Do you ever set off for a walk not knowing where you’ll end up?
On Lundy, that might sound unlikely. After all, the island is only three miles long. The paths are familiar to me now, and there are only so many directions to take. But sometimes, it’s not about the route, but where your thoughts and observations lead you.
Walking with No Destination in Mind
Saturday, armed with a ham sandwich and a flask of coffee, I headed out on my lunch break with no particular destination in mind. A glance at the church flag told me the wind was south-westerly, so I decided to stay out of it and follow the Upper East Side path towards the old Belle Vue Cottages.
Sheltering from the wind made it surprisingly warm. Only a few weeks ago I would have been walking in shorts and a T-shirt, but now, in early September, I’d reached for a body warmer before leaving the house. Summer hasn’t disappeared, but there are signs that it is getting a little cooler.
A change of direction
As I walked, I met the “Two Tims”, authors of ‘Birds of Lundy’; they were visiting on a day trip. We stopped to chat, and just then I looked out across to the Landing Bay. I noticed that The Oldenburg was still dressed in its colourful signal flags fluttering from bow to stern.
I’d noticed the flags when I returned to Lundy on 3rd September and had wondered what the occasion was. My first thought was that they might be connected to the visit to Lundy by Dr Anna Keay, who will step down as Director of the Landmark Trust in October after fourteen years. However, my regular readers will know that when I need an answer to a Lundy mystery, I often turn to Farmer Tom. Tom suggested that the flags might be flying in recognition of National Merchant Navy Day, also the 3rd of September; this is when the Red Ensign is flown around the country in tribute to those who serve and have served in the Merchant Navy. (Maybe that flag should have been flying from the Ugly flagpole).
I still need to confirm the answer with Jason, the Oldenburg’s captain, but seeing the ship dressed in flags against the blue of the bay made me want a photograph.
So my walk changed direction.
I turned into the wind and headed south towards Benson’s Cave, where I knew I could find a good viewpoint of the ship, without making the descent to the beach. Although there was a breeze, it was gentle, perhaps a Force 2-3.
Reflections on Island Life
Eventually I found myself sitting on the cliff edge with my sandwich and coffee, watching the Oldenburg below.
From this vantage point, I could watch passengers heading down towards the jetty for the return sailing to Ilfracombe. There were still around 190 people aboard, evidence that visitors are keen to catch the last vestiges of summer before autumn arrives. Yet the Island’s rhythm is already beginning to change.
Oldenburg boarding now starts at 3.30 pm for the sailing back to Ilfracombe. After the long days of midsummer, when evenings seemed to stretch forever, that feels strangely early. Children will be back at school next week, and routines will reassert themselves; passenger numbers will start to reduce.
The busy summer season is giving way to a different pace of island life. After May, I think September is my next favourite time to be on the Island. As I sit, pondering my future. I realise that I am bookending two favourite lunch spots.
Late last year, I made a video in which I headed out to sit and have my lunch beside the remains of the old steps, beneath the South Lighthouse. Lighthouse keepers once used those steps before cliff falls claimed them. That place always makes me think of duty, navigation and the people who worked to keep ships safe. (I have written about North Light in my journal previously -if you want a quick read about that).
Directly opposite the steps across the saddle, Benson’s Cave tells a very different story. Sitting outside it, looking out across the sea, I find myself thinking about Thomas Benson and his smuggling and deception. Two places connected by the sea, yet each representing a completely different relationship with it. Good Guys vs. Bad Guys.
The signs of September are now showing on the island. The light felt softer somehow. The Yarrow lining the path was beginning to fade, though crushing a leaf between my fingers still released its familiar herbal scent. Summer is still lingering, but only just.
I found myself thinking that this would be a wonderful place to watch the sunrise. A month ago that thought would have required an impossibly early alarm. Now, as the mornings grow later, it feels much more achievable. Perhaps that’s another gift of September.
Maybe that is what I enjoy most about these aimless walks. On an island only three miles long, the paths rarely change, but the seasons do. Yesterday’s lunchtime wander began with a ham sandwich and no destination. It ended with signal flags, departing visitors, fading yarrow, thoughts of shipwrecks and smugglers, and the unmistakable feeling that summer is quietly slipping away from Lundy.
And speaking of shipwrecks, I was given a copy of Robert Carl Smith’s new book on Lundy’s shipwrecks and rescues for my birthday. Whether the choice of present was inspired by my recent adventure down to Montagu Steps, I’m not entirely sure. But after yesterday’s walk, I suspect I’ll be spending a few Autumn evenings looking up the stories behind some of the wrecks scattered along the island’s coastline.
Creative Corner
This week I have been making plant holders from ghost fishing rope collected from Lundy’s beaches. The rope once had a purpose at sea; now it has found a different life through making. In a small way, it feels like another kind of rescue story.
References
Davis, T., et al. (2007). The birds of Lundy. Axminster, England: Devon Birdwatching and Preservation.
Smith, R.C (2024) Lundy Shipwreck and Rescue. Old Light Press
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