I wild camped just off the Camel Trail last night.

Unusually, I slept in until 6am, possibly because of being woken at 4am by a runner stomping by. In the dark.

It was a grey, misty start to the day (after rain through the night; no chance of seeing last night’s shooting stars) and didn’t look great for drone photography but by the time I’d packed up and reached the iron bridge near Padstow I got an amazing 10 minutes of diffuse sunlight — some of those pixs will appear on the gallery soon. Not got them off the drone’s memory card yet but from my memory of the screen scene the curving ex-railway bridge looked amazing from on high, surrounded by sand and water.

I cycled to Rock but it was drizzly and not worth heading to the dreamy beach at Daymer bay. Next time.

I recharged batteries in the Moor coffee shop at Bodmin jail (now a museum and an adjacent 4-star hotel that, with its rooms converted from cells, looks amazing) and then bought provisions for this evening’s luxury camp spot. Luxury in that I could get to the farm site early, no hiding my intentions. There was even a hot shower. (Not so keen on the farm cat, who took a liking to me and my food.)

Owner Richard told me he has been letting his field to campers for 4 years.

He was 10 to 15 percent down on last year but “we’re doing OK,” he said, with every third word being an f-bomb.

His farm was previously dairy, with 140 cows, but made no money, he said.

Camping is open March to October, with better hours than dairy farming, said Richard, swearing again.

“Nothing for kids to spend money on,” he laughed. “They’ve just got to improvise.”

Bit like his cat.