes and bacon. Off course I ate the bacon first then the pancakes, I'm not weird!

We then headed on to Dartmouth and our first ever ferry, crossing the river Dart. On the way into Dartmouth from the South, I had to stop as the little bays with all the little boats moors up looked so pretty, lovely little place. It also has a steam train running along the far shore, see video below I took during our crossing:

 

 

We had a fun moment before boarding. We were in a queue for a few minute so we decided to hope of the bike and stretch our legs. I also monitored the still slow drip of oil from my air box, but there was no difference in my oil level so I didn’t worry to much. Whilst I was looking the other way the ferry had arrived and the cars in front where on the move, so a mad scramble ensued to get on the bikes and catch up. We parked the bikes in a small layby dedicated for motorbikes kept a secure hold on them most of the way across. It cost us £2 each for the crossing.

We then carried on to Brighton where we stopped near the sea front for fish and chips watching the constant stream of runners and people who really like to keep fit. We did think of giving some of them a chip but thought better of it. After a while feeling a little out of place for not doing anything energetic and feeling a little tiered from watching them we decided to bale and head on to Hastings.

Arriving at Hasting petrol station after dark, we were shattered from the day so I went off on a hunt for a campsite spot and luckily just around the corner there was some playing fields, see above photo, with no one around or nearby. We managed to squeeze the bikes through the gate and with just enough energy get the tents up and slide into out sleeping bags.