Dartmouth part two: Engines, gardens and little forts.

We didn't really spend much time in Dartmouth after lunch, but the place still had a few highlights to throw our way.

A stroll back along Lower Street led us back to the centre of the town which I have to say is a little unusual. Most English villages and small towns of any age at all have some kind of open space at the centre, whether it's the ubiquitous market place or the village green so beloved of poets and The Daily Mail. Dartmouth has "The Boat Float", a wonderfully sheltered mooring, separated from the harbour side by an embankment (indeed, it's on the other side of the road from the river proper, and connected to the Dart by a bridge/tunnel) where all manner of small craft were moored. This little pool was surrounded on two sides by a cluster of shops, on the other by a little park and of course on the other by the Dart itself. Somehow it seemed appropriate that town so identified with seafaring* should have water at its heart.

We made our way past the float to the small but well appointed tourist information centre, where we found what has to be the most unexpected hidden gem. Not only does the little brick built office on Mayor's Avenue supply the usual array of guide books and leaflets about surrounding attractions, it also houses a beautiful  example of a Newcomen Pumping Engine.

I did a project on Thomas Newcomen when I was in middle school, but if I'd ever known that he was from Dartmouth I'd forgotten the fact. If you're unfamiliar with the name, Newcomen was a pioneer of steam power. Born in 1663 this non-conformist preacher and iron monger was one of the fathers of the industrial revolution. In partnership with fellow Baptist Jon Calley he developed the pumping engine which was to make deep mining possible by preventing flooding. The first Newcomen Pumping Engine was established near Dudley Castle in the South Staffordshire Coalfield in 1712 - by the time of the great man's death in 1729 there were more than a hundred of his machines toiling away across Europe.

The example on display in the tourist information centre was built some time around 1725, and it really is magnificent. It had a long working life, being first erected at Griff Colliery near Nuneaton in Warwickshire, before being used by the Coventry Canal Company from 1821 (when some of the valve gear was replaced). It was donated to the Newcomen Society in 1963 by the British Transport Authority.

These days it stands proudly in a purpose built room, which is a polite way of saying it's in a room just about big enough to contain it - which is why the pictures I took are so poor, you just can't get far enough away from it to get the whole magnificent construction in the frame. There are no interactive video screens or computerised visualisations, just some explanatory display boards and a great big chunk of glorious two hundred and eighty three year old British engineering.

I confess that I love this stuff and I considered it a privilege to be able to stand in the same space as such a venerable industrial beast. Those of a slightly less geeky turn of mind might be less impressed than me by this iron and wood behemoth, but it's important to state here that anybody who was unimpressed would be wrong. It's a beautiful example of the machines that started this country's ascent to the top of the industrial tree, and while we might not now reside at such dizzy heights in terms of international industry, we'd be a damn sight further down the pecking order were it not for the head start that the likes of Newcomen gave us.

It seems to me fitting that this magnificent behemoth now resides in the great man's home town, but I can't help thinking it deserves a bit more of a fuss making of it. I mean, given the importance of Newcomen's engine to British industrial history, surely it merits a proper museum rather than being shoehorned into a tiny little room on the side of the Tourist Information Centre? Still, it was a hugely interesting and totally unexpected hidden gem.

We chatted with the very nice tourist information lady, who told us that the walk to Dartmouth Castle, which as we'd seen from the boat trip was situated at the mouth of the Dart, would take us about twenty minutes. We silently agreed that we couldn't really be arsed to walk that far - maybe next time. We're not totally lazy though, and on leaving the information centre we headed out through the rather delightful little park like area between the Tourist Information Centre and the Boat Float.

Royal Avenue Gardens, as they are known, really are fabulous. They don't cover a large area, but rather a lot has been packed in. They sport a recently refurbished bandstand, which on the day we visited was occupied by a couple of old blokes playing rather passable jazz, and a memorial fountain, first erected in 1887 to commemorate the Golden Jubilee of Her Royal Highness Queen Victoria, and restored this year to mark the Diamond Jubilee of our own dear Queen. The gardens are also home to a commemorative plaque in honour of Corporal Theodore Vale V.C. who earned the Victoria Cross by rescuing his Lieutenant during the battle of the Somme. It's a rather pleasant little spot, and we could happily have whiled away an afternoon sitting on a bench in the sunshine listening to the jazz.

But, as I said, we're not completely lazy, so we took off again, walking along the riverside in the vague direction of the Castle on the off-chance that we weren't as lazy as we thought we were and made it to the castle after all.

We didn't.

We did, however, get as far as the rather striking Bayard's Cove Fort. This is a surprisingly small Tudor "fort", although to be honest it's more of a gun emplacement, built at some point before 1534 as a final line of defence for the Dartmouth Port. If you think about it this really does underline how important the moorings at Dartmouth were in the sixteenth century. Any hostile vessel that came into the range of Bayard's Cove's cannon would already have had to get past the defences of Dartmouth Castle, and Kingswear. Indeed, I'm not sure how much of the opposite bank Kingswear occupied back then, but these days even a tiny cannon would easily take out vast chunks of housing. Those Tudors really weren't messing about.

It's an odd little fort really, the arches which would once have housed cannon are still there and frame the view of the boats and picturesque buildings on the opposite bank rather nicely, but it is a very little fort so we didn't linger too long. Leading up put of the fort is a longish and steepish flight of stone steps winding between the waterfront terraces up towards Upper Street. Had we been so inclined we could have followed them and strolled on to Dartmouth Castle.

But we didn't.

What can I say? It was starting to look like rain, and in any case it was starting to feel like a long, if massively entertaining day. As the last of the sunshine gave way to cloud we strolled along the side of the river back to the bus stop and headed off back to the car. Perfect timing as it turned out - as we drove out of the park and ride the rain begin to fall gently onto the windscreen.

Dartmouth was excellent, and we'll certainly be back.

*In spite of the fact that it isn't actually on the sea, as such...