Porlock

I only had to follow the valley of the river Aller to get to Porlock, in theory.   Selworthy Green, where I rejoined the road, was a picturesque hamlet with thatched cottages, at least one of them open to the public via the National Trust.  The road was even steeper down than the track!  And then my route took a surprising turn, onto a track, avoiding the dreaded A39 by following an ancient cobbled track.  It was OK except where the surface had degenerated into loose stones in a few places.   The Aller valley was beautiful and took me into Porlock.

Selworthy Green 

Porlock itself was a bit disappointing, maybe because I was looking for a nice cafe, but it seemed very hemmed-in by buildings almost squeezing the road, with narrow pavements and a lack of space.  Maybe I missed something.  A couple of miles to the west was Porlock Weir, which is really a harbour, and it was quite a contrast.  A beautiful sunny situation with harbour, lock, and fisherman's cottages, and plenty of refreshment places for tourists.  I sampled one overlooking the harbour, served by a very laid-back chap.  When I asked if I should pay now or later, he said "there are no rules", adding, for emphasis, "there are no rules".

Porlock Weir 

Fishermen's cottages

This isn't the toll road you're looking for

There are three ways out of Porlock.  The A39, and no less than two toll roads, created by different landowners.  The one nearer the sea is poorly maintained and currently closed, so I used the other one,  owned by Porlock Manor.  For the price of £1 you get a well-engineered road through woodland at a nearly constant 9% gradient.  I settled down for a 400 metre climb, and four miles later I was at the top after paying £1 to the toll keeper, who admired my bike's steel frame, perhaps hoping for a tip.  It was a nice way up.

Toll booth

What's this?

Down the other side, I descended (steeply) into the valley of the East Lyn river, following the awful road to Malmsmead,.   The road was covered with debris  mud and stones from the fields.  It may have been very pretty, but I didn't dare to look.  At Malmsmead  I crossed the river into Devon.  Lorna Doone country, the sign proclaimed.  In the novel, she lived in this very valley.  It is certainly striking, with a very deep, narrow, steep sided and wooded valley, so the sides tower above you.  And worrying too, as I knew I had to climb out of the valley further on, which I did on a 20-25% slope.

East Lyn Valley

Into Lynmouth

I was now on the way to Lynmouth, descending (a long way) with the river in its narrow valley until the town appeared.  It's a small town, squeezed into the valley with quite a wide river at that point.  Pretty nice for its size, and very touristy.  Like several north Devon & Cornwall towns in steep valleys, it had a serious flood in 1952, and again in 2014.

Lynmouth

 

It's twin, Lynton, is extremely unlikely ever to flood.  Perched on top of a cliff overlooking Lynmouth, and connected by a cliff railway, or in my case, the A39.  It was a killer climb, 25% all the way up, one which I never want to do again.

Up to Lynton (literally)

Cliff railway