Beer Village in Devon

Friday 13 (eek!) August 1993. We have travelled from our campsite to Beer, just a few miles to the east of Sidmouth and on the edge of the Jurassic Heritage Coast.

It is a very old village. At the time of the Domesday Book survey in 1086 it had 28 households. It now numbers over a thousand inhabitants. Tourism is its main source of inclome these days but lace making, quarrying of its chalk and flint cliffs and smuggling were all local industries at one time or another.

It is a delightful little village. I was kicking myself for forgetting to pick up the sketch pad which was still in the tent back at Sidmouth. The name of Beer incidentally is nothing to do with the drink, but derives from the Old English word Bearu which means a grove (a group of trees standing so close as to allow only the bare minimum of shrubbery or other growth between them).

A small stream flows down the main street, channelled into an open stone conduit that is far too modern looking due to the extension of the modern footpath to its edges. Here and there are stone structures housing a pump that could be used for washing or drinking. It would have been a risky thing to do perhaps. Before the conduit, the stream used to run down the middle of the street, spread wide and shallow, yet joined by each household's effluent and the guts of fish that the village women would sit outside, cutting out of the fish and flinging into the stream in the hope that rain would soon swell the stream making it strong enough to carry them down into the sea. The street smells much better these days I should imagine.

The village today is extremely lovely. In fact almost no matter which way you turn, whatever direction you look, you could take a pleasing photograph. The buildings are mostly made of local stone and faced with the glassy flints that are found within the chalk caves of the quarry.

The road becomes steeper as you approach the beach, which is shingle. A part of the cliff at the side of the road and fronting onto the beach has been turned into a large platform, now a great place to sit on the benches provided to gaze out to sea.

It looks so innocent, yet during World War II when invasion was thought to be likely, it disguised the entrance to a gun emplacement, given away by the broad slit in the cliff face below it which allowed a wide field of fire cover the beach on which enemy troops would have been likely to land if an invasion had gone ahead.

The shingle beach looking east. The limestone cliffs were quarried from at least Roman times and perhaps even earlier. A thirty foot (9.14 metres) layer contains fewer flints and is the main seam for quarrying. The stone can be easily cut in any direction when first quarried but exposure to the air makes it go extremely hard. Stonemasons would therefore work within the caves to shape the stone before it became harder and more difficult to saw and sculpt. Windsor Castle, Westminster Abbey and St Pauls are just some of the buildings that are built of it.

The beach looking west. There is no harbour here. Boats are dragged up the steep shingle slope, now by chains connected to engines and in the past by a capstan high on the beach which could be turned by up to 20 people so presumably was capable of hauling quite large fishing boats up the beach. The shingle makes for uncomfortable walking but here and there are long strips of rubber forming paths. They turned out to be old converyor belts that had become too worn for their original purpose, when I enquired.

We had lunch in a tea rooms. Is there anything as satisfying as taking a break in a traditional tea rooms rather than a common cafe? Perhaps there is no difference but a tea room always seems a bit more refined somehow. This one was licensed too, so we went for a refined booze...

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Wookey Hole and Cheddar Gorge

Friday 23 February 1996. It's the last day of our holiday and we are heading for home today.

On the way north though, we'll stop a couple of times in Somerset. Our first stop is at Wookey Hole, where there is a large cave system that you can go through and also a fine collection of old amusement penny slot machines. The guide showing us around the caves was very funny. The fairground museum had some old roundabout or carousel carved animal figures.

The carvings included this carved but unpainted horse's head.

Then it was back to childhood with a flood of nostalgic recognition as we entered a couple of rooms filled with old penny slots. We bought a handful of big old copper pennies and lost ourselves in the 1950s and 60s, playing these machines which filled every seaside arcade before electrics started to replace mechanics.

You just can't beat a good old whirring sound and then the CHUNK-CHUNK-CHUNK as the reels of a one-armed bandit came to a stop, one after the other. The Beromat was a German-made machine and a staple of arcades for many years. And look! I won tuppence for a cherry on the first reel!

Then there were the games where an eye for the movement of the ball, a bit of skill and co-ordination, and a grasp of the Laws of Physics helped you win... or otherwise... Allwins, Payramid (featured here) and other machines where your pennies dropped and bounced off a series of pins whilst you tried to get one into a winning cup or slot.

Our pennies ran out - when was it ever any different? So we got back in the car, resigned to the fact that our holiday had come to an end. Or had it? "Come on, we'll drive down Cheddar Gorge and head that way towards the motorway."

It was deserted. And it was once again well below freezing point. We stopped - the only car in sight - and looked briefly into the cave opening but without being in the slightest bit tempted to go in to explore it. Those caves run for miles and can flood too, if water manages to stay in liquid form...

I'm not sure about inside the cave, but outside it was far too cold even for water to run down the cliff face and be able to reach the ground!

Return to England South Coast, 1996 Index Page

Sagunto and the San Jose Caves

It is Friday 31 August, the last day of August and the last full day of our cruise. The ship pulls into Valencia, and we pile off onto a coach which is taking us for a morning's excursion to Roman and medieval Sagunto and the San Jose caves. "I hope he knows the way..." I say brightly, the only one daring enough (or stupid enough) to actually say it out loud.

We haven't noticed, but the excursion had been clearly labelled as a grade 3 excursion, meaning steep hills and more walking than other tours. Great stuff! Let's fly at it! However perhaps the tour guide wasn't as enthusiastic, because he stops every five paces to tell us something that we could have figured out for ourselves... Here he helpfully points out a drainpipe.

All the way from the drainpipe to halfway across the road: "These trees," he says solemnly, as we come to a row of trees planted in large pots, "have to have water brought to them." A little put out perhaps at the lack of oohs and ahhs, he moves off for another five paces...

Waiting for us at the top of what is quite a steep climb, is a Roman amphitheatre. With an easy grace (in the way he puffs and pants) he leads us up a flight of stairs to a locked gate... "Well they told me to come up here..." he grumbles as we all puff and pant all the way down, round the back of the building and then up the other side. Council workmen are hosing down the rubbish bins outside, the hosepipe coming from the ladies' toilets. One of the workmen goes in to undo it from the tap and take it out. There are a few grumbles from the ladies. Fran, who is in the queue, say "It's ok, he just wants to take his water pipe out!" Screams...

Astoundingly the amphitheatre had been rebuilt. "Ah, well, it is illegal of course," our guide tells us. "The architects have been told to dismantle all the restoration work by next January..." In a way it's a shame, but I can't agree with the way most of the Roman remains had been covered up. Sometimes I feel that a bit of restoration wouldn't go amiss to give the visitor an idea of what it may have been like in its heyday. But this should either be minimal or by way of constructing a model of how it used to look.

The accoustics are superb. I climb up the stepped seating and can still make out conversations people were having below. I'll get even with them later... We leave Sagunto and travel along some fairly rough and ready roads to visit the San Jose caves. These were formed by an underground river and the visit is by way of a boat ride, punted by a boatman.

We have a short wait before going into the caves and use it to get a drink and sit for a while. Our time comes and we make our way into the caves, getting into boats shaped so that the front and back were exactly the same. The boatmen nudge them up to the landing stage and simply swapped ends. There are 14 of us in the boat and it is a strangely silent first few minutes. Presumably the Spanish boatman doesn't speak English, and it means that the least little noise comes loud and clear.

"What was that?" a young girl gasps as a distant echoing booming is heard.
"Orcs!" I say kindly... The boat ride takes quite a while and then we all get off and troop down a fairly well-lit but narrow pathway on our own. There aren't any side turnings or alternative routes to ponder over and when we come to the other end the boat is waiting for us to embark again.

Photography isn't allowed, but then I suppose most people would have used flash and then ruined their dark vision and be bumping into other people or failing to see the bits where the ceiling came down low over the boat, requiring passengers to duck or... "Ouch!" comes a cry... Yes it's me, not taking notice of how close we are to the side of the cave...
"Where are the bats, Dad?" demands an eager boy several times.
"Never mind the bats, lad...it's the underground river monster you have to worry about..." I draw the sketch from a postcard once I am back on the Island Star.

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Merlin's Cave

Tintagel is now forever linked with the legend of King Arthur. In the stories it is to the castle on top of the cliff that Merlin smuggles King Uther, disguised as the husband of Igraine so that Arthur can be conceived. And it is from here that the infant Arthur is delivered into Merlin's hands to be brought up away from the court, unknowing of his parentage until Uther's death is near.

So in 1987 when we visited I had to see the place.

The part of the legend that places these events at Tintagel Castle ignores the fact that at the time of Arthur (if he indeed ever existed) was the early 6th century. No Norman castle existed at the time because the Normans would not invade for another 500 years.

Anyway, the legend is now deep rooted. So in September 1987 when I was writing my own fantasy novel about Arthur, King And King To Be, (UK link / America/Canada link) I knew I had to include Tintagel.

There is a cave called Merlin's Cave here. On the opposite side of the bay to the castle. It fit my story better to use the smaller of the two caves shown above, just to the left of the water line.

In this case "small" is relative! The cave is huge! I've heard lots of reports over the years that this was in danger of collapse. In fact it does collapse in the book!

So I'm not sure if you can still go into the cave or not. In the book it's an entrance to the fairyland of Merlin and his elven daughter, Merienne.

In 1987 you could walk right through almost to the other side of the cliff. Perhaps you could walk through at low tide. When I visited the sea was already coming in from what was the rear of the cave for me. But what an atmosphere to the place! It inspired chapter four of my book.

I did not try to put a castle into Tintagel's part of my story though. There has been evidence found of a very early Christian settlement on the site, so I used that instead. And that's the end of any spoilers!

Amalfi Coast Boat Ride

Wednesday 24 August 2005 and we're back to the Sorrento-based holiday. You may remember that we have brought Mum along to Italy and we are currently in Amalfi where the rest of the excursionists are gathering in little groups, waiting to get on a boat for a trip up the Amalfi coast.

Whilst we waited I started to sketch the hillside with a small monastery at the top of the hill and a cluster of churches and hotels at the bottom. The boat arrived and I had to finish it later.

No genial Gino as a guide on this one, our guide was so memorable I've totally forgotten whether it was a he or a she! But whichever - they were rubbish!

Not so the scenery though, which was absolutely stunning. Taking Amalfi as it's central point the boat took us up the coast in one way and returned to go past Amalfi and down the coast for a while before returning again. We did see quite a lot of Amalfi, but from the sea it looked as stunning as it did from its streets, so no one minded really,

I seem to remember various houses being pointed out - I can't remember the roll call of famous names that we were told had villas or mansions along the coast. Gina Lollobrigida, Roger Moore, and Microsoft's Bill Gates all had houses along here. In fact, I'm sure I remember that Bill Gates had actually bought a nunnery or monastery as a house. I'm not sure I'd want a holiday home full of nuns, but there you go... I'm sure there were others. These houses were empty for most of the year. I don't particularly agree with having loads of houses around the world. Apart from the waste of space, it does nothing for local shopkeepers either.

Ah yes... the hat... It was becoming more and more floppy. The initial chic broad flop of the front of the brim was now a bit of a side droop!

As we came back past Amalfi and started sailing onwards we started to see caves, both down on the waterline and high on the hillside.

This one's a bit of a sockeroonie! Space for a whole family of troglodytes and a side room for the pet cave troll!

The coast road - the Amalfi Drive - is world renowned for its beauty. As demonstrated by this natural arch of rock, on which is sitting a group of teenagers whilst below you can just make out the head of the one they pushed off... It's hard, when looking at such a perfect landscape, to imagine these beaches with the charming and picturesque villages clustered around them as being the site of the Allied landings during the Second World War. Yet here is where our grandfathers and great-grandfathers risked or gave their lives for our freedom.

We finished the boat ride paying more attention to sunbathing than scenery, but there were some bits where I stirred up enough energy to lift the camera and click the shutter. The boat returned us to Amalfi and we headed back to the coach for the rest of the excursion before heading back to Sorrento. We were to have lunch up in the hills and then go on to Ravello to the famous gardens and open air stage that houses both opera and rock concerts. Next time, same blog...

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Boat Trip Around Capri

Saturday 20 August 2005. If you can remember back to the last entry from this holiday, we were on the island of Capri where Mum was bewildering the locals and anyone younger than 70 by singing a non-stop medley of Gracie Fields songs, interspaced with sayings like "Eeh, cum on, lass, sing along!" and "Hey up! Whatever's t'matter wi' y'all?"

We have moved from the island onto a small swaying boat and here's Gino climbing up to the lookout tower (well, alright, but he was climbing up to something ok?) to give us a running commentary of what we would see. Despite the notice, we are not going to see the famous Blue Grotto. We don't have long enough as the grotto entrance is so low that the viewing involves putting off all the passengers in ones and twos to lie down in rowing boats to go into the cave.

We pass by the harbour at the town of Capri, where we landed this morning.

There's a figure on a rock up ahead. I took it just for someone sunbathing at first, but on closer viewing it turns out to be a statue.

"Is-a where the sirens sat to lure the boats onto the rocks with their singing," explained Gino, looking sternly at Mum.

We might not be able to go into the Blue Grotto, but there are plenty of caves along the way to look at.

The boat captain backs us into a larger one and we can see the reflected blue of the sea on the roof of the cave.

I'm so busy trying to take a photo that when I take the camera from my eye and turn round there's a hard rock cave archway about an inch from my nose...

The trip takes us past some spectacular scenery. There's a soaring rock archway high up on this hillside.

And then we spot the Faglieri Rocks in front of us. Ooh! Will we sail between them? Er... hang on... er... he isn't going to... he is, you know... Yikes!

I was awestruck, thinking we were about to sail between the two rocks, but no... We sailed through the hole in the smaller of the rocks.

We have just sailed through the archway in the left hand rock. I was having thoughts of Poseidon rising to hold the towering rocks apart for us like in Jason and the Argonauts!

And just look at the sheer size of this cavern set into the hillside of Capri. You'd get a whole shedload of sirens sitting in there!

We come to the Blue Grotto. There are several boats waiting to transfer people into the rowing boats. There are two of them behind the boats in the foreground whilst a third is disappearing into the grotto just behind the driver with white shirt and white hair in the left hand boat. A steady stream of people are walking down the steps on the cliff, waiting for their turn to view inside. We slow whilst Gino tells us what we are missing and then carry on.

This is a low archway rather than a cave, but just look at the colour of the water! Now it's time for us to head back to the larger boat that will take us back to Sorrento.

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