Walked Through the Rain, Walked through the Mud
Happy New Year! And the first walk of '26 is a joy from beginning to end.
A walk influenced by a NSFW song by Nick Cave. It tells the story of a gangster called Stagger Lee, whose woman throws him out in the ice and the snow. He sets off on a ramble through the rain and the mud, till he came to a place called the Bucket of Blood.
On arrival, Stag commits many unsavoury acts, culminating in killing everyone. We will settle for a pint and hopefully, a cob.
Starting in Hayle, we move through its industrial heritage on the quaysides, before getting distracted with golden sands and enviable coffee locations. Queuing for our flat white and Americano with youth who don't look like they have been to bed last night. Their reactions dulled by Hootenanny excess to the point they cannot protect their cooked breakfast. I'm having a better '26 than them, laughing as a seagull makes off with a sausage from one of their Full Englishes, them all howling at the skies.
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| Through the Harbour |
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| The Pot of Gold exactly at the Bucket of Blood |
Online resources provide two different opening times for the pub. WhatPub say midday. Google says 2pm. The pubs own Facebook page says nothing. Fortunately, the pub manager is on top of his emails. 1pm fitting my needs perfectly. I've got to be back by 3pm so that the Baggies can ruin my excellent mood.
Arriving at 12:50, we have to wait for the most beautiful sound in the world. We share the joyous "scraping of the bolt" moment with a fellow dog walker.
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| But not before photos |
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| Well, I never |
This is the only current pub in the land with this name. With the history of the building stretching back to the early C13th, there is much conjecture as to how it was christened. The ghoulish will love murdered smugglers dumped in the well, with an unsuspecting landlord hauling up his bucket of gore. Scientists will prefer iron ore deposits polluting the drinking water. Regardless, ghost stories abound and are respected.
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| Don't mess with the dark arts |
As if fitting, stories are shared from last night's excesses. Only in a small Cornish village could you have had six antipodean women getting a conga going around the bar after drinking the place dry of Guinness. I only hope they remembered to duck. The ceilings are no higher than 5.5 feet. I know this, as both my ears are touching rafters as I order a fine pint of Hicks and enquire about the snack situation.
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| You were told to not mess with that Ouija Board |
It's almost a perfect afternoon, but alas, no cobs. Forced to move on for sustenance, it's a glorious walk back to Hayle along the river.
And with a wonderful case of "The Trail Will Provide" - a takeaway pasty shop.
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| Simply glorious |
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| Inner cities get youth at chicken shops. |
Mrs M declares Philps to be the best pasties in the land, with the crumbliest, flakiest pastry and tastiest fillings.
2026 is off to a banger. Happy New Year!
Walk Details
Distance - 4 Miles
Geocaches - 1
Walk Inspiration - Enjoy Walking in West Cornwall, Walk 40
