Icons of England by Bill Bryson

Author:Bill Bryson [Bryson, Bill]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, Science
ISBN: 0767927540
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2009-09-08T00:00:00+00:00

A REAL CLIFFHANGER

Tristram Hunt

on the north Devon cliffs

FAR REMOVED FROM THE deep England of the South Downs landscape or Chiltern Hundreds hamlets, stand the high cliffs of the north Devon coastline. Very different from the louche resorts and yachting inlets of the South Devon Riviera, this craggy coastline – which stretches from Woolacombe beach around to Minehead in Somerset – is an uncomfortable, nonconformist, dogged, bleak and utterly exhilarating part of England. Admittedly, there are few stately homes or well-tended gardens here, but there’s certainly a sense of the island spirit.

Along much of this seascape meanders the excellent National Trust Neptune Pathway. But this is no Peak or Lake District thoroughfare with hundreds of people jostling from pub to B&B along well-worn paths. The steep, narrow routes and pummelling winds tend to reserve these walks for the hardiest souls. My favourite section runs from the elongated village of Combe Martin – once a noted mining, smuggling and strawberry-growing centre – to the elegant parades of Lynton and Lynmouth, Devon’s so-called ‘Little Switzerland’, where Shelley, Wordsworth and Coleridge all found inspiration.

Along this edge of England, the cliffs rise up hundreds of feet tall, peaking with the arching sandstone of Great Hangman at just over 1,000 feet above sea level. Standing atop here, you can look one way across the Bristol Channel, another way to the bogs of Exmoor, and yet another to the western coastline. That is, if you can see anything at all. For most of the year, the mists and rain roll along this coastline in an unforgiving procession.

It is so damp that, in 1952, the inundated barrows began the terrible flow of water which led to the deadly Lynmouth flood. So this is a sodden scene of heath moorland, gorse and then, in the steep-sided valleys or combes which intercut the coastline, great beds of ferns and mosses among the small forests of oak.

But when the drizzle clears, what a sight it is! The crashing waves at Heddon’s Mouth; the vertiginous cliff edges hurtling down to untouched beaches; the hillsides of bracken; and then the mysterious granite outcrop of Lundy Island shimmering in the distance. The animal life is also rich: between the sheep, the Exmoor ponies and the famous (or infamous) garden-eating Lynmouth goats, there are colonies of razorbill, guillemot and kittiwake, as well as black-billed gulls. And, if you are very lucky, you might see an adder sunning itself on the rocks, seals playing in the coastal swell and even the odd basking shark.

Above all, what the North Devon cliffs offer is a welcome sense of isolation and loneliness. Of course, man has made his mark here, stretching back to the Roman hill fort at Martinhoe on through the Victorian lime kilns to the mock-Tudor Edwardian lodging houses. But, today, bar the odd RAF flyby and spirited hiking party, the modern human footprint is enchantingly light. For the most part, it is you and the elements, you and the unforgiving sea – timeless geological formations, rushing streams, isolated coves and a sense of your own remarkable insignificance.

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