Sunday was extremely uneventful. I had breakfast with Karen, said my goodbyes (she’s heading to London by train), hauled my bags (no luggage transfer between my walk with Karen and my walk alone, so I have my backpack and my bag full of support gear, like pants to wear at night) to the place where the intercity coach from Falmouth to Plymouth stops, and rode for two and a half hours in the rain.

I’d researched launderettes in Plymouth, and I used my phone’s Maps to get from the coach station to the launderette, also in the rain. Around then, Karen texted to say her train was making a stop in Plymouth. Damn it, I could have ridden with her; I must have messed up my travel research and concluded that the coach was the best way to get to Plymouth.

I did laundry (whew!) in a tiny launderette where locals clearly are used to drying things on the line; four or five people came in while I was there just to use the dryers because of the rain.

Then another slightly less rainy walk to the train station (closer than the coach station to the launderette- damn it again), since train stations are an easy place to get a taxi. I didn’t want to show up at my B&B ridiculously early, so I killed an hour people-watching before cabbing it out to Wembury. This little seaside village tucked into a valley has a bit of beach (too cramped to develop, so the village is actually way up the hill) where the path to get from the south coast of Devon to the north coast of Devon, the path I’ll b taking, begins.

I had a nice chat with my B&B hosts about this and that, petted their friendly but amazingly calm little labrador-mix dog, and walked up to the pub for a nice chicken sandwich. Lots of walking up out of that valley to do Monday, so I watched television in bed and slept listening to the high winds howling all night.