A random trip

"Are you coming with us?" Clive Pearson, affable skipper of the charter boat, Jessica Hettie, asked as I stood drowning in the rain! "Oh! put on some oilskins and get on with it!" He told me, and so I found myself all aboard and bound for the Isle of Lundy.
It was a pleasant crossing, the sea was uncomplaining as were the passengers, heaped, huddled and happy as the Island came into view. We undertook the mandatory watches for the passage, radio watch, radar watch, dolphin watch, mind you don't spill your tea watch, we even missed a few ships that purposefully tried to run us down, give or take a mile or three! Some of the intrepid travellers had journeyed miles and undertaken great feats of bravery to join this trip, such is the attraction of Lundy and of course Clive who was taking some of them swimming with the seals.
For me the trip meant I could see my eldest daughter Emmie, serving her time in the Marisco Tavern, she was unaware of my impending arrival. I trudged the long beach road passed the Millcombe house, passed the cold bleak church and called into the Tavern. To my dismay Emmie was not at work yet, so I decided to conquer the Island, with my best foot forward and a chocolate bar in hand I started out.
The beauty of Lundy is in its remoteness, its still silence, its aching gales, its lack of crowds, its absence of supermarkets, its Tavern, its Lundy ale and lamb pasties! Lundy is a place of windswept acres, turbulent coastlines, of unsmiling granite carved cliffs, but also sheltering harboured headlands that offer welcome protection to troubled mariners. A grave place of sorrow, yet the salvation of the wrecked and the wretched.
As I bound along the ever growing island, it seems longer than the stated three miles! I pass Baa baa black sheep and his family, I pass walkers, watchers, birders, climbers, clamberers and ramblers, all doing their best despite the weather, which had dried up, sorry! it's drizzling again! A landmark was reached when I discovered Tibbets, an isolated outpost where a jolly jersied lady appeared from within, waved her arm in the air and declared, "What a wonderful day!" I walked swiftly on; continuing passed granite markers, treading my way through heather and bracken, gorse and goats, until it was there, the unreachable North end, I had made it, an unequalled achievement, with noone to witness my success bar a few seagulls and terns. It is from a point such as this that you can look back at what Lundy is, the timeless Isle, a symbol of strength and the cause of peril, a two sided land, Atlantic faced or Bristol channelled, both have claimed their fair share of ghosts.
Time for the Tavern, I head back leaving behind the crying shame remains of old forgotten homes, stone blank and staring out to sea, inhabited only by jackdaws and the past. The looming towers of the old lighthouse and church beckon me on, leading me to a well earned pint of Lundy ale and Emmie, surprised and happy and working. Following good food and catching up and just one more pint, I spent the rest of the day exploring parts of Lundy I'd only ever seen from the sea before, Brazen Ward, Mousehole and Trap, the silent quarries where a tablet lies beside a fading wreath in memory of a lost son. I see the Knoll Pins half submerged and Gannets Coombe, I wonder at the slugs and beetles, are they so different from their mainland cousins or are they a breed apart, is it this that makes them so good to eat!!
So soon it is time to leave the pretty treacherous, cliff worn walks and find my way back to my waiting ship, with hugs and goodbyes for Emmie we departed for Clovelly, where it was back to radio watch, radar watch..... See you soon watch.