Walk in depth: Lundy Island

Having never visited Lundy before, I tried to dispel my preconceived notion that an island 5km/3 miles long by 1km/1⁄2 mile wide could probably be explored in its entirety before lunch. Why, I wondered, was this isolated lump of granite 16km/10 miles off the coast of North Devon described as ‘special’ and ‘unique’ and a great place to walk? It was clearly time to add a new island to my list. Not that I felt much like Captain Cook setting off for the South Seas, yawning on Bideford quayside in the early morning mist. Still, as we left the mouth of the River Torridge, and the low, flat shape of Lundy loomed into view, I settled back for the two-hour crossing and took stock of my destination. Variously a hide-out for pirates, a religious retreat and a notorious obstacle for shipping, Lundy is now an unusual destination, either for day visits or longer breaks in self-catering accommodation. The island was acquired by the National Trust 40 years ago and is managed on a day-to-day basis by the Landmark Trust. So what’s actually there?

Seabirds and shipwrecks

The island rises 120m/400ft above sea level and, ringed almost entirely by cliffs, it has a fortress-like feel from the sea. But once you land and stride up the steep road from the jetty, the gentle fields open out and Lundy takes on a more benign and welcoming character. The relatively flat, southern half of the island is predominantly pasture, incorporating Lundy’s village pub, shop, church and farm buildings. They’re all clustered along the island’s solitary road – an unmade track that traverses the island’s spine – as is most of the holiday accommodation. This ranges from a Regency building and an old lighthouse to a tiny fisherman’s cottage and a campsite. Wanting to orientate myself properly, I followed the track to the rise above the village and gazed out over what seemed like a very different island. Many years ago, three cross-island walls were constructed to divide the island into holdings. Beyond the Quarter Wall, the northern part of Lundy is a wild landscape of moorland and bare rock – like a miniature Dartmoor – evidently unpopulated and unexplored by the majority of visitors. There was clearly more to explore on foot than I thought. I’d been tipped off by a chap on the boat that if, as likely, Lundy’s church flag was fluttering wildly in one direction, it would indicate which shore would offer the more sheltered walk. The island’s east and west coasts are very different in character, and I began by tracing narrow paths along the more protected eastern side where, like Exmoor’s combes, the valleys seem to plunge straight down into the sea. Already there were reasons aplenty to dawdle: an overgrown quarry, where the Lundy Granite Company hewed out the rock in the 1860s; a peregrine falcon, patrolling the slopes; and a fisherman’s lookout, with expansive views of far-off South Wales. Back up to the flattish top and I crossed the island (eight minutes – I timed it!) to appreciate an altogether different scene. The west-facing coastline is all about thunderous cliffs and rocky headlands, wheeling sea birds and wrecked cargoes. Guillemots and puffins whizz in and out of the bays, while seals haul themselves out on dark rocks that, over the centuries, have claimed many unfortunate vessels. You can see for yourself what efforts were made to warn seafarers of Lundy’s dangers: the lighthouse built too high, so that it was often rendered fog-bound (but the view from the top of the 147 steps is superb) ; and the battery, perched precariously on a low clifftop, from where cannon would be fired as a navigational aid in bad weather.

Freedom to explore

Already I was getting the hang of Lundy: small in size, rich in attractions. But, as it has no public rights of way and is privately owned, could I legitimately walk anywhere I pleased? I tracked down Derek Green, the Landmark Trust’s manager on Lundy, for the official line. “You can go wherever you want on the island, ” he confirmed. “All we ask is that, in season, walkers keep to the paths and sheep tracks so as not to disturb ground-nesting birds such as wheatears and skylarks; and climbing on some cliff routes is restricted when the seabirds are nesting. We don’t lay down the law, but encourage an all-round responsible attitude to help protect Lundy’s precious wildlife. ” Derek explains another interesting aspect of visitor management on Lundy. “There are hardly any signs or noticeboards on the island,” he says. “We want people to go off and explore, and we’ve introduced a letterboxing initiative for families, in particular, to aid self-discovery.”

Balancing recreation and conservation is a delicate business on Lundy. Not only are there 44 scheduled Ancient Monuments on the island, including Bronze Age remains; most of Lundy is also a designated Site of Special Scientific Interest and Special Area of Conservation, and, in 1986, it also became Britain’s only Statutory Marine Nature Reserve. In 2003, a ‘No Take Zone’ was established in the seas around Lundy that bans not just fishing but the removal of any living thing, including coral. I was beginning to see why people call it special… Walkers, though, will inevitably revel in the birdlife. Around 140 different species are recorded on Lundy each year, including a number of rarities blown off course from the Atlantic. Up to 35 bird species nest on the island, helped by a recent five-year project to rid the islands of all its rats. Guillemots, razorbills and puffins have all benefited, and Manx shearwaters, in particular, have jumped from 150 pairs in 2001 to 560 in 2008. Spending all day out at sea, they come in to land only at night, nesting in underground burrows and making an eerie, caterwauling call that sounded, from my tent, as if some foul deed was being committed in the next field.

A curious time capsule

At the end of the day I retired to the Marisco Tavern, the island’s handsome pub, to enjoy a pint of Lundy Experience and find out why other people chose to come and walk on Lundy. For more than half of them, this was a repeat visit and for one family, it was their fifth year in a row. Another couple were celebrating their ruby wedding anniversary and marvelled at how uncomplicated it all was here. There are no cars or street lights, so it’s not just peaceful – the unpolluted night skies are free from artificial glow, too. Families let their children go off to play outdoors, safe in the knowledge that Lundy is car- and crime-free. All the holiday properties are simply furnished and none have TVs. The pub bans mobile phones and laptops and instead has a small lending library and a stock of traditional board games. As someone commented, it’s like stepping back into the 1950s. You notice, in particular, the sense of calm that descends when the day visitors leave the island on the 4pm boat. Indeed, one of the reasons for the successful balance between visitors and the island’s delicate natural environment is that there are finite places to stay (135 bed spaces, including the campsite), and this selflimitation helps retain the island’s special feel. And yet, for me, there’s a curious artificiality to it. There is no indigenous community on Lundy apart from a permanent staff of 26 people, brought over from the mainland to service the visitors. Wondering whether Lundy could sustain several days’ walking and still remain special, the next day I headed for the northernmost tip of the island, following the west-coast path above the breakers. In the late-summer, it is popular with climbers, for whom Lundy offers some of the most dramatic and unclimbed sea cliffs in Britain. For a whole morning, I saw no-one. Apart from a few feral goats and an inquisitive Soay sheep, I roamed the heather-topped tracks on my own, drinking in the views and, at one point, dropping down to inspect the North Lighthouse and keep a lookout for passing cetaceans. Lundy certainly offers scenic coastal walking – it’s just that it’s in miniature. And ultimately, size does matter. If you’re after distance, stick to the South West Coast Path. For sheer scale of wildness, look to the Scottish islands. But there’s much to be said for getting to know a small area intimately rather than a large place sparingly. Indeed, of all Britain’s offshore islands I’ve visited, Lundy is one of the most special and also one of the most contradictory. Remote and yet accessible, small in size and yet rich in appeal, it’s a time capsule that offers an escape from the hurly-burly of modern life. No wonder so many people go back there.

Click here for our full Routemaster walking guide to Lundy Island

More Information

Lundy Shore Office, The Quay, Bideford, Devon EX39 2LY ✆ 01271 863636, www.lundyisland.co.uk
To book Landmark Trust properties, call ✆ 01628 825925 or visit www.landmarktrust.org.uk