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.