Porlock to Lynton: South West Coast Path Day 2 Guide

jump to planning

The combination of screaming seagulls and a 6:00am sunrise ensured an early start, but that just meant I had plenty of time to make a coffee and relax on the outdoor sofa while I drank it.

At this early stage of the walk, I had no idea quite what a luxury that sofa, or indeed anywhere to sit that wasn’t the ground, actually was. Coming from New Zealand, where kitchens, common rooms, and picnic tables are the norm in commercial campgrounds, I hadn’t stopped to consider that other countries might not be the same. As it turned out, at least in the southwest of the UK, they aren’t.

With nowhere to get food or drink for most of the day, we grabbed sandwiches and snacks from the One Stop convenience store on the main road, then turned around and headed back past the campsite and down the lane to rejoin the coast path under bright blue skies.

The trail started off by picking its way through a marshy wetland, with a boardwalk in the wetter spots to protect both the fragile ecosystem and the dryness of our socks. The remains of a long-dead plantation were clearly visible as we passed, a row of spindly sticks forlornly reaching for the sky.

By the time we’d slowly picked our way along the wide shingle beach outside Porlock Weir, we’d been walking for about an hour. It was just after 9:00am, but none of the potential breakfast spots had opened yet, so I settled for a somewhat-fresh sandwich from my backpack and a distinct lack of coffee. It wasn’t quite the same.

After slipping our way along more shingle on the other side of the village, the path took a sharp left off the beach, heading slightly inland and mostly upward. We’d enjoyed those first three miles of flat walking, which was just as well: the remaining 13+ miles would be anything but.

With the change in elevation came a change in terrain, from open marshes to dense woodland. The expansive ocean views of the day before mostly disappeared, replaced by occasional glimpses of sea and sky instead.

About 45 minutes later, we walked into the small hamlet of Culbone. Blink and you really could miss it, but it’s worth keeping your eyes open: just off to the right sits St Beuno’s, a lovely old stone church.

It’s apparently the smallest parish church in the country, as petite as Culbone itself, and easily worth the very minor detour before you head back into the woods.

The path had ducked further inland to get to Culbone, for once avoiding the steepest part of the valley, but our glimpses of the ocean returned soon afterward. There’s a signposted alternative route from just after Culbone to Yenworthy Wood that stays inland: it looked slightly longer on the map, so we felt no particular desire to take it, but apparently it’s less wooded and has slightly better views.

Ticks are an issue on the South West Coast Path, and the section through Exmoor is infamous for them. I don’t usually wear trousers while hiking, but was glad of them today: a quick stop on the side of the trail for lunch became an even quicker stop when we noticed several of the little bloodsucking b*stards crawling on our clothes.

Fortunately none of them had found exposed skin to latch onto, but they certainly got us moving again a little sooner than expected.

Passing by a small waterfall and through a dramatic stone archway that seemed to now serve no particular purpose beyond looking spectacular, we marched onward. The rocky path and lack of places to stop meant our feet were starting to ache at this point: not ideal, given how far we still had to go!

There’d been plenty of up and down as we traipsed through the woods, but in general none of the climbs had been particularly high and none of the descents were particularly steep. That was all about to change as we approached Countsbury, where the cliffs got higher and the trees more sparse: it made for better views, but they came at the cost of less shade and more sweat as the afternoon sun beat down.

We dropped briefly down to a lane where some kind soul had set up an honesty box and cooler with drinks and snacks. The drinks had been well and truly picked over by this point, mid-afternoon on a hot summer’s day, but I appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.

In hindsight, I probably should have grabbed the remaining can of suspiciously-bright orange soft drink: I could have done with the sugar boost if nothing else.

After briefly following the lane down into the valley we (of course) started up the hill on the other side: this was peak Exmoor, with heather-covered moor stretching out in all directions, broken up only by sky, sea, and a herd of wild ponies quietly grazing as we passed. They seemed far less bothered by the gradient than us as we slowly climbed towards the top of Butter Hill, the highest point of the day.

Hot and sweaty, we should have stopped for a drink at the Blue Ball Inn at the top of the hill in Countisbury, if for no other reason than to ask how it got its name. Instead we got sucked in by the sight of Lynmouth and Lynton in the distance, our end point for the day. Surely it couldn’t take long to get there, right?

Wrong.

Even though it was all downhill, the final hour-long push into town was one of the hardest parts of the day. We were both pretty exhausted, and with a gusty breeze now deciding to make an appearance, it took all the focus we had to stay on the narrow, steep, and rocky path down the cliff face.

The views were spectacular, at least on the odd occasion I had a chance to admire then, but I hate to think what that section would be like in bad weather. It felt sketchy enough even in the sunshine!

I’m not sure what hurt more as we stumbled out of the woods and into Lynmouth, my feet or my knees, but fortunately they both had just enough left in them to carry me past the pretty little harbour and into the first pub we saw.

The Rock House menu stood out mostly for what wasn’t currently available from it, but by this point I would have eaten one of those ponies we’d seen up on the moors, especially if I didn’t have to wear my shoes while I did it.

As tempting as it was to just pitch our tent in the beer garden, we eventually mustered the energy to get back onto our complaining feet about an hour later, and start the final push to the campsite.

While Lynmouth is at sea level, Lynton sits 130m (430 ft) above it at the top of the cliff. The two are joined by the highest and steepest water-powered funicular in the world: I’m not sure how much competition there is for that title, but “highest” and “steepest” were not the words I needed to hear when I realised that the Coast Path runs alongside said funicular.

Once we finally did get to the top, our campsite was about a 15-minute walk away, slightly out of town in a lovely little valley beside the burbling West Lyn river. Since we’d just eaten, there was no need to avail ourselves of the pub/Thai restaurant alongside: all that was left to do was shower, pitch our tent, and tumble headlong into it.

It had been a long, hard day, especially this early in the walk. The stony trail had done a good job of battering our feet, not helped by the lack of places to stop that weren’t a tick-infested clearing on the side of the path.

Throw in 3000+ feet of climbs and descents under a cloudless sky, and we were both feeling it. Would tomorrow be any easier? With more sun, a similar distance, and the highest point on the entire Coast Path in store, I strongly suspected it wouldn’t be.

Planning

Started at: Sparkhayes Campsite (0.6 miles/1km off-trail)

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

We really liked this cute little campsite, in a great spot beside the river. We paid £14 per person for a flat, grassy, and sheltered pitch: as you can see in the photo, the site was basically full on the night we were there, but its small size meant it was still quiet once the sun went down.

The shower and toilet facilities were modern and felt almost brand new, and the manager was lovely: she even gave us a couple of plastic chairs to use just so we didn’t have to sit on the ground.

There’s a little onsite shop and a breakfast cafe that operates during the summer school holidays and at weekends from Easter to around the end of August. It’s open from 8.30am: unfortunately we were already walking by then as we had another long day ahead, but the menu looked good!

Transport and Parking

During the summer months the Exmoor Explorer runs between Minehead and Lynmouth, stopping in Porlock and elsewhere along the coast. Operated by First Bus, in 2025 the service started on 25 May 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 leaving a car somewhere, paid carparks and limited free on-street parking are available in Porlock, Lynton, and Lynmouth.

If you don’t fancy walking the entire distance of this section, you can also leave the Coast Path roughly halfway between Porlock and Lynmouth. At the crumbling remains of Sister’s Fountain, take the public footpath up to the County Gate carpark on the A39 motorway. There you’ll find a bus stop for the Exmoor Explorer alongside that (free) carpark and the Rambler’s Rest tearoom.

Waymarking and Navigation

The waymarking was good on this section of the trail, with both main and alternative routes clearly signposted. In general the path was pretty obvious: where it wasn’t, taking the trail closest to the ocean was almost always the right decision. Just keep an eye out for the occasional unexpected turn off a wider track onto a narrower or less-obvious one.

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. I’d have gone off-course at least once a day without it, sometimes much more!

You can find the Porlock to Lynton route here: it’s free to use, although I pay a couple of pounds for a subscription so I can download maps to my phone in advance.

Phone Service

As with much of the Coast Path, cell service is spotty in some sections of this walk no matter which provider you’re with. I use giffgaff on the O2 network, and had good service near the villages and towns at the start and end of the route, but limited service elsewhere.

For that reason, I 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 giffgaff SIM, I’d switch on 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 and Accommodation

Porlock has plenty of cafes and restaurants, along with a couple of convenience stores. Porlock Weir is smaller, but (assuming you get there after about 9:30am) still has a few cafes and restaurants to choose from.

After that, there’s nothing enroute until you get to the Blue Ball Inn at Countisbury, about an hour out of Lynmouth. Lynton and Lynmouth both have many cafes, restaurants, pubs, and convenience stores.

There are no campsites near the trail between Porlock and Lynton/Lynmouth, so chances are you’ll end up staying at the same site we did.

If you’re not camping, the Blue Ball Inn in Countisbury has a few rooms, and there are plenty of hotels, B&Bs, and holiday cottages in Lynmouth and (especially) Lynton. Both North Walk House and Rockvale House are close to the path and very highly regarded.