Walking in the Devon woods

All of Katharine’s cousins like to hike, so our visits to England always include explorations of their local countryside. Most of our relatives live in central England, but one cousin had moved to Devon since we’d last visited, and we were eager to be introduced to this part of SW England.

Eric taking photos from a rock overlooking the valley of the
River Teign along the path to Fingle Bridge from Castle Drogo.

Yet another sunny day threatened to dispel the clichéd view of damp English weather as we drove to nearby Drogo Castle. Now a National Trust site, the castle was completed for food retailing magnate Julius Drewe in 1931. The castle is located on a prominent bluff, and the site includes our destination for the day: a network of walking trails leading along the nearby River Teign.

Not surprisingly on such a fine autumn day, we were not alone as we walked along the edge of the steep valley to descend to Fingle Bridge.

Most walkers stopped at the old stone pub at the bridge, but we continued on along the river for a few kilometres. By the time we returned, the crowds had lessened—but we were only moments from their last call for lunch. The pub lunch and local cider on the outdoor patio was a welcome break before heading back along the river valley trails and the climb back up to the castle.

These two little girls were dropping twigs off the upstream side, then rushing to
see them float by on the downstream side. Fingle Bridge, near Exeter in Devon.

This area seems so pristine and pastoral, yet a closer look reveals evidence of past industry. The very narrow Fingle bridge is made of rough-hewn stone, and the pub was once a mill; piles of rubble along the trail were probably mine tailings; and old foundations are visible amongst the trees.


Today the River Teign water looks clean enough to drink, but likely only due to very concerted efforts to restore the local environment.

Is all the effort worthwhile? I suspect the many people we saw enjoying it on this sunny autumn afternoon would not want it any other way.

Walking along the flinty Norfolk coast

Carcass of an old boat along
the Blakeney Marsh walking path.

“It’s a beautiful day... I’ll take you up to the Norfolk coast!”

Katharine’s cousin always seems to know just the kind of place to take us in any weather, so we were happy to get our gear together and head north for a day of hiking.

Blakeney is nominally on the North Sea coast, but a large marshland separates it from the salt water. A footpath along the dykes in the marsh leads out to the windy shoreline in low tides, but also forms part of the extensive coastal walking trail system. Although sunny, the wind made us choose to stay inland—and the lure of a pub lunch in nearby Cley Next the Sea became our destination.

Old windmill at Cley Next the Sea, Norfolk.

Like much of eastern England, the fields in Norfolk contain a lot of flint, a hard stony type of quartz. No doubt farmers have cursed this component of their fields for centuries, but they don’t waste it either. As we walked back to Blakeney we observed flint being used in sidewalk pavers, as walls to define properties—and most dramatically, as part of the exterior cladding on buildings.

It seemed a shame to be so close to the North Sea without actually seeing it, so we drove west to Wells-next-the-Sea.

A large sand dune shelters a summer holiday park from the sea winds. A short walk over the dune leads to a long sandy beach with dozens of tiny holiday cabins tucked into the steep dune. The harbour here is a staging area for a huge wind farm several kilometres offshore, and signs warn beach strollers about the deep dredged channels and sudden tides.

As the sun neared the horizon, the tide was coming in and the ever-present wind prompted us to head back to the car. As we drove south through rolling hills along the route of an old Roman road, we agreed that a walk along the Norfolk coast should be added to our list of things to do...

Flying kites on the beach in the late afternoon at Wells-next-the-sea, Norfolk.

Shameful behaviour

I’d been very impressed at the excellent interpretive signage panels near the Hopkins River mouth at Warrnambool. Several panels described the features of estuaries, and others had information about whales. We’d stopped to make use of the handy public toilets after looking for whales at nearby Logan’s Beach, and lingered to learn about estuaries until the late afternoon light became too dim.

Back in Warrnambool a week later, we made a point of returning. Sadly, some thoughtless person had obliterated the sign with grafitti.

I’m sure the city will replace the sign, but the community will now have to bear the cost of this idiot’s actions—and it probably means that some other community benefit will have to be cut.

I can only hope that this buffoon’s friends let him (or her) know that this was stupid. Even better, report him to the police so the whole community will know, and can publicly denounce such shameful behaviour.

Camels on the beach

Some sights are so cliché that you just have to see them.

Cable Beach is one of those beaches that seems almost too perfect: flat hard sand extending for miles, backed by large dunes and facing due west out into the warm Indian Ocean. By late afternoon most days, groups of people have driven vehicles onto the beach, and set up folding chairs to socialize as the sun sets.

But dramatic sunsets are not hard to find in this land of beaches: here most people are waiting to watch the nightly parade of camels taking riders along the shoreline.

Touristy? No doubt—but it sure is dramatic!