Lynton to Combe Martin: South West Coast Path Day 3 Guide

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The big advantage of falling into bed exhausted as soon as the sun goes down is that it means you’ve still had a full night’s sleep by the time the seagulls start screaming at 6:00am. Ask me how I know.

The hot day, clear skies, and sheltered campsite had made for perfect dew conditions overnight, which meant I had the pleasure of packing away a wet tent for the first time on this walk. It would very much not be the last.

I hadn’t quite realised just how much extra weight all that water adds: close to 1kg, which isn’t exactly what I needed on the day that we’d be climbing Great Hangman, the highest point on the entire South West Coast Path.

With a forlorn backward glance at the onsite cafe that didn’t open for another hour, we headed back up the road towards the main part of Lynton. Google Maps suggested that nowhere would be open yet for breakfast, but we got briefly excited when a board on the main street proclaimed otherwise.

That excitement soon abated when we couldn’t find the cafe in question, so it was off to the convenience store for the second morning in a row. Are Londis sandwiches worse than those from One Stop? It’s a close battle.

Fortunately, any lingering breakfast-based sadness disappeared as soon as we got back to the path. It was another sunny blue-sky day, which was reason enough to be happy as we strolled along the flat asphalt path out of Lynton known as “Poet’s Walk”, stopping regularly to read poems that had been attached to signs along the way.

Little did we know, however, that the biggest highlight of the day lay just ahead.

Random fact about me: I really like goats. I’m not sure why, exactly, but there’s something about them that just brings a smile to my face whenever I spot one. You can imagine my delight, then, when about 20 minutes down the trail we rounded a corner and ran into well over a dozen of them.

Herds of feral goats have lived in this area for centuries, and this particular group were living their best lives. Some were grazing, some were lazing in the sun, some were busily butting heads with each other.

What they definitely weren’t doing was caring about our presence in the slightest, so we stood there admiring them, taking too many photos, and generally commenting on how awesome goats are for quite some time.

After eventually dragging ourselves away from the goat-based entertainment, we left the asphalt behind and entered the Valley of Rocks. As the name suggests, it’s a grassy valley surrounded by craggy rock formations, and it looked spectacular in the morning sunshine.

The path then turned inland and largely followed the road for a while, passing a Christian youth camp that was in full swing as we walked by. It wasn’t much after 9am, but the music blaring from loudspeakers ensured nobody was going to be late for breakfast that morning.

Continuing along the road past Lee Abbey and the small beach at Lee Bay, we left the road to head steeply up a woodland trail. It soon rejoined the road, and then undulated its way along the length of Woody Bay and past a pretty waterfall near Martinhoe. With three sharp climbs and descents and the temperature steadily rising, this was not the fastest three-mile stint we’ve ever walked.

After another lovely stretch of trail as we approached Heddon’s Mouth, we could see the path stretching out along the side of the next hill. Our brief rush of hope that we’d get to stay up on the cliffs for a change was quickly dashed as we drew closer, but it was a popular spot: we saw several groups of people walking down a path towards the beach as we descended.

The trail headed down the valley to cross a small bridge over the River Heddon, where it was definitely time for lunch: our energy levels were dropping even more steeply than the path we’d just walked down. The Hunters Inn is a bit under half a mile off the trail, down a pair of public footpaths that start beside the bridge and run along either side of the river, and 100% worth the detour.

Rehydrating* with a pint of cider while destroying a plate of ham, egg, and chips, it was a little dispiriting to realise we were barely at the halfway mark. This was going to be another long old day.

Lunch sat heavily in my stomach as we climbed slowly up the path we’d spotted 90 minutes earlier, but the views from the top as we rejoined the coast made it all worthwhile. Or so I told myself, anyway.

Spectacular vistas had been the order of the day: it seemed like every time we rounded a corner, someone had perfectly aligned the cliffs so that they curved photogenically into the distance.

Even with the epic views, though, this was a tough section. The path was steep and rocky, and there was no shade up on top of the cliffs, so it felt like we were copping it from both sides for the better part of five miles.

We’d been playing a fun game for most of the afternoon called “which of those big hills up ahead is Great Hangman?”, but in the end it wasn’t hard to tell. Looming above the others, we could see the top from a long way off.

As we approached, the track turned to follow the valley inland. Just like Heddon’s Mouth, for a while it looked like we might get to go around rather than down and back up, and just like Heddon’s Mouth, we didn’t.

Dropping sharply down towards Sherrycombe, the small creek at the bottom, we passed a guy with a large pack who looked and smelled like he’d been walking for weeks. He probably had.

It was somewhere north of 30 degrees Celsius by this point, and the thousand-yard stare on his face as he silently walked by suggested he was even more keen to get out of the sun than we were.

Everything that goes down must go up, at least on the Coast Path, and we soon crossed a bridge and started up the other side. Fortunately we hadn’t gone all the way to sea level, so had only about 600ft (180m) of steep zig-zagging to get to the summit.

The rocky path, the switchbacks, the sweat: all these things were expected. Somewhat more unexpected was a pair of wild horses appearing from around a corner, walking slowly but implacably toward us. There wasn’t room to pass and they definitely had no intention of reversing, so there was only one thing for it: up the bank we scrambled.

With little more than a snort and a baleful eye, first one than the other plodded past. Between them and the herd of goats this morning, it had been quite the day for hanging out with wild animals.

Before long we’d broken back through the treeline and were making our way towards the large pile of rocks that marked both the summit and the highest point we’d get to on the trail over the next seven weeks.

Taking a minute to catch our breath and admire the view, we were very much ready to be done with the day. The day wasn’t quite ready to be done with us, however: there was still an hour or so to go to Combe Martin, on a slow but steady descent via Little Hangman.

Or at least, slow and steady was the plan, until I realised that the ice-cream shop I’d been dreaming about all day closed in 10 minutes, and we were still at least 15 minutes away from it.

That’s why, despite my aching feet and much to Lauren’s amusement, I broke into what I called a graceful jog and she called a weird shuffle down the final hill into town. Past the carpark and around the beach I sped, bursting through the shop door at 6:01pm.

The last few customers were placing their orders, and I exhaustedly added two more. Never before have I put so much effort into buying ice-creams, and sitting on the sea wall watching the paddleboarders a few minute later, never before have I appreciated the end result quite as much.

Our campsite was a few minutes out of town: reception was closed by the time we got there, but it was nothing a quick call to the number on the door couldn’t fix. The onsite manager loaded us onto a golf cart to drive the 150 yards to our pitch: it felt kinda silly given how far we’d walked that day, but I wasn’t about to turn him down.

There were no other tents in the hiker’s area when we arrived, and nobody else showed up that night. With absolutely no energy left, it was all I could do to help pitch the tent, have a shower, and wash a few pieces of clothing. Dinner consisted of a by-now extremely stale Londis sandwich, electrolytes, and about 600 litres of water.

It had been a very big day.

Planning

Started at: Sunny Lyn Holiday Park (1.2 miles/2km off-trail).

Finished at: Newberry Valley Touring and Camping Park (0.2 miles/0.3km off-trail).

This campsite is in an ideal spot, just off the path outside Combe Martin and within easy reach of pubs and cafes (and ice-cream shops).

The shower and toilet block was quite modern, and there was a small kitchen/washing-up area that had a couple of power sockets for things like kettles and microwaves that could be repurposed for charging my phone and power bank for a while.

We paid £12 per person for a flat, grassy, and very sheltered pitch. There’s a dedicated strip of grass that’s only for walkers with small tents: as you can see, it wasn’t exactly busy when we were there, even in the middle of the August school holidays.

Transport and Parking

During peak summer months the Exmoor Explorer runs a limited service (three times a day) between Lynmouth and Combe Martin. Operated by First Bus, in 2025 high-season service started on 24 July and finished on 31 August.

There were question marks about whether this service would run in 2026, but recent announcements suggest it will. If not, at this stage there are no other public transport options available.

If you’re planning to leave a car somewhere, paid carparks and limited free on-street parking are available in both Lynton and Combe Martin.

If you don’t want to walk the entire distance in one go, and have two vehicles available, you could leave one in the National Trust carpark at Heddon Valley: it’s roughly at the halfway mark, with a good pub (the Hunters Inn) nearby.

Waymarking and Navigation

The waymarking was good on this section of the trail, although in general there weren’t a lot of places to go wrong other than a slightly confusing section with closed paths near Lee Abbey.

I used AllTrails as my main navigation app for the entire South West Coast Path, and it was an ideal backup for the signs and official guide book. You can find the Lynton to Combe Martin route here: it’s free to use, although I pay a couple of pounds a month for a subscription so I can download maps to my phone in advance.

Phone Service

As with much of the Coast Path, cell service was good in the towns at either end and pretty spotty elsewhere, at least on the O2 network. I had very little signal at the campsite in Combe Martin either.

Fortunately I’d paid a few pounds for an eSIM from Instabridge that let me swap between all three UK networks, EE, O2, and Vodafone/Three. It worked really well as a fallback option: whenever I needed service but couldn’t get it on my usual SIM, I’d switch to the eSIM and choose one of the other networks. If there was any signal to be had in the area at all, I’d pick it up.

Facilities

Both Lynton/Lynmouth and Combe Martin have all of the food, drink, and accommodation options you could ask for. Note, though, that if you’re starting out early like we were, there may not be anywhere open for breakfast.

There’s a teashop at Lee Abbey, although it has pretty limited hours: Thursday to Saturday, noon to 3:45pm from the start of April to the end of September. The pub that we stopped at for lunch in Heddon Valley, Hunters Inn, is a bit under half a mile off the trail: after that, there’s nothing until Combe Martin.

Accommodation

There are a couple of campsites within reasonable walking distance of the trail before you get to Combe Martin: South Dean Camping just off the path in Trentishoe, or Silver View Campsite near Great Hangman.

If you prefer your bed a little softer and your walls a little thicker, there are more choices. For a short day, there’s Haven Heights in Woody Bay, otherwise Hunters Inn that I’ve already mentioned also has a few rooms available.

In Combe Martin, the best options are the Newberry Beach Lodge and Channel Vista Guest House.