Around the coastline and heading northbound

Clovelly
Heddon valley
Lynton/lynmouth

Another sunny clear morning, the surf is up (well slightly) and the sky is brilliant blue.  We have had the most amazing weather the entire trip.  Before we arrived back in the UK they had two weeks of continual rain.  The day we arrived, it was 30 degrees at Wimbledon and we've had sunshine every single day since.  Sometimes overcast, but always the sun breaking through at least for part of the day - and no rain!  For this we thank our wonderful angels.

I've run out of adjectives to describe this most amazing countryside.  It's been a week of traveling a couple of hundred miles a day, usually via roads that take us though the back lanes and tiny villages of the south.  Each village is what seems to us, very close to the last - so the concentration required to travel the narrow lanes without having a head on collision, is broken by our exclamations as we enter the next town.  This then leads us to having to make a decision, do we stop and check out the pub or do we move onto the next town as their pub may be even more characterful.  These dilemmas, coupled with finding the next B & B, is the sum of our decision making for the day.

So Saturday dawns and we continue heading around the Cornwall coast towards north Devon and the town of Lynton.  The only reason we picked this as our next destination is that it is Daniel's middle name, spelt different but the same.  Lynton is sister to Lynmouth, the houses clinging to the incredibly steep hillside like magnets on a fridge door.
The architecture of the houses and churches has changed with the change in counties.  We are now seeing more turrets and slate roofs, three story terraces and very steep roads leading down to the village harbours.  Often the slope will show the degree of gradient,  so far 16% is the greatest.  And more often than not, this will require a walk, as every village has a parking lot set aside at the top, with access to the village gained by foot only.

The village of Clovelly, a short drive from Torquay, is the toughest we've encountered so far.  The village can only be entered through the car park, where a standard entry fee is £6.  The cobblestone street is made from the local smooth stone washed up on the beach, very similar to soap stone in look and feel.  The difference is that the stones have not been laid flat, like flagstone, instead each stone has been set vertically, in a horizontal formation, all variations to size and thickness fitting together like a smooth stone wall laid on its side.  Looks great - but bloody difficult to walk on, specially if you're a bit wobbly on your feet.  The gradient is sooo steep that the local villagers use sleighs to transport all their daily requirements, and we touristy folk stand aside as they maneuver their sleighs down the incredibly steep hillside.  We negotiated our way slowly down the half mile of cobbled stones, and picked our way back again at a snail pace (pun intended).

Back on the road,  we set the navigator to Lynton.
The next stage of our journey is unexplainable, however our navigator took us on a route that was completely counter to the road signs and intersections  indicating Lynton.  We were once again on the narrowest of the roads, and at times appearing to be driving away from Lynton, rather than towards it.  The scenery was spectacular, and that's putting it mildly.  We wound our way slowly though the hedgerows, down into the valley, where we eventually came out at the Heddon Valley Inn, a graceful old inn hidden in the aged growth of the surrounding hillsides with a crystal clear stream running alongside.  Another reason for us to stop and admire the view !

We finally made our way into Lynton and the sister city of Lynmouth, over the twin rivers flowing into the sea.  Lynmouth's claim to fame is the floods of 1952, where the rivers burst their banks after torrential rains, and ran an overflow course through the town that killed 34 and destroyed almost the entire town.  The most ostentatious manor houses are those perched high on the hillsides surrounding the town, majestic hotels and private residences peering down on the throngs of visitors to the port each day.

Our hostess for this evening was Nancy, an absolute gem of a lady running a B&B in the heart of Lynton, one of a row of many located on the main route. Nancy offered to do our washing and return it to us before we left.  She was a dynamo of a little lady, probably aged in her 60s or even 70s, but always appearing to be in a hurry.  We strolled downtown for our evening meal, choosing a local restaurant with a variety of seafood, pasta and local fare.  Who should be our hostess, but Nancy!   She was home well after our bedtime, and happily cooking our breakfast the next morning.

Sunday - this would have to be the best day weather-wise we've had yet.  Brilliant blue sky greeted us as we pulled back the curtains of our period suite in the Turret Guesthouse.  It has stayed brilliant blue all day, as we once again meander through the winding roads leading to Somerset and the city of Bath. Another day of beautiful lush countryside, fresh air, wildflower perfumes and fresh cut grass.