My Promise - A South West Coast Path Journey Dedicated to my Husband 

Meet Ruth - a determined and adventurous spirit who set out to walk the entire South West Coast Path solo, honoring a promise to her late husband. This is her story of resilience, nature, and unforgettable moments along one of England’s most beautiful trails.

A Promise Made 

For as long as I can remember, Peter and I had a plan. A simple one, really - but it was ours. Once we retired and the children, Sam and Hannah, had flown the nest, we’d don our hiking boots and walk the entire South West Coast Path. All 630 miles of it. We dreamed about it, laughed about it, even dragged the kids along coastal stretches during family vacations - whether they liked it or not. 

It was more than just a walk. It was a celebration of time, freedom, togetherness. Our future. 

Then, life - as it so often does - intervened. 

In April 2013, Peter, just 53, was diagnosed with incurable cancer. Not yet retired. The kids still at home. We were far from ready. But Peter, ever the optimist, battled through chemo and radiotherapy. That man could charm a room and still make me laugh. 

We did manage a trip, in September 2015, to a family wedding in Poole, where we walked along Studland Beach, hand in hand, to the official end of the South West Coast Path. 

There, I made him a promise. 
On the 3rd of September 2015, I told Peter I would walk it. One day, I’d do it for us.

That promise took root in my heart. And over the years, as time slowly worked its healing magic, that seed grew into something unstoppable. 

So, nearly a decade later, to mark my 60th birthday, and to remember Peter, I decided that 2025 was the year to keep the promise I made to him.   

Minehead and the Start of Something Bigger 

Instead of throwing a party for my 60th, I decided to honour Peter. To keep my word. To celebrate life and the love we shared. I would walk the South West Coast Path solo - from Minehead to Poole. Just me, the cliffs, the sea breeze, and a thousand memories. 

With the love, support and encouragement of family, friends, and a trusted travel company - Macs Adventure, who I’d walked with before - I set off on the 9th of May. 60 days. 630 miles. Every step a tribute, every view a reflection, every moment a meditation. 

I was raising funds for Ashgate Hospicecare, our local hospice, whose incredible team cared for Peter with such compassion - and supported me and the kids every step of the way during the most difficult time of our lives. This journey became more than personal - it became purposeful. And I planned to give it my best effort.

In the lead-up to my start date, I dedicated time to training at the gym and gradually increased my walking miles. 

Excitement and anticipation built in equal measure. I looked forward to feeling the sea breeze and being immersed in the raw elements of nature. 

But more than anything, I longed for the solitude - moments to reflect, to look both backward and ahead, and the time to simply be present. 

The First Footsteps 

The first week was magic. The kind that makes you feel small and alive all at once. From birdsong to wildflowers, the coast was bursting with color and sound. I felt like I was walking through a painting to the soundtrack of skylarks, woodpeckers and cuckoo. 

One day I set off along a long, flat beach, expecting a relatively easy stretch. Ha! If anyone ever tells you walking on a flat beach and through sand dunes is easy - they're lying. The sand swallowed my boots with every step, the soft dunes stretching ahead like a miniature desert. It was exhausting and slow-going, like walking through treacle in hiking boots. Other days it was nothing but miles of tarmac paths, and by the end of it, I had my first blister. But oh, the reward - one of the famous Hocking’s ice creams from Appledore. I sat on a bench with it in hand, grinning at the sea and the state of my sandy socks. I’d earned every lick. 

Each day the accommodations were always a happy sight. Silver Cottage in Braunton stood out - Sophie, the host, had thought of everything. Later that week, Woolacombe Bay Hotel provided luxury and a swim, and a sauna in their spa. 

By the time my rest day arrived, I had itchy feet - literally and figuratively. I was hooked. 

Finding Rhythm 

Week two brought with it sun-soaked days, endless skies and lots of ups and downs (walking of course). I watched the sunrise over Clovelly at 5:23am and saw it sink beneath the sea at Hartland Quay at 09:17pm. A full day, a full heart. 

The path was quieter, more remote. I met wild ponies, goats, even a baby adder. And fellow hikers too, with stories, smiles, and shared moments. I never felt alone. Not really. 

One of my favorite days was the stretch from Morwenstow to Bude. It was a shorter one, which gave me time to simply be. I spent a couple of blissful hours listening to music, reading my book on the beach, dipping my toes in the sea, and poking around in rock pools as the tide rolled out. Around me, surfers rode the waves, school kids shrieked with laughter in their water sports lessons, and families made the most of a seaside break. It was the kind of afternoon that reminded me how healing simple pleasures can be. 

Parts of the route that week had been lung-bursting - but lovely. And I noticed something new: my stamina was improving. The climbs that had left me breathless in week one were beginning to feel... doable. I felt stronger, steadier, more at home on the path. 

The end of the week, however, was a bit of a slog. The terrain was tough, and by the afternoon I was hot, sweaty, dusty, and salty - but I wasn’t alone. I’d picked up a lovely American walking buddy named Lisa, and we kept each other going with plenty of chatter, laughter, and mutual encouragement. We stopped for afternoon tea in Boscastle - scones and all - and tackled the hills together, step by step. The views were jaw-dropping, the weather held out, and the companionship was the perfect balm for tired legs. That night, I went to bed utterly content.

Coast and Companionship 

By week three, the weather turned playful - sun one minute, sideways rain the next. But even soaked to the bone, it had been fantastic. I’d seen seals, crossed rivers, and stood on high cliffs with the wind in my hair. The world was wild, and I was part of it. 

Day 15 was a tale of two halves - steep ups and downs that had me scrambling on all fours at times. But I had something to look forward to. My partner, Dave, joined me in Port Isaac for a four-day stretch. It was such a joy to share the experience with him, even if the weather turned dramatic just as he arrived. We battled gusts up to 40mph that nearly knocked us off our feet, and rain that came in sideways sheets.  

Still, as I trudged on, soaked and breathless, I heard the words of JFK echo in my mind: “I’m not doing it because it’s easy, but because it’s hard.” That line carried me more than once. 

By day 20, well over 200 miles in, we crossed the iconic rugged mining landscapes - weathered chimney stacks, dramatic cliffs - the stuff of Poldark, a series I’ve adored since my teenage years. First, the books by Winston Graham, then the more recent TV drama. It felt like walking through a page of history and fiction all at once, and I loved every windswept minute of it.

Turning Points 

Week four brought me to Land’s End - the turning point, quite literally. The wind shifted. It was at my back now, cheering me on. Old friends joined me, new ones were made, and nature wrapped me in its quiet embrace. 

The week began in St Ives, where some dear friends met me for a reunion. We spent a night at The Tinner’s Arms in Zennor - Peter loved that pub. Sitting there with a glass in hand, surrounded by laughter and memories. There were days filled with reflections and the occasional emotional wobble. But even when I was alone, I never felt lonely.  

I saw tadpoles and bees, watched butterflies dance in the air, and even went to the cinema to see The Salt Path film – very apt!  

My brother-in-law met me later that week, and together we went to the Minnack Theatre to see Treasure Island - Arrrghhh! Salt in the air and the sea just beyond the stage. It was pure magic.  

The fifth week felt like a milestone. At Porthallow, I hit the halfway mark: 315 miles. Ferry crossings, river wades, rain-soaked hills - nothing could dampen my spirit. The Lizard coastline left me breathless. Not just from the climbs, but from its sheer beauty. I stayed in some gorgeous accommodation, especially Penmenner on the Lizard - this stretch has been amazing.

Week five also started with a challenge: shin splints. Every step came with a twinge, a reminder of just how far I’d come and how far there still was to go. But spirits were soon lifted when my lovely pal Debbie joined me in Porthleven. We took a well-earned rest day together, exploring the town’s cozy coffee shops and art galleries. Her company was just what I needed to recharge. 

Then came what I can only describe as the toughest mile yet - between Lizard and Coverack. It felt like walking through a jungle. I was fighting my way through head-high bracken and thick foliage, but I made it through, muddy and grinning. 

Later in the week, I met up with more friends - Heather and Martin - in Falmouth. These reunions along the way were like little emotional fuel stops. Just enough to top up my energy and remind me how loved and supported I really was (while sipping on a cider!). 

Magic in the Everyday 

Cornwall waved me goodbye with sunshine and a final burst of hospitality. Week six brought heat, harbor towns, and cheeky seagulls stealing fries. I wandered through Looe and Gorran Haven, waded through coves, crossed into Devon with sun on my face and Peter on my mind. 

It was another stunning week, filled with friends and family gatherings along the route -just what I needed as the days grew longer and my legs a little wearier. There were so many highlights: hearing the Derry Airs belting out sea shanties in the sun and watching the waves roll in at Cawsands, and soaking in the warmth. 

Crossing over to Plymouth felt symbolic somehow. Walking along the harbor, with views across Plymouth Sound and over to Drake’s Island, I found myself slowing down, wanting to savor every step. It was simply stunning. 

And then - what a way to celebrate the summer solstice. Two river crossings and a ride on the famous water tractor out to Burgh Island! The sun was shining, my skin was sun-kissed, and I felt fit, well, and deeply content. 

One day was especially emotional - one of those days where the tears came freely, both happy and sad. It began with a quiet, beautiful moment: a robin visiting me at breakfast. I took it as a sign, a little nudge from the universe - or perhaps from Peter. It set the tone for a day full of feeling, where the beauty of the journey and the weight of the memories seemed to walk right alongside me.

Arriving in Salcombe felt like coming home. I stayed for three nights, a lovely break in a place we’ve always loved as a family. So many happy vacations here, so many memories tucked into its narrow lanes and golden beaches. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect place to pause and reflect on just how far I’d come. 

I was beginning to hope it never ended… 

Coming Home 

Week seven was nostalgic. From Plymouth to Torquay, I revisited places steeped in family lore - Bigbury-on-Sea, Dartmouth, Salcombe. I passed familiar pubs and beaches and I smiled at the memories. 

The path was varied - gentle in places, brutal in others. But I was stronger now. Day 50 approached, and I felt invincible. Not in a superhero kind of way - but in an I've-kept-my-promise kind of way. 

One sunny afternoon, I arrived at my B&B in Torquay and discovered it had a heated outdoor swimming pool. After days of coastal climbs and salty wind, a couple of hours swimming and sunbathing felt like heaven. That evening, I went to see Queen by Candlelight - a spectacular, emotional performance under flickering lights. Honestly, I felt like I was living the dream. 

But amidst the joy, there were softer moments too. I was missing contact - hugs, especially.  

Still, I celebrated the 500-mile milestone with a grin and a tune - you can probably guess which one I was humming! 

The Finish Line 

On July 10th, I arrived in Poole. 60 years old. 60 days of hiking. A full circle.

I stood at Studland Beach, just as I had 10 years earlier with Peter. I felt him everywhere - in the waves, the wind, the sand beneath my feet. He had walked every step with me. 

I’d done it. For Peter. For me. For the promise. 

And I was absolutely over the moon. At the finishing point, my whole family was there waiting - smiles, hugs I’d been so badly craving, and a picnic on the beach that lasted all afternoon. It was glorious. Laughter, sandy toes, cake, fizz in paper cups, and the kind of joy that only comes when something really matters. 

I felt proud. Not just of the miles, but of the meaning behind every one of them. And thanks to so many of you - friends, family, strangers who became part of the journey - I was able to raise over £9,000 ($12,000) for Ashgate Hospice. 

Above all, I kept my promise to a very special man.

What the Path Gave Me 

The South West Coast Path was more than a walk. It was healing. It was freedom. It was a space to grieve, to laugh, to remember, and to dream. 

I met incredible people, saw jaw-dropping scenery, and tested my limits. I learned that solitude isn’t loneliness. That love lingers. And that promises kept carry their own kind of peace. 

To anyone wondering if they should do it, do. Life won’t wait, but the path will always welcome you. 

The End (but only of the walk...) 

A huge thank you to Ruth for choosing us to be part of such a personal and special journey - and for letting us share her story. She's a real reminder of how healing nature and the outdoors can be. Ruth has inspired all of us here at Macs, and we hope she’s inspired you too. Let her story be that little spark you need - the gentle nudge, the wind in your sails - to get out there and start your own self-guided adventure, whatever that looks like for you. Big or small, solo or with a friend… just go for it. 

And if you’re not sure where to start or need a hand to get the ball rolling, give us a call - we’d be absolutely thrilled to help you plan your next adventure.