Devon & Cornwall - Day 3

Grey battled against brown and brown against grey to be the dominant colour of this very cold day. The icy hand gripped a little tighter and almost no sunshine slipped through to the three counties we covered in a 200 mile drive. My main objective from our base near Bude was Minehead, terminus of the well-heeled (or should that be ‘wheeled’?) West Somerset Railway. One does not normally think of Morrisons as an oasis but the example in Bude is such a place offering a decent breakfast and fuel prices which, in an exploitatively priced region, are comfortingly low. In Clovelly Cross, one independent was charging 140.9 for diesel. They may well have higher costs and lower alternative income streams but they do not seem to appreciate the disincentive effect of their high prices so that only the desperate or hard-of-planning would stop for either fuel or shopping thus reducing income streams still further. The A39 is a poor road largely not deserving of its classification. To cross from Cornwall into Devon is to enter a disaster zone of neglect and inadequacy. The difference in County Council spending is visible. The topography and serpentine route alone of this road should see it downgraded – it is more ‘A-‘ than it is ‘A’. It takes a long time to cover any distance at safe speeds. I was pleased to visit the Woody Bay station of the Lynton & Barnstaple Railway, a short piece of track in deep Devonshire countryside and not particularly near either town of its appellation. Snow granules fell during my shivering visit; that is how cold it was. Roadworks took us through Lynton and Lynmouth on remarkable gradients. It was on this section that we perhaps missed most on such a discouraging day. The cliff drive away from Lynmouth would be spectacular in brighter conditions. Only a little further on, we encountered Exmoor ponies in the middle of the road and completely unperturbed by what little traffic there was.


Minehead is not an unpleasant place although I think it teeters on the brink of English seaside awfulness. The Butlins’ architecture is actually striking. There lay here a salutary example of failing memory which I hope to attribute to having been to so many places. We parked at the station and I admired its neatness and smart, modern but sympathetic signage. But I was baffled as this was clearly not where I had seen WSR locomotives on a previous occasion. A man leaving the shed explained all, causing me to ‘remember’ (perhaps too strong a word) that the earlier visit had been to Williton. It was time for lunch, the prosaic but adequate KFC and a startling Chilli Rod. I would at this stage say how much I like to get a hot rod inside me but my less couth colleagues would only snigger; some would be envious and some, inevitably, curious.

Light was not on my side nor was the penetrating cold but I was determined to get something out of my own misdirection. Minehead station has an extraordinarily long platform and I walked its length to be rewarded by the sight of several dmu cars which brought back more partial memories. To be honest I have to look them up in old Combined Volumes such was the proliferation of manufacturers at one time. Naturally, we drove to Williton too and there, as last time, I received warm hospitality and benefited from wearing my hi-vis coat. I was shown round the shed and some enhanced positions for photography. I was very grateful. Williton is the home of the Railway’s diesel locomotives. When I looked at an engine block and was assured that it could be fully restored and installed, I was amazed; it looked like junk. Such enthusiasm, skill and application go into running a railway like this. When you turn up to a running day and all the steam and diesel is running, you might never imagine the winter travails of the volunteer shedsfolk.
The day now was fading and our energy with it. We had no desire to retrace the awful A39 and planned another route via Tiverton and the A3072. Greg still had some shopping to do and with no prospect of returning to Barnstaple, Tiverton was the choice. If it were on a pulse rate monitor, its carers would be concerned for its condition. It would be hard to imagine a duller town and one which, even in its shopping centre, was shockingly quiet on a Saturday afternoon. There was nothing now to do but refuel a second time in Bude. £65 on diesel in one day reflects the true cost of leisure today.