I HAVE read about charming places like Lynmouth in novels.
The quintessential Devonshire village, tucked into a plunging gorge at the edge of the ocean, is breathtakingly beautiful.
And I am lucky enough to have the best view of it.
From the porthole window of my living room, I can see pastel-toned buildings protruding from the cliffs, painted in a honey glow from the afternoon sun.
It’s everything you would imagine a southwest village bordering a national park to be.
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We’d arrived early, so ahead of check in, we took a stroll on the pebble shore where families were perched on large rocks tucking into paper-wrapped fish and chips.
“What a brilliant spot that is,” my mum had said, pointing up to Tors Park, which juts out from a high hill in an enviable position.
We hadn’t realised this would be our home for the next few days.
The seafront retreat boasts luxury apartments of varying shapes and sizes, sleeping from two to eight, all with one thing in common — jaw-dropping views.
We were staying in the four-person Ocean Terrace, so named because of its large decking area facing the sea that comes with a dining table and outdoor furniture, shaded by a huge tree.
The marshmallow-like sofa and open kitchen inside had initially inspired us to whip up evening seafood feasts, but the smell of battered cod and moules mariniere from the restaurants below proved too tempting to resist.
We soon discovered that Esplanade Fish Bar is the best spot in town for a chippy tea (a large meal costs around £10pp). The local tide times are etched onto a chalkboard outside.
The nearby Rising Sun serves strong Devonshire ales alongside its coastal pub grub — fresh mussels or pork tenderloin will both set you back £24.
For a lunchtime pasty, head to The Tuck Box, where slabs of sticky fudge are stacked in the windows.
It’s in the Old Town, which is actually just one narrow cobbled street.
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A stroll down here will take you right back to the Victorian era.
Exmoor Sheepskin, which sells rugs, slippers and furry footstools, sits next to The Village Inn which has a roaring log burner in cooler months.
There’s even a Victorian portrait shop where you can pick out your own period outfit and pose for a sepia-tinged photo.
The putting green is just around the corner from here, while the Glen Lyn Gorge sits at the top of the village, not far from the Lyn Model Railway, home to miniature replicas of trains from the early 1900s.
After admiring model locos, you can experience the real thing at The Lynton & Lynmouth Cliff Railway.
It claims to be the highest and steepest water-powered railway in the world, carrying passengers up and up to Lynmouth’s twin town, Lynton.
The journey itself is an experience with a conductor winding a ship wheel at the front of the carriage that judders you up the sheer cliff — we were treated to better views of the ocean with each turn of the wheel (adults £3.50, kids £2.20, and dogs £1 each way).
Once you reach Lynton, take advantage of the excellent coastal walks, such as the Valley of Rocks route.
Those who would rather skip the funicular ride back down can take the Poet’s Walk — so named as the zig-zag path is dotted with plaques featuring handwritten poems about these windswept cliffs.
If you love hiking, the patch of the South West Coast Path that stretches from Ilfracombe to Combe Martin offers stunning vistas of lush green cliffs toppling into a blue sea.
With my dogs Dora and Coco, I wove my way through pathways overgrown with shrubs and up steep cliffs until the families in the bay below looked like little ants.
The Storm In A Teacup cafe couldn’t have been more welcome towards the end of our five-and-a-half-mile trek.
A perfect pitstop in a prime spot on Watermouth Harbour, it has outdoor tables facing the sailing boats in the sea.
The chalkboard lists fresh crab sandwiches for around £9 and “phat pasties” for under a fiver that don’t disappoint.
The sun was shining by the time we arrived back at our apartment.
A great opportunity to kick back on the outdoor sofa and make a dent in my holiday book (coincidentally, set on the South West coast).
Even the poetic cliffs in this novel couldn’t compare to the ones in front of me, though.
