Coastal erosion is in the news these days. Most spectacularly near Hayle in north Cornwall where geologist Richard Hocking caught an enormous fall on camera and, of course, like the modern equivalent of whether a falling tree makes any sound if there’s no one there to witness it, these things don’t really happen unless they are uploaded almost immediately to youtube. (It’s well worth a look though.) It goes without saying that the South West Coast Path has been diverted.

Technically speaking this erosion of the land is caused by the constant battering of the sea, primarily by the processes of hydraulic action, corrasion, attrition, and corrosion. Hydraulic action occurs when the force of the waves compresses air pockets in coastal rocks and cliffs. The air expands explosively, breaking the rocks apart. Rocks and pebbles flung by waves against the cliff face wear it away by the process of corrasion, or abrasion as it is also known. Chalk and limestone coasts are often broken down by corrosion and attrition is the process by which the eroded rock particles themselves are worn down, becoming smaller and more rounded. That’s cleared all that up then.

My staycationing this year has seemed to take me quite naturally to our picturesque coast, and particularly the south coast along the Solent. One more bright and sunny day of this Indian summer (I’ve often wondered about that phrase and apparently it’s a north American term dating from about 3 centuries ago: In the same way that Indian giver was coined for people who take back presents they have bestowed, the phrase Indian summer may simply have been a way of saying “false summer“. Well this year has been odd a scorching April and a blistering opening to October, I’ve never known anything like it) found us in Lymington.

They love their sailing down here – it’s got three marinas – and some TV programme rated it the best town on the coast but we were here to walk along the Solent Way along the edge of Pennington and Keyhaven marshes to Hurst Castle. The castle is one of Henry VIII’s coastal forts and was constructed at the end of a long shingle spit. It also has a picture perfect lighthouse. And it is long, about 2 kilometres I reckon, and every step is strength sapping, especially on the calf muscles. (So strength sapping that we took a ferry back to the shore rather than walk it again.) This is the beauty of shingle it can absorb huge forces and this beach was created by longshore drift.

OK pay attention here comes some more science. Longshore drift consists of the transportation of sediments (generally sand but also, as in this case, coarser sediments such as gravels) along a coast at an angle to the shoreline, which is dependent on prevailing wind direction, swash and backwash. (Swash as I’m sure you all know is a turbulent layer of water that washes up on the beach after an incoming wave has broken. Hence swashbuckling I guess.)

Spits are formed when longshore drift travels past a point where the dominant drift direction and shoreline do not veer in the same direction. As well as dominant drift direction, spits are affected by the strength of wave driven current, wave angle and the height of incoming waves. Spits are landforms that have two important features. The first feature being the region at the up-drift end or proximal end. The proximal end is constantly attached to land (unless breached) and may form a slight “barrier” between the sea and an estuary or lagoon. The second important spit feature is the down-drift end or distal end, which is detached from land and in some cases, may take a complex hook-shape or curve, due to the influence of varying wave directions. It’s on days like these I wish I’d paid more attention during geography.

The walk is splendid even if you don’t understand any of this and trust me at best I’ve got a very tenuous grip on it. You leave the chandler shops and marinas of Lymington behind you and you are quickly on the flat marshland with the whole walk spread out in front of you. It’s certainly big sky country round here and the landscape which at first appears deserted is actually teeming with wildlife. There’s oystercatchers, redshanks and what I think were curlews. All dipping, bobbing and wading their peaceful way through the pools and lagoons that surround you. The air is redolent with their gentle whistling and calling. The salinity in these lagoons varies widely, but is generally lower than seawater. This specialised habitat supports its own distinctive plants and animals, some of which are only found in this environment. The lagoons are some of the most important in Britain with populations of rare species including Foxtail Stonewort, Lagoon Shrimp and starlet Sea-anemone. On the walk back in the early evening we were accompanied by swooping sand martins who seem to revel in their ability to fly and for all the world just seem to be doing it because they’re simply having fun. And who can blame ‘em?

Claim the Coast:
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Aloe Blacc – I Need A Dollar
Neil Young with Stephen Stills – Long May You Run
Lighthouse Family – Run

More information:
OS Map used – Outdoor Leisure 22 New Forest
Pay less when you order this map here

Useful links:
The Ramblers
South West Coast Path
Hayle
Coastal erosion
Staycation 
The Solent
Indian summer
Lymington
Solent Way
Hurst Castle
Longshore drift
Grand Union Canal half-marathon

Watch:
BBC News reporting on the coastal fall near Hayle 

Listen to:
cshx – Solent
Kate Bush – The Big Sky (Special Single Mix)
Shawsax – An Evening On The Estuary
Sweet Billy Pilgrim – Longshore Drift
Phonem – Warm Rays (Longshore Drift)

Follow me on Twitter @walkngclasshero

Take footpaths. While it doesn’t take a genius to work out that, by inclination, a Conservative-led government is not going to put matters of access ahead of matters of private property rights, there are issues here that should worry walkers. We saw what happened when the plans to sell off the nation’s forests were announced last year. This hugely misguided strategy united some of the most disparate sections of our society, from retired colonels in the Shires to eco-warriors.

Now, as the Ramblers’ chief executive Tom Franklin has pointed out, it seems from the recent Government white paper that the all-England Coast Path project may be being quietly shelved. If so, we should make our voices heard again. If one thing should exercise an island race even more than woodlands, it is the coast and the sea. It may not be putting it too strongly to call free access to the British coast a birthright.

Billy Bragg puts this primal and enduring link rather nicely. Billy lives dead alongside the South West Coast Path in Dorset. He’s often asked by those mindful of his roots in urban Barking how he feels now living in the countryside. He always replies that he doesn’t live in the countryside. He lives by the sea. There’s
a difference. He’s absolutely right. The British coast is a joy and a marvel. We are blessed in having it as our neighbour. From the austere and haunting flats of East Anglia to the pleasure palaces of Blackpool, from the rugged inlets and gull-haunted rock cathedrals of Zennor to the muddy, ribbed Humber Estuary beloved of Philip Larkin. The sea has shaped the land and us. We should not give it up without a fight.

There’ll be some who balk at the notion of walkers getting ‘too political’, feeling that we should stick to our genteel pursuits and let others make tough fiscal decisions and wield the axe. To which my reply would be unrepeatable. The roots of the Ramblers, let’s remember, are not in cream teas and stiles, but in dissent and protest. Every time I take out one of my beloved OS maps – in mountain mists, or lashed by rain on a soaking moor, or later by a crackling fireside with a warming Talisker – I think of Benny Rothman and his mates. Because these last few years, when I look at the battered map, I see great expanses of sandy yellow where previously there was antiseptic white space and ‘keep out’ signs.

The yellow shading stands for open access land; great tracts of our country once forbidden to me and you that is now open to us all. That ‘right to roam’ was won by the bravery and fortitude of many, and chief among them were the Kinder Scout Trespassers. In my new book, Hope And Glory, I make the point that the British love of nature and exploration transcends class and economic divisions. You only have to look at how climbing, for instance, made tight partners of men as socially disparate as Chris Bonington and Don Whillans to see this.

The point is that a nation is not built on GDP and fiscal prudence alone. Nationhood is forged in the character of the people and how they interact with the landscape and history of the land. I get a swell of pride when I see Japanese tourists taking pictures by the shores of Derwent Water or the slopes of Skiddaw; or when I chat to the German and Dutch tourists who throng the Cornish sections of the South West Coast Path, entranced by the savage beauty of it.

If a Big Society means anything, it is an open society: a society that welcomes those, British or not, who want to enjoy the nations’ natural joys and wonders to the full. If not, we are a small and crabbed society, one seeking to close doors and lock gates under cover of an economic darkness. We should not let this happen.

Stuart Maconie’s Hope And Glory is published by Ebury Press

Where’s your perfect place to wake up?
On a cliff above the ocean, pretty much anywhere in the British Isles – perhaps along the dramatic north coast of Cornwall or Devon.

Do you have a favourite walk?
The South West Coast Path is pretty phenomenal. As is the walking in St Kilda.

Who would be your ideal companion?
My black labrador, Inca, my wife, Marina, and my son, Ludo. Or a good group of friends mixed with a few strangers – walking is a fantastic opportunity to get to know people.

You’re president of the Campaign for National Parks – why are national parks so important to you?
I grew up in and around the New Forest, South Downs and Lake District, and I’m really excited about the South Downs becoming a national park. Having travelled the world, I know that we really do have parks we should be, and are, very proud of.

Are you worried about the spending cuts to national parks’ budgets?
Yes. Their budgets weren’t large in the first place, so the cuts will have a dramatic effect.

You support the Mosaic project to encourage more black and minority ethnic visitors to national parks. Does more need to be done?
Mosaic has been a success in opening up the countryside to a broader cross-section of society, but there’s still a lot of work to do. What a lot of people forget is that, for many ethnic minorities, the countryside can be a scary place. Mosaic helps to make the parks accessible to everyone, no matter what your ethnicity, religion or race.

Did you always want to be a presenter, like your TV vet dad Bruce Fogle?
No, not really. My mother’s an actress as well, so I grew up with both my parents appearing on television. I applied to be on BBC’s Castaway 2000 for the experience, not to be on telly or become a media figure. If anything, I wanted to be an actor rather than a presenter. I applied to all the drama schools but they rejected me. I’ve had bit parts, in things like Hotel Babylon, but I don’t think an Oscar is around the corner.

On Countryfile, you participated in some of Britain’s more bizarre countryside events. Any favourites?
The World Nettle Eating Championships in Dorset stands out. As does the World Coal Carrying Championships in West Yorkshire, and Staffordshire’s Tough Guy competition. Sadly, I didn’t break any records but it made me feel proud of Britain’s quirky traditions.

You’ve travelled the globe. What’s been your favourite place abroad?
If I was pushed, I’d say Papua New Guinea. It’s the most extraordinary place, like stepping back in time. There’s very little tourism, so it’s still unexploited. There are amazing trails, too, such as the Black Cat and Kokoda Tracks.

In your book Offshore you go in search of a British island you can buy. Which ones came closest to winning your heart?
I actually put in an offer for one of the Summer Isles, off Ullapool, in Scotland. But I was outbid by only about £10, which was a bit annoying. I like the Isles of Scilly – they’re pretty special. And the Outer Hebrides will always have a place in my heart because of my time on Taransay [in Castaway 2000].

Doesn’t Bear Grylls own an island off the coast of north Wales? Are you two in competition?
I’m envious of Bear in many respects. But he does things like sucking eyeballs, doesn’t he? I don’t do that. I probably need to work harder and make it big in America like Bear before I can afford another stab at my own island.

Any more adventures planned for you and James Cracknell?
We were training for the Tour Divide event [the world’s longest off-road bike race] but that’s been postponed indefinitely after James’ crash [a truck hit him while cycle training in the US last year]. It’s going to take a long time for him to make a full recovery; many years, really. I’d love to see the event through. If James wants to do it next year or the year afterwards, that would be great.

Win footwear from CÀRN’s ‘Inspired by Ben Fogle’ range at www.carn-uk.com/competitions

The English Riviera

It’s amazing isn’t it? A protracted spell of sunny weather and the snow and gloom of winter fast becomes a distant memory. True this April has been special not least because the heatwave has coincided with weekends and bank holidays but other than for sport I can’t remember wearing shorts before Easter. And don’t talk to me about the aisles of sun care products cluttering up our supermarkets.

Now I don’t consider myself a fair weather walker but I love springtime. The extra sunlight in the evening after the clocks go forward really helps liberate the day. Walking suddenly seems to be a more relaxed exercise – no more hurrying to complete the route before the sun goes down. Indeed the whole thing can just be one aimless but enjoyable stroll barely bothering with a map marvelling at the blue skies, the re-emerging fauna and the budding flora.

The South West Coast Path (SWCP) is Britain’s longest (1014 km) waymarked footpath. If you complete the whole thing – it runs from Minehead to Poole – you’ll pass through a National Park and two (count ‘em) World Heritage sites. And since it rises and falls with every river mouth – I wouldn’t keep count of these if I were you – the total height you climb is roughly equivalent to four Everests. The geology is simply outrageous – who wouldn’t want to go and see the ‘Lulworth Crumple’?

On the English Riviera section rocks were literally turned upside down by earth movements during a mountain building phase 280-300 million years ago. Large scale folding and faulting of the rocks can be seen all along this stretch of coast and strange fossils in the limestone tell us about local tropical reefs in the long distant past. In 2007, the importance of this geological heritage was recognized when the English Riviera Geopark was designated. Recognised by UNESCO and one of only seven geoparks in the UK, it consists of 32 separate sites. Between them they cover 3 geological time periods and no less than 400 million years of earth history. So staggering is the geology here that this area gave its name to a whole geologic period – the Devonian is a geological period and system of the Paleozoic Era spanning from 416 to 359.2 (I love the .2!) million years ago.

The numbers themselves are too big for me to imagine or understand so while we’re walking round Labrador Bay I focus on the butterflies and the birds. I don’t want to keep banging on about it but butterflies in April are as rare as Tory MPs supporting an increase in the EU budget. As well as offering glorious views across Lyme Bay this bay is home to the cirl bunting – a rare little bird whose population is almost entirely restricted to South Devon. And before we know it we’ve walked into Shaldon. Situated on the mouth of the Teign (opposite Teignmouth) it’s been described as “a quaint English drinking village, with a fishing problem”. That’s a bit harsh if you ask me, we weren’t bothered by any anglers at all. It is, however, the sort of place that you really only discover when you’re walking and well worth discovering it is, too.

Going back up the SWCP past Torquay (another walk, another day) is Hope’s Nose, a finger-like rocky tip at the northern end of Torbay. Evidence of 350 million-year-old Devonian limestone is once again all round you and this time ‘there’s gold in them there hills’. The ice-caps never actually reached Torquay, but the effects of the Ice Age certainly did. The melting and growth of ice caps caused the sea levels to rise up and down and all around this area are fossils, together with remnants of extinct corals which were formed when the seas were relatively shallow. The best place to see these is on the foreshore at Hope’s Nose.

Perhaps the most exciting discovery along these cliffs came in Victorian times, when gold was found. During great earth movements, hot mineral-rich fluids were infused into the fissures of the rock and gold came along with these. In the 19th century, prospectors descended on Torquay in the hope of making a quick buck. However, the gold in this area was very fragile and crammed into narrow fissures, so mining it was never a viable proposition. If you can’t get down to the sunny south west you can see samples of Hope’s Nose gold at the Natural History Museum in London.

Useful links:
o The Ramblers    http://www.ramblers.org.uk/
o English Riviera   http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/English_Riviera
o  South West Coast Path   http://www.southwestcoastpath.com/
o Lulworth Crumple    http://tinyurl.com/3poguv9
o English Riviera Geopark  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/English_Riviera_Geopark
o Paleozoic Era    http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paleozoic
o Devonian Period   http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Devonian
o Labrador Bay    http://tinyurl.com/44rehnh
o Shaldon    http://www.shaldon-devon.co.uk/
o Teignmouth    http://teignmouthtown.co.uk/default.htm
o Hope’s Nose    http://tinyurl.com/3mpbxmn
o Natural History Museum  http://www.nhm.ac.uk/

 Listen to:
Metronomy – The English Riviera
Electric Light Orchestra (Elo) – Mr Blue Sky
Tassilli Players – Devonian Dub
Muse – Butterflies and Hurricanes – Live From Wembley Stadium
eil Young – After The Gold Rush
Blackbyrds – April Showers
Foo Fighters – Walk

The bus will depart from the Co-op in Whitby at 9.30am (returning at 12.55pm) and again at 1.30pm (returning at 4.55pm). There’s no need to book – just turn up and pay the driver. Tickets cost £5 per person for a half day Whitby to Danby return excursion (children under 5 travel free).

Meanwhile, the recently launched Moor Rover offers a new service in Exmoor National Park designed to provide local residents and visitors access to areas previously unreachable by public transport. Reducing the need for car journeys, the service is operated by AtWest with funding from the Exmoor National Park Sustainable Development Fund and will run daily from 8am to 8pm until the end of September. Passengers can be picked up from any prearranged location in the West Somerset area of Exmoor National Park and dropped off at any location in the National Park not covered by regular public transport services.

“Those using the service will be able to access linear walks, cycle routes, all ability trails and a whole range of attractions,” explains Brain Westcott of AtWest. “We can even take your luggage between accommodation providers whilst you walk one of the popular long distance walks in the area such as the Coleridge Way or South West Coast Path.”

Dan James, the National Park Authorities Sustainable Economy Officer, added his support: “Exmoor has so much to offer, and being able to explore the area without the car opens up many more opportunities as well as bringing environmental benefits. Bus travel can provide better views, a break for the driver and savings on fuel and parking costs, to name just a few benefits. In addition with this flexible service you can develop your own timetable and route.”

Fares for the Moor Rover are £5 per single trip (£2 for accompanied children under 16) with a small fee for bikes and dogs. To use the service passengers must contact AtWest in advance (ideally giving at least 24 hours notice) by calling 01643 709701 between 9am and 4pm Monday to Saturday. For further information visit www.atwest.org.uk

Inspired by our article about the Jurassic Coast’s wildlife and geology? A new series of guided walks offers you the perfect chance to explore the history and beauty of this fascinating World Heritage Site. The layers of rock exposed along the 95 miles of coast between Exmouth in East Devon and Studland in Dorset record 185 million years of Earth history through the Triassic, Jurassic and Cretaceous periods.

The rocks exposed in the cliffs of the Jurassic Coast are gently tilted to the east, meaning the oldest are exposed in the west and, as you travel east from Exmouth, the layers of rock get progressively younger and younger. This gives us a ‘walk through time’ that is seen nowhere else in the world.

‘Rock Around the Coast’ walks will span the entire 95-mile length of the Jurassic Coast, taking place every Saturday throughout the summer. Each leg will be led by a different expert guide, offering you the opportunity to learn about the Jurassic Coast and the people that work to preserve and promote the area. The walks all follow the South West Coast Path National Trail, starting where the last one finished, and cost £5 per adult, with children under 16 invited along for free. The funds raised by Rock Around the Coast will help support conservation and education projects along the Jurassic Coast.

The dates and routes for each walk are:

13 June: Worth Matravers to Kimmeridge Bay
20 June: Kimmeridge Bay to Lulworth Cove
27 June: Lulworth Cove to Weymouth
4 July: Portland coast circular
11 July: Ferrybridge to Abbotsbury
18 July: Abbotsbury to West Bay
25 July: West Bay to Charmouth
1 August: Lyme Regis to Seaton
8 August: Seaton to Branscombe
15 August: Branscombe to Sidmouth
22 August: Sidmouth to Budleigh Salterton
29 August: Budleigh Salterton to Exmouth

Bookings for any of these walks can be made by calling the Purbeck Information and Heritage Centre on 01929 552740. For general enquiries, please email walks@jurassiccoast.com

Image: www.jurassiccoast.com

The 95-mile stretch of rough, rocky and staggeringly diverse coast from the Exe Estuary in Devon to Poole Harbour in Dorset – known as the Jurassic Coast – was designated the UK’s first World Heritage Site in 2002 because ‘it represents a geological walk through time’. Its unparalleled natural features are the result of great subterranean upheavals, exposing 185million years of rocks from the period when dinosaurs roamed the earth. This provides a visual feast for ramblers – the cliff walls vary in shape, colour and formation, and psychedelic pink and yellow plants carpet the ground. The excellently marked and maintained South West Coast Path, which stretches the entire way, makes exploring on foot easier, too. Brian Panton, West Dorset Ramblers’ area footpath secretary and trustee of the South West Coast Path Association, says: “It’s stunning. Walking the path, I can see the rock change at my side: from grey limestone at Purbeck, to white chalk between Kimmeridge and Whitenothe, then to gravel and sand at Golden Cap. It’s difficult to pick a favourite stretch, but I do love walking the path between Lulworth Cove and Kimmeridge*. I can see St Aldhelm’s Head jutting out into the sea; to my left are the great swatches of heather and gorse of the heathland; and if I turn, I’ll see the bay curling out to Portland Bill. I’ve spent 30 years walking on this stretch of coast, and now I spend time campaigning for coastal access. I’ve got so much pleasure from this unique and dramatic landscape, I want my grandchildren to experience that too.”

Click on the small image on the left to see Brian’s full field guide to the Jurassic Coast

*Note that Lulworth Cove to Kimmeridge is partially closed for much of the year. For opening times, visit www.mod.uk
For more on the area, visit the Jurassic Coast World Heritage Site website or contact the West Dorset Ramblers: ✆ 01308 863081, www.dorset-ramblers.co.uk

Seabirds and shipwrecks

The island rises 120m/400ft above sea level and, ringed almost entirely by cliffs, it has a fortress-like feel from the sea. But once you land and stride up the steep road from the jetty, the gentle fields open out and Lundy takes on a more benign and welcoming character. The relatively flat, southern half of the island is predominantly pasture, incorporating Lundy’s village pub, shop, church and farm buildings. They’re all clustered along the island’s solitary road – an unmade track that traverses the island’s spine – as is most of the holiday accommodation. This ranges from a Regency building and an old lighthouse to a tiny fisherman’s cottage and a campsite. Wanting to orientate myself properly, I followed the track to the rise above the village and gazed out over what seemed like a very different island. Many years ago, three cross-island walls were constructed to divide the island into holdings. Beyond the Quarter Wall, the northern part of Lundy is a wild landscape of moorland and bare rock – like a miniature Dartmoor – evidently unpopulated and unexplored by the majority of visitors. There was clearly more to explore on foot than I thought. I’d been tipped off by a chap on the boat that if, as likely, Lundy’s church flag was fluttering wildly in one direction, it would indicate which shore would offer the more sheltered walk. The island’s east and west coasts are very different in character, and I began by tracing narrow paths along the more protected eastern side where, like Exmoor’s combes, the valleys seem to plunge straight down into the sea. Already there were reasons aplenty to dawdle: an overgrown quarry, where the Lundy Granite Company hewed out the rock in the 1860s; a peregrine falcon, patrolling the slopes; and a fisherman’s lookout, with expansive views of far-off South Wales. Back up to the flattish top and I crossed the island (eight minutes – I timed it!) to appreciate an altogether different scene. The west-facing coastline is all about thunderous cliffs and rocky headlands, wheeling sea birds and wrecked cargoes. Guillemots and puffins whizz in and out of the bays, while seals haul themselves out on dark rocks that, over the centuries, have claimed many unfortunate vessels. You can see for yourself what efforts were made to warn seafarers of Lundy’s dangers: the lighthouse built too high, so that it was often rendered fog-bound (but the view from the top of the 147 steps is superb) ; and the battery, perched precariously on a low clifftop, from where cannon would be fired as a navigational aid in bad weather.

Freedom to explore

Already I was getting the hang of Lundy: small in size, rich in attractions. But, as it has no public rights of way and is privately owned, could I legitimately walk anywhere I pleased? I tracked down Derek Green, the Landmark Trust’s manager on Lundy, for the official line. “You can go wherever you want on the island, ” he confirmed. “All we ask is that, in season, walkers keep to the paths and sheep tracks so as not to disturb ground-nesting birds such as wheatears and skylarks; and climbing on some cliff routes is restricted when the seabirds are nesting. We don’t lay down the law, but encourage an all-round responsible attitude to help protect Lundy’s precious wildlife. ” Derek explains another interesting aspect of visitor management on Lundy. “There are hardly any signs or noticeboards on the island,” he says. “We want people to go off and explore, and we’ve introduced a letterboxing initiative for families, in particular, to aid self-discovery.”

Balancing recreation and conservation is a delicate business on Lundy. Not only are there 44 scheduled Ancient Monuments on the island, including Bronze Age remains; most of Lundy is also a designated Site of Special Scientific Interest and Special Area of Conservation, and, in 1986, it also became Britain’s only Statutory Marine Nature Reserve. In 2003, a ‘No Take Zone’ was established in the seas around Lundy that bans not just fishing but the removal of any living thing, including coral. I was beginning to see why people call it special… Walkers, though, will inevitably revel in the birdlife. Around 140 different species are recorded on Lundy each year, including a number of rarities blown off course from the Atlantic. Up to 35 bird species nest on the island, helped by a recent five-year project to rid the islands of all its rats. Guillemots, razorbills and puffins have all benefited, and Manx shearwaters, in particular, have jumped from 150 pairs in 2001 to 560 in 2008. Spending all day out at sea, they come in to land only at night, nesting in underground burrows and making an eerie, caterwauling call that sounded, from my tent, as if some foul deed was being committed in the next field.

A curious time capsule

At the end of the day I retired to the Marisco Tavern, the island’s handsome pub, to enjoy a pint of Lundy Experience and find out why other people chose to come and walk on Lundy. For more than half of them, this was a repeat visit and for one family, it was their fifth year in a row. Another couple were celebrating their ruby wedding anniversary and marvelled at how uncomplicated it all was here. There are no cars or street lights, so it’s not just peaceful – the unpolluted night skies are free from artificial glow, too. Families let their children go off to play outdoors, safe in the knowledge that Lundy is car- and crime-free. All the holiday properties are simply furnished and none have TVs. The pub bans mobile phones and laptops and instead has a small lending library and a stock of traditional board games. As someone commented, it’s like stepping back into the 1950s. You notice, in particular, the sense of calm that descends when the day visitors leave the island on the 4pm boat. Indeed, one of the reasons for the successful balance between visitors and the island’s delicate natural environment is that there are finite places to stay (135 bed spaces, including the campsite), and this selflimitation helps retain the island’s special feel. And yet, for me, there’s a curious artificiality to it. There is no indigenous community on Lundy apart from a permanent staff of 26 people, brought over from the mainland to service the visitors. Wondering whether Lundy could sustain several days’ walking and still remain special, the next day I headed for the northernmost tip of the island, following the west-coast path above the breakers. In the late-summer, it is popular with climbers, for whom Lundy offers some of the most dramatic and unclimbed sea cliffs in Britain. For a whole morning, I saw no-one. Apart from a few feral goats and an inquisitive Soay sheep, I roamed the heather-topped tracks on my own, drinking in the views and, at one point, dropping down to inspect the North Lighthouse and keep a lookout for passing cetaceans. Lundy certainly offers scenic coastal walking – it’s just that it’s in miniature. And ultimately, size does matter. If you’re after distance, stick to the South West Coast Path. For sheer scale of wildness, look to the Scottish islands. But there’s much to be said for getting to know a small area intimately rather than a large place sparingly. Indeed, of all Britain’s offshore islands I’ve visited, Lundy is one of the most special and also one of the most contradictory. Remote and yet accessible, small in size and yet rich in appeal, it’s a time capsule that offers an escape from the hurly-burly of modern life. No wonder so many people go back there.

Click here for our full Routemaster walking guide to Lundy Island

More Information

Lundy Shore Office, The Quay, Bideford, Devon EX39 2LY ✆ 01271 863636, www.lundyisland.co.uk
To book Landmark Trust properties, call ✆ 01628 825925 or visit www.landmarktrust.org.uk

Coast for Most (Sunday 3 May 2009)

Did you know that, contrary to popular belief, there is no general right to walk along the coast and on beaches in England and Wales? I can feel your outrage seeping through the ether right now.

Well here at the Ramblers we’ve been working for years to change this and currently the Marine and Coastal Access Bill is passing through parliament. It takes some time this democratic process but once passed this bill will go a long way to rectifying the present unsatisfactory situation and begin the process of establishing a ‘coastal corridor’ all around England and Wales.

The coastal access campaign took me down to Weymouth for a spot of kite flying on the May Bank Holiday weekend. (It’s a tough job but somebody’s got to do it.) Now I can see how the link between kite flying and walking might seem tenuous but people see walking as one of the many activities they want to do when they’re ‘beside the seaside’. So this presented a great opportunity to spread our message amongst the seaside holidaying public. (Statistic alert – in a recent ICM poll more than 94% of the public wanted the legal right of access to our beautiful coast.) We also had some special ‘Coast for Most’ kites we wanted to fly.

Weymouth, of course, is on the South West Coast Path and here many visitors and locals are aghast that the rest of the country doesn’t have the same right of access as enjoyed in the south west. We really shouldn’t be this complacent though because many of our national trails and regional routes rely on permissive access and 10% of the 1014 km (630 miles) South West Coast Path is not legally secure.

There’s been a kite festival, excuse me, an international kite festival going on in Weymouth for 19 years. Altogether now (Dick van Dyke ‘cockernee’ accent optional):

‘Let’s go fly a kite,
Up to the highest height’

 With our little pitch on the prom we were able to chat to hundreds of passing visitors. The postcards explaining the campaign were nearly as popular as the free sticks of rock (no really they were) and we were once again overwhelmed with the near universal support this campaign has with the general public. This bank holiday Sunday the whole country seemed to have embraced Billy Bragg’s sentiment: 

‘So turn around and come on down
 The beach is free’

Well it may be free Bill, but here in Blighty you don’t necessarily have a legal right to get to it.

The audience participation bit (or what you can do to help)…

(i) Tell the Ramblers why you love the coast and why access to it is so important – the Ramblers can then use this feedback to demonstrate public support to government. Take part by following this link: http://tinyurl.com/al3f83

(ii) You can also ask your MP to support the Marine and Coastal Access Bill, which will create a legal route around the coast – click on this link: http://tinyurl.com/chcxfh

Useful links:
o The Ramblers     http://www.ramblers.org.uk/
o Claim the Coast   http://www.ramblers.org.uk/campaigns/Claim+the+Coast.htm
o Weymouth Kite Festival  http://www.thekitesociety.org.uk/Weymouth.htm

Listen to:
http://www.last.fm/music/Billy+Bragg/_/The+Beach+Is+Free

Watch this:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/7910721.stm