Climb out of Brixham onto the great limestone headland and the land simply falls away beneath you into the sea. The cliffs here are sheer, white and dizzying, and in spring and summer they are thronged with seabirds — thousands upon thousands of them, wheeling and calling on every ledge.
Behind you, spread across the turf, lie the ramparts of an old fort built to stop a French invasion, and away to the west the whole sweep of Tor Bay opens toward Torquay. This is Berry Head, one of the finest headlands on the entire South West Coast Path.
Berry Head is a bold promontory of Devonian limestone — hard, pale stone, riddled with caves and long quarried for building. It shelters Brixham harbour at its northern foot, and it is now a national nature reserve.
Its human story is written in stone across the summit: between 1794 and 1804, during the Napoleonic Wars, substantial forts were raised here to defend Tor Bay and the great fleet anchorage against the threat of French invasion. Those forts survive remarkably well, their walls and gun positions still clear on the grass. There is a gentler story too.
Henry Francis Lyte, the hymn-writer and vicar of nearby Brixham, is said to have found inspiration on this coast for one of the best-loved of all English hymns, Abide with Me. And near the cliff edge stands a curious little lighthouse of 1906, often called Britain's highest and shortest — short precisely because it already stands so high on the cliff that it needs no tower.
Here is what to look for. First, the Napoleonic forts themselves — walk their ramparts, trace the ditches and gun emplacements, and imagine the redcoats watching the horizon for French sails. Second, the seabird cliffs, home to one of the largest colonies in southern England.
Guillemots pack the ledges shoulder to shoulder, with kittiwakes, fulmars and shags nearby; in the nesting season you can even watch the guillemots on live cameras at the visitor centre. Third, the little lighthouse, that quirky short beacon on its lofty perch.
Fourth, look down at the ground in early summer, for the rare limestone grassland flowers here — orchids and the delicate white rock-rose thrive on this lime-rich turf. And fifth, the great view itself, across Tor Bay to Torquay, with seals and even passing dolphins and porpoises sometimes glimpsed in the water far below.
Let me take you back to the seabird cliffs in the nesting season. From spring into midsummer these ledges become one of the busiest places on the coast. Guillemots — trim, upright birds in dark chocolate and white — crowd together in their hundreds, each pair guarding a single egg laid on the bare rock, shaped so it spins in a tight circle rather than rolling off the edge.
The noise is constant, a rolling growl of calls carried up the cliff face, and the air is never still with birds coming and going from the sea. It is a spectacle of sheer abundance, and from the safe viewpoints on the headland you can watch it all unfold below you.
A word of care. These cliffs are high and sheer, especially near the seabird ledges, so keep well back from the edge and stay to the paths and marked viewpoints.
From Berry Head the Coast Path drops back toward Brixham and then works its way around the shore of Tor Bay, bound in time for Babbacombe. Take one last look before you go: the old fort quiet on the turf, the short lighthouse on its high cliff, and below you the white ledges crowded with seabirds and the blue expanse of Tor Bay stretching away to the west.
Walk safe.
