I certainly made the most of yesterday – I set out nice and
early (for me at least), intending to walk through what used to be the
rhododendrons (sadly they are now all but gone) to The Quarries and then back via
The Castle to look for those illusive goats. Instead I got it the other way
around (still no goats), managing to get to The Quarries by about 1pm. There I
found a nice comfortable rock to sit on to eat my Quorn Ham sandwich and drink
my cauliflower and broccoli soup before
deciding that actually I did not want to go home and read, but would rather
keep on walking – and so kept on walking I did.
Before I knew what had happened I had walked all the way to
the North End. From all directions as I began to walk, people appeared as dots
on the horizon. This week has been gloriously quiet on that front, and I
intended to keep it that way, and so walked briskly in the opposite direction,
since most of them seemed to be making their way back. One couple though were
not, and as I got to the North End they asked me where I could find the beach,
as they had heard of some steps that took them all the way down to the sea. I soon
put them right, pointing out that it was not a beach, but more of a platform, and
that if they wanted to know where it was they should follow me, as I was
heading that way myself. Instead they toddled back up to The Lighthouse, so
leaving them to it, I made my way gingerly down the steps, all the way to the
bottom. The rail is a lot more eroded that it used to be, blown to bits I guess
by the ever incessant wind (the weather that is and not mine, which makes a
change).
Anyway, once at the bottom I found a dry place in which to
sit and watch and listen to the sea. My arrival had been timed to coincide with
low tide, so most of the rocks were exposed and with the north easterly winds,
the sea was giving those rocks a good pounding, with spray surging up into the
air. A solitary seal was bobbing about and kept sticking his head out of the
water every so often, no doubt wondering what I was up to. I managed a few
photographs before he disappeared. This is not really the time of year for them
to be honest – like us they like the warmer weather so that they can haul
themselves out on the rocks and sing. I have that then to look forward to in July.
Eventually the couple did join me at the bottom, where they
sat looking very cosy snuggled up under a big fleece blanket. I took a picture
of them when they weren’t looking! I must admit that I sometimes do get a bit
envious of couples having someone to share this glorious place with, but I also
feel (having been here in the company now of Coran) that you get more from
being here on your own, both in terms of the solitude and the benefits that
that brings, and also in terms of seeing more. Somehow the solitude seems to
deepen the experience and make it all the more special. Not everyone though
likes their own company as I do, and can spend this amount of time on their own. That
much I understand, although I have my own theories as to why.
By about 3.30pm I was starting to get a little chilly anyway
and back I slowly trudged, back up all those steps and the well trodden path,
once again via the west coast path all the way home. When I got towards Quarterwall
a little past the Earthquake Zone, the Kitchen Manager was there, hopping
from foot to foot looking a little lost. He asked me if I was going back to the
pub, and then explained that he and the rest of the islanders were taking part
in a coastguard exercise, whereby he was the “casualty” and they all had to
find him. I said that if I saw anyone in yellow trousers I would let them know
where I had seen him.
An hour and a half later, I was just sitting down to dinner
when I heard a radio crackling outside and saw torches shining in the distance.
I rushed outside to be greeted by a man in yellow trousers searching for him. I
informed him then where he had been and he and his companions with their torches
aglow set off once again in search. It was getting quite cold by then, so I
hope they found him quickly, although he has not long returned from Antarctica
where I sure it was a lot colder than this.
Talking though of cold, once again my morning coffee is
getting that way, and the island beckons. The sunshine that awoke me has for
the moment done, but the skies are only part covered in cloud, so I am hopeful that
it may yet return.
Onwards as they say and upwards. In this case, upwards and
out of my chair.
It’s now 5pm and the sun is just beginning to snake its way
slowly across the landscape, as it does in the hour or so before it dips beyond the horizon. It has once again been an eventful day. I walked all
the way again the Lower East Side Path, where I once again encountered the
group of deer with young stags, all the way on to Gannets Combe and back via
the main path. Part of me wanted to continue walking on what I knew was my last
full day, but the part that wanted to go home and rest proved stronger, or so I
thought. When I got back to Quarterwall, instead of walking straight across
Acklands Moor and back home, I kept on going through the village, taking
photographs as I went. It was a hive of activity with the Oldenburg in dock,
and various tractors and trailers trundling backwards and forwards with
supplies – mostly from what I saw, bags of animal feed. Then it was up to The
Castle to check whether the Oldenburg was indeed still here, and eventually by
4pm home via the Southwest field and the lovely pig pen near the heliport.
Now I am back, I feel a headache coming on with an ache in
my shoulder and neck muscles. I guess I
have been carrying a heavy rucksack all week, not to mention the camera which
seems to have been a permanent fixture around my neck. I must buy a proper bag
for it when I get home, to keep it properly protected. The birds are soaring
into the sky as I write, and as the sun begins to dip slowly ever more closer
to the horizon. Once she is gone, I know that I will not see the island again
until the morning and my final walk to the Tavern.
This week as ever has prompted much musing as to the nature
of my relationship with Lundy. I am not
sure if I am any closer to reaching a conclusion, but I do know that it is is
an intensely personal relationship which rivals sometimes even with Coran for
my affections. Coran is of course a permanent fixture, whom I live with every
day, whereas my relationship with Lundy is more transitory. It is almost one of
those can’t live with, can’t live without things. I have tried to cut back on
the amount of visits that I have, but somehow I always feel the need to come
back. I know that there are other places out there to be seen and explored,
and I have seen and explored more in recent years, but somehow it is not the
same. Lundy is such a special place, that is so hard to define, and try as I
might I don’t think I can ever bring it justice.
One thing that I do know is that the island is a very
intense place, a place that seems to act almost like a mirror, bringing
everything to the surface for us to look at – all the joy, all the fear, all
the drama and all the deception, for we all like to deceive ourselves. Are we
truly happy in our lives, or it is all just an illusion – most of life I have
to conclude is, and it is us that gives it the meaning that it has for us. I
guess then that I give Lundy all the meaning that it has for me too.
So, this time tomorrow I shall be back on the mainland,
sitting in my hotel room near Taunton and wondering what lucky person has a
week of Lundy adventures to look forward to. I have as always enjoyed my time
here, despite the relentless cold and the somewhat lack of sunshine. Lundy is
though beautiful in all weathers, from the howling westerly gales to those
brilliant sunlit summer days. I know that I have two more weeks to look forward
to in the summer, when hopefully I shall experience those long summer days once
more.
For the moment though, it will be back to reality and
tonight’s packing. I hope I am not too late getting home tomorrow, as I hate
the hanging around, much as I love to also spend the time here. Once I know I
am going, I want to do just that, leaving behind nothing but memories –
memories and dreams.
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