To celebrate the success of our lobster film we decided to have a seafood picnic at Morte Point, the place where Geoff’s father began lobster potting in a wooden boat many years ago. It wasn’t quite like that – it was Mike’s birthday and we’d persuaded him out for a coastal walk and a picnic – which I was probably supposed to prepare. But the forecast was rain showers and although we were determined to walk we agreed we should probably go to a pub instead.
So mad dogs and English families (I think Cath and Sally thought us a bit mad) we headed out to the coastal path in the rain, carrying our seafood platter and a bottle of chilled white (not on Boat Stories budget I promise you.) As we walked along, I wondered if we were following the same route the Huelin children took when they went to help their father haul his wooden potting boat out of reach of the tide. Mike climbed down the rocky shore to fish and we girls sat out of reach of the salt spray, watching the world go by. Amazingly, although we could see beyond Barricane Beach to the lighthouse on Bull Point in one direction and over to Baggy in the other (Woolacombe beach was hidden by the headland) the only human life we saw was a potting boat – possibly the Compass Rose, heading home to Ilfracombe.