Here's a view of it, in a shot a took from the other side of the river estuary it lies on, on a September day back in 2003:
Really, that's the essence of the place in one picture: big houses and hotels from the water's edge upwards, an azure river (called the Harbour here), and boats everywhere. Here are two maps (click on them to enlarge):
And this is an 'official' tourist map I saw on my way into the town centre from the car park:
It looks good, doesn't it? I've said before that I'm an aficionada of British seaside resorts, of which I've sampled many in the course of my caravan holidays. I'm not always complimentary. For instance, last year I poured scorn on east-coast Mablethorpe and Withernsea, and had best not show my face in those dire places anytime soon. Salcombe is, on its genteel appearance, its setting, its range of quality shops, its eateries and hotels, and its total lack of tat, a universe away from such bleak spots. But that doesn't mean that I took it to my heart. I'll be frank: it put me off, and I'm not terribly keen to revisit it. Salcombe didn't harm me, nor did it make me feel an outsider. It just wasn't my kind of place. Let's have a look at it, and try to discover why.
It was the same day that I saw Burgh Island, just a bit later that afternoon. It was dry and mild, and the sun was trying hard to come out. Facing east, Salcombe was sheltered from the wind that had blown me about on Burgh Island. My walk into town from the car park gave me very nice views - all the way along - across the harbour to lovely beaches backed by beautiful wooded slopes.
On the landward side to my left were large houses of all designs, mostly with extensive grounds. One actually had its own private footbridge across the road, which gave access to a waterside garden and, presumably, a secluded boathouse or mooring. Fancy that. If these houses had a fault, it was that their sites were on steeply sloping ground, so that their driveways might be awkward to use, and lots of steps were a universal feature. But all were commodious, and had a great view. I passed the road-level gate to a house that had been named 'Wigwam', as it it were no more than a flimsy pied-à-terre. Clearly tongue-in-cheek.
Parking one's car was clearly an issue, but there were several garages built into the hillside, typically filled with the cars of the well-off - here a Mercedes and a Range Rover:
An impressive hotel came into view. Its roadside advertising emphasised its position and fine view, and its suitability for grand occasions, such as a wedding:
Close by - maybe part of the hotel complex, I wasn't sure - were luxury villas for sale by a top firm of estate agents.
Dream on...
And so into the town centre. Unfortunately it was the usual predictable mix of upmarket boutiques, the same shops you could see in any of the smarter places in the South West. I do like some of these shops very much - Fat Face and Seasalt for example - but I was hoping to see a host of different shops, not just these.
Salcombe had turned itself into a trendy shopping experience for those with money to waste. Proper, practical shops seemed almost absent. The place wasn't even much stocked with pubs and restaurants. By now I was getting peckish, and looked around for a fish-and-chip parlour. Nary one of them.
I do exaggerate a little. There were at least two smart pubs, both festooned with hanging baskets. Here they are. But they were not the kind for humble fisherfolk.
And there was a butchers on a street corner.
Oddly for a town with a waterfront, there weren't many places where the public could sit down and contemplate the bobbing boats. But the restricted views were still pleasant enough.
So why wasn't I entranced? Why could I think of (say) Padstow in Cornwall with affection, but not this town? Was it just because its shops were clearly aimed at people with at least thrice my own income? A study of the houses for sale in one estate agent's window certainly made me feel that Salcombe must rate itself very highly indeed. Look at these prices. Bargain-basement shacks first - only £1,000,000. Then cabins and shanties of higher allure.
If I had this kind of money to spend, would I want to buy one of these, in a place like Salcombe? To be honest, no. I might well upgrade to a better local bungalow. But I wouldn't like to live in isolated splendour, in extensive grounds, whatever the view. I'd buy world travel instead, every year from now on. In the end, it's experiences that matter, and not luxury accommodation.
So perhaps I see Salcombe, and places like it, as a ghetto for those with too much cash.
Mind you, ordinary folk live in Salcombe, in the arse-end part of town with no views. There's a filling station there, and a convenience store or two. And schools. But still no big foodstores. Where on earth do the Big House People do their serious food shopping? There's no Tesco or Sainsbury's for miles. And no Waitrose - unforgivable. That's the nail in the coffin, so far as I'm concerned.
