A new look at the Coastal Towns of North Devon.

After the Gold Rush.

North Devon.
England.
Photography & text by David Cross.

When the days have shortened just enough and the evening air temps start to bite, so marks the end of the summer season, the holiday visitors have gone, and a relative peace falls on once bustling streets and sea fronts. The cost of an ice cream starts to drop and the queues are smaller each day until eventually, even the traditional cone becomes an impossible sell. Likewise the fish and chip counters, and the gift shops, all eventually become still, only walkers and diehards are still around, and their combined tally of teas, scones and sundries isn’t enough to support the rents and wages. Within a few weeks only the franchises and a few local retail outlets will be open for business. During the deep winter there are a few businesses that open through the key weekends, catering to tourists, and one can usually find an arcade to fritter your money and entertain the children, but not always. For as the great Westerlies begin to howl, so life begins to diminish, it can be a struggle for some and all that's left of summer are the memories of sun sets past.

Photo at top:
Lifeguard on the final day of the Season. Westward Ho!

Photo above left:
Stragglers buy ice-cream. Westward Ho!
Photo above right:
Holiday complex in the Ho! Empty and waiting...

Photo below:
Dogs, cars and people all wear warm coats.

There are of course a few people each year that remain, having decided that the lure of wide open spaces and the rhythm of the seasons is too strong to ignore, but inevitably a transformation happens where by life continues, nestled up next to shuttered shops and cafes. The locals suddenly become recognisable beings, they walk their dogs, run on the frigid beaches, some even swim in the sea. Tradesmen and women go about their daily hustle, food stuffs and other routine miscellany is delivered to the convenience shops. The odd emergency siren wails in the distance, the wind blows cold, the rain can be persistent and the sun seldom rises much, and there is peace. An overwhelming sense of soul nourishing bliss. Some can’t or won’t feel it. There are groups who can’t wait to leave, normally the young and some who want to leave but are stuck and of course there are many, millions, who cannot wait to return to drink in the golden summer light, maybe splash about in the water and do the things we Brit’s do at the seaside. There are spots here and there where one can spend several hours, totally alone except the roar of the sea and the chilling south westerlies.

Photo above:
Summer memories wash up on the beach during a winter storm.

Photo below:
Autumn spear fisherman. Bucks Mill.

But of course during the off season there is a living to be made, life to be lived and we find that behind the glitzy beach fronts and sometimes blinding sunlight, there is the normal look and incidence of British culture. Poverty, drugs, graffiti and crime. Struggling single mothers, unemployment and low paid jobs, homelessness and desperation all co-exist on the coastal fringes of many parts of the U.K. and along the coast of North Devon. Here there are two towns that have been recognised as being in severe economic hardship, Ilfracombe and Bideford, the former made infamous by British pop-art sensation responsible for Verity. Bideford isn't known for anything as far as I can tell, but it has maintained an art movement and several galleries, which it should be commended for.

Looking at the data from Gov.UK it's clear that everyone is out of ideas as to how to rebuild these diminishing towns. Pouring in more money doesn't work, it puts a shine on things for visitors, but that all it does. For those living in the areas the same problems remain. Economic hardship and lack of opportunity isn't alleviated by more house building and now a highly recognisable competition has arisen in the form of the migrant.
As the full force of mediocre Britain spreads outward from London, with it's globalist brands and chains, it seems that even here, hidden in corners of darkest Devon, the face of England, its culture and tradition, will be lost.

Photo below:
Late September business call in the open air pool. Westward Ho!

I am of course aware of the vast record made by local photographer, James Ravilious, all or much of, can be seen at Beaford Arts, Devon and it's well worth looking at. James though, had a different Devon to look at and experience. His colloquial scenes have all but vanished today and in their place is a smeared surface tarnished by a sort of glitz and desperation - there is a sense of being fleeced from the very first car park. It's hard to know who is and who isn't a "local". What is and isn't "traditional".
A city-slicker feel has been present for years and it rubs up abrasively with that which feels and looks like the Devon I discovered in the mid 1980's. Then there was still a glimpse of the characters that frequent the images made by Ravilious. Now of course, this is considered nothing more than sentimentality. 

What I am experiencing is the transformation of a place; from romantic notions and memories of a soul nourishing land devoid of major cash making infrastructures to major tourism hot spot - today worn out and tired of its own weight. As new build housing spreads outward from the Counties capital, Barnstaple, along the flanks of the A39 South and A361 East, the impact of change is inevitable. How the region deals with this, or more importantly, how the local residents allow the Council to deal with it, will be crucial for the continued identity of the local people and the land itself. 

Photo above:
Politics made in London have effects further West. Here the feeling of some residents on the Devon/Cornish border, are made known.

Photo below:
Arcade in Westward Ho! which is permanently protected from the Atlantic Ocean.

Photo below:
Mariners Church. Coombe Martin.

Photo below:
The first and last, to open fast food shop in the Ho! This gent' always greets with a smile and a hat.

Published here is a snippet of what I have seen on the North Devon Coast during the short days of winter, before the light and buzz returns to add another layer of patina. The work, including text body is still in progress...

Thanks for reading.