Inchcailloch

 

Saturday 28^th October we left Dumbarton and drove to Luss. We decided to leave as early as we could ( though the boat didn’t leave until 10am) after a hearty breakfast. Luss is a picturesque village on the west shore of loch Lomond. We were glad of the extra time as we spent a while trying to find out if the boat was running and then to get tickets. We parked in the car park initially paying for half an hour while we tried shops and pier.

 A notice on the pier told us to go to the village shop. We’d tried the one by the car park and the young lad serving didn’t know about the boats. A lady in the nearest shop to the pier thought they had stopped running for the winter and she told us there was nothing on Inchcailloch anyway.

The last shop we tried looked like a very smart gift shop but at least it had a village notice board against its wall. At last we had a positive reaction and bought concessionary tickets at £11 each and for a 45 minute trip each way, with Cruise Loch Lomond, this seemed really good value.

We went back to the car to put a parking ticket for 4 hours, at £1 an hour, on the windscreen. We should arrive back at 1 o’clock with the boat leaving the island at 12.15.

We bought sandwiches for me and a steak pasty for Bob from the carpark shop so if there was a problem with getting back…

It was a grey day with drizzle in the air. The wind started to blow in gusts and it was said that the boats might be cancelled later, when there was supposed to be high winds.

It seemed a very small boat but then today there was only 4 of us. The skipper, who luckily was English and easy to understand, gave a running commentary throughout. It was amusing and interesting. There was a toilet and small bar/café on board. There was open deck or some cover from the elements. During the trip out the wind became more intense and the waves started to toss us about, the nearer we got to Inchcailloch which I found surprising but not nauseating like on the sea.

We pass Inchconnachan with free roaming red necked wallabies, which are descended from those brought here in 1940s by Lady Arran Colquhoun who owned the island. She has the reputation of being the fastest granny on water – speeds of 103 mph on Lake Windermere. Some people worry about the effect the wallabies have on the capercaillie population. We saw neither from the boat.

Another island has a rather eccentric owner farmer Roy Rodgers, who wears a cowboy hat, rides his horses to manage the farm and exercises them in the Loch from behind a barge kept on the other side of the island.

We seem to be sailing against the waves as we get near to Inchcailloch and we wonder about the sanity of being dropped off here for which docking proves to be difficult. Eventually the boat is tied to the jetty and we are assured they will be back for us in an hour and a half.

 

 

 

The peace is blissful after the wind and we are perfectly dry, from drizzly rain, under the trees. There was a long jetty and then 2 composting toilets in wooden huts to the left on the shore and picnic tables on the right. Paths led from between these through the woods. We took the one to the summit first which climbs 85 metres.

The island is part of the National Nature Reserve and lies in the SE corner of Loch Lomond.

We were struck by how well maintained the paths are- a good width with stones and steps to make climbing easier. The views were lovely from above even on this dull day. On our way up we spotted 2 deer, large and antlered.

We thought we were completely alone in the hush of the trees where the wind didn’t penetrate, when an Alsatian pulling a young lady, came into view. She said she had come over by fishing boat from Balmaha.

We followed a path to the burial ground but it was quite a quagmire here and difficult to get close to the information boards to read about the place. Inchcailloch means Isle of the cowled women. 1,300 years ago St. Kentigerna, an Irish princess, set up a nunnery hence the name.  Beside the cemetery is the ruin of a small church taking her name. Gravestones range in age from the 13^th to 17^th century and the last burial took place in 1947. I remember reading that often in the past so much drinking was done that sometimes mourners forgot to bury their dead. They would come to the cemetery via coffin valley. There are numbered posts with information on line that perhaps people access via i phones.

At information point 10 we are asked to notice the pudding stone or conglomerate. Much of the island is covered in oak because the farmers were asked to plant acorns. Oak is used in ship building and for the tannin in leather manufacture.

We spotted a white deer ( only roe deer here) and when we saw the dog walker again she said she thought it was a ghost the first time she saw it. There were several black beetles on the path, presumably the Dor or dung beetle on the list of wildlife to watch out for.

We stuck to the path as we felt we should be back in plenty of time for the boat in case it came early. Although we never saw signs to say so walking off the path is discouraged to protect wildlife.

At the picnic tables we ate our lunch and Bob highly recommends the steak pasty which was full of meat. We were joined by 4 fellows who had canoed over from the closest island where they were camping.

Bob spotted the ferry through the trees and we hurried down to the jetty. Once on it we clung tightly to the rails as it moved with the tides. The boat was fastened much quicker this time and we got on. There were several people on it, but no one was allowed off. There were 2 disappointed grandmas with their small charges trying to make the best of their trip by hyping up the waves until one of the children got soaked looking over the side! The waves were deemed to be dangerous enough for the skipper to change course and sail down the west side away from the easterly wind and more sheltered by the islands. Some people were in complimentary capes to keep them dry outside. This was the last time a pleasure boat would be out on the loch today.

At least we got to see the other side of Roy Rodgers island and the “famous” horse exercising barge but we were relieved to disembark at Luss. The Loch is over 30 km long and we had travelled down less than a third of its length. Our sat nav said we were doing 6 mile an hour.

Still in rain, we left Loch Lomond for home, a car journey of 4-5 hours. It would have been nice to have seen Inchmurrin ( we’d passed the ferry point on our bike ride from Balloch to Luss) and tried out the boat from Balmaha. The boats mostly stop running at the end of October till the Spring so we were lucky to get our trip in this year. Beautiful, even in the rain!

                                                          Two Islands in the Trossachs

 Inchmahome

On Thursday 26^th October we drove to Dumbarton where we would stay 2 nights. We decided that Autumn, just before the boats stop running, might be a good time to visit Loch Lomond and its islands. We wanted to do the short trip in the old wooden post boat that leaves from Balmaha Boat Yard a 30 minutes drive away from Dumbarton.

There was the first frost since last winter, for us anyway, and we had to scrape the windscreen. The temperature gauge showed low single figures but the sky was blue and the autumn colours were beautiful as we expected. As we drove the temperature went as low as 1 degree and frost was still on the fields. We parked for free at the information centre which opened at 9.30. Down beside the pub we followed the track to the boatyard. A fantastic old oak tree grows at the entrance- large enough for Bob to sit, dwarfed, within its huge low branches. The site seemed devoid of people but dotted with boats and boat paraphernalia.

We found a building that could have been an office, but no one was around. Then we saw a sign saying they were in the workshop. We followed a murmuring of voices and then asked if the boat was running today. We were really surprised when the boatman said that the jetty is flooded and the water level needs to go down at least 4 inches before the boat can go out. Apparently, Loch Lomond’s water level can rise, up to 4 feet in the winter. The jetty was indeed under water and we didn’t have wellies! He told us to ring and try again tomorrow.

After using the computer in the information centre Bob put the coordinates in the sat nav for Lake Monteith in Stirlingshire. Historic Scotland run a small boat out to Inchmahome from Port Monteith till the end of October. There is a pub here and a lovely looking church.

The boat had just come over from the island and a young family of five sat inside. There is a signal post that potential passengers need to turn with the white side facing the island to call the boat which can take up to 12 people. It rocked somewhat at the jetty and Bob and I had to sit opposite sides to balance it. The boat took about 10 minutes to cross to the island. 1.5 mile long and 1 mile wide, Lake ( no one knows why it isn’t called a Loch) Monteith is full of fish that are continually restocked. Fish can be caught by line and hook only and we saw several fishermen in boats on the lake. Because of the plentiful fish supplies osprey are often seen by boat passengers, though the boatman says he needs to keep his eye on steering and usually misses a sighting.
 

Apart from the man in the ticket office (£6 each as concessions) on the island, us 7 were the only ones on Inchmahome and we soon separated to different parts. Surrounding trees made it difficult to have unobstructed views. The trees are special here- several very old and a pine from as far as North America and 3 chestnuts from Spain. Visitors are told not to climb the ruined abbey walls, but they can climb the trees though it’s not recommended.  Work is being done to restore part of the 13^th century abbey, but the fencing doesn’t impact that much on the beauty of the building.

We walked at the water’s edge as much as we could, listening to the calls of the swans and geese as they began collecting together in groups for migration. I have since learnt that there is an increasing population of resident greylag geese ( as well as Canada) who are the offspring of geese injured by shooting. The young were reared with no knowledge of migration paths. An increasing number of these birds seems to worry the experts

 Looking across to a neighbouring island we saw a tree with more than 10 cormorants on it, some with wings outstretched in the sun. As we walked we noticed many different types of fungi, some normally ground growing, sprouting horizontally from the tree trunk. An oak tree felled by high winds had beech trees growing from its massive roots. The resulting entanglement looked like an art installation in its natural trellis design.

The 4 year old Mary queen of Scots was hidden here in 1547. We passed the boxwood Bower that she was said to have planted. The trees are spindley but the circular shape of the bower is still evident.

The western walls of the church have fine decorative carvings and it is thought that an existing church may have been added to when the prior and 10 to 15 canons arrived. They spent most of the day in silence and in 7 or 8 services spread through the day and night marked by church bells. They were mostly self- sufficient and with allowances for daily living (food, clothes etc) but by the 16^th century they had accumulated a great wealth.

The church, quadrangled cloister, nave, choir and chapter house comprise substantial ruins. Inside the rectangular chapter house are stone benches where the canons would have sat to discuss the business of the Priory. It now houses memorials brought in from the church to preserve them, the most touching being 13^th century double effigy of Walter Stewart entwined with his countess wife Mary.

Bob found the time capsule in a wall by one of the doorways. The children’s letters inside were damp and the inks were running. Perhaps they should be put in plastic bags. A fun thing to do though.

We never found the wooden red squirrels. Perhaps our view point wasn’t right as the young family managed to see them.

The ferryman returned on request (by turning the board) and we went back to Port Monteith with the same family just after the arrival of several barking dogs and their owners. We left at the right time!

We drove back to Balloch where we parked in what we thought was another national park information centre but it was loch Lomond’s Head office. The building did seem overlarge. Staff let me use their loo though and didn’t seem to mind us leaving our car there for several hours. We built the tandem and set off towards Luss on the cycleway. We thought it would hug the lakeside but quite a bit was beside a busy, noisy road. On the way back we found a newer route that we’d missed going towards Luss. This took us through a golf course and was prettier and easier on the ears!

We found that a ferry goes from Luss to Inchcailloch so we decided to try Saturday morning. After arriving back at Dumbarton and we’d eaten, we were tired after our 18 mile ride. Despite looking flat the route had undulated quite a bit.

 

 

Saturday 23^rd September                         Wallasea

 

Wallasea sits within the waters of the rivers Crouch and Roach, Paglesham Pool and Creek, not far from Rochford in Essex. (Follow the brown signs) We drove to the Essex Marina at Wallasea and parked there.

 We had a hearty sandwich and jacket potato in this friendly boat club bar that welcomes anyone. They said we could leave the car while we explored the island though to me Wallasea seemed just part of the mainland causing Bob and I to argue about its status. Only when we cycled back the way we came in the car, could I see that the road is elevated as it breaches the sea wall and at some tides the route could be slightly under water in places. I conceded!

In 2006 115 hectares of farmland was flooded to create mudflats, salt marsh. Lagoons and islands were formed  for the purpose of providing winter ground for wading birds. The RSPB transported 4.5 million tons of earth utilising Crossrail’s tunnel excavation material.

We thought we would be able to cycle round the island but although the RSPB Wallasea website mentions cycling we couldn’t see where. There is a fantastic cycle shed with natural roof, grasses, wild flowers. Its walls become flying insect hotels and lower down, the ground crawlers have their own natural material habitation. We left the bike and did one of the walks. Everything is in its infancy at the present and there are signs of construction everywhere. I read that RSPB expect to finish the project in 2025. When nature has properly taken over I am sure it will be lovely but the time of year wasn’t conducive to seeing much.

We followed the 4.5 kilometre trail which seemed to go on endlessly. We only saw small butterflies like the one called the small blue, delicate and tiny. We were intrigued by the long, thin, shiny black beetle we hadn’t seen anywhere before. Apparently it is an oil beetle of which there are 4 kinds left in Britain. They are becoming a rare species. Growing up to 3 cms they get their name from the toxic oily substance released from their leg joints to deter predators. When the larvae hatch they hop onto a passing mining bee and once reaching the nest they feed and live off bee eggs, nectar and pollen. To find them in a habitat means that there must be wild bees around which in turn indicates the health of a wild life area!

Tiny birds darted across our path and earlier I thought I saw a marsh harrier.

Every now and again a loud horn sounded. It looked like boats were racing, the sails just visible over the sea wall. We didn’t see many people but it looked like dog walkers could walk the seawall only which is probably good for the wildfowl…when they come.

When we rode back to the seawall at the road we looked closely at the box like structures rotting in the Saltings and decided they must be remnants of old pontoons. Like castle ruins they add a bit of character to the landscape.

Back at the marina we used the toilets which are pristine mostly because you need a touch code to get in. I’ve never seen this before but what a good idea. A cuppa and fudge cake went down a treat and we left for home after telling an interested boat lady about our blog. We thought we might meet in France when we attempt cycling canals in France after our 100 island challenge. We have now completed  80 with 1 year to go.

 

 

Saturday 23^rd September

                                                               Northey Island

 

Today despite the good weather forecast it was raining. After checking out at Southend we travelled 40 minutes to Maldon where you could take a causeway to Northey Island. Belonging to the National Trust you need to have permission before crossing and I had phoned several days previously from home. Becky the warden said that we should not cross to the island after 12.30- it is safe 2 and a half hours each side of low tide. She told us to say that we were members and that she had given us permission if anyone should ask.

We arrived as directed at Promenade Park where we parked the car for 4 hours (2 might not be enough) at £5.50. We did notice another 3 spaces near the recycling centre that were free though. There are toilets here besides lots of well used facilities like crazy golf, circuit running, football and BMX track. A park attendant told us he was running across the mud flats here in a 65 miles charity race across 2 days. Some feat!

We came out of the car park and turned left to go past the entrance to the “tip” where we came to a black iron gate signposted as private- Yacht club only! Despite of this you need to sidle down past this to the signposted footpath across the sea wall towards Northey island causeway.

 

 Under the ridge are mud flats and puddles left by the receding tide. I made Bob take an umbrella which was much better than the plastic bag he was putting on his head. We expected to walk in sunshine!

 

 

After about 15 minutes from the car park we could see yellow poles( indicating underground cables) sticking up from the sand near the shore and then we could see the causeway. We had seen a few dog walkers but not one came over to the island with us. The trees ahead appeared to make a tunnel as we walked past the sign telling us this was the site of a famous battle between Vikings, who had taken over Northey, and the Essex people led by Earl Bryhtnoth. When the tide receded enough the Vikings tried to break through the narrow defences of the English but it was impenetrable. They cheekily demanded to be let through to fight fairly on open ground. With a truly British sense of fair play Brytnoth agreed, only to later lose the battle and his head!

The causeway was muddy and puddled leading to a stony track on the island culminating in Northey House. This is now a holiday rental and there were several cars outside but no sign of people. We passed meadows with black and white cows on our right and we visited the bird hide to look out at an empty expanse of mud except for an egret taking off. There was a poster on the floor, old but useful, depicting birds we might have seen. Pity there were no binoculars!

After the hide on our right was a duck pond and old wall with towers that is part of the grounds to the big house. In front of us was a gate marked private. The path goes to the left of the property which has a water tower like structure above it made of wood. This is part of the accommodation but it doesn’t look as if it should be.

 

 

Footpath signs take you onto a ridge, the inner sea wall, beside the caretakers house. We hadn’t seen much colour only the odd wild geranium, so perhaps it would have been more beautiful earlier in the year as there was foliage of plants like sea lavender. Marsh samphire looked almost primeval sticking out of the muddy salt marsh.

Rose bushes had lost their flowers to hips, jolly red, and suspended from many looked like snow balls from a distance- cobwebby cocoons probably full of tiny caterpillars. Although looking like gossamer they were very strong. Telegraph wires were covered in chattering starlings. They would suddenly launch off and land in trees in the meadow (80 acres of it on Northey) and then regroup in a small murmuration. As we came back to the causeway we passed a bit of boggy ground landwards from which we heard croaks though there was nothing to see. A bullfrog maybe? This side of the island smelt of stagnant weed- the marsh was very green. 

 

Crossing back to mainland several formations of geese flew overhead making their communal noise. For me it heralds Autumn.

We reached the car after the 2 hours but before 3 so we were right to opt for the 4 hour ticket. We were left feeling a little flat after this island. There had been no one to ask about anything and we didn’t have a leaflet to follow so we probably missed a lot.

We decided to go to Wallasea RSPB which is an island later in the day.

 

                                                                     Mersea Island

Thursday 21^st September

Up until the last minute we didn’t know which part of Britain we would be travelling to. The weather predictions were dire for everywhere West, ruling out Pembrokeshire and Loch Lomond where there were islands we wanted to visit, but the weather East looked promising. We headed for Southend and a possibility of 3 islands though they were further flung than we envisaged. Foulness was ruled out because belonging to the Ministry of Defence it is only open the first Sunday of every month from 12-4pm!! Osea is mostly a drug rehabilitation centre- also not open to visitors. We decided to try Mersea, Northey( having first phoned for permission from the National Trust) and Wallasea islands.

It was a long drive to Mersea, 9 miles the other side of Colchester the next morning. We had the tandem in the back of the car. It was good to see the sun. This part of the country is busy with cars and there were numerous mini roundabouts to negotiate. It must have been 50 miles to the causeway from Southend and we had hoped to park up and ride across but there was a lack of suitable spots and we were on it before we had a chance to look. The tide was out. The Strood, as it is called, is the only remaining Anglo Saxon causeway though now it is just like any other road complete with yellow lines and no parking signs. Either side seems to be just mud flats.

At the end of the causeway the road splits and we took the right leading to West Mersea where we parked in a car park for £3 all day. It wasn’t just the gorgeous weather, Mersea has a lovely feel to it. West Mersea seems to have plenty of character with little cafes and shops, a library, lovely church and museum open later at 2 for a few hours. It doesn’t feel at all touristy.

We had seen a few hand- made signs telling cars to slow for the red squirrels so I asked locals in the car park if there were any but none seemed to know about this or weren’t saying. We thought then it must have been a ploy to slow cars down as they do seem to drive fast. Away from the main bit of town there were less cars and the pace became slower.

There is one road that goes down the middle with other minor roads going off at right angles to it towards the sea or camp sites and we took one of these to the Vineyard.

 

 

Small and quiet we were their only customers for a late morning break. Down the lane there were many unpicked blackberries- no blackberry wine then! There were huge rosehips after the roses fell. Maybe the fertiliser for grapes suit the briars too. We heard the squeals of children from behind the trees towards the sea. An activity centre was signposted this way, though being Friday you would expect kids to be at school.

St Edmunds,East Mersea church, 800 year old in parts (it took 200 years to buid) was a gem to find. The weathered outer white wood door had an unusual wooden latch- quieter than metal. The armoured tower door has 3 locks thought to be something to do with smuggling in the 17^th century- the keys being kept by 3 different people.

The Jacobean pulpit is interesting with an iron hour glass stand and a hole through which the parish clerk prodded the preacher maybe during an overlong sermon. I couldn’t see a way into the pulpit though. Above is an octagonal “sounding board” to help carry the preacher’s voice.

Steps leading to what looks like an elevated doorway are all that’s left of a rood screen, destroyed during Roundhead occupation. It would be good to know what it would have looked like as some rood screens can be very ornate. Stained glass windows had been destroyed too but small stained glass pictures have been set in the clear glass windows and a more recent colourful design sits above the altar.

Written material on the church was laid out near the porch and the page was turned to an article “Sarah Wrench was not a witch” Unusually her grave is covered in curved iron bars. She was buried in the northern section of the cemetery, a teenager still. Often north of the church was non-consecrated ground. She is buried near graves of a past rector and notables necessitating the ground be consecrated, so this refutes the witch claim- though it is unclear who made it. Sadly, she remains under her iron prison though!

 

We rode on to the Cudmore Grove Country Park where there’s toilets, café, a children’s play park and marked walks. We were lucky as it was quiet but the children’s area is so beautifully made, all wood and imaginative, like the Bone Park, that summer months see more cars than anticipated. The white wood of the apparatus looks like driftwood so it doesn’t jar against the natural beauty of the place.

Parking the bike, we followed a walk past the pillbox from world war 2, down to the beach to look at the cliff made of Thames estuary sediment. Archaeologists have uncovered 300,000 years old fossils like monkey and hippo bone here. You could see the layers clearly and we were surprised how orange the soil is.

 

There were pacific rock oyster shells on the beach. These are more common than the indigenous oysters we discovered in the museum later. Views across to Brightlingsea were lovely and 2 oyster smacks with distinctive red sails were tacking across the estuary.

We walked down on what must have been a seawall, a grassy ridge. There were bright yellow butterflies, not brimstones as they were too small, on the yellow flowers. There were even more tiny red ones with pointed wings. Following the coast-line we saw a large ship with a derrick atop it. It seemed to be sailing sideways as with engines turned off it slipped with the fast moving tide. There should be a foot ferry to Brightlingsea from somewhere here according to Bob’s map but we couldn’t see any signposts to it. On a path below was a lady with 8 or 9 labradors on leads, black and golden. Perhaps she was a breeder.

Off the coast path was a lane by some houses then a public footpath went left through hedgerow by farms eventually coming out by the country park entrance. Another path took us to the bird hide where we sat watching pochards or widgeon we weren’t sure which- should have brought binoculars! It looked like a baby heron on a low nest. An adult was sitting in a nearby tree keeping an eye. I thought herons nested in trees!

We collected the bike and cycled back towards East Mersea church on the way stopping at the Dog and Partridge for jacket potatoes and a pint. Bob liked the lead roses on the roof.

 

 We could see the church tower down the lane as we passed another squirrel sign.

Then Bob nearly ran one over as it dashed across the road. We stopped and I saw it run up a deciduous tree. There aren’t that many coniferous trees to support red squirrels. It was large and healthy looking so it must be feeding in gardens. As so many people don’t know about them, someone must have recently tried introducing them. Fingers crossed they survive the fast cars!

There was an iron-railinged hillock in between some houses that looked out of the ordinary as we cycled down towards the Strood. This we found out later was the 100-120 AD Roman Burial Mound. It was excavated in 1912 and an entrance passage built. Inside was discovered a lead box with a wooden lid, inside which was a green glass urn containing cremated bones.

As we approached the Strood we came to a traffic jam. Riding past the static cars we saw that the causeway was still covered in water. Every now and then a lorry or car would cautiously head out in the middle but this was painfully slow. Mersea was truly an island. It being the autumn equinox the tides were particularly high at over 5 metres.

Heading back to the Museum in West Mersea we were passed by lorries and vans leaving long water trails behind them. We rode by the oyster bars(not tempted) and some sailing boats at the marina.

The musem was open and we enjoyed looking at the exhibits both ancient and modern. We saw the lead box and glass urn. The volunteer at the museum told us that the glass kept its original colour because of the lack of chemicals which were used later to make glass clear but with aging turned black. It was beautiful. Science has since found the remains to be that of a young man with a joint condition. He must have been important as oddly rare frankincense had been added to the cremated remains.

Bob really liked the picture of an old bike shop 1919. I was amazed by the way gamebirds were hunted- shot at by multiple pellets by a hunter lying flat on his stomach in the base of a canoe- like boat with a long rifle as a boat attachment. Bizarre!

The museum volunteer talked to us of his passion- stained glass windows. He said did we know that Worsley church (near Manchester so not far from us) , Ely Cathedral and West Mersea church all had a connection, through the local stained glass window manufacturer.

We visited the church next door. There is a wooden ribbed ceiling with the figure of Christ crucified central to it. A notable modern stained- glass window celebrating fishermen and oyster catchers of the island radiates colour and light. Under a golden sun is a lifeboat, then the sea with fish is over the oyster shells in baskets in various shades of blue. I really liked it. No ugly gargoyles but a lovely figure of, perhaps a fisherman, sits in a recess! The churches of Mersea remind me of the Scilly Isles with the way the sea is celebrated.

We took the bike back to the car park where we had left the car for over 5 hours. After installing the bike we were soon on the causeway, now completely clear of water, and leaving the still sunny island. I liked the people who seemed to enjoy stopping to chat and the atmosphere of the place. We’d only cycled about 14 miles. I’m told it is 13 and a half to walk the perimeter mostly round the sea wall but that wouldn’t have given us time to see any of the sights.

It was over an hour back to Southend but it had been a good day.

 

 

                                                               Burgh Island

                                                                30^th August

 

A grey start to the day again and some scotch mist. Eating another delicious breakfast at Beehives Bob noticed I’d spots all up my left arm. The tumble in the gorse hadn’t bothered me at all yesterday but red raised blotches seemed to be spreading at an alarming rate. All I could think of was I’d caused an allergic reaction with soaps, anti-bacterials (used on the boat and the island as there was little water) and hand cream. At least it was where I couldn’t see it.

We had a 2-hour journey to Bigbury on sea and the weather started to clear. The roads narrow a lot and transport here must be a big problem- a bus running once a week from Plymouth or expensive taxis. We parked in a field advertised as economy car park which had one other car in it. There was an honesty box for the £3 flat rate which we dutifully used. Chairs scattered around showed that there were sometimes money collectors.

With the sun shining and butterflies flitting past our faces we walked a pretty footpath to save walking on the oft time busy road. It was about a ¼ mile to the next car park which had plenty of room but we’d enjoyed stretching our legs and the island is close to the shore. There was a few hundred yards of sand to cross though, at midday, the tide was in when we arrived.

On the sand people were collecting, in vague queues. We could see the sea tractor just leaving the island. It lumbered across picking its route through the not too high waves. Not unlike a cattle truck on top, a caged platform sits on another base frame set with sturdy tractor wheels. Despite the height in certain tides the passengers can be wetted by the waves. Today we could have waded out in fishermen’s galoshes. The tractor driver parked his spindly contraption ( surprisingly built as late as 1969) and then disappeared up towards the car park.

A sign said that the tractor carries 30 passengers though only 20 after dark. There are no seats. The island has its own hotel which is strictly private and extremely expensive (the cheapest room being £400 a night) and hotel guests take precedence over the public. The driver had gone off in his car parked on the sands to fetch 2 guests with luggage. They looked quite ordinary though the lady wore heels. We were required to present the right money £2 a trip each. The steps came down hydraulically and noisily and we filled up the space holding on to the ironwork for stability as the tractor began its slow journey across.

We arrived on Burgh Island and the Pilchard Inn could hardly have been nearer. Thirsty from our journey we went in the dark, empty 14^th century pub and drank a pint of bitter and Devon cider. The bartender, probably American, seemed glad of some custom. I rather liked the feel of the place that is said to be haunted by a smuggler youth shot by customs officers. There is a bar set aside for hospital guests though that doesn’t feel so friendly. I had to go through it later to the toilets and it was empty but there were plenty of people sat at the outside tables.

Just on our left, after the pub are the iron gates of the Art Deco Hotel. I would have loved to have tea in the lounge and take in the atmosphere that inspired writers like Agatha Christie who wrote while staying in the Garden Annexe in the 1930s. Many of the rooms are named after the stars who stayed in them like Noel Coward. This  white building dominating the East side started life as a small wooden hotel built on the island after being bought for £100 by a famous falsetto singer, George Chirgwin in 1895. Archie Nettlefold, who made money from munitions in the First world war, bought Burgh and commissioned an architect to design the hotel much as it is now, white, concrete and rather castle like. He financed films and plays and so Burgh became popular with the stars of the day.

To the right of the path opposite the gates is a car park, not grand in any sense but marked private. There is a sign though that says public may use the footpaths on the west side of the island and it is well worth the ramble. No picnics allowed though so I occasionally had a nibble of a sandwich surreptitiously as we walked.  Burgh rises steeply 200feet on the one grassy hill. The views were lovely over the cliffs and the sea looked turquoise in places. The rocks must be treacherous to shipping, jagged and spreading out into the sea. People had clambered down to some for a photo shoot but I was still wary of falling after yesterday. Bob went down too and shocked himself when he revisited it by his video.

There were stunted evening primrose and fuchsia growing beside the path which gave splashes of colour to the greens.

A sign bore a quote from Camden C1610 “Where Avon’s waters with the sea are mixed St Michael firmly on a rock is fixed.” The island was originally St. Michael de Burgh island.

On top of the hill stands the 17^th century Huer’s hut, what’s left of it- the 4 stone walls. Huer means to raise alarm in French and that is what the lookouts stationed here did. They created a hue and cry as soon as they spotted a shoal of silver herring to alert the fishermen.

The hut stands where there was once a chapel. Like many little islands there were monks here at one time.

Requisitioned during the war there are remnants of pill boxes on the island. Churchill and Eisenhower were rumoured to have met here for war talks.

Back at the Inn we finished off our sandwiches on neutral ground- the beach, then took off shoes and socks and I hitched up my trousers ( Bob had shorts on) and set off across the ebbing waters. We sank in the sand which made it a bit difficult but we didn’t fall over. We used hankies to clean off toes before putting socks and shoes back on. More people had arrived to sit on the beach.

We really liked Burgh island though it probably only took us an hour and half to explore. Only one other car was in the car park. We left not completely sure if we would stay somewhere on the way back home. We didn’t seem to be passing any National Trust properties at the right time but stopped in Worcester, a beautiful city, for evening meal before arriving home not long before 9.

                                                         Lundy Island

                                                Tuesday 29^th August 2017

 

Honeycomb oozing delicately flavoured honey was a breakfast delight at our B and B, Bideford Beehives. It was one of the best places we’ve stayed all thanks to Lesley and her bee enterprise. Tucked away from the main road by a private track just off the roundabout marked for Appledore,  it’s easy to miss.

It was drizzling with rain and very fresh, disappointingly as Bank Holiday Monday had been so hot. The boat was due to leave at 10.30 and we were told to be there 45 minutes before. We parked in a long stay car park for £3 not far from the quay in Bideford then looked for a Baker’s for something for lunch. It was just after 9 and it took a while to find somewhere selling food. There must have been plenty of places but we didn’t pass any the route we took.

We took our pizza and pie ( the best we could do) and stood in a queue already more than 50 people long. To our right was the medieval, many arched Long Bridge spanning the Torridge. Below the quay was our boat the Oldenburg, wooden and at least 30 years old. We looked at the gathering ticket holders and wondered how we would all fit in such a small ship. It will hold 267. The captain said later that there were 266 on board apart from the crew.

After nearly an hour we slowly crocodile onto the deck and if we are lucky we sit on the wooden slatted seats but some had the floor or had to stand. Perhaps people spread out more than they should. The floor was wet with the rain and one lady slipped on the stairs, landing at the bottom. She seemed Ok though.

We sat under cover on the lower deck. It was cold after a while and very windy. Blankets were handed round but there weren’t enough for everyone.

People kept passing by with bacon butties from the café below deck. The smell was tantalising!

We slowly moved down the estuary by coastal properties and sand beaches and as we came into the Bristol Channel the boat began to gently roll. The sun came out and the grey sky began to blue over the further out we went. Lundy is 10 miles out.

 We sat next to a chatty lady who pointed out her husband and fellow competitors in a boat race. Small red boats with red sails caught the wind, occupants grateful after being becalmed for days.

A unison of “Ooh”s and” Ah”s  heralded the arrival of a dolphin. We saw the tail as it went back under the waves.

The 2 hours went by slowly for me and our seats seemed to be in a wind tunnel. Normally Bob and I play cards but this wasn’t possible. The ship’s movement had me concentrating on not feeling sick.

We had no frontal view but out the side we could see the thin granite island. We came in by Rat and Mouse Islands and on the rocks lounged several seals. Arriving a bit later than expected and then the crew taking a long time deciding where to put the gang plank it was nearly 1pm when the bottlenecking passengers were eventually off the boat. A steady stream of people snaked up and up the newly made track towards the village. This took about 20 minutes of the 3 hours we would have on Lundy before departure.

 

About ¾ way up we found a bench looking out to sea and ate our pie and pizza. We didn’t want to waste time eating at the island’s pub. Just before the village we took a path only lightly trodden with the Bristol Channel on our right. We only encountered 4 people this way and they were all staying on the island, obviously the thing to do if you really want to experience Lundy. Close to the sea the views were lovely. Gorse intermingled with heather- an unusual combination.

 

We came to a quarry and descended to a muddy stream which we crossed stepping on stones and a log. There are 50 million tons of granite on Lundy and at one time 200 men worked on quarries here, stonecutters from Scotland and labourers from Ireland. The path went up and then down again and I slipped on the loose gravel luckily falling landwards, though into a gorse bush! A sailing boat close by will have seen me trying to get up after several attempts, then picking the needles out of my hand and arm.

A bit up again and we came to a building I later discovered as the Timekeeper’s hut. Inside was a fireplace recently used, wooden benches and candles. Perhaps used by people who missed the boat it seemed very cosy as a bothy.

We walked on deciding that we needed to head back towards the village by 2.30. Heading up from the cliff side to the grass and bracken we saw some of the Lundy ponies- a stubby cross between New Forest ponies and horse introduced in the 1920s. The lady we sat next to on the boat passed us later and said she’d walked the opposite long side of Lundy and seen sika deer and soay sheep.

Walking towards the headland we saw what looked like a wartime pill box. I think it was Tibbets cottage one of the many places you can stay. Unfortunately we had to head back, down the middle straight path to the village, passing farm buildings open to view, so we couldn’t explore further. We smelt the newly cut wood, surely brought from the mainland, thin strips laid out in neat order ready for use. A tractor was busy somewhere close and chickens and ducks ran free. We could hear grunts and squeals of pigs behind stye walls and young Old Spots looked eagerly for scraps. Bacon and sausage are served in the pub!

 

We saw one of the 2 lighthouses on the other coast. It looked like people were on the top. You can stay in this and what a night view. I’m sure I could be tempted! Lundy has the highest lighthouse in Britain.

There is a well- stocked Post Office and shop. Lundy had its own stamps faced with a picture of Lundy’s owner and coinage of 1 or a half Puffin! Parked near the farm is a pristine looking red land-rover marked with Fire and Rescue.

 

Further down the village, past the campsite is the Marisco Tavern. William de Marisco used Lundy as a base for piracy and Henry 3rd who built the castle here had him executed for his misdeeds against the throne. The tavern is a fair size and there were 3 beers on tap very much to Bob’s taste but not mine. At the publican’s recommendation, I had a dark rum and ginger. It looked a lot of rum but I surprised myself by drinking it all and hopefully I would have a settled stomach on the boat. It is here that people check in for the island holiday houses. They do meals but we didn’t see goat on the menu as some people have suggested. We would have liked to linger looking at the books on the shelves and artefacts around the building like the life belts from sunken ships! There is a warning to be careful with precious water on the pub’s door. The toilets are for all to use and are clean.

The castle has a commanding site over the harbour. Also high up is the church, of some size for such a small island, enclosed in scaffolding- so not for visiting today. On our way back down to the harbour we passed by Millcombe House built by Heaven, Lundy’s first owner of note, in 1836. It is now a holiday let sleeping 12. Made of stone it has a central valley lead roof behind the parapet to collect rainwater.

No dogs can land on Lundy though I think there may be sheep dogs on the farm. We passed ordinary white sheep in a field. None of the paths we took were signposted and this is how they do it on Lundy to keep everything as natural as possible. We met people who had swum with seals and some who had done geocaching following clues at the little post boxes. It would have been 7 miles round the coast. There were caves, ruins and earthquake faults still to explore but the long path down to the quay was trickling with passengers for the boat- 4 for 4.30 and if you wanted a seat it was best to join the queue.

It had been warm on Lundy but as soon as we left the harbour and were on the sea the wind was at us again. Out came the blankets for those who hadn’t coats or were in shorts. We had a seat facing backwards in the shade and the view made me feel queasy. I decided to stand on the top deck in the sun behind the funnel which offered some wind protection. If I had stayed with Bob I would have seen the dolphin jump out of the water. I had a friendly chat with several people who helped the journey pass quicker. We were to be taken to Ilfracombe and taken by coach back to Bideford.

Arriving in Ilfracombe at 6.30, the huge Damien Hirst statue Verity of a pregnant lady with skin peeled back to reveal innards and bones was rather the stuff of nightmares. You couldn’t miss it as we were directly underneath. As we got off the boat we were told 5 coaches would be around the car park area to pick us up- over 260 people! There were none in sight. We were early this time and after a panicky 10 minutes they arrived but with parked cars to negotiate it was hard for them to manoeuvre to a suitable spot for people to get on. At last in convoy we were away.

An hour later we were hurrying to the Weatherspoon for some dinner which we enjoyed.

Our advice would be to see Lundy over several days rather than a day trip. You can go by helicopter in minutes. If the tides are right though there are more hours on the island. The boat goes 5 days a week.