For many years I associated Babbacombe with William Golding. 'The Pyramid' was my favourite novel for a long time, all through my late teens and into my thirties. It still ranks right up there and I have a hankering to read it again. It is one those novels that is short enough to nestle down with over a weekend.
It took me a while to realise that Babbacombe was a place, however. An Art School colleague from Paignton mentioned it was just along the coast from where she grew up, and I vowed at the time to visit it someday. So it only took me twenty five years…
I have passed Babbacombe many times in the past few years of course. Babbacombe Road rises out of Torquay and is one of my favourite hills. A Strava segment finishes just beyond the turn off into the village itself so naturally I have never felt the urge to pull over and detour along the cliffside promenade. Such a shame, for I realise now it is quite lovely, with dramatic views. Never so dramatic as last week when we visited on the morning after a significant landslip that left the sea coloured red and an already damaged house half destroyed, timbers strewn on the rocks and floating on the waves whipped by the fierce Easterlies.