Tuesday morning, Scott and I enjoyed a “True British Devonshire Breakfast”, as our hostess described it: a bowl of cold cereal, coffee, toast, a fried egg, two slabs of ham, a sausage, fried tomatos, baked beans, and fried mushrooms! VERY filling.
Then it was off for a day in Exmoor National Park, and a trip to Wiveliscombe, home to one of Scott’s ancestors.
Driving eastward along the coast, we soon arrived in and just as quickly passed through the little town of Lynton, a little fishing town on the Devonshire coast. Just past this town, however, the A39 began a climb up the side of steep cliffs, reaching nearly 1200 feet above sea level in just over a mile. You know that played havoc with my acrophobia, especially as I was on the side of the car which was on the cliff-side!
Upon reaching the top, Scott pulled in to a little “lay-by” so we could get out, stretch, get some fresh air (and so Eric could recover from the terror of the previous 5 minutes!) and take some pictures. We were parked in the middle of a field with a small flock of sheep. In one of the sweetest scenes in a while, as we stood looking out over the Bristol Channel towards the coast of Wales which can be vaguely seen in one of our pictures, we heard the bleating of a lamb up on the hill toward our left. To our right returned the MAAA of a ewe. Looking to our left we spied the little lamb running toward us. Soon it stopped and looked around, then bleated again. The ewe responded and the lamb looked around again, before bleating once more. Soon the ewe responded and the lamb once again began scampering in our general direction, bleating as it ran. The ewe continued to respond, then began running toward the lamb. Bleat! MAAAA! Bleat! MAAAA! And, just like in the movies the two ran to each other, upon which the lamb nearly fell over trying to get at it’s mama. Time for a snack!
After leaving this pastoral scenery, we drove on to Wiveliscombe and wandered around town. We did a little research in the town library, then wandered down to the church. There we spotted the names of three of his relatives on large signs listing the names of those from the town who had served in WWI. Two of the three brothers never returned.
We took some time to look about the National Park, driving through the moors for which Exmoor is famous. Then we returned to Ilfracombe for a steak and kidney pie, peas and chips. A tasty half pint of the local ale, and we called it a night!
I know in an earlier post I commented on the narrowness of the roads here. What I neglected to indicate is that all roads are edged by hedgerows on either side, and these are anywhere from 6 feet to 20 feet tall! As you can imagine, not only is it slow going, when one can’t see what is beyond the next curve, it’s also nervewracking!
On The Road II 