When the gale is roaring and trees are bent, we will often decide to head to the coast. We will pick the beach which faces the prevailing wind to get the full experience . Today did not disappoint, though the tide was way out and the surf blown- out. One brave surfer was somewhere in the foam. Plenty of flotsam and jetsam was in evidence washed upon the shoreline and the spindrift lined the edge of the beach. I set off to look at the rock formations which have amazing striations and look like folds in melted chocolate that has just solidified. The rocks run in lines to the sea forming very narrow channels of pools. The slate cliffs here are dramatic and layered.
With the wind blowing off the sea, there was little shelter except directly under the precarious cliffs; we did not linger long.
The round route takes us up the lush valley behind the beach and into woodland where the sloes have ripened and the the big purple fruits are ripe for the picking.
The cottages come into view juxtaposed against each other, most with thatch ( one newly done) . Agapanthus , sunflowers and crocosmia edge the fronts, an old pump, a stall selling eggs, a plaque telling some village legend and the ancient pub – a quintessential Devon village set back from the sea, sheltered from the prevailing south westerly where vegetable gardens seem untouched by the two nights of storm – a little microclimate exists. As we draw up the steep path to reach the road, the mist is blowing in with fine rain on the wind and once again we face into it and return to the storm.