The Ilfracombe Princess
Boat Stories caught up with Paul Barbeary, skipper of the Ilfracombe Princess in Ilfracombe this week as he was preparing to open for the season. Paul was also musing whether Dave the Dolphin would make a return to Ilfracombe this summer. If we hear any news, we’ll let you know. Meanwhile to give you a flavour of the trip - below is an edited version of an article I wrote for the North Devon Journal, a few years ago after a ride on the Princess.
As Holly and I pulled away from the harbour wall at Ilfracombe, everyone seemed to be waving. We were onboard the Ilfracombe Princess! There’s something about being on any boat that gives you a certain status. I felt sorry for those left behind, mostly grannies stuck with the pushchairs. Bet they wished they’d come. Skipper, Paul Barbeary is happy to take toddlers, even dogs.
The Princess offers you the choice: head west past the surfing beaches for the chance to spot seals hauled out at Rockham Bay or the route we chose, up channel past Combe Martin overlooking steep wooded cliffs, where wild Exmoor appears to fall away into the sea. If you’re in North Devon for a week I recommend going at the start of your holiday because Paul is a one-man tourist information advert. He takes the Princess as close as he can, hugging the bays, pointing out steps which lead to isolated beaches away from the crowds and caves to explore on the lowest tides.
He showed us orange-billed oystercatchers waiting for the tide to drop and doe-eyed fulmars or Jesus birds, as his father called them, because they paddle or walk on the water to get enough propulsion to take off.
And he took us back in time. At Sherrycombe Falls we were in the first World War, with German submarines idling beneath our boat. They sneaked in this close to shore! because they needed the fresh water tumbling down from Exmoor for their engines.
The weak sun hid behind the clouds as we passed below the dark Hangman Hills. High above us, the hapless criminals from Coombe Martin used to swing on the gallows, buffeted by gales, which swept across from America. We imagined men climbing down treacherous cliffs, held only by a rope, to work the old iron-ore mines with pick and shovel in the few hours of low tide. “Why risk those crazy cliffs rather than go by boat?” someone asked. From our comfy seats on a gentle, wind-ruffled sea it was easy to forget that the Bristol Channel has a ten metre tide, one of the highest and fastest in the world.
“We call them woolly jumpers,” teased Paul, as Holly and the other children on the boat stared worriedly up at the sheep, stranded half way down the steep cliff. Aptly named the Devil’s slide, it has an impossibly sheer drop straight into the sea. “It’s OK” Paul added, “they climb back up… usually.” Paul’s jokes reminded me of the dry, black humour of most of the local boatmen we’ve been out with over the years. Something to do with living so close to the dangerous elements or perhaps having to take out a fresh load of tourists each day!
As we headed home into the wind, there was a sight swell, and a few “bumps” as Holly calls them to remind us how much we rely on the knowledge and skill of our boatmen. Paul descends from a family of fishermen and his brother still pots for lobsters, crabs and whelks.
If you’re still shy about heading out to sea, just wander along the harbour wall, soak up the bustling atmosphere, mingled with the boatmen’s cries. “There’s no cars here. We've only got boats. Step aboard. Until you get wet you haven’t been christened.” In Paul’s safe hands you’re unlikely to get wet. But you might get hooked.
To book the Ilfracombe Princess call 01271 879727 or 07837 569667
As Holly and I pulled away from the harbour wall at Ilfracombe, everyone seemed to be waving. We were onboard the Ilfracombe Princess! There’s something about being on any boat that gives you a certain status. I felt sorry for those left behind, mostly grannies stuck with the pushchairs. Bet they wished they’d come. Skipper, Paul Barbeary is happy to take toddlers, even dogs.
The Princess offers you the choice: head west past the surfing beaches for the chance to spot seals hauled out at Rockham Bay or the route we chose, up channel past Combe Martin overlooking steep wooded cliffs, where wild Exmoor appears to fall away into the sea. If you’re in North Devon for a week I recommend going at the start of your holiday because Paul is a one-man tourist information advert. He takes the Princess as close as he can, hugging the bays, pointing out steps which lead to isolated beaches away from the crowds and caves to explore on the lowest tides.
He showed us orange-billed oystercatchers waiting for the tide to drop and doe-eyed fulmars or Jesus birds, as his father called them, because they paddle or walk on the water to get enough propulsion to take off.
And he took us back in time. At Sherrycombe Falls we were in the first World War, with German submarines idling beneath our boat. They sneaked in this close to shore! because they needed the fresh water tumbling down from Exmoor for their engines.
The weak sun hid behind the clouds as we passed below the dark Hangman Hills. High above us, the hapless criminals from Coombe Martin used to swing on the gallows, buffeted by gales, which swept across from America. We imagined men climbing down treacherous cliffs, held only by a rope, to work the old iron-ore mines with pick and shovel in the few hours of low tide. “Why risk those crazy cliffs rather than go by boat?” someone asked. From our comfy seats on a gentle, wind-ruffled sea it was easy to forget that the Bristol Channel has a ten metre tide, one of the highest and fastest in the world.
“We call them woolly jumpers,” teased Paul, as Holly and the other children on the boat stared worriedly up at the sheep, stranded half way down the steep cliff. Aptly named the Devil’s slide, it has an impossibly sheer drop straight into the sea. “It’s OK” Paul added, “they climb back up… usually.” Paul’s jokes reminded me of the dry, black humour of most of the local boatmen we’ve been out with over the years. Something to do with living so close to the dangerous elements or perhaps having to take out a fresh load of tourists each day!
As we headed home into the wind, there was a sight swell, and a few “bumps” as Holly calls them to remind us how much we rely on the knowledge and skill of our boatmen. Paul descends from a family of fishermen and his brother still pots for lobsters, crabs and whelks.
If you’re still shy about heading out to sea, just wander along the harbour wall, soak up the bustling atmosphere, mingled with the boatmen’s cries. “There’s no cars here. We've only got boats. Step aboard. Until you get wet you haven’t been christened.” In Paul’s safe hands you’re unlikely to get wet. But you might get hooked.
To book the Ilfracombe Princess call 01271 879727 or 07837 569667
