Abandoned passions, silent terraces

There's a sad but interesting reminder come to my attention today, about the perilous existence of English football's lower-division and non-league clubs.  It's timely, as rumours about Torquay United's prospective new owners take a leap forward - not necessarily for the better - and Gulls fans wait, with bated breath, to hear the answers to the grimmest of questions.  Will we still have a football club?  What will the club look like?  How will it be run?  Where will it play?

Seaside resorts and successful football clubs seem to have an all-or-nothing relationship.  Bournemouth and Brighton have both come through mighty perilous journeys before arriving in happier climes.  Blackpool have tasted the sweet success of Premier League football, before plummeting down the divisions.  Morecambe and Southend seem, on the surface of it, to be making a consistently successful go of it.  And then there's Scarborough FC.  Scarborough FC, who came to Plainmoor in the second leg of the 1998 Division Three play-off semi final, lost, and subsequently spiralled into relegation, and then non-existence.  Recent chatter on a Torquay forum put me onto a website, with photos of the then-abandoned McCain Stadium, Scarborough's one-time home, and clearly as characterful as any you'd find in football.  Images of the empty ground, where spectators would once have chanted, cheered and waved their scarves in the air, seem particularly haunting, almost apocalyptic.  What a sorry affair, and what a sad demise of a football club, trying to survive in just the sort of town that makes our football pyramid unique in the world.

The eerie silence of the McCain Stadium (source: Urban Ghosts)

Of course, the story doesn't quite end there for Scarborough, with the arising of their phoenix club, Scarborough Athletic.  The team now play ten miles away in Bridlington, and are riding high, currently sitting second in the Evo-Stik Northern League First Division North.  Will they one day return to the glittering heights of the Football League?

The McCain in action (source: Derelict Places)

Back in Torquay, we wait for the news that will either confirm the future of our club, or ratify its conclusion.  Non-league football is a cruel, stark and brutal world, a million miles from the game that so many people know from Sky Sports or Match of the Day.  Winter is coming to the English Riviera - and unlike its usual balmy climate, the forecast of clubs past points towards a very cold, very dark season ahead.

Torquay in play-off action versus Scarborough at a packed-out plainmoor, 1998 (source: Herald Express)

Goodbye rhinos

Was it really back in sunny August that we stepped out on safari and followed the rhino trail around South Devon?  Well, believe it or not, the trail has ended already, with a crescendo of art, colour and horns adorning Paignton Zoo for one weekend only.  Here was a chance to see all our friends together again, and to catch up on some of the more outlandishly-located creatures that we missed the first time around.  Before that, however, here's a round-up of some of the rhinos we found since my last blog post.

Big Sweetie, an ingenious piece of art that incorporates everything sweet shop.  Foam shrimps, gummy bears, twister lollies, it's a trip down memory lane for the sugar fiend, and one of the funniest rhinos on the trail.  I particularly like the "for keeps" love heart, once again bringing the conservation message home; afterall, nobody wants to lose the Javan and Sumatran rhinos.  Meanwhile, in Torquay town centre, Rhino an old lady who swallowed a fly (get it?) takes us through that particularly quirky nursery rhyme, with a granny rhino displaying each stage of the story, from the spider, the bird, the cat, the dog, the cow, the horse... She's dead of course!  Rhino an old lady comes complete with her own horn fly too, a little touch that perfectly completes the piece.

On Paignton Sea Front, Rhinoctopus stole the show in my eyes, a lovely seabed scene in which a large pink octopus takes centre stage.  Incorporating coral and clownfish, it's a tropical nod to biodiversity that really appealed to my fishy tastes.  Paignton has also been the home of Oh I Do Like To Be Beside the Seaside, a take on the traditional British beach holiday, complete with sand castles, ice creams, and good old Punch & Judy.  It sort of fits perfectly in the faded glory of Paignton's Torbay Road, a throw-back to the days when this really was a destination of distinction, but celebrating the still-beautiful stretch of coastline that makes up this wonderful bay.

To Paignton Zoo, where the great gathering of rhinos was in full swing, all lined up neatly like a conservation army.  Here we had a chance to sweep up some of those we missed, such as Stella, which showcases endangered animals in the stars, and Rhino Why the Caged Bird Sings, which just has an intrinsic beauty that I'm not sure I even understand.  The impact of having so many rhinos in one place is a sight not-to-be-missed, giving - for the first time - a real understanding of the scale of the project.  I mean, what an effort by Paignton Zoo, once again giving the people of South Devon a world-class art trail for all ages.  Through the mindless moments of vandalism and antisocial behaviour of a tiny minority, the project has shone through to give a summer of pleasure to thousands of locals and tourists alike - we two included.  Thanks to the zoo for this, and for their conservation work generally.  You can see a gallery of all rhinos on my Flickr page.

Finally, to my favourite.  Or favourites, as there's two that stand out for me.  the first, Blossom, we snapped at Bernaville Nurseries near Exeter.  It appeals to the gardener within me, and would surly look perfect up by our summer house.  The second, which would also not look out of place in our back garden, is Woodland Safari, a celebration of native nature, and a reminder that you don't need to travel far to enjoy a safari of your own, to find fascination in the British countryside, and do your bit to help our embattled wildlife no matter where you live.  I guess that's the message that this project has spent a summer trying to get across - it certainly wasn't wasted.  So bye bye rhinos; and let's hope it's only the sculptures to which we bid farewell.

Great Big Rhinos!

Three years ago, I blogged about a fabulous series of gorillas that had made its way to South Devon, as part of the Paignton Zoo and Wild in Art initiative to raise awareness around conservation.  It was - and it remains - one of the greatest art trails I've ever seen, taking us from the streets of Exeter to the coast of Torbay, with all manner of places dotted in between.  Following the trail, the gorillas were auctioned in aid of Paignton Zoo's conservation projects around the world - if you're lucky and look hard enough, you can still see one-or-two of them on display in public places.

The memory of the fantastic gorilla trail may have faded, but now we've been invaded again - this time by rhinos - as Paignton embarks on another awareness campaign that has kids and adults alike rushing, camera in hand, to get a glimpse of one of these life-size masterpieces.  Forty-two of them, to be precise.  Our own trail, which is still far-from-complete, began in Exeter, with an immediate favourite, Cath, which makes a thought-provoking statement on conservation.  Beautifully designed, the rhino carries with it the heart of Exeter's stunning Cathedral.  The foundations of Exeter Cathedral were laid nearly 1000 years ago - will we ensure the Javan and Sumatran rhinos have the same time ahead of them?

Another personal favourite is Dino Rhino, a take on the extinction of other once-prevalent species.  The evocative portrayal of prehistoric scenes, mingled with close-ups of long-lost sabre-tooth cats and woolly mammoths, really bring impact to the artist's question, do we really want the rhino to be just another distant memory?

Aquamarhino stands proud in Exeter's Princesshay shopping centre, perhaps a comment on our own consumption of the earth's natural resources.  A net of fish flounder - one brilliantly incorporated into this rhino's eye - suggesting that if our current trends continue, even more biodiversity will be wiped out of existence.

Down in Torbay, the rhino madness continues with Sun's Out, Horns Out, Lizzie's favourite on the trail, and certainly a fun design that is best suited to Torquay's sea front.  You certainly have to admire the attention to detail - from the splattered ice cream and bright armbands, down to the dainty sandals.

Up on Babbacombe Downs, meanwhile, the rhino Tranquillity surveys what must be the best view on the trail.  This one speaks of a world at peace, of perfect nature cooling down under the watercolour of an African sunset.  Perhaps the artist is giving us a glimpse of what we should enjoy, value and connect with in this world, as well as a reminder that the best things in life really are free.

There are, of course, many more rhinos that we haven't got to yet - Be sure to check out my Flickr page, which I'll be updating as we go around ticking these off the map.  You can - and probably should - also see the Great Big Rhinos webpage, for more about the art trail and conservation of these beautiful, iconic creatures.

A lazy hazy summer morning in Babbacombe

A 1920s holiday, the Devon way

Look what I discovered recently in a junk shop in Clifton Village!  Sitting in amongst a collection of vintage travel guides featuring locations nationwide, this little Ward, Lock & Co's guide to Torquay and South Devon leapt out at me.  Well I was more than tempted, and with change from a fiver, how could I say no?  Ward, Lock & Co were a London-based publishing company, which became famous for its "red guides" at the turn of the 20th century, and continued in business until 1964, when the company was split.  This guide was published in 1925, and for the particularly eagle-eyed amongst you; yes, that is the Torquay town coat of arms on the cover, bearing the town's motto Salus et Felicitas (Health and Happiness... obviously the motto-makers weren't Torquay United fans, ha!)

It's easy to get absorbed in the interesting local adverts, such as W.H.Gubb & Sons' popular motor trips into the heart of Devon from Ilfracombe; Ye Olde Whitpot Mill Tea Gardens (under new management) of Kingskerswell; and Torquay's Lincombe Hall Hotel ("charming situation, four acres of lovely grounds, the Acme of comfort and refinement...")  There then follows a list of hotels and boarding establishments, in which my eye particularly picks out Torquay's Osborne Hotel, the Redcliff in Paignton, and Newton Abbot's long-since-closed Globe.  The previous owner of this little book also pencilled an 'X' next to all the places they intended to visit during their holiday.  It certainly seems that this lady or gent got about, visiting many sites in Torquay (Torre Abbey, the Museum, Babbacombe, Kent's Cavern, Anstey's Cove, St Marychurch, Cockington, Compton, the church at Marldon, and Watcombe,) Newton Abbot, Ogwell, Torbryan, Paignton, Berry Pomeroy, Brixham, Totnes, Dartmouth, and a cruise up the Dart.  What a holiday!

So, what does the guide have to say about our towns, coast and countryside?  Some places have evidently changed beyond recognition, whilst the character of others appears to have remained intact, nearly a century on.  There's too much detail, of course, to transcribe the entire book here, so below are a few gems I've picked out, that speak of the interesting history and unique character of my neck of the woods:

"Since Kingsley and Blackmore gave to the world Westward Ho! and Lorna Doone, much has been heard of the grandeur of the North Devon coast scenery, but it was the beauty of South Devon - Torquay with its terraces, trees and sheltered nooks, Dawlish with its pretty Lawn, Teignmouth with its Den, Dartmouth and its land-locked harbour, Totnes with its ruined Norman castle, and the tortuous river Dart - that won for the county its fame as one of the playgrounds of England."

"Not merely because its cliffs are so lofty and picturesque, its sea so blue, its vegetation so rich, its site so well environed, its gardens to attractive, or its harbour so admirable, but because it enjoys all these features in so complete a combination, Torquay asserts with reason its claim to be the Queen of Devon."

"Few watering-places in England have made such strides in so short a time as Paignton.  Little more than thirty years ago a mere village, unknown to the world at large and associated by natives of the surrounding district with its sweet flatpole cabbage... Paignton has rapidly developed into a flourishing seaside resort... Nestling in a valley in the centre of Torbay, and surrounded on all sides by hills which afford a magnificent views of the sea and land, Paignton has every reason to look forward to a prosperous future."

"No one who stands on the quay and surveys the scene - the many fishing boats and trawlers, with their red-brown sails, in the inner and outer harbours and the fishermen and boys on the piers - can be in doubt as to the trade of Brixham.  It has been called the mother of the trawl fishery in England, and even the men of Grimsby and Lowestoft are said to have learnt their cunning from Brixham men who settled on the East Coast to be nearer the North Sea...  Special interest attaches to the Parish Church of Lower Brixham from the fact that its first incumbent was the Rev. Henry Francis Lyte, who wrote the beautiful hymn "Abide With Me," so popular with Christian communities in all parts of the world."

"Apart from its historical associations and its central situation, there is little to commend Newton Abbot to the visitor to Devonshire, who has all this fair county to choose from for his holiday, but since it has become nearly as good a centre for road as for railway traffic, bringing it into close touch with sea and moor, it is attracting an increasing number of holiday-makers... The town stands in a beautiful vale, watered by the river Lemon, which flows into the Teign a short distance below the spot where that river changes its character as a boisterous moorland stream for that of a placid estuary...  Newton is very proud of its War Memorial, which is unique in Devon."

"Totnes is one of the very few places in the kingdom where the curfew bell is still rung... The town is seated in the midst of the South Hams, a district not improperly called the "Garden of Devonshire," and is the centre of an important cider industry.  It was spoken by Camden as a "little town hanging from east to west on the side of a hill" - a description that still holds good."

"Buckfastleigh, where an ancient Abbey which has for forty years been occupied buy a community of Benedictines, who are rebuilding it gradually."

"Ashburton, beautifully situated in a very lovely country, with some of the most attractive portions of Dartmoor within comparatively easy reach.  The town stands on a small tributary of the Dart."

"Dartmouth is one of the most picturesque and interesting old towns in the country, and no one visiting South Devon should go away without seeing it... The old town retains many of the features of bygone centuries.  Narrow streets with overhanging houses, may not be beautiful in themselves, but they have a peculiar interest.  It is in its setting that the town is so attractive.  With the river in front and the hill towering behind, the effect is very fine."

"Kingsbridge is not a town of importance or of great beauty.  It owes its prosperity to its situation in the centre of the South Hams, where agriculture has always held up its head."

"Salcombe can, in summer, also be approached by steamer from Dartmouth, Torquay, Paington, Teignmouth, Exmouth, and Plymouth.  It is a delightful day trip down the rugged Devonshire coast, past the Start Lighthouse, at the extreme end of Start Bay... The sight of the beautiful harbour from the steamer is alone sufficient reward for the journey...  Salcombe is developing fast, and finds difficulty in accommodating the increasing number of visitors who throng it every season."

"The Dart is still referred to as "The English Rhine" but there is little resemblance, or the Dart would not be so beautiful as it is... It would be impossible to exaggerate the charms of the Devonshire river.  What other stream is so typically English, so intensely Devonian?  It sweeps along in leisurely fashion. Beyond all question, the way to extract the most pleasure out of the Dart is to drift along with the tide in the glow of a summer evening, when the sunlight slants across the stream, turning the reaches into golden lakes, and when the dense shadows of the gigantic oaks that bend over it contrast with the resplendent branches far above.  Under such conditions the voyager may well let the sweet influences of the scene intoxicate him, and make him content lazily to drift on down the shimmering stream between the banks."

Glorious Gulls - An underdog story

It's tough following a small football team.  There are more lows than highs, there is more pain than joy, and there are more miserable Saturday afternoons than you would find in the average Manchester United or Chelsea household.  Following Torquay United, as I have done for the last twenty years (longer, if you include my six-year-old self's trip to Wembley's famous twin towers in the 1991 play-off final)  I think it's fair to say that I, along with many others in south Devon, have lived a never-ending rollar coaster cheering on the Gulls; and what better way to re-live all the delight and agony, than with a visit to Torquay Museum's latest exhibition, Glorious Gulls - An Underdog Story.

Of course, there's far too much in this packed-out little exhibition to mention here, for within is documented the life of the football club, from humble beginnings to the... erm... humble modern age.  The journey begins at the club's 1899 formation, carries the visitor through those faltering first few years, its election into the Football League in 1927, and its many achievements since that time, including promotions, Wembley visits, and cup ties against footballing royalty such as Tottenham Hotspur.

Torquay United in 1927.  Note the black-and-white stripes, which earned United their first nickname - The Magpies

FA Cup third round programme, 1965.  Torquay secured an amazing 3-3 draw in this match thanks to goals from Atkinson and Stubbs.  The replay at White Hart Lane was captured by the newsreels - you can see highlights by clicking here. 

One of my favourite aspects of the exhibition was the old photographs, blown up large for the information boards.  Prolific goalscorer Sammy Collins, signed from Bristol City in 1948, scored 219 goals in 379 games for the Gulls, and set a goal scoring record in the 1955-56 season with 40 League and two cup goals.  There's also a shot of Jim McNichol and police dog Bryn, famous to all Torquay fans.  On 9 May 1987, Torquay United hosted Crewe Alexander in the final league fixture of the season.  Finding themselves 2-1 down with moments remaining, United were heading out of the Football League.  Jim McNichol paced down the wing and whipped in a cross, in the process confusing Bryn the police dog, who promptly ran onto the field and bit McNichol on the leg.  Medical treatment led to several minutes of stoppage time, from which Torquay defender Paul Dobson somehow found the net, saving Torquay's position in the Football League at the very death, and propelling the German Shepherd to local stardom.  Quite simply, it could only happen that way at Plainmoor.

Sammy Collins scores again

Jim McNichol shakes the paw of Bryn

There is also plenty of memorabilia from within my memory of supporting the Gulls, starting with the shirt worn by Kevin Hill in the 2008 FA Trophy final, which marked the midfielder's record-breaking 474th appearance in yellow.  Hill was a bit of a cult hero when I was a teenager, an ever-present throughout the years and held in high regard by the Torquay faithful.  There's also a nod, in caricature form, to one of my favourite players, St Vincent international, Rodney Jack.  Jack was banging in the goals at around the time I started regularly attending Torquay matches, and largely through his goals, United reached the Division 3 play-off final in 1998.  After defeat to Colchester, Crewe signed him for £650,000, but fans like me never forgot those lightning performances in yellow-and-blue.

Kevin Hill's FA Trophy final shirt

Rodney Jack

There's so much more to see and remember; automatic promotion under Leroy Rosenior in 2004; ultimate relegation into non-league football, twice; all the ups and downs in one well-thought-out and colourfully put-together exhibition, which will thrill Torquay United supporters and anybody else interested in the history of local football.  Of course, our visit coincided with a match day, and what better way to round off a trip down football's memory lane than by taking a seat in the familiar old ground, the usual crowd, the colours, sights, sounds and smells of your home football team, and with a 1-0 win to boot!  Real Madrid it ain't, but it's just as historic, and just as important to its fans.  This visit reminded me just how much I love my football - now come on you Yellows!

You can see all the photos from my visit to the Glorious Gulls exhibition by clicking here.

This blog says "Thank You"

Seventy years ago this weekend past, over 150,000 Allied soldiers left coastal towns and cities across Southern England, bound for Normandy, France.  Their journey was one of liberation, to free the world from the tyranny of fascism, and to put democracy back on the European continent.  For many soldiers, however, this would come at enormous personal sacrifice and, in the hours that followed departure, thousands would die on the beaches code named Utah, Omaha, Gold, Juno and Sword.  They were men of a dozen different nations, many from the other side of the world, united through a belief in the principle of freedom for all men. Seventy years later on Torquay Seafront, where many thousands of men in the American 4th Infantry Division departed for Utah Beach, we gathered to thank them.

Torquay remembers

This blog wishes to thank the servicemen of all nations who fought for our freedom and our future.  Though many never made it back, we shall not forget their sacrifice, nor will our gratitude diminish through the years.

Back to where it all began

"Was I to believe him in earnest in his intention to penetrate to the centre of this massive globe?  

Had I been listening to the mad speculations of a lunatic, or to the scientific conclusions 

of a lofty genius?  Where did the truth stop?  Where did error begin?"  

(Axel, in Jules Verne's classic, Journey to the Centre of the Earth).

Come with me on a journey, back before time - before houses and cars, before agriculture, before spaceships and television, to the dawn of modern man, to a place where our forefathers hunted big game on the plains, where Homo sapiens lived alongside Neanderthals, and people shared their homes with bears, mammoths, and sabre-toothed cats.  It is a place little-changed over millions of years, a place we could almost ignore as we travel around, absorbed in our daily lives.  Yet, it is a place of stunning beauty, international importance, and a deep, humbling reminder of our fragile existence and our ever-changing time.  On a day when the sun and clouds played out an almighty battle in the heavens, Lizzie and I took a tour of the palaeontological, archaeological, historical and geological jewel that is Kents Cavern in Torquay.  

Our early forefathers

Kents Cavern is just about as old as it gets; there is nowhere in the UK where we could possibly step any further back in time.  This observation alone is enough to focus the mind, but what also strikes me about this cave system is its staggering beauty.  Nature has created, over vast amounts of time, a stunning showcase of its power. Stalactites cling fast to the ceilings, stalagmites grow slowly, but surely and steadily, from the floor.  Rainwater penetrates the cave, permeating the Devonian limestone with little urgency, creating the constant tap-tap of water droplets, each particle leaving its own microscopic mark on the cave's structure and appearance.  It is this rainwater that delivers minerals into the cave, and from which the cave derives its reddish-brown colouring, the result of Iron Oxide deposits.

The deepest part of the Kents Cavern system

Stalagmites in the cave

How wide-eyed must the first modern explorers to this cave have been, upon seeing the wondrous interior. Father John MacEnery's team, who conducted the cave's first excavations between 1824 and 1829, would of course have worked by candlelight, scarcely noticing the interior in all its glory.  What they did discover, however, were flint tools, found in the same contexts as the bones of extinct prehistoric animals, and a prehistoric human upper jawbone, recently dated to be over 40,000 years old, the earliest anatomically modern human fossil discovered in Northwest Europe.  MacEnery's work was unpopular and controversial in its day - he left the cave in 1830, and never published his findings.  It would be another 16 years before the caves would be explored again, when William Pengelly brought his own systematic excavation to the cave system.  Over many years, Pengelly undertook a full exploration of the cave, plotting the position of every bone, flint and artefact he discovered - a method of archaeological excavation that put him decades ahead of his time.  From his tireless efforts, our knowledge and understanding of our common origins, and the international importance of Kents Cavern, were established.  Pengelly is recorded as a true hero, both to archaeologists and Devonians (although he, of course, was Cornish.)

McEnery

Pengelly

It almost seems like a cruel trick of nature that what lies within Kents Cavern would not be open or accessible to the public, had it not been for the fantastic efforts of Victorian archaeologists, and I wonder how many unknown caves still exist in our landscape, how much is still undiscovered, even on our densely-populated island, with all the technology we now have at our disposal.  We're lucky - really lucky - to have this resource right on our doorstep, and I'm looking forward to repeat visits, whenever the urge takes me to take a trip back in time, to where it all began.