Tibbetts

For New Year 2010/11 Sue and I decided to forego the social melee that often surrounds the New Year period and instead chose peace and seclusion. It would be difficult to find a more peaceful and secluded location than Tibbett’s, a granite-built Admiralty Lookout erected in 1909 and perched on the second highest spot on the lone island of Lundy. Located over a mile from the island village and any other habitation, this little abode featured gas lighting but no electricity and heat supplied by a coal Wenlock stove in the front room and a portable propane gas fire in the bunkroom. A tiny, narrow galley kitchen and a small toilet with sink no more than a metre square completed the total accommodation.

It was lovely.

We had of course visited Lundy before during a stay at the Blue Bung, which we instantly feel in love with, back in October 2009 (see ‘A Lundy reminiscence’). The island itself, dolloped in the middle of the Bristol Channel just off the Devon coast is a natural wonderland of grass and moorland, cliffs and bays. On our previous visit we had seen Tibbetts on our exploration of the island and, almost as soon as we left Lundy at the end of our holiday, we made plans to return.

We left for our secluded adventure on Wednesday 29th December suffering the mind numbing stop and go traffic on the M25 and dense fog on the A39 which made driving difficult. We arrived in the early evening in a Travelodge at Barnstaple for an overnight stop before our helicopter flight in the morning and found the bed had the consistency of marshmallow. It provided us with the worst night’s sleep that we had had for years. In the end I slept on the floor with Sue on the bed and the duvet somehow covering us both.

We were glad to leave the next morning and after a stop for breakfast at a nearby Sainsburys we made good time to reach Hartland Point for our helicopter flight check-in at ten o’clock.

As always the helicopter flight was great fun and I managed to bag the front seat for a superb view as we flew over the water. The sky was heavily overcast, although dry, and it was not possible to see Lundy from the shore but as we approached the south of the island it was bathed in bright sun’s rays illuminating the soft colours and contours of the land. The island appeared like some magical place, as in a sense it is, from the gloom of the low mist.

After landing we went to the Tavern in the village and checked in. Although initially told it would be just thirty minutes till our little house would be ready we had a frustrating time waiting, so decided at about two o’clock in the afternoon to head off on our own. I was anxious about walking to Tibbetts if the light started to fail and the weather worsened. Although it was still dry it was very misty and I estimated that it would take us between and hour and three quarters of an hour to reach what would be our home for the next four days. In the event it only took us about thirty minutes to walk to the summit and arrive outside Tibbetts.

We found the key in the lock so helped ourselves in and had a good look around. The interior of Tibbetts is wood panelled throughout giving it a most pleasant and homely appearance. The main room was dominated by a Wenlock coal stove and furnished with a large wooden table and comfortable upholstered armchairs. The bunkroom (also wood panelled) consisted of two sets of bunks and had views out over the grass and moorland through windows, which had delightful wooden shutters. The kitchen, though narrow, was well equipped and the toilet was clean and tidy.

But where were our bags and the food that we had ordered? They had clearly not yet arrived and the building was (literally) stone-cold. I made a cup of tea from some complimentary supplies and then Sue and I wrapped ourselves up in blankets with hot water bottles while we waited for our luggage and food to arrive. It was delivered shortly after but I had been somewhat miffed to see that we were expected to have bought our own kindling to start the fire. Had I of known that I would have purchased some from the village shop on the way, so when our luggage, on a cart pulled by a quad bike arrived, I asked the driver to get us some kindling as we had no means of heating the main room.

With our luggage and food we began to settle in and at about half an hour later when the kindling, coal and fire lighters turned up we got the fire going and we able to welcome the evening in by sitting around the fire with its glowing coals. As the light faded we lit the gaslights but soon found that they provided relatively little light. Each gaslight I would estimate gave of no more than a five to ten watt electric lamp! There were candleholders but no candles. So, on our first night in Tibbetts we made some more hot waters bottles and snuggled up in our bunk beds under two duvets each by eight in the evening! We slept soundly.

With the shutters closed in the bunkroom very little light enters and so despite having gone to bed so early, New Year’s Eve saw us getting up rather sedately to further explore our home. The portable gas fire provided plenty of heat to get changed into our clothes in the bunk room but it was obvious from our experience the previous night that the Wenlock stove on its own was barely able to warm the front room sufficiently. Moreover the house had been left unoccupied for some time and buildings of solid stone often take a long time to warm through. It suddenly occurred to us that it would be better to move the portable gar fire into the front room and with the roaring coal stove supplemented by the considerable heat from the gas fire we were able to create in the front room a warm and cosy snug.

After a breakfast of boiled eggs and bread we walked into the village to get extra supplies from the shop. The day was dry but not too cold, at least not for those wrapped up well with gloves and hat as we were. The sky was overcast but rewarded us by throwing down shafts of bright sunlight from gaps to illuminate the landscape or the sea that surrounds the islands. Although the muted greens, browns and purples of the islands natural landscape are beautiful to behold I often found my eye wandering to the sea were no less a breath-taking display of a myriad shades of blue shifted over the watery surface.

After a stop in the tavern for hot chocolate and a game of scrabble (one of what turned out to be many games of scrabble) we walked back to Tibbetts taking a side path up over the grass and bracken to our little hideaway. In the evening we lit the candle that we had purchased from the shop and were surprised just how much light they produced. Even so gas and candlelight are tiring on the eyes so after tea, some games of scrabble and reading we retired to our beds for the last time in the old year of 2010 at about nine o’clock.

We woke up on New Year’s Day 2011 at about eight and made a breakfast of porridge – an excellent start to the New Year. I walked into the village to get a few more supplies (especially candles which we had already got through) and then walked straight back. The weather had remained overcast but dry and it was a pleasure to walk through the countryside and then to be welcomed back into the warm and cosy front room of Tibbetts.

There was a logbook kept in the front room containing the reminiscences and comments from other visitors to Tibbetts and we read these avidly. Apart from personal commentaries there were many references to a tradition for visitor to the lookout, namely streaking round the outside in the altogether.

I personally feel that traditions are an important part of the social fabric and not to be dismissed lightly and so just before dinner I dropped my kegs and fulfilled what I felt was my duty to uphold long established customs by racing around the outside naked (I did however keep my shoes on – I’m not totally mad you know). It should be noted that Sue did not feel the same sense of duty that I did and so refused to partake in this local custom although that did not exclude her from taking pictures of me with the camera. I was rather upset by this mainly because the camera was a film camera and I knew I would have to take it in to be processed. I was concerned that we could have been reported to the police by the Boots photography department for creating a particular perverse and disgusting new form of pornography. However in the event the young man behind the counter handed over the photographs without any comment although I did think that I might have seen a slight smirk cross his face.

After the brisk romp outside we sat down (clothed) to a well-deserved fry- up for dinner. Then Sue and I went out exploring the northern part of the island leading us even further away from the village. The weather had remained overcast and setting off along the paths that ran across the cliff edges we were rewarded with views of the rugged coastline. Taking a small side path I happened across a tiny vole no more than two centimetres long, not including tail, that skittered over the rocks reminding me of the abundant wildlife that exists on the island and the reason that many visit. We had not planned a lot of walking for this holiday, having explored the island on our previous visit and wishing on this occasion to focus on living in our little home in Tibbetts. However we made it to the end of the island and although I didn’t walk down the steep steps to the lighthouse I took the opportunity to look back along the rugged northern coast where the sea, although relatively calm, still crashed against the steep cliffs.

While Sue made her way back to Tibbetts I explore the northern coast a bit further, as far as the devil’s slide, a strange and alarming rock formation that I had noted on our previous holiday and apparently is popular with avid rock climbers. As I happened to glance out across the sea I saw a bank of white cloud on the horizon separated, it seemed, from the duller overcast sky and suddenly fancied that I was looking at a celestial city in the sky. But the vision soon faded as the clouds dispersed and the light shifted. I made my way back to Sue in Tibbetts and reset the fire so that we had a cosy warm room to eat our tea and read by candlelight. And in this way we completed the first day of 2011 and at nine o’clock we went to bed.

We woke up the following morning at about nine and I made some more porridge after taking my weekly bisphosponate tablet. We whiled away the morning by playing more scrabble, reading and writing and at lunchtime I broke open a can of Fray Bentos meatballs that had been purchased from the village stores the previous day.

If you are ever tempted to sample the delight of Fray Bentos meatballs I would advise you otherwise. The meat itself, although described on the can as pork, was clearly made from no animal that had seen the light of day or had a happy life but rather must had been made from some poor wretched animals that, starved and hidden in the depths of the earth, had been hunted for its pallid and soapy flesh. I think they were Minotaur balls. The meatballs were so indigestible that we found ourselves for the next day or so prone to sudden and violent bursts of uncontrollable wind – not a welcome addition to our humble abode. No – I would heartily advise against the digestion of this particular culinary delight from Fray Bentos. The only saving grace of the meal was the treacle sponge pudding that followed.

After this desultory dinner I happened to notice that the gas heater was starting to splutter – a clear sign that the gas cylinder was about to run out. I phoned the island office for a replacement cylinder and then Sue and I decided that we needed to get some free air and do some off-gassing of our own outside. We set off with the intention of walking to the tavern for a hot drink. The sky was still overcast but the wind had got up, and the air was biting. After a while we were passed by the man delivering our new gas cylinder and noticed that it was starting to rain so decided to abandon the walk and return to Tibbetts guaranteed a warm welcome from the new fire.

We spent the evening playing games of dominoes and scrabble and had fried eggs on toast cooked on the open coals of the Wenlock – a meal which turned out to be far superior to our luncheon. The wind was whistled outside as I had a flannel wash in front of the fire before we both went to bed at about ten o’clock knowing that tomorrow we would be leaving.

I did nor sleep very well during the night. The alarm clock had been set for seven so that we would have plenty of time to get up but at seven in the morning it was still virtually pitch black outside so I settled for turning the gas heater on to warm up the room and return meanwhile to my warm bunk bed. When we finally got up we quickly dressed and tidied the house and made a quick breakfast of boiled eggs. Having added our comments to the logbook we were off at just past nine o’clock waving sadly goodbye to our little retreat as we made our way to the village. Stopping at the shop we paid our bills and heard ourselves referred to for the first time as the ‘Tibbettians’ which I must say sounded rather grand and made us feel that we were made of much sterner stuff that the other holiday makers who preferred the comfort of electricity and the proximity of the tavern.

While we waited in the tavern for the helicopter ride back which would be at about one o’clock I took the opportunity to visit the old lighthouse.

The old lighthouse, now disused, was built in 1820 and is open to the public or any members of the public who are prepared to tackle the rather dark and vertiginous steps – clearly not for people suffering from vertigo. But the view from the top was worth the effort. Looking over to the north of the island I could see our little Tibbetts looking so far away – a lot further than the one and three quarter miles as reckoned. And looking out across the channel I had a good view of the coast of Devon and the mainland. As I looked out I couldn’t help thinking that awaiting me back on the mainland was my cancer and the chemotherapy regime I was about to start. Whenever I go on holiday nowadays it always feels like a holiday from the cancer even though I take all my medication with me. Unfortunately that means that it also feels like I’m returning to the cancer when the holiday finishes.

Not for the first time during the holiday I was overtaken by ‘ the sadness’ and wept a few tears. ‘The sadness’ as I call it is that feeling that sometimes overcomes me momentarily. It is a sensation of ineffable sorrow, but not despair, a malaise of no specific focus but undoubtedly linked to feelings of mortality. I have learnt since my diagnosis that such moments, when they do come ,also pass by and, like grey clouds that lift, reveal a brighter future ahead. Sometimes ‘the sadness’ comes upon me at predictable moments. Lying in my bunk bed on New Year’s eve I found myself weeping quietly but that is perhaps just an amplification of what many people may feel at the death of the old year and the inevitable passing of time. At other times ‘the sadness’ creeps up on me and takes me by surprise, often in the mornings.

Was the idea of seclusion a good way of celebrating the start of a new year? Yes, although with qualifications. I don’t think that either Sue or myself enjoyed our stay in Tibbetts as much as our first stay on the island in the Blue Bung but that is an unfair comparison. Our stay at the Blue Bung was less than a year after my diagnosis and was a particular special time for us. And I think that although I had certainly sought seclusion in booking Tibbetts for our New Years vacation it also provided isolation and that, I think I would certainly have found more difficult to cope with for a longer period. Being secluded is one thing, being isolated is another.

The helicopter flight back was as enjoyable as the flight over providing us with a final aerial view of this very special island. Then it seemed that in a trice we were back on the mainland and making our way back home, this time with a much better experience of the M25.

So it was that we celebrated the start of the New Year, a year filled with worry and anxiety but also hope. It is certainly good to know that Lundy is always there to welcome us back again should we need to experience the seclusion that that blessed isle provides so perfectly.

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Tibbetts stands granite hard,
Atop the isle of Lundy,
And looks out both East and West,
Over the wide Bristol Channel.

An exile from the nearby village,
That lies over a mile away,
It sits proud and defiant,
In glorious and peaceful isolation.

Inside its mellow wood paneled walls,
It provides a welcome retreat,
To those who would seek,
The quiet and solace that it offers.

A bunk room to sleep all wrapped up tight,
While outside the wild wind roars,
Or the still and cold as the night falls,
And clothes the isle with soft darkness.

A room with coal stove for heat,
And to provide company in the glowing embers,
All furnished with tables, chairs and all,
As handsome a room as could suffice.

Here a blessed existence can be found,
A kingdom to explore by day,
Over the moor land and the wild crags,
And a refuge in the night.

It was a lookout once before,
A building of simple functional design,
Now it welcomes the visitor in,
The seeker of a peaceful heart.