WEEKEND TRAVEL Stretch your legs and soak up the views along the South West Coast Path in north Devon
A story of another couple’s many challenges walking the South West Coast Path inspires our travellers in their ‘palace on wheels’ to explore north Devon
Inspired by reading about the 630-mile South West Coast Path, which runs from Somerset to Dorset, via Devon and Cornwall, we walked some of this whilst staying in north Devon.
We had it cushy, walking directly from the Damage Barton campsite at Mortehoe to join the path. We knew the comfort of our home on wheels was waiting for us at the end of the strenuous up and down hikes that we undertook.
It was not so for Raynor Winn, author of The Salt Path who, with her terminally ill husband, Moth, set off to walk the entire path when they lost their home and livelihood. Middle-aged, backpacking, tent-camping wild and living on a shoestring budget, the journey tests their endurance and will to survive.
We revelled in the dramatic scenery, the views of offshore Lundy Island, Worms Head and the distant coastline of south Wales.
The sheer pleasure of spending time by the sea and close-up with nature, even when it rained, was a feature of this trip. We knew a hot drink and a comfy sofa to lounge on would be there for us back at our 'van.
Bosworth, our Norfolk terrier, was atwitch with excitement at the prospect of so many new scents to savour as we set off towards Bull Point Lighthouse.
Keeping dogs on leads at all times is the safest bet here.
Crossing the Damage Hills we saw a solitary standing stone and, as we reached the coastal path, two large dinghies with
Why?... To see for ourselves what we’d read about in Raynor Winn’s book
outboard motors appeared around a headland. They were full of people on seal-spotting trips from Ilfracombe, further up the coast.
Surrounded by rust-coloured bracken, gorse bushes and a few scrubby trees, I was reminded of Raynor Winn’s accounts of searching out safe, sheltered spots amongst the vegetation in which they could pitch their tent at night.
We could see the coast path ahead, snaking up and down the headland, with grey and jagged rocks below.
The going isn’t difficult, but has stretches of steps where my knees gently reminded me of their presence.
Dropping down to Bennett’s Mouth, which opens out to the sea from the Kinever Valley, we sat for a while enjoying this slatey-grey cove and its jagged rocks interspersed with pools and clumps of grass.
Bosworth joined another dog taking a paddle before we climbed up steep steps to the other side of the valley and crossed a welcome flat area of grassy clifftop leading to Bull Point and its lighthouse.
The lighthouse, which had to be rebuilt further inland in 1975 after a cliff fall, is not conventionally lighthouse-like and I was amused to see it has several large speakers pointing out to sea on its squat base. Was it a modern-day version of old-fashioned foghorns, with woofers and tweeters? We looked down on more lethal-looking rocks – in 1852 five ships were lost here and the coastline in both directions from Morte Point to the popular town of Ilfracombe is littered with shipwrecks.
Heavy rain and howling wind woke us in the night; the 'van rocked gently, eventually cradling us back to sleep. We awoke to heavy drizzle and no visibility.
The site is on an exposed hillside with sea and headland views, wonderful on clear sunny days with huge, ever-changing skyscapes of clouds and sunsets. With no views at all, we hunkered down to read and sit it out.
By afternoon all was clear and sparkling, so we took a short drive to Woolacombe to check out its award-winning beach.
Woolacombe became a popular seaside resort at the end of the nineteenth century. Once the Victorians discovered it, there was no looking back (prior to this, nothing much had been there apart from a farm).
The area is recorded in the Domesday Book as Wolnecoma, meaning Wolves
Valley, which rather appeals to me as I imagine this stunning area of our countryside populated by wolves.
Nowadays it’s thronged with surfers who
Must do... Climb up Great Hangman for fantastic views (or Little Hangman if you find it a bit too steep)
come to ride the Atlantic waves off the three-mile-long beach.
The car park in the centre was full, so we followed signs to Marine Drive, where there was ample space (and it was cheaper). The helpful attendant directed us to park in the longer spaces by the café.
We felt as if we’d struck gold – at the top of the dunes, with views and direct access to the beach, what better a location could we have had? These extensive dunes are known as Woolacombe Warren; the sands were used by American troops as a practice area for the D-Day landings.
We walked through them towards the centre of Woolacombe, finding the ups and downs less taxing, before returning to the ’van along the beach. Dogs are welcome, off lead past a designated point.
Next day we took a circular walk, turning eastward and following the coast path towards Lee Bay, Hilly Mouth and Sandy Cove. It was just as well that we’d had an easy time on those dunes the previous day as this stretch of the path is up and down all the way. The going is steep and was a bit slippery after rain and we absorbed firsthand some of the reality of the challenges Raynor Winn and her husband faced on their epic journey.
Guide books Raynor and Moth had consulted had recommended starting at Minehead in Somerset and ending at Poole in Dorset. They’d wanted to follow the route in reverse, starting off gently and working up to the challenges of the north Devon stretch near the end, but their budget and homeless status had forced them to start at Minehead.
At Lee Bay we paused at Hilly Mouth, which has spectacular spiky rocks stretching out to sea in lines, which look like they’ve been tidily arranged.
Offshore we could see the jagged shape of Pensport Rock before continuing to Sandy Cove, which is small and secluded and accessible via steep steps leading down the cliff. The tide was low and the way between rocks to an adjacent cove, used by smugglers, was visible.
Combe Martin, with its two-mile-long main street brought back happy memories for me of a childhood holiday.
We parked in motorhome-friendly Kiln Car Park by the beach and harbour and I found the caves I had previously explored at low tide as a youngster.
The village dates back to Saxon times and is also mentioned in the Domesday Book. Its other claim to fame is the Grade II listed Pack o’ Cards pub, which was built in 1690 to celebrate a win at cards, with ³
Must see... Visit Baggy Point for stunning coastline and gorgeous vistas
symbolism of a deck of 52 cards embedded in its structure.
But we were not here for the beer and set off up the Little Hangman, not sure at this point if we would climb the Great Hangman – the tallest sea cliff in mainland Britain.
Access to the coast path is near the car park and Little Hangman proved an easy climb. In the hedgerows I spotted cuckoo pint, flowering herb robert, speckled wood, wood white and red admiral butterflies.
Reaching the top, we looked up and ahead to Great Hangman. At 1,043ft high, this was going to be too much for my well-worked knees.
Husband, Barry, went further, while I returned to the ’van with Bosworth and prepared a cream tea with home-made scones from the campsite shop.
The coast path to Morte Point can be accessed from the campsite and we opted for what looked to be a flatter way across the headland, but ended in a confrontation on the return route with a climbing wall disguised as an innocent grassy hillside.
Baggy Point is described as ‘an easy walk that’s great for families’ and turned out to be just the ticket, with views of Bideford Bay, Hartland and Lundy Island.
The National Trust parking area is near the start of the walk with its wide tracks.
We passed a curious jumble of weathered bones, remnants of a large whale washed up on Croyde Beach in 1915.
Battered by a strong wind, we continued to the end of the point. Rock climbers were out, scaling the sheer cliffs, as surfers rode the whipped-up waves.
I saw bladder campion and sea thrift and a devil’s coach horse beetle crossed the path in front of me.
At the end of the point, where the wind was strongest, a line of cormorants sat preening their feathers.
Back in the warmth of our motorhome, we reflected on the small, but spectacular, sections of the coastal path we’d walked and were full of admiration for Raynor and Moth Winn who, in spite of the challenges and privations endured, completed the full 630 miles of the coast path.
Our taste of it was but a nibble in comparison, but one we would savour for some time.