Day 3 - Lynton and Lynmouth
46.7 miles, 4975 feet of ascent
Today involved juggling the itinerary. Our after-breakfast routine was leisurely and sedate since the train we planned to catch as far as Crediton wasn't due until 10:35. This would be a RailRide - out on the train then ride 'home'. After buying tickets from the machine at the station entrance, then going through to the platform, it was thronged with hopeful passengers, far more than one would expect on a provincial line at this time on a weekday. We soon learned that the preceding two trains had been cancelled owing to driver shortages, presumably victims of 'pinging'. Although we waited until the train arrived, it soon became clear we weren't going to get on … at least not with the bikes! Plan B was hastily drafted and we opted instead to do one of our other routes, whilst also fortunately managing to switch our travel tickets for tomorrow.
Our route out to Lynton and Lynmouth initially followed the inward route from our first day, heading up the Yeo Valley for the climb up through Loxhore. On the way up the valley, motorists were generally patient, waiting for an appropriate moment to overtake us on the rather winding road. The other day we must have swept past the stunning viaduct at Chelfham without spotting it over our left shoulders. Today it was clearly visible as we approached, and what an amazing structure, made more unusual for me by the pale colour of the bricks. It was after this that I began to notice just how many other buildings in the area were constructed from the same materials, which I assume must be a result of the local clays? I also later learned that the railway for which the viaduct spanned the valley was the
Lynton and Barnstaple Railway, closed in 1923, but a line which seemed to regularly intersect and sometimes even provide our route. If still active, it would definitely have propelled us to Lynton more swiftly than our legs were managing!
The stiff and extended ascent through Loxhore served as a warm up for the sequence of ups and downs which followed, the 23% descent then ascent into and out of the pretty little village of Parracombe being of particular note. A brief thought of how wonderful it must be to call such a place your home flits across my mind, then my legs begin grinding out of the valley and such notions are swiftly banished.
Now up on the hilltops, the sign for the Lynton Camping and Caravan Club site suggested we were not far from our halfway point and a cafe stop, but not until we'd negotiated another almost precipitous descent. Lynton perches on a topographical shelf, surrounded by steep hillsides and peering over a cliff to its sister town, Lynmouth, below. From my admittedly limited historical knowledge, I'd say the town typifies Victorian splendour.
Town Hall, Lynton
Entrance to the upper station on the cliff railway
We enjoyed another Devon cream tea - more generous on this occasion - at a cafe at the entrance to the
cliff railway, sitting outside in an ideal location for people watching as they made their way to and fro their their transport connection with the town below. After topping up the energy banks we took a brief stroll along the streets and peered over the cliffs to the bay far below, hoping beyond hope that our route wouldn’t take us all the way down there only to have to climb back out. Hope is a wonderful, if not often misguided emotion.
Looking down from St Mary’s church yard, Lynton to Lynmouth and the bay beyond
As we remounted and took the Garmin’s cue to head out of town it became clear our route was taking us down to Lynmouth down a 25% gradient that some vehicles were clearly struggling with, in both directions! At one point the turn beep on the Garmin indicated a direction change, the big white arrow seeming to show we needed to come back in the same direction. The road however seemed to continue ahead. Please don’t say we’ve come all this way down but taken the wrong road! A few dozen yards later and the reason for the direction change became apparent - the road dropped away precipitously to our left, 180° from our current direction. The smells of stressed brake pads and slipping clutches as cars negotiated the gradient and the awkward junction added to our sensory overload.
The Power of Water’, Lynmouth
Safely at the foot of the descent in the welcoming embrace of Lynmouth we wondered what on earth we were likely to be facing on our departure, but thankfully, the road out of town was graciously gentle in the demands it made. However, though the gradient was not too steep, it did go on … and on and on, for several miles up onto the exposed Exmoor hilltops. The early sections which twisted and turned as they followed the Lyn gorge were somewhat reminiscent of alpine gorges, though with deciduous rather than coniferous arboreal cover. The views down to the river below were stunning and with such little traffic could mostly be enjoyed.
Once on Exmoor we were exposed to the stiff south westerly breeze, though thankfully our path only occasionally took us into conflict with it. After several false summits our route eventually began to lose altitude, just as the route profile on the Garmin predicted. What the infernal device also showed was that all the altitude lost over a couple of miles had to be regained once more. This final significant climb took us up past the lonely
Fortescue monument, a reminder of the achievements of one of the local landowners and in fact the one time owner of the Castle Hill estate through which we’d passed yesterday. He’d clearly led an interesting life, tempered rather by the privilege which afforded him the opportunities few others at his time could enjoy.
Fortescue monument near Simonsbath
Our climbing was still not at an end with one more tester rising up from Brayford and onto the ridge fringing Stoodley Down, which in the usual English contrary fashion was not a ‘down’ but actually an 'up'! This soon melded with the final half dozen miles we'd covered on our final leg yesterday, terminating with the now familiar cyclepaths of the Whiddon Valley into Barnstaple. An incredibly demanding, but stunning and unmissable ride.
Famished yet again, we settled on an Italian and despite it being a Friday night, we managed to book a table. Having ordered plenty of dishes, our appetites were sated, however, the high expectations we had from an Italian restaurant run by Italians were sadly not met. The service was great and it wasn't at all that the food was poor, just that it was rather underwhelming and with minor changes could have been so much better.