Full of good intent I set off for inland Cornwall, conscious that I sometimes ignore its wide acres for the splendours of the coast. And I got as far as Holsworthy on the county border when - because of the peculiar weather conditions of the last week - the call of the coast got the better of me.

Why? Because inland Cornwall was obscured by a blanket of fog. What started as mist soon had me slowing to two miles an hour. Consulting my Ordnance Survey Explorer Map 126, I found that the closest seaside lay a dozen miles away between Hartland and Bude. I love this stretch of the littoral, but I'm aware that some people don't. They find it too harsh and severe. The rocks are grey and their razorback edges are brutal.

I prefer to think of it as romantically rugged and wild. All I had to do was find a section I'd never walked before, and that turned out to be easy. It happened to be the nearest bit, and within 20 rain-splattered minutes I found myself in the National Trust car park at Sandy Mouth.

The good news was that, a mile after we'd left the village of Kilkhampton, we drove out of the rain, just as I'd predicted. Indeed, we could see the sun shining a mile or two out across the waves, though it never dared creep closer to the savage coast.

My aim, on this quickly cobbled together walk, was to head north along the coast past Warren Gutter to Duckpool and then return via an inland route.

But first we wandered down onto the great beach that stretches all the way south to Bude when the tide is out. I wanted to show my friend the extraordinary strata that I knew we'd find along the cliffs. And we were not disappointed. The seams of rocks bend up and down like so much tissue paper.

It's all part of the Bude Formation, formed about 300 million years ago. In those far off days this whole area lay beneath the sea and particles of sand and silt would drop to the ocean floor. Over immeasurable periods of time these would build up and so become compacted and form sandstones and shales.

A mere million years later molten magna was forced up from the earth's core in a massive upsurge that was to form the granite uplands of Bodmin Moor and Dartmoor. Some of this molten rock spread north in a gigantic sheet causing such pressures to occur, that the local rocks were distorted all over the place. And that is what we see today along tortured undulations of these fabulous cliffs.

The previously flat layers have been bent vertical in places like a sort of great ruckled bedspread slept in by a giant with uneasy dreams.

I'm told the National Trust cleared away a clutter of unsightly huts and rusting cars when the organisation took over Sandy Mouth. I'm sure they were right to do so, but I - in my oddball fashion - am a great fan of unsightly huts. Anyway, there's the aforementioned car park and a rather good cafe where you can spoil yourself upon your return.

I do not recommend taking refreshment before you go, as there's a little climbing to be done. The South West Coast path marches off to the north and we follow it directly up the hill.

At the top of Stowe Cliffs we are treated to superb views stretching way beyond Bude, to the big bluff hiding Crackington Haven, and on again to the easily recognisable lump of Cornwall that sits off the coast at Tintagel.

A flock of sheep grazed near the cliff edge and one stood there right on the brink looking at the shore far below. "Don't jump!" we shouted in unison - the ewe really did have a suicidal look about her. But sheep are not prone to taking such desperate personal measures and she walked calmly away. Unlike the local rabbits around here, who burrow holes to the edge of the abyss. There can only be one result to such irresponsible burrowing: instant and vertiginous death.

I reckon you could reach Duckpool by walking along the beach if the tide was low, though I'm not entirely sure as there are some large rock ridges at Warren Gutter. This is an area where the strata seems to have gone mad, leaving all sorts of weird, contorted shapes.

It was between here and Duckpool that the Spanish brig Juanita came aground full of Venezuelan sugar in 1865. I think I've related this story before - but so what. Captain Yvastricks, who was later described as "a gallant little Spanish don", drew his sword to protect his ship from the men he thought were wreckers. It was only when the coastguard showed him his official badge on the button of his tunic that the sturdy little skipper put his sword away.

The climb down to Duckpool is precipitous to say the least. And you don't really have to do it if you're feeling lazy - just head inland around the upper contours of the hill. Walk across the crest and head south along the edge of the Trust-owned land.

We went down to Duckpool a: because I like the great ravine and its rocky beach, and b: because I wanted to recall the Grenville's who once owned all that you can see around here. And they owned it for a long time - 450 years - and they became one of the most influential families ever to rule a Cornish roost. Roger Grenville was captain of the celebrated Mary Rose and he went down with his ship, watched by his monarch 1545.

Sir Richard Grenville died fighting the Spanish in his ship The Revenge, and his grandson Sir Bevil Grenville fought for Charles I and was killed at the Battle of Landsdowne. He has gone down as one of the great Cornish heroes.

The walk south to Sandy Mouth is a pleasant and airy experience as we stride along the high ground. I felt smug each step of the way, seeing distant Bodmin Moor swathed in fog and rain. If the going get's tough - the tough must get going - to the coast.

Fact File

Basic Hike: from the National Trust car park at Sandy Mouth (there is a charge) north to Duck Pool and back via the inland route. You find Sandy Mouth three miles outside the village of Kilkhampton, which is on the Bude-Bideford road.

Recommended Map: Ordnance Survey Explorer 126 - Clovelly and Hartland.

Distance and Going: four miles, steep in places.