19 June 2016 - Exmoor House Caravan Club Site, Dulverton, Somerset

Walking up through the wet mist

The rain arrived during the night and remained in varying degrees all through the day. We could have stayed about camp but today there was not the excuse to hang about until lunch time, then go out to a pub to celebrate an occasion, as there had been on Dartmoor. 

Already we realised we had shortchanged ourselves of days on Exmoor, so it was imperative that we attempt an excursion at the very least. And so we set off with Plan A, Plan B through to Plan J, or at least through to Plan D, north again up the A396 to Wheddon Cross, a duplication of yesterday’s route, but in contrast we turned sharp left, a manoevre warned to require care, then westward a little before turning north on to a narrow white road as far as Dunkery Bridge.  Wheddon Cross is one of the highest villages on Exmoor at 299 metres ASL and Dunkery Beacon at 519 metres ASL the highest point on Exmoor, always in view, or at least in better weather than we have been experiencing. Dunkery Beacon was given to the National Trust in 1935 by Sir Thomas Acland, and today seemed, in theory, a good place to experience walking on the moor. This did not allow of course for the damp mist that blanketed the whole region, and the rain that lurked about ready to ruin anyone’s plans.  

Fortunately for us, real rain did stay away while we did the shorter walk to the summit and back to the carpark. We parked a little past the venue of a  Dog and Horse Show going on in a couple of fields adjacent to the open moor and so the traffic in the typical small lanes was even more numerous than usual. As we walked north west to the first waypoint, we could hear barking and upset neighing from all the horses assembled for the event, and I am sure it was because of these noises that seemed quite distressed to a non-horsey person such as myself, that the wild ponies and red deer that are apparently often present, were decidedly absent today. There were a few ewes and lambs about, the low fern hiding the latter, until they poked their heads up to see what their mothers were looking at.

The track was quite stoney, even rocky, and we decided that this was not the result of rubble having been added to make the tracks, but more the years of wear and tear, the vegetation and topsoil having been worn away from the centuries of animals and men walking across the same tracks. 

The author at Dunkery Beacon

As we climbed gently up into the mist, the sounds of the Show faded, and we were left only with the calls of the skylarks, and the encounter of just two other walkers. At the summit, the wind was unpleasant, the visability even less than before, but we took the obligatory photos of ourselves beside the cairn before descending via a shorter route to the car, delighted to have achieved this, or rather not deterred by poor weather.

We travelled on in a northerly direction across the moor and then down the steep edge through narrow high bordered roads, the sort of roads that would have required at least half a mile’s reversing had we met anyone. Fortunately we did not. On this particular road, the foliage was brushing both the vehicle’s sides. We were delighted, although probably the only ones, to encounter a squirrel as we made our way through one of these tight little lanes; he had nowhere to go, we slowed right down as he ran on ahead looking for escape, the walls of the lane impossible to climb, even for an agile squirrel. Finally after about a hundred yards he branched off into a gateway.

Arriving on the Atlantic Highway, the A39, we turned east for just metres, before south again to the charming National Trust owned village of Selworthy, one of those on the Holnicote Estate. The village has existed from way back in history, the church at least from the early 1300s, and there are ruins of an old Iron Age fort nearby. But its more recent history is thanks to the same Sir Thomas Acland mentioned earlier, who built the village in 1828 to provide accomodation for the aged and infirm of the Holnicote estate. Many of the buildings are heritage  listed, the village church is a Grade I listed building and the tower dates back to the 14^th century.

Selworthy Village

On arrival we parked opposite the church, as those who had attended for service during the morning made their departure. For our part, we looked out over the charming countryside, a patchwork of fields and hedges,  toward the east while we ate our packed lunch. As we organised ourselves for outdoor exploration with coats and umbrellas, we fell into conversation with a couple who had visited New Zealand not so long ago and shared their memories of places familiar to ourselves. They were absolutely delightful and we finally dragged ourselves away after exchanging contact details. We set off back down the lane to the village and wandered about the green and near the delightful cottages, then set off up a walking track that is part of a greater circuit walk we might have chosen had the weather been better. Instead we headed up through the wood initially toward Selworthy Beacon, then back down more lovely woods below Bury Castle, to our starting point; a short walk, but wonderful none the less.

Still delighted the day had not spoiled our outing completely, we turned west along the A39, duplicating some of that route past Porlock as yesterday and up that incredibly steep section of road, 1,350 feet climbed in less than three miles, and on past yesterday’s turnoff, across the high moor with the Bristol Channel on our right. Nine miles on along the coastline, we came down to  Lynmouth, the seashore sister to Lynton which sits high above a lofty gorge, connected by a steep access road, and more popularly, by a cliff railway, an ingenious hydraulic system, its two carriages counter balanced by water tanks which fill up at the top, descend and empty their load at the bottom.

The Lynmouth - Lynton cliff railway

We drove into the lower settlement, on a dead end road at the base of the high cliff, graced with the ever present Pay & Display car park. At my insistance, we paid for an hour and walked back along the seafront, quite busy despite the crappy weather. Here the fishing boats lie on the sea floor at low tide, many metres below reach, waiting for the tide to turn.

Smells and sights of pasties, fish and chips, cray sandwiches, creamy icecream, waffles and every other delectable delicacy you might be tempted by, filled the place, despite the rain which was now falling without interval. We read the interpretative boards which advertised the wonders of Lynmouth and Lynton, and also those that told of the terrible flood that nearly wiped out the villages back in August 1952, the same that flooded Dulverton I mentioned in an earlier post. Then many houses were swept away and there are photos of the devastation post-flood and the restoration that occurred after. 

Fishing boats at Lynmouth

The route west of Lynmouth is as hairy as that west of Porlock, especially if you imagine towing a caravan. Alas we found ourselves stuck behind an elderly idiot driving a mercedes, and he too turned south toward Simonsbath on the moor; something that did nothing to cheer The Chauffeur. This part of the moor is scoured by deep gullies so much more than that further east, and it is this part of the moor that was imagined in the pages of R D Blackmore’s 1869 publication, Lorna Doone, a book I recall reading with fascination in my childhood. Just as Westward Ho! tempted folk to explore the Clovelly region, so did this to Exmoor and the Lynton area. Novelists have much to answer for, or to be applauded for, depending on your point of view.

The bad weather was well and truly set in by now, so our journey across the moor, joining yesterday’s roads near Exford, and then on south east back to Dulverton, was rather uninspring. Rain does that. Hopefully it will be a little better when we pack up and move on tomorrow morning.