South Walk: Charmouth to Sidmouth

Saturday November 8th: Several weeks have passed since Michael Ricketts and I trudged into the village of Charmouth on the South leg of the walk. The plan for this weekend was to try and reach Budleigh Salterton on the Sunday, weather permitting, and for today, get to Branscombe.

I planned to stay at Branscombe overnight, although it had proved tricky finding a suitably priced B&B - but would sort it out en route. So transport wise - decided to leave the car at Exeter and made my way to Charmouth via train to Axminster and then the Bus. Got back on the trail at 10.00am - although the original coast path between Charmouth and Lyme is actually closed due to insecure cliffs, so had to head out of Charmouth the same way that I had just come in by Bus. The path then headed through some woods and across Lyme Regis Golf Course. It was a nice bright morning, albeit pretty windy and fresh.

Lyme Regis viewed from approach from Charmouth

It didn't take long to reach Lyme.

This is a place I know well. As a family we had holidays here, mind you that was 40 years ago! - but also I have some former work colleagues from my days with the Star Newspaper Group who live here, and in fact I was here last August to celebrate the marriage of my friend Peter Greenwood's daughter, Rebecca, and also, on the same night - the 60th birthday of my old boss Philip Evans, - a former Mayor of Lyme Regis, no less, and there have been numerous boozy occasions in Lyme over the years, it has to be said.

I took the opportunity to pop into a new shop that had been opened earlier in the year by renowned Westcountry photographer Richard Austin, who I had worked with at the Star and also met up with at Philip's wedding. He has some stunning photos and has become somewhat of a local celebratory with the publication of his "Animal Magic" books and TV appearances.

The walk along Lyme seafront is always a nice one and there were plenty of people enjoying the sunny morning. The sea was pretty fierce and crashing up around the famous Cob.

From Lyme, the path moves back up onto the cliffs before entering the Landslip nature reserve, a 7 mile winding path through woods, with only a few viewpoints of the sea. It was atrociously muddy and difficult walking, but I didn't hang about - and made good progress finally reaching the outskirts of Seaton at lunchtime, crossing yet another Golf course and dropped down to head for the Seafront.

Received a text from Stevie J at Peninsular - to say that Arsenal were beating Man U by 2-0 in the lunchtime Sky game. So as I was being blown along Seaton seafront and spotted a bar with Sky - it was a no brainer to pop in for a quick refresher. It was packed of course, and as usual I proved to be a rather unusual sight for the locals, with my mud spattered legs and backpack. I should really have arranged to meet up with friends Peter and Ann Greenwood who live in Seaton, and had offered to put me up, when I was passing through - but I'd left it too late and didn't want to land on them unannounced , so decided to carry on through to Branscombe. I had by this time, made several phonecalls to a Farmhouse B&B in Branscombe to no avail - so still without accommodation fixed, I headed on for Beer, which was just over the cliffs from Seaton. The weather was a bit unsettled now.

Beer is a very quaint place - pretty unspoilt and a good old fishing village. The walk from Beer to Branscombe is one that I have done on many occasions and is very scenic. By now, the wind had really got up and it was "hold you hat" time. I took the lower cliff path which takes you past all the chalets and mobile homes which are wonderfully positioned on the approach to Branscombe Mouth.

I have always fancied owning one of those.

Eventually, I reached Branscombe, legs pretty weary - another 14 mile stretch done. The Farmhouse B&B had got the decorators in - but had mentioned a place near the mouth. Branscombe village itself is up a steep hill which I could have done without, so I poked my head into the "Seaside B&B" a beautiful thatched building. The accommodation was superb but pricey to match. I tried to haggle with the price, but having been shown a suite with a bathroom bigger than my lounge and a lovely big bath - I decided to treat myself. The chap showing me round explained that it was his wife's business, so he couldn't negotiate for fear of instant death, which I could appreciate. It did occur to me that his wife would have probably taken one look at me and said that they were fully booked!

As it turned out, I was the sole occupant. My biggest problem was trying not to leave a trail of mud around the place, as everywhere was pristine. Had a relaxing evening - a great meal at the Masons Arms and fell asleep in front of Match of the Day. Some things never change.

Sunday November 9th - I was the first one down for breakfast, which wasn't difficult as I was the only resident! Met the owners wife who seemed very pleasant - turned out that thay have only recently refurbished the place and were quite new to it all. I told her, she would probably have to refurbish my room again, and she laughed manically! I didn't hang about and quickly got back on the trail, as I knew I was going to be in for some rain later. It was dry but very windy and the first big hill out of Branscombe was a bit of a struggle, but I soon got in my stride. The stretch to Sidmouth seemed to consist of several "Mouths" which had to be descended into and then climbed out of!

About mid morning - I could see that the heavens were going to open any minute, and the sensible thing would have been to get into the wet weather gear before it started - but no - I waited until it was heaving and then had to find a spot under a tree to attempt to put my waterproof trousers on!

-which involved taking boots off, sitting down - a right palava in the pouring rain. The next hour was pretty uncomfortable - I was wet on the outside and wet with sweat on the inside, but I got my head down and before long I had reached Salcombe Regis, at the edge of Sidmouth.

If it had been a decent day, the view across to Sidmouth was a nice one. I'm pretty familiar with Sidmouth, having worked there for several years in what seems a former life. It is a very pleasant place to work, even in the Summer, apart from when the International Folk Festival is on. During that particular week, it is difficult to concentrate on work, with a succession of Morris Dancers prancing through the streets with their ridiculous bells and gay attire. Apart from the Morris Dancers, who in my opinion, should be locked away for their own good, the Festival is a superb event which attracts people from all over the Country and Internationally renowned acts from all over the world.
After descending Salcombe Hill - I was eventually on Sidmouth seafront and the waves were pounding in as the weather took another turn for the worse. I had intended to carry on to Budleigh Salterton, but it looked pretty black in that direction and with time against me, I decided to head for the bus stop. My car was back at Exeter and I didn't have to wait long for the bus.
The Silly Season at work was now in full swing - so will be hanging the boots up for a few weeks and putting my Calendar head on!

North Walk: Into North Devon's Hartland

Sunday October 26th : Clovelly.

Woke up to pouring rain and a text message from Stevie J from work, telling me that Ramos had been sacked and replaced by Harry Rednapp!! That's got to be a wind up I thought, and with no TV or radio to hand, I had to phone him to check the story. After a hearty breakfast, I donned my full wet gear and headed off up the cobbled streets and westwards out of Clovelly. The owner of the Hotel had assured me that it would clear up mid morning, so I was looking forward to some spectacular coastline around Hartland Point and would have 11 miles to walk to reach Hartland Quay.

Still pondering the Rednapp scenario, I texted Michael Ricketts and got it confirmed - how could I have doubted it, nothing should suprise you in football.

The route out of Clovelly passed through some woods and then out into open fields with a clear view of the splendid large house, Clovelly Court. The Path kept close to the sea through wooded clifftops with occasional vantage points including a hidden stone tunnel which led to a splendid viewpoint.The path eventually wound it's way down to Mouth Mill with it's unusual double arched Blackchurch Rock.

Here the path should have led straight across the beach, but there was so much water running down onto the beach from a stream, that it had formed an impassable torrent. However, I made my way inland to a deserted stone cottage which had a small bridge across the stream. There was a steep climb out of Mouth Mill and and up to Windbury Point where you could see all the way back across Bideford Bay towards Morte Point. It was satisfying knowing that I had walked all of that way albeit in stages. The next point to reach was Shipload Bay, 3 miles further along the windswept cliffs.

A large Radar Dome loomed on the horizon at the end of Shipload Bay and the path passed around the Radar station and behind Barley Bay towards Hartland Point. By now, the sun had appeared and Lundy Island was clearly visible.

Hartland Point with it's old lighthouse is one of the most scenic parts of North Devon. It also had a refreshment snack bar which was a welcome sight. The lighthouse is closed, but you can walk up to a coastguard station viewpoint.

From here to Hartland Quay was a breathtaking walk. The sun was shining, the sea was pounding in, and it felt good to be alive. Although, I didn't realise it, the wind was biting cold but I wasn't staying still enough to worry about it. The path dropped right down into Blackpool beach where there was a lovely old cottage which was obviously for self catering - and what a brilliant location. The path then went up to the ruins of the Warren tower with the church tower of Stoke in the background. From here it was a short walk down to the Hotel at Hartland Quay where I was glad to see my car.

The seas here pounding the rocks with some spectacular spray. After a quick pint at the rather rundown hotel, I made my way back to Uffculme with the Spurs v Bolton match commentary on the radio. Good timing again, and they won.

Hartland Quay Hotel pictured

North Walk: Ho Hum - it's off to Clovelly

Westward Ho at first light.

Saturday October 25th
Another early trip up the North Devon link road. I had worked out a cunning plan with regards to bus links and parking for the weekend. Once I reached Clovelly and beyond to Hartland, the Sunday bus service was non existent, so I would stay the night in Clovelly. It was going to be day of great contrasts - starting at Westward Ho, a famous family resort named after the novel of the same name by Charles Kingsley and ending at one of Devon's most scenic and well preserved old villages.

Meantime, the first bus to catch was the 7.42am from Bideford to Westward Ho. I was going to leave my car at Bideford , as I knew I could catch a bus back to there from Clovelly, which was my target for the day. It would only be 11 miles from Westward Ho - but quite alot of ups and downs as usual. I struggled to get out of bed that morning - it was below freezing, although the forecast wasn't too bad, but I was convinced that I would miss the bus, which wouldn't have been a disaster, but the schedule was tight for the day in order for me to get the right bus back from Clovelly later on. As it happened, as I rolled into the Quay car park at Bideford, the bus turned up opposite. In a bit of a rush, I put the wrong amount of money in the Car park ticket machine, and fumbled about for more change - ended up buying two tickets, hoping the warden would see that if he added them both up - they would amount to a later time in the day!!! - are traffic wardens that clever? - I doubted it - meanwhile, the bus was sat there waiting for the right time to depart, so I needn't have rushed - in fact I still had time to go back to the car for my walking pole. Anyway - it was a beautiful if cold start to the day - and Bideford Quay looked very scenic with the sun rising and lighting up the cottages across the estuary.
At Westward Ho, I grabbed a couple of warm croissants from the Co-op and was on my way.
Once away from the beach huts and caravan parks it was a climb up onto the green clifftops and then a straightforward path heading for Peppercombe Beach. I could see my destination, Clovelly away in the distance, the other side of the large curved ark of Bideford Bay which stretches from Baggy Point to Hartland Point. As the guide book said, it was further away, than it looked, and I would appreciate that more later on in the day!


One of the features of this part of the coast is the number of Lime kilns situated close to the shoreline scattered along the coast.

Another feature was the enormous number of Game Birds. Now, I have met a few game birds in my time - but this was ridiculous. They were springing out of the vegetation in all directions.

At Babbacombe mouth the path went right down to the stoney beach which was strewn with sea litter, mostly plastic of course. It was well away from the tourist route - so I imagine that no one bothers to clean it up.

From here it was a nice stretch to Peppercombe. I was quite pleased that my new boots were holding up well - always a risk, although I had been walking them in all week. Unfortunately, the day's walk was one of the muddiest after all the rain - so they didn't look new for very long. By mid morning, I had warmed up sufficiently to break out the knobbly knees and from Peppercombe headed up through some scenic woods towards the isolated village of Bucks Mill - a poor mans Clovelly. Apparently there used to be alot of inter breeding between the close community at Bucks Mill, so I was expecting to see a village full of half wits and unfortunates. It was a lovely approach to the village climbing down through the woods and suddenly seeing the white cottages. The path ended up right in the middle of the village and there were lots of children playing noisily outside. They all seemed to have the right number of limbs, and I wondered whether they realised how lucky they were to grow up in such a scenic, out of the way place. In fairness they probably hankered for a Macdonalds and a Go Karting track!

From Bucks Mill, it was a long lonely stretch to Clovelly, mostly along Hobby Drive which seemed to go on forever through the Clovelly Estate.

I had been to Clovelly before - it really is beautiful, but by the time I got there - the sun had disappeared and the visibility was poor. The whole village is in private ownership and you enter through a Visitors centre where they fleece you for several pounds just to get into the place. However, if you have walked there - you pay nothing. I arrived in good time for my intended bus back to Bideford - so enjoyed my first coffee of the day and deposited several large chunks of mud off my boots in their cafeteria! I felt quite knackered and put it down to the fact that I hadn't walked the previous weekend so was out of practice. I booked a B&B over the phone. The woman thought me a bit strange ringing from the Visitors centre a few hundred yards away - and even stranger when I said I was getting a bus to Bideford, picking my car up, driving to Hartland Quay, and then getting another bus from Hartland back to Clovelly. Good luck she said. I am now pretty familiar with North Devon's Bus Services and they seem pretty good.

Back at Bideford, the good news was that I hadn't got a parking ticket. So drove to Hartland Quay, where it was blowing an absolute Hooley. The seas were superb. Hartland Quay consists of a large Inn and is no longer a working harbour. The plan was to walk from Clovelly to Hartland Quay on the Sunday and have my car waiting for me. I made sure that they were happy for me to leave my car in their car park overnight and sorted out my overnight clothes. I was faced with a 2.5 mile walk to the village of Hartland to catch the bus, which I didn't fancy to be honest.
It was up a steep hill out of the quay for a starter and having walked about 11 miles....so I flagged down the first car leaving the car park - and the chap who it turned out worked at the pub gladly gave me a lift and dropped me off right at the bus stop. The only problem was that there was an hour to wait for it - so there was no choice but to head for a local hostelry for a couple of pints in front of a welcoming log fire.
Arrived back at Clovelly about 6.30pm and got shown to my room, which was very roomy and had a lovely big bath with loads of hot water - bliss - I even managed to wash my mud caked trouser bottoms as well - took them off first of course!
Spent the evening at the New Inn Hotel bar across the road and then wandered down the slippery cobbled path down to the famous harbour which was deserted. The locals use sleds to drag things up and down the cobbled path which is very steep in parts. It was nice to see it at night and particularly out of season.

Back up the path to my B&B in the New House. Now, me and locks and keys have a bit of history, so it came as no suprise when I found that I couldn't open the external door to the accommodation.
I was conscious that there was a lady having a fag outside the bar watching as I fumbled about with each of the three keys looking to all intents and purposes like a drunk trying to get back into his own house. After a few hopeless minutes, I peered at the lock and it seemed that there was a key already in it! I conceded defeat and headed for the bar to explain my predicament. The barmaid - said "Oh yes - the other guests broke the key in the door - I told them not to close it" Great - it could only happen to me - locked out of my accommodation, and it was now raining. " I'll see if I can break in" the barmaid continued cheerily and grabbed a sharp knife. For the next 20 minutes 3 of us attempted to prise open a ground floor window with a veg knife and the light from a mobile phone.
Eventually, one of the locals prised it open and clambered in to open the door from the inside.
Meanwhile the brainless culprits who not only broke the key in the lock but then closed the door were snoring away in the warm and dry of their room upstairs.
The Clocks were going back that night - I was looking forward to bacon and egg in the morning and probably a wet walk to Hartland Quay!