I open the curtains and there it lies, in one scenic gulp, the city of Exeter, golden at dawn with the smudge of the sea on the distant horizon beneath a sky of tumbled clouds.
This bite-sized metropolis lies in one of Britain's blessed corners, close to the English Riviera, and north of the ancient red-rocked cliffs of the fossil-rich, mild Jurassic Coast.
Our bed-and-breakfast abode, The Grange, on the edge of Stoke Hill, dips a single toe in the green Devon countryside where birdsong provides the wake-up call, and the dewy dipping paddock of the house unfurls before you, leading the eye to where, after breakfast, your body will follow at an unhasty, appreciative speed.
We are into the city by 10am. It is 20 years since last I wandered around the quayside with its warehouses lined like a phalanx of red stone sentries along the flat-calm River Exe. The scene is leisurely and, nowadays, it is given over to eating, drinking and browsing. Tiny antiques shops, pubs and restaurants occupy much of the old warehouse buildings, spilling their tables out into the sunshine.
Over coffee, I'm given to wonder what the Romans would make of this scene. They built the quay almost 2000 years ago. The Quay House Interpretation Centre lays bare the chequered history of the waterway, revealing the dirty tricks that led to the river being blocked, and later reopened, with the building of the first ship canal in Britain in 1563.
History owns this city; you sense as well as see it. Chunks of the ancient Roman walls, like rotted red teeth or crumbling gums, keep on emerging. King Charles's royalists used the walls to build taller defences during the English Civil War.
Not far away, at the end of Castle Street, stand the eleventh- century ruins of a once magnificent castle. Here they held witchcraft trials and hangings up to the end of the seventeeth century. And a step away, in Paris Street, stands the entrance to a warren of underground passages - ancient medieval water pipes that have lately given rise to an underground tour, which Harry Houdini, Toulous Lautrec and Quasimodo might have enjoyed. Everyone else must stoop to conquer. My wife, who's keen and doesn't suffer from claustrophobia, dons a hard hat and disappears with a group of game troglodytes, wooed by promises of cholera and ghosts and other such tales.
A day flies by. The weather holds. I recall the sand storms on the beaches here in high summer 20 years ago, the children taking cover in hooded cagoules, in the driving rain that sent us all fleeing to the cinema three days running - once to see Rain Man.
I think of the beaches, the fossil coast, as I watch the gulls that night - are they lost? - in the village of Thorverton, far from the sea, but close to the Exe.
We are in the Bell, a traditional solid English pub, where the local real ale is as much of a treat as the plate of onglet steak and chips. The sea awaits us the following morning.
The beauty of Exeter, quite apart from its compact nature, is its location. We could easily spend a day in Basil Fawlty territory in Torquay, visit the Dartmoor National Park or dip into Somerset, looking for cider wells. It's all handy enough to reach in under an hour.
We choose instead the Jurassic Coast, much less visited, but a treat because there are so many ways to approach it. The most direct is via Sidmouth, heading due east. We choose the meandering route, due south, along the estuary to Exmouth, more open and watery, following bird life along the reaches of the water. The town is quiet, the seafront empty. No sand storms or rain to send us for cover, and so we head towards Budleigh Salterton, a name that deserves a poem in its honour.
The town is a warren of tiny streets with a prominent inn beside a small square where you sometimes see Morris dancers fluttering their hankies.
Beach huts and fishing boats brighten its seafront. We stroll along the prom enjoying ice-creams, feeling our appetites grow in the waft of a brine- scented breeze.
A decent road map, or functioning satellite navigation, is essential to plotting your course as you veer along twisty, thread-like lanes that link East Budleigh (Sir Walter Raleigh's scenic birthplace) with picturesque Otterton (thatched stone cottages) and Pinn, where the cliffscape vistas are well worth the detour.
And so to Sidmouth, graced by steep, red cliffs of triassic rock, some 250 million years old. The coast from here to nearby Lyme Regis, via Beer, is replete with fossils -mainly ammonites and belemnites. Little wonder it was designated England's first World Heritage Site. You can find them along the shoreline if you're lucky. We draw a blank, but fossils aplenty are sold for a pittance in the rock shops that stud the town among the regency-listed buildings.
We lunch in Sidford, a few miles north, in the Salty Monk, a beautiful sixteenth-century restaurant, our prelude to Beer, where (yes, you've guessed it), I aim to try a local brew at the Dolphin Hotel. There, Devon eccentrics are encouraged to preen and fawn in front of the crazy fairground mirrors adjoining the bar.
Sedate Lyme Regis seems ultra-sober by comparison - Jane Austen set Persuasion here and the French Lieutenant's Woman lured Meryl Streep to stand on its cobb (the long, curved, sloping harbour wall) to be drenched for posterity on film. We wander Broad Street, the steep main highway, stopping for afternoon tea. "The Fossil Capital of Dorset" says a notice outside a rock shop. We see our reflections. "Maybe they'll buy us," says my wife.
Need to know Getting there: Flybe flies to Exeter from Glasgow and Edinburgh from £121.97 return, including taxes etc. Visit www.flybe.com. Getting around: Car rental: Europcar: www.europcar.co.uk. Where to stay: The Grange, Stoke Hill, Exeter. Good B&B; en-suite rooms.
Terrific views. From £27 per person per night. Call 01392 259723 for further information. Things to do: Visit Exeter's Norman cathedral, which boasts the longest Gothic ceiling in the world.
Take a Redcoat free guided walking tour of the city.
Choose your theme, from ghosts to Romans.
www.exeter.gov.uk/visiting Enjoy a River Exe cruise.
Adults £5, children £3.
www.stuartlinecruises.co.uk.
Why are you making commenting on The Herald only available to subscribers?
It should have been a safe space for informed debate, somewhere for readers to discuss issues around the biggest stories of the day, but all too often the below the line comments on most websites have become bogged down by off-topic discussions and abuse.
heraldscotland.com is tackling this problem by allowing only subscribers to comment.
We are doing this to improve the experience for our loyal readers and we believe it will reduce the ability of trolls and troublemakers, who occasionally find their way onto our site, to abuse our journalists and readers. We also hope it will help the comments section fulfil its promise as a part of Scotland's conversation with itself.
We are lucky at The Herald. We are read by an informed, educated readership who can add their knowledge and insights to our stories.
That is invaluable.
We are making the subscriber-only change to support our valued readers, who tell us they don't want the site cluttered up with irrelevant comments, untruths and abuse.
In the past, the journalist’s job was to collect and distribute information to the audience. Technology means that readers can shape a discussion. We look forward to hearing from you on heraldscotland.com
Comments & Moderation
Readers’ comments: You are personally liable for the content of any comments you upload to this website, so please act responsibly. We do not pre-moderate or monitor readers’ comments appearing on our websites, but we do post-moderate in response to complaints we receive or otherwise when a potential problem comes to our attention. You can make a complaint by using the ‘report this post’ link . We may then apply our discretion under the user terms to amend or delete comments.
Post moderation is undertaken full-time 9am-6pm on weekdays, and on a part-time basis outwith those hours.
Read the rules hereComments are closed on this article