On the way to Lundy, I stopped off for lunch with an old friend who lives in the mid-Devon countryside, and whom I hadn’t seen for many years.  At first, I found myself focusing on the differences I noticed in my friend since the last time I had seen her but, very quickly, we slipped into an old familiarity, and all I then saw were the similarities.  And it was much the same story visiting Lundy.

It had been 25 years since I had last been on Lundy.  It was a fact that I was quick to impart to the warden attending the reception room on the island: “I doubt you’ll find much has changed,” she replied.

Oh, but it had.  At first, all I could spot about the island were the differences from when I had last been there, the largest being the landing bay where I first came ashore.  25 years earlier, no form of landing stage for the boat from the mainland had existed.  Back then, the MS Oldenburg was required to anchor several hundred yards offshore in the lee of the island, and visitors and luggage were transported from the boat to dry(ish) land––there was usually a bit of inevitable foot-wetting––by tender.  Now a wooden jetty links with a concrete incline which, in turn, joins to a navigable pathway winding up the cliff side to the village.

There were changes in the village, too.  A long construction of low wooden dwellings, perhaps to house some of the island’s temporary workers; and an expansion of the Marisco Tavern into the Wheelhouse, which permits space for a long, additional bar-counter, from which to order food.  The menu at the Marisco Tavern has expanded, too.  Previously, the choice had been fairly limited, centred around lamb, and whatever fish had been caught fresh that day––I remember a big skate one day; now, there are vegetarian options; a ubiquitous game pie––to be recommended––and even a range of desserts.

The farm appeared larger, too, with a wider range of livestock; I didn’t recall seeing Highland Cattle on my previous visit, but several of the big beasts now roamed shaggily along the main path, south of Halfway Wall.

Even the Old Light had not remained unchanged.  Although its spiral stone staircase remained memorably vertiginous, the deckchairs at its summit have been updated from ones with a red striped canvas to ones with a green striped canvas––I’m getting pernickety now, I realise––and it is no longer possible to access the perilous exterior parapet which, given the state of the rusty metal of the balustrade is probably just as well.

One thing that was unaltered, though.  The beautiful natural view from the top of the Old Light across the entire island, both north and south.  Timeless.

© E. C. Glendenny

E. C. Glendenny takes a moment to remember things past.