When I look at a map, I’ve moved through a considerable part of southwestern England. I would suppose that I’ve seen plenty that this part of England offers. But I haven’t!

Walking the SWCP allows me to become acquainted with England about 100 yards on each side of the path. I regularly pass signs for Pubs that don’t tell me how far they are off the trail; I regularly ignore signs that say “Ice Cream Ahead. Turn Left.” If no details, no visit! I don’t need to walk more than I have too!

The exceptions are those days that I feel like meandering around the village or town after a good nap or during a rest day. During those hours, I enter full tourist mode.

I know the many criticisms of being a tourist, especially in this age of mass tourism. Some put being a tourist down. “Tourists spend and flash money just to show that they have the money.” “Tourists think that everything can be bought or sold.” “Tourists move only as a herd and they destroy the peace and quiet of places.” “Tourists only want the superficial and the tacky.” “Tourists treat the locals who care for them like dirt. No respect.” “Tourists add to our climate problem by consuming fuel and using so many plastic cups and spoons.” And so many more criticisms. I get it.

But, I caution myself. Even with being prone to sunbird with the Swedish side of my ancestry, I love the thought of going to the beach! Who doesn’t!

Along the path, I’ve learned that the “British Riviera” consists of towns through which I’ve walked, Brixham, Paignton and Torquay. I’ve learned that the World Heritage Jurassic Coast through which I’ve walked extends for another 95 miles. There is much to this area which attracts not only Londoners, but also individuals and families from Liverpool, Manchester and other English towns. I certainly am walking through a region which attracts visitors; we certainly live in a world of mobility.

I thoroughly enjoy allowing the world that I pass through surprise me. I don’t know the life-situation from which other visitors are leaving, and from which they must return. I don’t know what gives a sense of possibly needed release or renewal to those individuals.

I don’t know which child needs to laugh and enjoy the pleasure of building a sand castle or seeing a Disney character. I don’t know which young adult needs to escape from the internal demons into simple pleasures of being on the beach or sliding down a slide, of “being-a-kid-again.” I don’t know which parents work 10- hours a day or which parents wish that they had a job! I don’t know which grandparents are with grandkids that they see only once a year. I don’t know which older folks are able to step out of their life of memories and enjoy the present even if only for a few days.

I’ll certainly watch that I get off “my high-horse”, that I “smack-down” any sense of superiority of my “being a walker not a tourist.” Of course, I do shake my head at some of the things that I see. I’m not going into casinos or Amsterdam shops. But heh, I shake my head at things that I see back home!

Enjoy some of the “tourist” sights of southwestern England.