You're on the quay at Appledore, where two rivers become one. Behind you, narrow cobbled lanes of brightly painted cottages tumble down toward the water, and in front of you the wide estuary opens out, masts and moorings and the far shore beyond. This is one of North Devon's oldest and most characterful seafaring villages, and it has been building ships for the sea for centuries.
Let's get our bearings. Appledore stands right at the meeting of the Taw and the Torridge, on a sandy spit where the two rivers join and run out over shifting sandbanks into Bideford Bay. That sheltered position made it a natural harbour, and the village grew up as a maritime place from the medieval period onward.
Its people built ships for the navy of Elizabeth the First, and later grew prosperous on the great Newfoundland cod fishery and on coastal trade, their vessels crossing the Atlantic and working the length of the British coast. Shipbuilding never really stopped here.
It carries on to this day at the covered shipyard, opened in 1970, one of the few places left in Britain where large vessels are still built under cover, sheltered from the weather so that work goes on whatever the sky is doing. And through all of it, Appledore has kept a fiercely independent, salt-in-the-blood character all its own.
As you wander, look for a few things. First, the cottages and the lanes. Follow the painted terraces down the hill and slip into the back alleys the locals call drangs, the narrow passages threading between the houses, each turn opening a new glimpse of colour and water.
Second, the quay itself, at the very meeting of the rivers, where fishing boats and pleasure craft ride the tide and the whole life of the village faces the sea. Third, look upriver and downstream for the great cranes of the shipyard, an industrial counterpoint to the pretty cottages, and a reminder that this is a working place, not a museum piece.
Fourth, if it's open, step into the North Devon Maritime Museum, which tells the long story of shipbuilding, fishing and seafaring along these estuaries. And fifth, look across the water to Instow on the far bank, and beyond it the low golden line of Braunton Burrows, the great dunes rolling away to the sea, so that from this one quay your eye takes in rivers, sandbanks, village and wild coast all at once.
Now, watch the estuary itself for a while, because it is alive. Where the Taw and Torridge spread out over their sandbanks, the mudflats and shallows are a feasting-ground for birds, and if you come at the right state of the tide you'll see them in their hundreds.
Listen for the curlew's rising, bubbling call carrying across the water, watch the oystercatchers probing the mud in their smart black and white, and look for the handsome shelduck dabbling in the shallows. Out toward the open bay, a seal may lift its round head from the water and watch you back.
For centuries the men of Appledore read this estuary like a book, its tides and channels and moods, because their lives and their ships depended on it, and it still keeps its own quiet daily rhythm of birds and water and returning boats.
From the quay the Coast Path follows the estuary shore on toward Westward Ho! and the open coast beyond. If the little ferry across to Instow is running, it can save you a long walk round the water, and it's a fine way to cross. Take care on the foreshore, where the tide moves fast over these flats. Wander the drangs one more time, breathe in the boatyard and the salt, and walk on. Walk safe.
