A middle aged stag weekend
Giles Turnbull
male buddies on a stag weekend.
Now, we're all middle-aged blokes. This wasn't your young man's stag
involving too much beer in a European capital city. This was the
middle-aged bloke's dream stag weekend: walking, dramatic landscapes,
real ale, conversation, and a relatively early night.
We drove out of Bradford early on Saturday morning, intent on making
the most of the time we had away from our collective kids. The sun
shone for most of the two-and-a-half-hour drive to north Devon -
through Wiltshire then right across Somerset, chugging along A-roads
and cheerfully waving at the traffic jams on the M5.
Our destination was Lynton, perched on the hillside above Lynmouth,
unfortunately famous for being flooded in the most devastating way you
can imagine:
http://www.everythingexmoor.org.uk/_L/Lynmouth_Floods.php
The Lynmouth flooding left the village with a yawning wound which you
can still see today. Where once there were streets and houses in the
central part of the flat valley floor, there's now an enormous flood
plain. Ready for next time.
Above Lynmouth, Lynton is slightly larger, and nestles in another
river valley. But this one's dry; the river that used to flow through
these parts re-routed itself thousands of years ago when it discovered
the easier route through Lynmouth. It left behind an empty valley,
made all the more dramatic because it runs parallel to the coast
through what's known now as the Valley of Rocks:
http://www.everythingexmoor.org.uk/_V/Valley_of_Rocks.php
The landscape here is dramatic. High, steep sided gorges plunge
downwards to rocky, lively rivers. The water here drains down - in
vast quantities - from Exmoor. Heavy rain turns the pretty plunge
pools into frantic torrents with horrific power to cut through solid
rock, and to move the spoil miles downstream. The drama is a direct
result of hydrology. It's fantastic. I could wander around it for
weeks.
We could feel the hydrology as we walked, first along the Valley of
Rocks, later to Watersmeet and back, and then the next morning to
Selworthy Beacon.
http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/main/w-vh/w-visits/w-findaplace/w-watersmeet/
http://www.jbutler.org.uk/e2e/devcc/w10/index.shtml
We felt it seep through the waterproofs we wore that had lost their
waterproof-fu. We felt it drip down the backs of our necks. We felt it
squelch between our toes. We felt it on our backsides when we arrived
at the tea rooms at Watersmeet and enjoyed a gallon of builder's tea
and the best scones, jam and cream that we'd tasted for years. It
rained, and it rained, and it rained, and we simply enjoyed it.
We only had the one weekend. There was no time for moping and hoping
the rain would stop. It was either walk and enjoy the rain, or just
don't walk. So we enjoyed the landscape as it was: wet. And along the
river valleys, the river swelled and roared over the boulders it had
left there during previous floods. Hydrology still at work, pondering
its next move in the game of coastal redesign.