Every visit to Lundy by boat, begins with a journey across the Bristol Channel. Whether the sea is ‘calm’ like a mirror reflecting the sky, or ‘Moderate’ with waves rolling beneath the bow of the MS Oldenburg, the crossing is never simply about getting from A to B. It is the first step in leaving the mainland behind.
Many visitors have already travelled for hours before reaching Bideford or Ilfracombe. Some have driven across the country. Others have caught trains or stayed overnight to make an early sailing. By the time they board the ship, they have already committed themselves to to a journey of two hours, to reach an island that lies twelve miles offshore.
Perhaps that’s one of the reasons Lundy feels different.
The writer and art critic Suzi Gablik described pilgrimage as a journey where “you have to make your way, at some effort, to a special place, in order to have the experience.” Although most visitors would never describe themselves as pilgrims, I often wonder whether the journey to Lundy shares something of that spirit. The crossing itself asks something of you. It asks for patience, commitment and, occasionally, a good pair of sea legs.
For many, the ferry is simply transport.
For others, it marks the moment everyday life begins to drift away.
The Crossing
There is always an air of anticipation as the MS Oldenburg leaves the mainland.
Some passengers head straight for the upper deck with cameras in hand. Others retreat inside, for a comfortable seat, however not what i recommend if the sea is lively. Birdwatchers scan the horizon for shearwaters or dolphins. Me, I always sit out the back, watching the North Devon Coast disappear. then looking out for the familiar landmarks of Lundy’s granite cliffs emerge.
Long before the island comes into focus, conversations begin.
“Have you been before?”
“How long are you staying?”
“What are you hoping to see?”
Already, a temporary community is beginning to form.
The Climb from the Jetty
Stepping ashore is only the beginning.
Everyone who arrives on Lundy must make the same climb from the Jetty towards the village. Some are intent on getting up first, others happy to keep making stops on the way. Waterproof jackets are soon unzipped. Some pause to admire the harbour they’ve just left behind. Others stop to catch their breath.
It is one of those shared experiences that quietly connects everyone arriving on the island.
No matter why you’ve come, whether you’re here to walk, watch birds, climb, paint, ring church bells or simply escape for a few days, everyone climbs the same hill.
I often sit overlooking the Jetty and watch this familiar procession. Over the years I’ve begun to recognise the different characters who arrive with every sailing.
One autumn afternoon I started writing down what I saw.
These are my observations.
Arrival on Lundy by Jane Sharkey
MS Oldenburg
230 passengers,
luggage, supplies and mail.
I watch from my little sheltered spot.
I question and wonder…
who will be the first off?
With the Beach Road ahead,
it’s a challenging climb,
and one they might dread.
Passing me by,
on steps by the track,
an old fishing place,
rocky ruins of a shack.
With the sun on my face,
I settle back and lie,
receiving cheery hellos
from passers-by.
Wrapped in scarves and hats,
it must have been cold at sea.
These clothes they will shed
when for the hill they head.
A family with a picnic—
they are in for a trek.
A birder dressed in green,
binoculars around his neck.
A smiling lady,
for a few days away,
alone in a cottage,
away from the fray.
Families with teenagers,
dragging their heels,
searching for 3G,
oblivious of the seals.
A young couple,
baby on their back,
jackets off,
ready for the very steep track.
Here comes a camper,
carrying his own tent.
Sleeping in a field
will cut down his rent.
A grey-haired couple,
holding hands,
recounting their last visit
to this granite land.
Next comes the Land Rover,
hugging the edge of the rock.
People startle and scurry,
they need to move over.
A man with a Tilley hat,
walking boots and big socks,
trousers swishing
as he walks between the rocks.
A rainbow of waterproofs.
Students ready for research,
excited now there is Wi-Fi at church.
A case on wheels
rumbles on towards the top,
creating a noise
between the many stops.
Then suddenly,
a familiar voice—
“Hello Jane!”
Fancy seeing you.
A lady from Barnstaple.
Someone I knew.
Every Arrival is Different
Although the faces change every week, the journey never really does.
Some visitors are arriving for the first time, uncertain about what lies ahead. Others return year after year, already knowing every bend in the path from the Jetty to the village. Some carry sketchbooks, others binoculars or climbing ropes. Some come seeking solitude, while others come to reconnect with friends.
Yet for a brief moment they all share the same experience.
They have crossed the sea together.
They climb the same hill.
They look back at the harbour one last time before disappearing into the island.
The ferry doesn’t simply bring people to Lundy.
It brings with it the beginning of hundreds of different stories.
References:
Gablik, S., (1991). The reenchantment of art. Thames and Hudson.