Photos along the coast from Teignmouth to Torquay. This was May 2002, and the second day of my solo (ahh diddums - ed) trek from Teignmouth to Torquay. This is a wonderful walk, where gaps in the trees would suddenly show you intriguing glimpses of the coast you had walked or were about to undertake.
Unfortunately parts of this path have been lost of the last 12 years as the sea is slowly eroding the coast.
For those of a gentle disposition, I suggest you look away before the last photo - nasty looking blister... very unpleasant. The upshot from this particular walk was that I bought myself a very good pair of boots and me and blisters from walking are a thing of the past...
Monday, 19 May 2014
South West Coastal Path - Day 1 Exeter to Teignmouth 2002
Pictures from my original SWCP in May 2002. For those that have been following the blog, these are pictures from my original SWCP walk in 2002, which Bridget and I did a very small part of on Saturday. The photos start off with the front door of the old house Nymet Barton, then in Exeter, down the river to Dawlish, where you can see where the train line was washed away from earlier this year, and all the way along the coast to Teignmouth which was the end of Day 1.
Sunday in Abbotskerswell and the long way home
Struggling up the hill from Abbotskwerswell to The Priory. On Sunday after breakfast we strolled down to Abbotskerswell from The Priory. The road was quite narrow in places (as are most of the roads in Devon - travel ed) and occasionally we had to walk single file, or indeed even having stop to give cars the room to pass us safely.
Strange, some drivers warmly acknowledge that you have made way for them with a friendly wave, whilst others blithely ignore you and go past just a few miles an hour too fast for pedestrian comfort. I can imagine the latter have taken their road driving skills from Toad, in the Wind in the Willows.
We stopped at one of the local pubs, The Courts Farm Inn, for a soft drink before retracing our steps back up the hill. As you can see from the photos, there are lovely views to be seen.
After another lovely meal, for which many thanks again, Pauline and Michael, we packed up and set off on the long journey back to sunny Alton.
We had planned to take the A35 back, but there was a rather nasty accident on the A35 just up the long long hill out of Honiton. So we turend around and ended up back on the A30 - and stayed on it all the way to Winchester. This was a fantastic piece of luck as we say view after view of England in the Spring time. A magnificent variety of shades of green from dark and rich to light and yellowy. We live in a very beautiful country.
What was even more surprising (you are easily surprised - boo! - ed) was that there was little traffic on the A30, and it felt like we had slipped back in time to the early days of motoring where we could feel the joys of the open road. Wonderful, simply wonderful.
Strangely, still no caravans, though there were a number of the smaller Winibegos' here and there, and the few tractors we met either turned off shortly after arriving behind them, or better still we going the other way! Now I am not a big fan of driving, but it was possibly one of the most beautiful drives I have ever undertaken.
Strange, some drivers warmly acknowledge that you have made way for them with a friendly wave, whilst others blithely ignore you and go past just a few miles an hour too fast for pedestrian comfort. I can imagine the latter have taken their road driving skills from Toad, in the Wind in the Willows.
We stopped at one of the local pubs, The Courts Farm Inn, for a soft drink before retracing our steps back up the hill. As you can see from the photos, there are lovely views to be seen.
After another lovely meal, for which many thanks again, Pauline and Michael, we packed up and set off on the long journey back to sunny Alton.
We had planned to take the A35 back, but there was a rather nasty accident on the A35 just up the long long hill out of Honiton. So we turend around and ended up back on the A30 - and stayed on it all the way to Winchester. This was a fantastic piece of luck as we say view after view of England in the Spring time. A magnificent variety of shades of green from dark and rich to light and yellowy. We live in a very beautiful country.
What was even more surprising (you are easily surprised - boo! - ed) was that there was little traffic on the A30, and it felt like we had slipped back in time to the early days of motoring where we could feel the joys of the open road. Wonderful, simply wonderful.
Strangely, still no caravans, though there were a number of the smaller Winibegos' here and there, and the few tractors we met either turned off shortly after arriving behind them, or better still we going the other way! Now I am not a big fan of driving, but it was possibly one of the most beautiful drives I have ever undertaken.
Saturday, SWCP Anstey Cove to edge of Torquay, Shaldon and Teignmouth, Devon
Loads of photos linked with our Saturday in Devon. Following on from my last post (didn't know you knew the bugle - music ed) we woke up reasonably early on Saturday. Well, I suppose it depends on how you determine "early" and "Saturday", suffice to say we were up, breakfasted and off to the coast by 11am.
Now, many years ago, (pleistocene - prehistory ed) I undertook to walk a part of the South West Coastal Path, by myself. Well, originally a number of my friends had agreed to come too, but as the time came towards the kick-off date, they all, one by one, apologised and decided not to come, leaving me to do it all by myself (round of ahhs please from the assorted readers - circumlocution ed).
Why am I harking on about this? Well, hold your horses, and you at the back there stop that Alpacca from making that noise. The point I am going to make (eventually it seems - ed), is that on the second day of my, oh so lonesome (put at sock in it - ed) walk I came across a spot of the path near Torquay which turned out to make quite a mark on me. (Did you fall off the path into an alternate realityu? Did the path on the edge of the cliff fall into the sea moments after you walked it? Were you dive bombed by a flock of seagulls? Ooh this is so exciting - bring it on - ed)
Shall I continue, or have you more to say, and you at the back put a muzzle on that Alpacca! What a disturbing noise it makes.
The point I am trying to get to (if you are given the chance, hee hee - ed) is that almost at the end of second day of the walk from Dawlish to Torquay, I came across a spot just off the path that left an indelible mark on me. My feet were killing me, I had blisters on both feet (I do have a photo of one of them - they are available on demand to suitably qualified blister sufferers - ed) and I was very very tired, so when I spotted a park bench with a view out to sea I hobbled over to it and sat down.
I took off my walking boots very gingerly and then the socks, revealing blisters that were the size and shape of a couple of shallots... well one shallot on each foot, so yes, my feet were an utter mess, the problem would come later when trying to put the socks and boots back on!
After a few moments, I settled down to lie along the bench and I drifted off into a light doze. The sun was shining on me, there was a light breeze rustling the trees (and very importantly the soles of my feet - ed), the sea was gently crashing into the rocks below the cliff and gulls were cawing to one another as they soared on the thermals lifting them up above the cliffs and high into the sky. I drifted in and out of sleep for around an hour or so, before waking finally as the sun was lost behind some clouds bringing the temperature swiflty down and causing me to shiver myself awake.
It took a few moments before I became fully conscious and at that moment I felt the most at peace with myself and the world that I had ever felt in my life. I would like to say that I had some fabulous insight but I think that the combination of the tiredness, the fabulous view and the natural sounds emanating all around me just brough me a serenity that I had never felt before. So, all in all a very special place.
Putting the socks and boots on again, was to say the least problematical, I managed to limp down the hill into Torquay proper and fortunately the blisters failed to burst...I am never sure whether it is better to have the burst or not?
So let's fast foward from May 2002 back to the present May 2014. Now, I had talked about this spot to Bridget and so given wer were in Devon and not that far away she wanted me to take her to the this place that I had waxed lyrical about it on more than one occasion (broken record anyone - ed)
Now, I had a reasonable idea where it was, but I had never walked there again or indeed been there by car. So after a number of twists and turns in the car, we eventually found ourselves in a car park off Anstey Cove Road (most important it was a free car park - finance ed).
I reckoned if we walked along the SWCP towards Torquay for a while we would come across the exact spot. So, for those of you who have managed to get this far, the photos on the link show views from along the path, as we worked our way westerly from Anstey Cove to Thatcher Point.
Now, the walk was a little longer and a lot more hilly than I remembered, and Bridget (bless - ed) is not that great at hills and was wearing the wrong kind of footgear, in fact very girly red sandals, not the kind well walked in, wornm hardened old leather sandals that I have walked ten of miles in, so she was starting to suffer on the potential blister front. Needless to say, we got to Thatcher point and then went down the hill a little and found a spot almost but not quite the one I had found, and I left her to recover, whilist I went back to collect the car and pick her up.
Strangely, even though it was not the exact place, she was quite moved by it, the waves, the seagulls, the wind and the sun were all similar to the event 12 years ago and she found it a beautiful tranquil spot, that is until some Polish girls arrived and turned on a loud radio.
From here we drove to Shaldon, parked up and took the foor passenger ferry to Teignmouth and had another late lunch. Strangely I didn't have HE&C (Ham, Egg and Chips - foodie ed) but had peri-peric chicken in a bun at the Riviera on the sea front. Was fine, but nothing to write home about. We wandered about Teignmouith for another hour or so, and found on our wanderings that all the interesting pubs are to the north of the harbour if you face Shaldon (that is to your right - travel ed) - looked like a good place to have a pub crwal in - and in fact we had spotted what appeared to be Stag Do in progress whilst we were eating lunch. They were all dressed in football costumes, and were not a patch on the guys in the Yellow Wigs and bright red shirts that I spotted in Bristol the other week.
We took the ferry back to Shaldon, collapsed into the car and headed back to Abbotskerswell for a date with a swimming pool and a body massaging water jet at The Priory.
I could go on a bit more, for those that have reached this far, well done and I need to sign off for the moment.
Now, many years ago, (pleistocene - prehistory ed) I undertook to walk a part of the South West Coastal Path, by myself. Well, originally a number of my friends had agreed to come too, but as the time came towards the kick-off date, they all, one by one, apologised and decided not to come, leaving me to do it all by myself (round of ahhs please from the assorted readers - circumlocution ed).
Why am I harking on about this? Well, hold your horses, and you at the back there stop that Alpacca from making that noise. The point I am going to make (eventually it seems - ed), is that on the second day of my, oh so lonesome (put at sock in it - ed) walk I came across a spot of the path near Torquay which turned out to make quite a mark on me. (Did you fall off the path into an alternate realityu? Did the path on the edge of the cliff fall into the sea moments after you walked it? Were you dive bombed by a flock of seagulls? Ooh this is so exciting - bring it on - ed)
Shall I continue, or have you more to say, and you at the back put a muzzle on that Alpacca! What a disturbing noise it makes.
The point I am trying to get to (if you are given the chance, hee hee - ed) is that almost at the end of second day of the walk from Dawlish to Torquay, I came across a spot just off the path that left an indelible mark on me. My feet were killing me, I had blisters on both feet (I do have a photo of one of them - they are available on demand to suitably qualified blister sufferers - ed) and I was very very tired, so when I spotted a park bench with a view out to sea I hobbled over to it and sat down.
I took off my walking boots very gingerly and then the socks, revealing blisters that were the size and shape of a couple of shallots... well one shallot on each foot, so yes, my feet were an utter mess, the problem would come later when trying to put the socks and boots back on!
After a few moments, I settled down to lie along the bench and I drifted off into a light doze. The sun was shining on me, there was a light breeze rustling the trees (and very importantly the soles of my feet - ed), the sea was gently crashing into the rocks below the cliff and gulls were cawing to one another as they soared on the thermals lifting them up above the cliffs and high into the sky. I drifted in and out of sleep for around an hour or so, before waking finally as the sun was lost behind some clouds bringing the temperature swiflty down and causing me to shiver myself awake.
It took a few moments before I became fully conscious and at that moment I felt the most at peace with myself and the world that I had ever felt in my life. I would like to say that I had some fabulous insight but I think that the combination of the tiredness, the fabulous view and the natural sounds emanating all around me just brough me a serenity that I had never felt before. So, all in all a very special place.
Putting the socks and boots on again, was to say the least problematical, I managed to limp down the hill into Torquay proper and fortunately the blisters failed to burst...I am never sure whether it is better to have the burst or not?
So let's fast foward from May 2002 back to the present May 2014. Now, I had talked about this spot to Bridget and so given wer were in Devon and not that far away she wanted me to take her to the this place that I had waxed lyrical about it on more than one occasion (broken record anyone - ed)
Now, I had a reasonable idea where it was, but I had never walked there again or indeed been there by car. So after a number of twists and turns in the car, we eventually found ourselves in a car park off Anstey Cove Road (most important it was a free car park - finance ed).
I reckoned if we walked along the SWCP towards Torquay for a while we would come across the exact spot. So, for those of you who have managed to get this far, the photos on the link show views from along the path, as we worked our way westerly from Anstey Cove to Thatcher Point.
Now, the walk was a little longer and a lot more hilly than I remembered, and Bridget (bless - ed) is not that great at hills and was wearing the wrong kind of footgear, in fact very girly red sandals, not the kind well walked in, wornm hardened old leather sandals that I have walked ten of miles in, so she was starting to suffer on the potential blister front. Needless to say, we got to Thatcher point and then went down the hill a little and found a spot almost but not quite the one I had found, and I left her to recover, whilist I went back to collect the car and pick her up.
Strangely, even though it was not the exact place, she was quite moved by it, the waves, the seagulls, the wind and the sun were all similar to the event 12 years ago and she found it a beautiful tranquil spot, that is until some Polish girls arrived and turned on a loud radio.
From here we drove to Shaldon, parked up and took the foor passenger ferry to Teignmouth and had another late lunch. Strangely I didn't have HE&C (Ham, Egg and Chips - foodie ed) but had peri-peric chicken in a bun at the Riviera on the sea front. Was fine, but nothing to write home about. We wandered about Teignmouith for another hour or so, and found on our wanderings that all the interesting pubs are to the north of the harbour if you face Shaldon (that is to your right - travel ed) - looked like a good place to have a pub crwal in - and in fact we had spotted what appeared to be Stag Do in progress whilst we were eating lunch. They were all dressed in football costumes, and were not a patch on the guys in the Yellow Wigs and bright red shirts that I spotted in Bristol the other week.
We took the ferry back to Shaldon, collapsed into the car and headed back to Abbotskerswell for a date with a swimming pool and a body massaging water jet at The Priory.
I could go on a bit more, for those that have reached this far, well done and I need to sign off for the moment.
En-route to Abbotskerswell, Devon on Friday afternoon.
Sundry photos related to our visit down to Devon. We moseyed down to Devon for a couple of days visiting Uncle Mike & Aunty Pauline (tm) near Abbotskerswell.
We obviously took the fantastic weather with us! The journey down was a little longer than expected as we didn't head off until around midday on Friday and at first went down the A303, but were soon hearing threatening noises from the traffic news about hold-ups (what do you mean men on horses with guns? - western ed) before Solstice Park - the last bit of dual carriageway before Stonehenge in Wiltshire.
So, my trusty navigator (that'll be B - ed) found us an alternate route which took us south from the A303 to Salisbury, then down past Blandford Forum until we hit the trusty old A35. This route is wonderfully scenic, and you get tantalising glimpses of the sea as you rise up and down the coastal hills, but only once you have passed The Major Hold-up, that is also known as Dorchester.
What was most surprisingly of all we only encountered 3 caravans, 2 heading towards Devon and one heading the other way, for a net total of +1 caravans heading to Devon. Guess this early in May we were at the bleeding edge of tourist season.
Unsurprisingly, we had to stop for what turned out to be a very late lunch (is 3pm late - ed) at the Coach and Horses in Winterbourne Abbas.
Now many of you who know me, know that I have various foibles (surely you mean marbles - ed) and one of them is when faced with a neverbefore visited pub and its menu I choose 'Ham, Egg & Chips' as my option (why is that - foodie ed).
My reckoning is, that if a kitchen cannot (a) fry eggs and (b) fry some chips and (c) carve a decent bit of ham of a large joint of the stuff, then they are probably unable to do much of anything else.
As a short aside, ham, egg and chips reminds me of the most embarassing moment of my life which was in a pub (The Black Horse? - ed) and involved an inopportune noticing of a large number of Toby Jugs arranged around some wooden beams and unfortunately exclaiming to one and all, "Look at those jugs!", just as the barmaid delivered a plate of ham, egg and chips to our table! There has huge guffawing amongst those around the table and I turned beetroot and hastily tried to point out the Toby jugs, but the damage had been done.
Anyhow, back to the Coach and Horses, when the plate arrived it was enormous, big fat chunky crispy brown chips, 2 double eggs and enough ham to build a raft with. I did my best, but couldn't finish it all, but it had to have been both the largest HE&C (Ham, Egg and Chips, for those of you who haven't been paying enough attention - ed) I had ever been served, and what's more (there was more - thought you didn't finish it and couldn't possibly of eaten any more - ed) it was of excellent quality. So well done to all of you at, "The Coach and Horses".
Anyhow, we finished off our journey and arrived outstide Abbotskerswell just in time for early evening drinks and dinner with Pauline and Mike.
We obviously took the fantastic weather with us! The journey down was a little longer than expected as we didn't head off until around midday on Friday and at first went down the A303, but were soon hearing threatening noises from the traffic news about hold-ups (what do you mean men on horses with guns? - western ed) before Solstice Park - the last bit of dual carriageway before Stonehenge in Wiltshire.
So, my trusty navigator (that'll be B - ed) found us an alternate route which took us south from the A303 to Salisbury, then down past Blandford Forum until we hit the trusty old A35. This route is wonderfully scenic, and you get tantalising glimpses of the sea as you rise up and down the coastal hills, but only once you have passed The Major Hold-up, that is also known as Dorchester.
What was most surprisingly of all we only encountered 3 caravans, 2 heading towards Devon and one heading the other way, for a net total of +1 caravans heading to Devon. Guess this early in May we were at the bleeding edge of tourist season.
Unsurprisingly, we had to stop for what turned out to be a very late lunch (is 3pm late - ed) at the Coach and Horses in Winterbourne Abbas.
Now many of you who know me, know that I have various foibles (surely you mean marbles - ed) and one of them is when faced with a neverbefore visited pub and its menu I choose 'Ham, Egg & Chips' as my option (why is that - foodie ed).
My reckoning is, that if a kitchen cannot (a) fry eggs and (b) fry some chips and (c) carve a decent bit of ham of a large joint of the stuff, then they are probably unable to do much of anything else.
As a short aside, ham, egg and chips reminds me of the most embarassing moment of my life which was in a pub (The Black Horse? - ed) and involved an inopportune noticing of a large number of Toby Jugs arranged around some wooden beams and unfortunately exclaiming to one and all, "Look at those jugs!", just as the barmaid delivered a plate of ham, egg and chips to our table! There has huge guffawing amongst those around the table and I turned beetroot and hastily tried to point out the Toby jugs, but the damage had been done.
Anyhow, back to the Coach and Horses, when the plate arrived it was enormous, big fat chunky crispy brown chips, 2 double eggs and enough ham to build a raft with. I did my best, but couldn't finish it all, but it had to have been both the largest HE&C (Ham, Egg and Chips, for those of you who haven't been paying enough attention - ed) I had ever been served, and what's more (there was more - thought you didn't finish it and couldn't possibly of eaten any more - ed) it was of excellent quality. So well done to all of you at, "The Coach and Horses".
Anyhow, we finished off our journey and arrived outstide Abbotskerswell just in time for early evening drinks and dinner with Pauline and Mike.
Saturday, 10 May 2014
Sculptures in and around Reading town centre
Sculptures and Reading, really, art in Reading? Spent the day in Reading with my bruvver Paul the other Saturday, and being me I suggested we wander around the town to see what we could see.
Well, for me at least, I was gladdened to find that there were a number of sculptures around the town.
Was quite taken by the Friar, by Elizabeth Frink (wow I've actually heard of her! - arts ed), for something so large and lifelike, it seemed to me to be quite ghostly?
My lion photo, is the back view of the Maiwand Lion, in Forbury Park. I do have a photo of the front of it, but not to hand at the moment. But the photo does not give you get a good sense of the scale. This is one enormous Lion! The park is just a couple of minutes walk from the High Street, and is worth heading for to find a little bit of calm in Central Reading.
Well, for me at least, I was gladdened to find that there were a number of sculptures around the town.
Was quite taken by the Friar, by Elizabeth Frink (wow I've actually heard of her! - arts ed), for something so large and lifelike, it seemed to me to be quite ghostly?
My lion photo, is the back view of the Maiwand Lion, in Forbury Park. I do have a photo of the front of it, but not to hand at the moment. But the photo does not give you get a good sense of the scale. This is one enormous Lion! The park is just a couple of minutes walk from the High Street, and is worth heading for to find a little bit of calm in Central Reading.
Lambeth Palace, afternoon glory , silly human race (sic)
A couple of photos of the exterior of Lambeth palace, the London official home of the Archbishop of Canterbury.
For the many foreign readers of this blog, the Archbish, is the Church of England's version of the pope, but substantially more understated, as good citizens of this fine country usually are (wink - ed).
I have a fondness for the Archbish, as I spent 3 years at the University of Kent many years ago (many many years ago - historical accuracy ed), and was a frequent visitor to Canterbury Cathedral. In fact, I was awarded my dusty Degree in Computer Science there in the early 80's and I have a number of photos of a very hairy and skinny version of me on that very day. Doesn't time fly. (What about letting your readers see the photos? - publicity ed)
Lots of fond memories of Canterbury, and I believe the University is having a series of shindigs this year in readiness of celebrating 50 years of existence in 2015
For the many foreign readers of this blog, the Archbish, is the Church of England's version of the pope, but substantially more understated, as good citizens of this fine country usually are (wink - ed).
I have a fondness for the Archbish, as I spent 3 years at the University of Kent many years ago (many many years ago - historical accuracy ed), and was a frequent visitor to Canterbury Cathedral. In fact, I was awarded my dusty Degree in Computer Science there in the early 80's and I have a number of photos of a very hairy and skinny version of me on that very day. Doesn't time fly. (What about letting your readers see the photos? - publicity ed)
Lots of fond memories of Canterbury, and I believe the University is having a series of shindigs this year in readiness of celebrating 50 years of existence in 2015
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