Upon arriving we found that the markings in the centre section of the car park were rather confusing - arrow/chevron-shaped boxes is the best way I can describe it.
The chaos was compounded by groups arriving in more than one car,
and then idling in the centre of the car park while they decided what to do - should they stay or should they go?
We solved the problem by parking in a space on the perimeter,
thus avoiding the angular conundrum!
The car park may have been chaotic, but the loos were free... Some you win, some you lose!
We perambulated at a leisurely pace, past the harbour to the beach, where the KHT followed the example of nearly every other person under a certain age and crawled into the slopping pill box, half buried in the beach - no doubt a relic from the second world war.Other constructions - both temporary and more permanent adorned the beach,
as did numerous other tourists.
We quickly reached the conclusion that Easter weekend is probably not the best time to visit - unless you wish to feel that you are part of some parade trooping across the bridge,
past the rented cottage
to the Pill Box on the beach,
and back again.
We consumed our picnic lunch
sat at a conveniently positioned picnic table.
You could either describe it as being on the uncut verge of the car park,
or on a wildlife lawn on the cusp of the beach
with sweeping views across the bay.
Both would be equally true.
Then I had one of my bright ideas
"Let's go the Valley of the Kings, or whatever it is called, walk along the cliff path to Lynton and take the cliff railway down to Lynmouth."
Google revealed that it was actually called the Valley of rocks.
We set the satnav and headed off into Devon,
over moorland,
through woodland,
past mysterious deep valleys,
enjoying the stunning views over Exmoor
brightened in the spring sunshine
by the ever-blooming gorse.
The Valley of Rocks was just as stunning as we remembered.
The KHT was rather surprised
by the coastal path into Lynton,
with the steep unfenced hillside,
with the rocky sea some way below.
She would have prefered the reassurance
of a protective barrier,
to keep her safely on the path.
She kept well aware from the edge,
being reassuringly wary of the drop.
Last time we had done this walk,
some ten or eleven years ago,
the KHT had little awareness of danger
and the whole experience was far more stressful
for us as her parents!
This time she was the one who was more anxious, but not sufficiently so to detract from the walk.
Upon reaching the cliff railway we noticed a cafe at the top. A quick reconnoitre revealed some very promising cakes, almost compatible with DH's diet.
I can thoroughly recommend the cappuccino cake!
We then descended via the cliff railway to Lynmouth.
The KHT enjoying the view from the front of the car
as it descended.
We didn't have long to spend in Lynmouth.
We did explore the visitor's centre.
The KHT found a soft toy for me to admire.
"Is it cold?"
"No!"
"Well, in that case, it must be an otter!"
Sure enough, it was.
The Sales Assistant groaned appreciatively
"I am sorry," I apologised, "You must get the same jokes every day."
Pretty much, " she agreed, "But I haven't heard that one for a while...!"
We spent half an hour or so sat on the beach enjoying the sunshine,
idly observing a family who seemed intent on picking up large stones/rocks
and trying to smash them.
We had no idea why.
The KHT took the opportunity to pose with the sculpture of a walker by Richard Graham,which marks the starting/finishing point of
- the Tarka Trail,
- the Two Moors Way,
- the Coleridge Way
- as well as the South West Coast Path.
It was not by the 'Richard Graham' we know.
I checked.
Apparently, there is more than one 'Richard Graham'.
Too soon, the time came for us to join the l-o-n-g queue waiting to be transported back up the hill. We could have walked, but it would have been FAR more knackering.
Besides which I carefully ensured we purchased return tickets,
which are only valid on the day of issue.
It would be a pity to waste a trip!
"What do you think LLCR stands for?" I enquired of the KHT
"Local Land Cable Railway."
" Not quite."
"Local Land Carriageway."
Then she sussed the 'Cliff Railway' bit, before working out that the 'L's referred to the pair of towns that it connected.
We returned along the coastal footpath,to the somewhat depleted car park
as 90% of the cars that were there when we arrived
had already been reclaimed by their owners
and driven away.
Our waiting vehicle was being serenaded
by the sound of a herd of wild goats
intent on devouring as much of the undergrowth as they could!
The volume produced by their coordinated munching
was impressive!
We returned to our temporary abode,
with its view over the estuary,
but the excitement was not over yet.
By the light of the moon,
the lifeboat was launched to rescue those in peril on the sea.
It toured around the bay,
searchlights ablaze.
We were never any the wiser what the shout was. Presumably, they were not searching for the Easter Bunny!
As the lights came on,
Wales was visible for the first time
since we arrived in Minehead.
The KHT gave a sigh of relief,
content that God's own country was back in sight,
remembering the days
when she was convinced that it was the exotic delights of France she could glimpse,
not Barry Island.
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