We had two things on our agenda for the Isle - The 10 Mile Steam Train Museum and the Needles chairlift.
What a fabulous experience they both were.
The steam train, yes another one, is always a buzz, and even though this was a short journey, it took us from Wootton Station, which boasts a recreation of an Edwardian country terminus complete with waiting room and ticket office, to Havenstreet Station where there is a little collection of shops, a cafe and the railway museum. This station has been restored in-line with its 1940s beginnings including staff in full uniform of the era. The railway discovery centre provided us with the opportunity to go behind the scenes and see the specialists, many volunteers, undertaking the painstaking restoration work on these locomotives. Their passion and patience is admirable. We meandered through the gift store, museum, gallery and even had a bite to eat. The train rolled into the station and I had to scurry to the shop to buy some goodies, holding it up from departing in time.. oops. No-one seemed to upset about it, thankfully.
Travelling westward along the coast we enjoyed the coastal views where possible, and continued to shake our heads at the people laying on the stones, in lieu of sand, baking in the full sun and obviously enjoying the beach.
Arriving at Alum Bay, in particular The Needles on the western point of the Isle, we found a mini theme park. Well set up, in the theme of yesteryear, hundreds of tourists enjoying the setting. The chairlift was exhilarating and steep. If you haven’t yet, watch the short video we posted on the Facebook page. The steepness of the ride, takes your breath away along with the view. Just spectacular.
After the brief descent to the beach you find yourself surrounded by tall majestic cliff faces and the famous Needles, three rock formations, not too far from the shore. Some of the cliff faces are a kaleidoscope of colours, quite incredible really. They look like a painting, and their appearance changes in the light.
Daryl quickly spotted the fast boat ride and we promptly joined the queue. Life jackets on, I wasn’t quite sure what we were in for, but must report it was absolutely fantastic and over far too quickly. Again check out the video footage on the Facebook page. We got a close up view of the Needles, the lighthouse and the very white cliff faces, along the ocean. You can see recent landslides and some of the houses perched on the cliff tops would be wise to consider their future. After our exhilarating boat ride, a walk on the pebbly beach, we enjoyed some local ice cream before travelling in a northerly direction to Yarmouth to catch the ferry. A quaint town, we enjoyed some local custom before enjoying a leisurely passage to Lymington situated on the south coast of England.
We were fortunate enough to get some accommodation in Exeter, after my cousin was unable to use it. So for two nights we had a base and this was gratefully accepted. The fact that one toilet was out of service was an inconvenience and when the second toilet was found to be leaking, well I felt the owner may be up for some major plumbing works. A typical English town house it had three storeys and a steep, narrow, staircase. It served our purpose well, with a central location allowing us to walk into town for dinner.
The trip from Lymington to Exeter was picturesque and even more fascinating after we came across a number of ponies meandering calmly though the tiny village of Burley, on the way to Dorchester, and then for miles through the New Forest. The New Forest pony is a recognised mountain and moorland or native pony breed to the Bristol Isles. The breed is indigenous to the New Forest in Hampshire in southern England. All ponies grazing on the New Forest are owned by the New Forest commoners ( farmers with rights over the common pastures) and the pony population is suggested at well into the thousands. The ponies, are well cared for by the land owners, and some wear reflective collars to assist with identifying them at night to avoid collisions. By the way the ponies have right of way, not the cars. Along with the sheep, guinea fowl and cattle, it is not an uncommon sight for these ponies to wander in front of cars many times a day. They graze without caution on the roadside and it is clear they are used to the traffic. With a speed limit of 40 miles an hour, it is pleasing that most people respect this restriction. Sadly a sign states that 150 animals were killed last year by oncoming vehicles.
Given we had a base with a kitchen we thought we would be frugal and buy some porridge to cook for breakfast on our first morning saving us a small fortune, unfortunately this plan went to custard ( or chunky liquid) after I became quite unwell a short time later. After a difficult trip, Daryl found a stop at Paignton train station so I could use the facilities. While I was green to the gills, at least Daryl got to see another steam train leave the platform. Our destination for the day was Greenway, Agatha Christie’s holiday home, and then to follow the coast until we had seen enough.
By the time we arrived, near Brixham, I was feeling much better but very tired. Our walk around the National Trust homestead was slow and leisurely. This is another example of a beautiful home, that has been kept as close to the original state as possible. Agatha Christie wrote 74 books and the films based on her novels are famous around the world. Agatha herself was a woman of many talents and pursuits apart from her famous writing. She was born in 1890 in Torquay, Devon and married twice; she travelled on several archeological digs with her second husband and was appointed a Dame Commander of the Order of the British Empire (DBE) for her contribution to literature in 1971. Greenway is thought to have been built in the 16th century, and itself was used as the holiday home for the family since its purchase during the 1930’s. The gardens are vast and boast views over the Dart Estuary.
Leaving Greenway, we ferried to Dartmouth and by this stage I was finally getting a little hungry. Dartmouth is a seaside community steeped in history and architecture aided by waterfront and a picturesque main town centre. We perused some antique stores, contributed to the local economy and enjoyed the opportunity to stop here. This was only the second time since we have been visiting the Uk, that we enjoyed real loose leaf tea in a delightful little cafe, The Singing Kettle. Venturing further south we set the GPS to Start Point, an iconic lighthouse. One lane, windy, narrow roads, with high hedges prevented us sight seeing, and Daryl navigated expertly to avoid oncoming traffic, including a large truck. We reversed a very long way to find a patch of dirt to get out of its way. Clearly someone didn’t manage it so well as we saw the remnants of their side mirror on the roadside. Arriving at Start Point we enjoyed an immense view of the bay surrounding the lighthouse which was located quite a long way down. Discussing the possibilities of walking to the lighthouse, taking into account the winding, sloping, descent I wondered about the sensibility of such a trek. But not wanting to be the spoiler, I agreed to venture on down the track. The track was an exceptionally long, long, long way. The return trek back was twice as long! We watched with some concern, as three kayakers paddled their way in open waters, around the base of the lighthouse which in itself is notoriously rocky and rough. The potential for trouble was a little mesmerising. I chose not to climb the 183 year old lighthouse but admired its location and towering presence. Recovering from this climb took quite some time and I was reminded, painfully, that my hips are not going to accommodate excessive activity, no matter how much I will them to.
Daryl drove onwards heading in a south westerly direction and he woke me as we entered Hope Cove. A delightful little community with a beach, as close to the ones on our coastline, as possible. From the top of the hill the beach looks sandy and cream in colour, but once we set foot on it, realised it was in fact tiny stones that made up a very gritty beach. Protected by cliffs, and caves the area provides small private alcoves for couples, families and singletons to wile away the hours. Some people clearly forgot to slip, slop and slap. We actually braved the water, stuck our feet in it, but only for a few minutes, as the burn of the cold water was too much for my poor wintry soles. Feeling refreshed, it was time to journey back to Exeter.
Quirky fact of the day: Cyclists are not required to wear a helmet, it is recommended but not law. These people ride on the most precarious of roads, main roads and in and out of towns, in the middle of the road. Some carrying children.
Wow, just wow.
Until next time,
N
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