The house on the edge of the sea

Teetering between land and ocean

There are still places in this world that feel undiscovered, and Bucks Mills is one of them.  On Turning off the Atlantic highway the lane to the village drops down a wooded valley, narrow and twisting, ferns cover the verges descending deep into the earth.  The decades seem to peel away as whitewashed thatched cottages dot the roadside, as you near the endpoint, the sea comes into view - and the woods give way to a horizon of water.

Parking up in the little square, a collection of seafront dwellings, steeped in history, cling to the cliff. I can hear the waterfall, hidden but tantalisingly close by the sounds of it.  I feel a rising excitement at having discovered this place. All holiday nerves  drift away, because this little hamlet of Bucks Mills, is all it promised to be.

Just few metres down the footpath to the beach I see Maime's front door tucked into the cliff side.  Her door opens into a moody contemporary kitchen, granite fireplace, beams overhead, wooden floor - it feels protective and cool in the the heat of a summers day. I can imagine this space bustling with cooking, chatter and laughter after a day of exploring. Fire lit and dog snoring on the hearth.

I peek the sea through the living room through doors out to a hidden terrace,  it feels a little like a boat grounded on the shore, yet nearly afloat.

A place with a story to tell

From the terrace the fascinating shoreline opens out below, with exposed rock formations, and remains of Lime kilns hinting at an industry and stories long gone.  Not least Maime herself,  the namesake of this cottage. The runaway girl who was fetched back to this fishing hamlet by her Father, where she was befriended by artists, adopting their bohemian style. In a final twist she married her childhood sweetheart  near the end of her life.  Maime is a character firmly of this place, fondly remembered and woven into the history of Bucks Mills and this little cottage.

The footpath from her door leads to the sea passing a tiny stone dwelling preserved as an  'artists retreat'  with views to feed the imagination. At the bottom of the steep path the little quay is stacked with boats, nets  and a cabin for fishermen. A  pebbly shore  gives way to sand at low tide, perfect for a sea dip or rock pooling and along the beach the waterfall, finally makes its appearance.

Less sleepy, more dreamy

North Devon has a different flavour to its southern sister or its Cornish neighbour. A contrast of epic stretches of sand, and rugged moody cliffs with villages that feel untouched. There is an innocence and nostalgia of a time when seaside Visitors spent days at the beach, walking cliff paths with picnics on the way and stopping off for a quiet pint.  Passers by Maime's are boot clad and rucksacked, walkers who are exploring on foot, often taking a break to perch on the bench, rest a while and enjoy the view.

Just across the estuary lie the towns of Innstow and Appledore. The place to pick up provisions from 'John's deli, let the dog loose on the sands, mooch around little shops like Ibadevon and enjoy an ice-cream or cream tea.

Along the cliff is the qaintest of villages, Clovelly. Car-less pebbled lanes with and a harbour preserved in time make this place a pilgrimage for many. A glimpse into a past life, that lives on today.

Devon with no Drama

Here, the only drama is the landscape and the power of the sea which has left its mark on the tumbling cliffs, and lost harbours otherwise it feels insulated from the troubles of the world.

Maime's is made for retreating, a place where the only distraction is the landscape. There are little corners designed for curling up with a book, viewing perches for sunsets and a fireside table you'd fight for in the pub.  In the bedroom the ocean fills the view making you feel castaway.

Hole up here, fora touch of British nostalgia where the seaside was a place to heal, leave work and troubles behind with simple pleasures. Fill your glass, dine in on a fish supper or cook over coals. Wander the paths, watch the sea ebb and flow and pass pleasantries with saltpath hikers. Explore, or not, because here you need no agenda.