Devon and Cornwall Coast

England's stunning South West coast.

-# In Brixham I was born

-Bring 'em down!

# But Exmouth is me home from home... #

Boatmen know this shore better than most, and we're here to join them.

# We're never a day behind the tide

# Around Cape Horn we'll go... #

Bring 'em down!

We're embarking on a voyage of discovery in boats -

both big and small!

I'm not the only one of the Coast crew who's taken to the water.

Alice makes a splash as she encounters the power of the waves.

There we go!

Full steam ahead for Dick, with an engineering revolution

that rolled out of Cornwall around the world.

And I hit the high seas - head on!

Bring 'em down!

-# This is now your home, my boy

-Bring 'em down! #

This is Coast.

Our journey takes us along Devon's coast and into Cornwall,

out to the Isles of Scilly,

then back to the mainland to drop anchor near Bideford.

But we begin at Brixham.

This small harbour has a big story to tell.

It's the birthplace of this beautiful class of sailing craft,

the famous Brixham Trawler.

I'm on board one of the last that's left afloat.

But this quayside - and many others around Britain -

used to bustle with Brixham Trawlers.

How did this port come to pioneer a trawling revolution that spread around our shores?

The old fish market is quiet today,

but 100 years ago, this place was swimming in fish.

I'm meeting up with veteran Brixham fisherman, Bill Wakeham.

What would the atmosphere have been like where we're standing?

It would be like a main street of London,

people would be going back and forth all day,

coming down picking up fish, there'd be boats taking stores on board to go away,

there'd be filleters, packers, people with horse and carts,

small lorries coming in and out all the time.

-What are these fish on the ground?

-That'd be skate.

So these were trawled and brought into the market to be sold?

Yeah. But then in the 1860s,

they brought the railway into Brixham, and all of a sudden...

Manchester, Birmingham, London was open then overnight.

-The railway changed everything?

-Everything.

The boats doubled in number in a matter of ten years.

Harbour towns like Brixham began to boom when the railways arrived.

Before then, there was little point catching more fish than the locals could eat.

But rapid transport by train meant fish could now be sold fresh in the big cities.

Brixham seized the initiative, taking the ancient art of trawling to a new level.

Large, fast sailing craft capable of dragging big, heavy nets were commissioned.

Their purpose?

To catch more fish than ever before.

Only when you get close you realise how big these sailing trawlers are.

Yeah, some size, aren't they? Everything's solidly built with it.

The Keewaydin is one of the few Brixham Trawlers still sailing.

100 years ago, they went out in waters teeming with fish.

Trawlers like this one landing up to a ton a day.

But could they manage that now?

We're on a mission to see what impact these boats have had on the seas they once sailed.

'Beam trawlers like this used a massive net,

'held open by a wooden beam, cast over the side of the boat.'

-All right?

-Yeah.

100 years on, the concept's still the same.

This 1988 footage shows how trawl nets scour the seabed

for bottom-feeding fish, like cod and plaice.

It's a simple - and brutally effective - form of fishing.

The technique was pioneered by boats like this,

with big sails to drag the heavy nets.

Brixham Trawlers were adopted all along our coast,

'opening up the seas of Britain to trawling like never before.'

A century on, we are counting the cost.

Ruth Thurstan, from the University of York,

has analysed records of UK catches going back to 1889.

So we can see the effect of the trawling revolution started by these boats.

Throughout the late 19th century, fish landings were increasing -

this was because vessels were getting bigger and more seaworthy

and could go further out to sea to fish.

And then, once you get to really the 1970s, you get this big drop.

It just goes over the edge of a cliff, doesn't it?

Yes. You can see from that point, it keeps dropping.

However, fishing vessels have been getting more sophisticated,

and their ability to catch fish has been increasing and increasing over this entire period of time.

-So you'd think landings would continue to go up and up.

-Yeah, exactly. Yeah.

And of course, they haven't, because the stocks couldn't take that pressure.

The impact of beam trawling on fish like cod and plaice has been immense.

The research indicates that nine out of ten

of these bottom-feeding fish have been scooped from our seas.

So if stocks are down to just a tenth of what they were,

our chance of a bumper catch looks slim.

They're pinned down, are they? Pinned down.

'And there's another setback to contend with.'

We put the beam over the side with a net, but it's snagged on a rock.

So the ship is stuck fast.

So they're now using a diesel winch to try and drag the net up.

One of the hazards of trying to trawl using a sailing boat.

After striking a rock, our wooden beam has snapped in two.

Well, we tried...

but failed.

So the beam trawl is busted.

And there won't even be a minnow stuck in that net.

Fishing has always been tough,

but with dwindling fish stocks, today's fishermen have to work even harder.

Research into the history of catches reached a staggering conclusion.

Fishing vessels today are having to work 17 times as hard

in order to catch the same amount of fish that they were catching in 1889.

-17 times harder to get the same number of fish?

-Yes.

We're chasing some of the last fish in the sea.

Decent catches are only possible because of the technology in today's trawlers.

Fishermen work more effectively than their grandfathers,

but some fish stocks are much lower.

Nine out of ten cod, plaice and haddock have been taken in just over a century.

The Brixham Trawlers began a boom that fed the appetite of Britain.

Now these boats have gone...

and so has their catch.

We're leaving Devon behind as we cross the Tamar Estuary, the gateway to Cornwall.

It's not hard to see why more than five million tourists flock here every year.

Some are lucky enough to own a stretch of this coastline,

but a fortunate few get an entire island to themselves.

What's it like living the dream on tiny St George's Island?

The only full-time residents are Gus and Sheila Ravine.

The first time I saw the island,

my tummy just did a flip, and that was it.

There we are.

We've actually lived here permanently now for 13 years.

Through the winter time, we get our shopping and our post every two or three weeks,

depending on the weather.

Through the summertime, we still have groceries every two or three weeks,

but we perhaps get the post every week.

Main difficulty is, of course, getting ashore when you need to get ashore.

The weather is invariably bad.

We've had some really nasty storms, but they're quite interesting to watch.

But at the back of minds, we know we've to leave, don't we?

One day...

When we can't climb on and off boat, we'll have to go.

It's just so special, just so special.

Like many historic ports along the Cornish coastline,

the harbour at Charlestown was once packed with cargo ships.

150 years ago, the town was a hub for the booming china clay industry.

Now Charlestown has re-invented itself for the heritage industry.

It's the home port for a fleet of square riggers that often star on our TV screens.

'The ships and harbour have had cameos in many films and TV series.'

One of the best-known being a starring role in the classic series, The Onedin Line.

The biggest star of all along this coastline, though,

is the coast itself.

The mouth of the River Fal offers a deep, natural harbour -

a safe haven for shipping and a prime target for invasion.

Guarding the eastern side of the Fal estuary is the Tudor castle of St Mawes.

Its original role as a military fort is long over.

Now, as well as a tourist attraction,

it's also a popular venue for weddings.

But ironically, St Mawes Castle was built because of a famous divorce.

Back in 1533, Henry VIII divorced his first wife, Catherine of Aragon.

This act enraged the Pope and all countries faithful to Rome.

Fearing an invasion, Henry thought the coast needed new fortifications,

but where was best to build them?

In 1538, maps were few and far between,

so Henry VIII commissioned his own,

creating the first detailed map of England's south coast.

Henry's divorce had become a contributor to the birth of modern cartography.

This is a full-size replica.

So here's Exeter...

and here's the coastline all the way down here to Land's End here.

Now, this is not a geographically accurate map.

In fact, it's not really a map at all.

It's a view - an oblique view - of the coastline,

intent to draw the viewer's eye to two geographical features...

cliffs, which were natural defences and impregnable,

and beaches, which were exposed to invasion.

Using these views of the coast, Henry and his military advisors

picked prime locations to build a new chain of defences.

They built not only St Mawes,

but also Pendennis on the opposing headland,

as well as constructing 26 other forts from Cornwall to Kent.

Over four centuries, many of these fortifications

were carefully maintained as the first line of defence against invasion.

A testament to the strategic vision of Henry VIII,

brought about by his infamous divorce.

We're continuing our journey south.

When it comes to the British mainland, as far south as you can go, Lizard Point.

This peninsula is often pounded by big Atlantic seas,

but what drives those waves to our shore?

Arriving on the golden sands of Porthcurno,

on a mission to discover how waves are born, is Alice.

'As an island nation, we're surrounded by the restless shifting of the sea.

'Stroll along a beach, and it looks like the entire ocean is advancing towards you.

'But it's not the water that's moving -

'it's something moving through the water.'

So these waves certainly look as if they're moving towards the shore,

but the water isn't - it's moving in a very particular way.

If you imagine yourself swimming in the sea,

facing the shore, and a wave coming up behind you,

you get dragged backwards towards it, lifted up in the air

and then come back down forwards again.

So you're travelling in a circular motion.

And that's what all of the water is doing as the waves pass through it.

So the water itself isn't travelling towards the shore -

what's moving towards us is energy.

So where does that wave energy come from?

I'm meeting up with Gavin Pretor-Pinney,

a wave-watcher extraordinaire, who's made a study of the sea.

Gavin, where do waves come from, where does this energy come from?

Well, waves like this, the energy comes from winds out at sea,

maybe storms out at sea, which have long since dissipated.

They gave this energy to the water's surface,

and then the wind dies down, and the waves roll on

and eventually they crash ashore like here.

'It's remarkable to think that all these waves are made by winds way out at sea.'

So how far can waves travel?

They have been measured travelling 7,000 miles

from storms off Antarctica, right up through the Pacific to Alaska.

So it doesn't need the wind... once the waves have been formed,

-they don't need the wind to keep them going?

-No.

The energy's been given to the water and it just keeps rolling.

So it's the wind that whips up the seas.

That energy then travels in waves huge distances to our shores.

We're going to try to make waves by creating our own perfect storm

on a much, much smaller scale.

This swimming pool is our Atlantic Ocean,

and we've bought in some big fans to make a miniature storm.

Here to help me whip up the calm waters of our small-scale sea

is Dr Simon Boxhall of the National Oceanography Centre.

-So these fans are going to give us 100mph winds at this end of the pool.

-Right.

They'll create a confused sea, with waves going in different directions.

And what we should see is, as we move down the pool,

the longer waves move faster than the shorter waves, so the waves spread out.

We're taking a scale model of the Atlantic and putting into this pool in the middle of Cornwall.

Time to power up our perfect storm.

There's a bit of a delay, but it's started to...

ripple across the surface now.

The wind area is just in front of us,

probably the first two or three metres, but as you move away,

you can start to see a more sort of directional, more ordered wave train

going down the pool, which is extending further and further.

Even on this tiny scale, you can see how seemingly chaotic waves,

created in a storm far out at sea,

sort themselves out into the rhythmic, regular waves that hit our coastline.

As we get to sort of the beach that's square onto the waves,

you can see how the waves are crashing straight into the beach.

This is a sort of a perfect surf beach.

Yeah, if I was a miniature little surfer, I would be very happy with those waves.

OK, our waves may look a little puny, but this pool is supposed to represent the size of the Atlantic,

and on that scale, our piddly little waves would actually be as big as houses.

So we've seen how the rhythmic waves that cascade onto our coast

are created from that chaos whipped up by winds far out at sea.

But what happens when a wave that's travelled 1,000 miles finally hits the shore?

So, Gavin, this is it, the end of the wave as it hits the beach.

What's going on is that the wave is slowed down as it enters shallower water,

and the bottom of the wave becomes slower than the top of the wave,

and the top therefore tumbles over.

And that's what produces this white water.

When the wave tumbles over and its energy is released into the environment,

some of it goes into the sand that we can hear.

So water waves into sound waves?

Into sound waves but other waves as well.

When you have strong surf, you feel the vibrations through the ground,

so the energy arrives here, the wave breaks,

it's released and then it carries on in other forms.

So the wave never really dies.

Never dies.

I've discovered how waves get their energy.

Later on, I'll try to capture that raw power with a snapshot.

On our journey around the South West,

I'm heading out to the edge of the Atlantic -

the Isles of Scilly.

It takes around two and a half hours to reach the islands aboard the Scillonian ferry.

The Atlantic swell and rolling waves make this one of Britain's great voyages.

Believe it or not...

this is a fairly mild day!

This passage of water is notorious for its heaving seas,

a reputation which has given this little ship the nickname...

The Great White Stomach Pump.

And I'm beginning to know why.

The ferry fights with fierce tidal currents off Land's End.

'And we passengers have to roll with the Atlantic's punches.

'At the ship's helm is Captain Dave Redgrave.'

Oh, my goodness, look at that!

This is...

This is a calm day, isn't it? It feels like the perfect storm already.

No, this is a normal day.

On a scale of one to ten, this would be a five.

How bad can it get out here, when it's really blowing?

As we go down on a wave, the next wave would be the same height as us.

-As the wheelhouse?

-Yeah.

-Does that not bother you?

-A little bit, yes.

-And do you suffer from sea sickness, Dave?

-I have been, yes.

When I first went to sea, I had bouts that lasted...

-sometimes five days.

-You're kidding!

-Any tips?

-Focus on something else, anything!

This vital link between the Isles of Scilly

keeps going through all weather and it's an unforgettable journey.

The Scillies are an archipelago with over 100 islands of all shapes and sizes.

Getting around means hopping off one boat and straight onto another.

'Only five of the isles in the Scillies are inhabited.'

The most northerly is St Martin's.

It may be a small community with a slow pace of life,

but you can still get fast food.

Here on St Martin's is one of the most remote fish and chip shops in the UK,

but that's not the only reason it's unusual.

Unlike other chippies, this one doesn't rely on a delivery van for its ingredients.

Islanders have to be resourceful.

To get the catch of the day,

I'm meeting up with the restaurant's fisherman, cook and owner, Adam Morton.

What made you open a fish and chip shop on a tiny island in the Atlantic?

I needed an outlet to sell my fish.

There was nothing of that nature on the island,

so I gave it a try and haven't looked back since.

When Adam goes out, he only takes enough fish for a night's serving.

He uses a line to catch pollock.

-There's definitely one on there.

-You got one?

-Yeah.

-Got a fish!

-These...

-That's a good-size fish.

-..will go in the restaurant.

-That is beautiful.

I think we might just have another one - can you feel that?

Yeah.

OK, that will do us for today. That's all I need for tonight in the restaurant.

'A fish supper wouldn't be complete without chips.

'Adam's brother James looks after the spuds.'

Quite a family team - one brother catching the fresh fish and the other one...

growing the organic potatoes.

Yeah, well, over here, you know,

there's only a 100 people on the island in total,

so you do tend to end up working with family most of the time.

Within half an hour, the spuds are sizzling,

along with the pollock plucked this afternoon from the sea.

A small-scale, sustainable operation.

Fiona, thank you very much indeed. That looks fantastic, thank you.

This is the freshest plate of fish and chips I've ever been served - it's barely two hours old.

The pollock...

A bit sad, given it was such a beautiful fish, but look at that.

Just around the corner from Land's End

is one of Cornwall's most popular spots - Sennen Cove.

During the summer, thousands of visitors pack onto the beach

and spill out into the water.

The lifeguards are never far away.

The RNLI watch over those who venture out to sea -

whoever they may be.

When it comes to swimming,

Newfoundlands like Bilbo are in a class of their own.

Elsewhere in the world, with the right training, they've been known to save lives at sea.

But Bilbo's in it just for the fun.

What makes these shaggy dogs such strong swimmers?

Bilbo's owner is Steve Jamieson.

Coming from Newfoundland, the water around...

Newfoundland is really cold,

with the Labrador current and what have you.

So these dogs are adapted for that. They have a double coat.

The top coat is a really efficient waterproof coat - the small hairs underneath never get wet.

-He's got his own wetsuit on, in effect.

-How much does Bilbo weigh?

He's almost 12 stone. He's pure muscle, a very strong boy in the water.

If you can see here, he's got very ticklish feet,

-but if you spread his feet out, he's got webs that goes right down to his toes.

-He's a natural-born swimmer.

When he spreads his feet, he's got massive paddles to push him through the sea.

-You're a duck.

-He's got extra-large lungs for long-distance swimming as well,

so he's really adapted for water work.

And, of course, he uses his big tail as a rudder to steer him through the water.

You intelligent dog.

It's fantastic to see him going into the sea,

because he just loves it so much.

Bilbo doesn't work as a lifeguard at Sennen Cove,

but he does have a roll promoting beach safety to local children.

The northern coastline of Cornwall sits on the edge of a mighty sea.

The Atlantic Ocean battering Fistral Beach

produces some of the best surf in Europe.

It's the perfect place to marvel at the power of the waves,

a mystery that's become a mission for Alice.

Earlier, I discovered how the waves that perpetually pound our coast

are formed miles out to sea by storms.

Ocean winds drive the rolling surf.

The artist in me yearns to capture the power of those seas in a split-second image.

'Capturing that perfect wave isn't easy,

'but professional photographer Lucia Griggi

'travels the world to do just that.'

It's obviously a very specialist type of photography.

What really excites you about it?

I love turning up to a destination where

I don't know about the culture, I don't know what waves to expect,

I don't know what the surf conditions will be like,

and you just have to go out there and deal with it,

and the excitement and anticipation of having to put all that together...

just excites me.

Being out there in the water with the best surfers in the world

is never the same, and that's what I love about it.

Every time is different, no wave is the same. Ever.

Is there a chance of a decent photograph in this sea?

Yeah, the conditions are medium today. The wind's onshore,

so it's a little bit choppy and messy,

but we can still do a lot in this, and it makes it even more fun, really.

The surf's up, and soon I'll be out there trying to take a picture.

'Lucia uses a digital SLR camera, cocooned in a waterproof case.

'Now it's time for my crash course in underwater photography.'

In order to get a good picture of the wave, will I have to be level with it?

Yeah, you need to be level with the surf or the wave, whatever you're shooting.

Right now, there's a wave coming, and you're going to get down,

hold onto the right-hand trigger point

and shoot as it starts curling towards you.

-OK.

-And keep them down low,

and there you go, perfect. Like now!

'Are we having fun yet?

'Believe me, it's harder than it looks.

'The waves hit you with incredible force.

'In fact, a metre-high monster is roughly equivalent

'to a ton of weight walloping you.

'It's a real challenge to hold onto the camera as the waves hit me

'and try to take some decent snaps at the same time.'

Wow! That's brilliant.

And I love the super-wide angle of the fish-eye.

It's a great lens to shoot with when you want to get the landscape in.

Just water over the lens.

-These are the ones I like, cos you can see underwater.

-Yeah.

And you can see above as well, so half and half, I love that kind of effect.

It's quite amazing to capture something as dynamic,

as moving, as a wave and just capture an image of it.

My pictures put me back in that moment, at one with the wave.

Worth getting wet for.

Along the north coast of Cornwall,

the pounding waves meet their match where the cliffs stand proud.

The debris of the war between land and sea litters the shore,

with some spectacular results, like the Bedruthan Steps.

Legend has it that a giant used these rock stacks as enormous stepping stones to cross the bay.

But people have been making giant strides to and from this coast for centuries.

Quaint harbours now were once thronging with a rich trade in travellers,

like here, at Padstow.

Engineer Dick Strawbridge is exploring some curious comings and going.

Today, Padstow harbour is full of tourists from all over the world,

but 150 years ago,

this quayside would have been full of people

who were leaving Cornwall for a new life abroad.

They were miners, emigrating from these shores in the early 19th century.

They chose to go, because their skills were wanted overseas.

Competitors around the globe envied Cornish mining technology,

so Cornish men were head-hunted to mine new seams in new worlds.

Look at this picture from Australia.

Mine workings from Down Under!

If you note, it's a stone building with an arch door and windows,

and beside it, there's a big chimney, obviously for the boiler.

This is the Cornish original, built 50 years earlier.

From Australia...to North America,

you'll see copies of the Cornish engine houses throughout the world.

The buildings all look alike,

because they were made to accommodate similar steam engines,

used to pump water from the mines.

'Anthony Power, from the Botallack mine,

'is going to show me how a steam engine fitted snugly inside its engine house.'

Look at this - they're solid old buildings, aren't they?

Fantastic, aren't they? You can see why they've lasted such a long time!

It's amazing. What's the layout in here?

Well, we've got cylinder here - you can see these four bolts -

you've got a massive great cylinder here.

Steam pumped into that, activating piston inside,

piston rod going up and down.

And then attached to this end of it, is the beam.

The beam pivots on the wall in front of us, massive wall in front of us.

Half the beam is on the outside of the wall, so the thing is rocking on that wall.

-That's why the walls are so chunky!

-Absolutely.

-They're solid.

-Yeah.

These dramatic Cornish landmarks

are the tombstones of giant pumping engines

that proudly epitomised the age of steam.

But the engines had to be big,

because, surprisingly, early steam power wasn't very powerful at all.

Most of the work was done using the pressure of the atmosphere.

To see how, I've cooked up an experiment.

This is a tin can with some boiling water, which means it's full of steam.

When I put the lid on it and quench it,

what'll happen is the air in the atmosphere is going to squish it,

as the steam will have condensed inside.

There you can see the power of the atmosphere,

but the problem they had was harnessing it.

When I cooled the can, the steam trapped inside started to shrink.

It condensed into water, creating a vacuum.

Air pressure then crushed the can.

The trick was to make that destructive power do constructive work.

The early engines used a cylinder, a super-sized version of my can.

But inside, they put a piston that was connected to the beam.

Steam came in at the bottom, pushing the piston up.

Then a jet of water cooled the steam down,

so the steam condensed, creating a vacuum.

The air pressure pushed on the top of the piston, forcing it back down.

As the steam comes in again, the cycle repeats,

rocking the beam back and forward to pump water from the mine.

The designs did improve,

but the engines were so low-power, because they used low-pressure steam.

But at the start of the 19th century,

a Cornishman unleashed the full power of high-pressure steam.

Maverick engineer Richard Trevithick had a passion to harness "strong steam".

Trevithick invented this, a high-pressure steam engine.

To show off its power, he built his boiler into a remarkable locomotive,

just like this replica.

How fast does this thing go?

It will do 15mph if we open her up.

Here we go!

That's it! Hang on, Dick, we are going to hit the sound barrier soon!

Richard Trevithick's high-pressure steam

created the first passenger-pulling, self-propelled vehicle -

The Puffing Devil.

'Kingsley Rickard helped bring The Devil back to life.'

This is phenomenal!

We're talking 210 years ago,

the old Puffing Devil must have been a sight!

It was absolutely fantastic and a huge step forward. So exciting!

Nobody had seen anything like this, had they?

-This is high-powered steam in action.

-Much more power, cheaper to run, smaller than the old engine.

It was a marvellous thing at the time, it really was.

Sadly, The Puffing Devil wasn't reliable enough to beat horse power,

but it proved that high-pressure steam was the way forward.

The mines of Cornwall kept their big, old-style engines pumping for a while,

but by the mid 1800s, these dinosaurs had begun to shut down.

The power of high-pressure steam,

pioneered in The Puffing Devil,

helped open up deep mines all over the world.

The boom that began in Cornwall eventually caused her mines to close,

as competition took its toll.

Cornwall became a victim of its own success,

exporting its expertise and making mining a global industry.

In the century leading up to the First World War,

it's reckoned that up to 500,000 people left the county of Cornwall.

That was more than half the population at that time.

The emigration of miners from Padstow that began with the promise of rich rewards abroad

ended with families fleeing poverty at home.

People desperate to leave this coast, while pining for its beauty.

In a quiet back alley of Bideford,

the age-old tradition of carving figureheads is being kept alive...

by woodworker John Butler.

'This is a little ship's figurehead that I'm working on.

'I'm very fond of figureheads.

'I just love the power of them

'and I like the idea also of female figureheads being on the front of a ship -

'the idea of the sailors having an image of their favourite barmaid

'attached to the front of their vessel seems rather pleasing to me.'

So using a few separate pieces...

These are the trail boards that are going sit either side to suggest...

motion through the water, really, I suppose.

And then her arms...

One hand on her heart and the other...

..down there like that.

I live right by the river in Riverbank Cottages

and I've walked up and down the River Torridge every day for the last 30 or so years.

When I started carving, I tended to use driftwood.

We get a surprising range of timber washed down the River Torridge.

Alder wood, sycamore, oak.

I love living in Bideford

and I love looking at the characters that are wandering around.

One of my carvings was of a couple that I saw at the bus stop,

and he was very tall, and she was very short.

They were a little bit gormless but very much in love.

I also saw a couple of older ladies gossiping in the Pannier Market,

and they were just a gift to the woodcarver's art.

Trying to capture the whole range of human emotion, really,

as best one can with a chisel.

Bideford's link to the sea is the River Torridge,

which opens into a peaceful estuary...

..with skeletal remains concealed in the mud.

This is like an elephant's graveyard for ships.

It's where old boats come to die.

It might look like the maritime heritage here is dying,

but these wrecks litter the lair of a much bigger beast.

That'll be the shipyard, then.

This sleepy corner of Devon

is the unlikely home of a ship-building industry dating back over 500 years.

The Appledore Shipyard has built more than 350 vessels -

among them, the Scillonian ferry

that took me to the Isles of Scilly earlier.

They've also worked on some of the Navy's biggest ships.

Gerald Lee was here when this building was opened 40 years ago.

We've built tankers, gas carriers, platform support vessels,

ferries, tugs. You name it, we've had a go at it.

What are you particularly proud of?

HMS Scott has got to be up amongst it, for the Royal Navy.

When you think that she was 128 metres long, and the dock is only...

124, it takes some working out.

Did you build her without a front? How did she fit?

We fitted her in diagonally, and the bowsprit came right out over the dock head,

so it was an achievement, yes.

My journey around the south west coast has taken me onto the water in boats of all shapes and sizes.

Oh, my goodness, look at that!

Here, the call of the open sea is very much alive.

In the ebb and flow of history, industries come and go,

empires come and go.

But there are some traditions, some ways of life -

boat-building, fishing, sailing -

that are so much a part of what it means to be an islander that they'll never disappear.

And here in the West Country, they seem to be thriving.

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