I’m awake at 5AM. I’m apprehensive and expectant.

I’m apprehensive because of the 100% chance of rain with wind gusts of 25 mph. In similar weather conditions, my 6 mile walk two days ago took 5 1/2 hours. I had to walk slower than normal with the driving rain, the obscure path, and the scrambling over boulders for probably 1/3-1/2 mile. Not fun!

I’m expectant because I’m walking to Lands’ End. At this point, the Atlantic Ocean makes a decision. Some water goes north to the Irish Sea and the Bay of Bristol; some water goes south to the English Channel. At this point, having walked east to west, and then north to south, I now begin walking west to east.

When I hear my BnB Paul move about, I join him in the kitchen. I hand him my two little packages of Quakers “porridge.” “Can I microwave these?” “Sure, I’ll do it for you.” We chat about Lands’ End. “Don’t be too disappointed in what you see there. Really commercialized.” Hmm, my first warning about Lands’ End.

We chat about Paul’s life as a volunteer rescuer. That explains how he knew one of the women participants in the Atlantic Coastal Challenge who fell receiving a head injury. On this past Sunday, I was passed by many of this Challenges 300 hundred runners/walkers. Being the final day of a three-day challenge, the runners were aiming to finish at Lands’ End. Prior to Sunday’s marathon, the runners had run a Friday marathon from Padstow to Perranporth, and a Saturday marathon from Perranporth to Hayle. Three marathons in three days. Yikes! No wonder some of them looked like zombies running.

I throw my pack and poncho on. Only a drizzle. Not bad. When I get to the Geevor Tin Mine, the rain lets loose. “Heck, I hope that I don’t have to walk in this all day!” By the time I’m walking past the towers of other mining operations, the rain has miraculously stopped! Yeah!

For several hours, I can enjoy the sights without rain. This is Cornwall’s Tin Coast. Since Roman times, this area has been mined for its tin and copper in the making of bronze. “There is the mine where 30 miners died.” “There is the mine which goes out under the Atlantic for 1/2 a mile.” Amazing what the men and their families endured to make a living.

By the time I reach Cape Cornwall, I’m enjoying myself. The views are spectacular. Driven by on-and -off again storms, the crashing waves are stupendous. I can even see the Lands’ End promontory. I chat with an older couple. They take my photograph; I take theirs. “Just enjoying the view.” When I learn that he is a church organist, I ask if he knows Vicar Rowell whom I had met day earlier on the trail. “Oh yes, Vicar Al, quite the walker!”

Unfortunately, I have to pick up my pace. Even more unfortunately, the rains return. Oh well! I soldier on. When I round Sennen Cove Bay, I know that I’m within two miles of my goal. I chat with a gardener as I admire his stone walls. When he learns that I’m staying at Lands’ End, he says “Well, be prepared for something different than what you might be expecting.” Hmmm, why is everyone warning me about Lands’ End? Covering the last distance, I meet a couple within a few hundred yards of Lands’ End. Saying to them that “I can taste dinner”, they respond “The food is pretty good, but the theme park around the hotel is rather tacky!”

I reach Lands’ End. I think about all its significance, about all the apprehensions and expectations associated with it. To the English citizens, Lands’ End was a disappointment. This historic geographical point deserved better treatment than tacky commercialization. They are proud of Lands’ End. They expect an acknowledgment of its significance.

I think about Lands’ End for the ship passengers leaving for North America. When the Cornwall mines were closed, those tin miners left to find work in South Africa and Australia. They must have had powerful emotions. Did they primarily feel the sadness of leaving behind, often permanently, family and friends? Or, could they, at the moment of passing Lands’ End, also have a sense of expectations and anticipations?

I think about Lands’ End. Different from the English who expected more, I’m not bothered by its commercialization. I’ve seen worse such as the Smokies Pigeon Forge. As I eventually notice that out of a dozen employees only one appears to be over 30, I realize that these kids had jobs here. They don’t have to leave. Different from migrants and tin miners whose expectations for a better, future life may be temporarily overwhelmed by sadness, I have neither inchoate expectations nor am I swamped in sadness for a life that I’m leaving behind.

For me, I’m glad that I made it to Lands’ End. My apprehension and expectation. I survived the rains and my apprehension. And, since I didn’t have any lunch, I’m really expecting a good dinner which turned out to be very satisfying.