Whilst on a boat trip around the Island with Lundy Diving, Gannets Bay was described as one of the most picturesque bays on Lundy. So I felt it was the perfect destination to head to on a day off from work.
It’s late July, and we have not had any rain for weeks now. The grass has bleached, the ground is dry beneath my boots, yet the bracken seems completely unfazed, stretching higher than ever.
Bracken covered paths
I set off along the plateau, after Half-Way wall and having passed Tibbets, I take the path that goes east of Tibbetts and hugs the top of the cliffs. Almost immediately, I began to question my route. The bracken had grown so high that much of the path disappeared beneath it, making every step a little uncertain. Having fallen twice this week, taking shortcuts, I am a little more hesitant.
Despite this, I do enjoy this route because it passes a small stone cairn, which marks the turning for Brazen Ward. From here, the path drops steeply onto the Lower East Side Path. Even the stone steps are hidden beneath the bracken, making the descent slower and more cautious than usual.
It is remarkably quiet here as the seabird season is finishing. Only a handful of herring gulls gather over something in the water, squabbling noisily.
Book with a View
Whenever I head out for a walk, I usually tuck a book into my rucksack. There is something special about reading outdoors, especially somewhere as peaceful as Lundy.
Today’s choice was The Seabird’s Cry by Adam Nicolson. As I was making my way to Gannets Bay, it seemed only fitting to read the chapter devoted to the Gannet. Turning north at Brazen Ward, I continued past Mousehole and Trap before finally reaching the bay.
Standing looking over Gannets Rock, it is difficult to imagine that this peaceful inlet was once home to hundreds of gannets. These days, I mostly see them offshore, or gliding past the island, but there was a time when Gannets Rock must have been white with birds and their poop!
The Dark Side of Gannets
Settling down with coffee and cake, I opened my book.
The chapter begins gently enough before taking an unexpectedly dramatic turn. Nicolson recounts the story of a man trying to rescue an injured gannet, only to have his eye pierced by its astonishingly sharp beak.
Reading on, I discover just how formidable these birds really are. Weighing around seven pounds, they can plunge into the sea at speeds approaching 50 mph, using razor-sharp beaks to spear fish beneath the surface. Their striking pale blue eyes are capable of spotting prey from remarkable heights.
In another of his books, Sea Room, Nicolson recites the story of a Gannet missing its mark when plunging for fish, slicing down the sails of a boat and impaling itself on the bottom of the boat’s hull. Its white six-foot body spread across the boat, the sailors not wanting to extract it, worried that the hole it had created would cause the boat to sink, they left it there for the whole of their Journey!
This story reminds me of the time I was driving up the A34 and a pheasant impaled itself on my company car’s front vent! I was so squeamish, I just kept driving for miles, until I reached a petrol station and a guy extracted it for his dinner.
As I sat, I found myself rather relieved that Gannets Rock is no longer home to a breeding colony. Had thousands of noisy, sharp-beaked birds been circling overhead, I doubt I would have been quite so relaxed with my coffee and cake.
Perhaps it’s best not to mention the smell either.
Lundy’s Lost Colony
Life was not easy for the gannets that once nested here. People collected both their eggs and the birds themselves for oil and meat, a dangerous occupation on the cliffs surrounding the colony.
According to the Lundy Field Society, during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, Lundy was home to England’s only breeding colony of gannets. The first colony on Gannets Rock is thought to have been abandoned after repeated disturbance from Bristol Channel pilots. The birds moved further north, but that colony later suffered disruption from the construction of North Light and the sounding of its fog signal. Combined with centuries of egg collecting and hunting, at a time when the birds had little legal protection, the colony gradually disappeared from the island.
Today, the gannets are visitors rather than residents. I still enjoy watching them diving offshore or following the Oldenburg across the Bristol Channel, but Gannets Bay has found a different kind of beauty.
As I packed away my book, a dive boat entered the bay carrying visitors hoping to swim with Lundy’s seals. The scene was calm, peaceful and almost silent, interrupted only by the sound of the sea against the rocks.
It is easy to imagine what this place must once have sounded like, with thousands of gannets calling overhead, but equally easy to appreciate the tranquillity that now makes it such a wonderful place to pause for coffee, a slice of cake and a good book.
From the village to Gannets Bay took me around an hour, using the route I chose and stopping to look at the view at various points of the journey.
References
Lundy Field Society (2005). Annual Report Volume 46. Information on the history of Lundy’s gannet colony.
Nicolson, A. (2002). Sea Room. London, England: HarperCollins.
Nicolson, A. (2018). The seabird’s cry. London, England: William Collins.
4 responses to “A Walk to Gannets Bay, Lundy”
“stopping to look at the view at various points of the journey.”
I have a lot of stops like that … particularly on the upward gradients! 😁
That Hill never gets any easier.
Another fab story reminding me of the reasons I keep going back.
:) thank you