Gara Bridge, Devon

Recent visit to this spot

Recently we took my Dad's Canadian cousin to this spot. John Pine (her father) was born here at New Mills, Loddiswell in 1889. William Henry Pine (my great grandfather) was miller and parish overseer. In our family photos we have an identical photograph and family lore is that they remembered the photograph being taken. After working at New Mills my great grandfather moved to Garden Mills, Kingsbridge.
Today the scene across the River Avon is little altered - although the mill is no longer in operation. The village of Loddiswell is up at the top of the hill.

Memories 1920 - 1951

My name is James Ryder, i was born on the 2nd January 1920 in Factory Road, the youngest of seven children, of William and Lucy. Started school [C of E] at the age of 3 and left at the age of 14., during which time I sang in the Village Choir untill my voice broke. In 1934 I started a 6 year Apprentiship with T Brooks of Totnes as a Builder and cycled daily to where ever I was directed. One period was to Holne Chase for several months (sixteen miles e/w!!). On my twentiith birthday I volunteered for service in the Army and was enlisted in the Royal Engineers on the 16th April 1940 and servied six and a half years in Iceland, North Africa and Italy. In June 1946 I returned to Harbertenford after being discharged. When I came home I lived with my mother in chapel cottages as she had now moved. This lasted until a new council house was built in riverdale where i moved in with my wife and young child. My second two children were born there. T Brooks welcomed me back and i became a site agent until I left for Somerset in 1951. During this period i played football for the village team with my friends Arthur and Fred Holmes, Bonzo Beer, Jack Slocombe, Cyril Manning (landlord of the pub)  and many others i can no longer name but perhaps you can. We were quite sucessful and won the Harvey cup in 1948. There is a picture of this available if anyone would like a copy. The original was in the Malsters Arms but was missing when I last returned having been borrowed for a exhibition!?(if you want it i am the fellow thats in the front row, second on the left) This brings back hundreds of memories for me. I stayed and lived in the village until 1951 when I left for Bridgwater in Somerset on taking up occupation as clerk of the works on a large housing development. I would like to hear from anyone who may have lived in the period when i was there. I am now 87 and have been retired since 1988 having settled in Burnham on Sea, Somerset. Being able to type this on my computer and seeing old pictures of the village is truely amazing as i was not aware my old village had made it on the world wide web!! Im not aware if any of my friends are still around, John Horswell kindly looks after my parents grave. I would love to hear from anyone left or descendents of friends. Im looking forward to returning for a day in the near future. Regards to all, Jim Ryder  email james@20ryder.fsnet.co.uk   

War Years

Born in 1938 in Modbury, I can remember the latter years of World War II.

I remember vividly the nights during the months of the heavy blitz on Plymouth, with the beams from searchlights that were based just outside the town criss-crossing the sky as German bomber formations droned overhead.

The American forces had an army camp in a field across from Modbury School and as a youngster I used to wander through the camp and GIs would give us sweets or chewing gum. The roads were lined with trucks and tanks preparing for the build-up to the Normandy invasion and the villagers used to volunteer for rehearsals by lying in the streets as casualties to be carried off to first aid stations.

In the evenings, some of the GIs would sneak into town and come to our home. My sister Peggy would sometimes play the piano for them and they would bring canvas bags of goodies for me and my sister. At Christmas time the children in the village were scooped into US army trucks and taken off to a camp for a Christmas party. We all had to bring our own mugs!

My mother would occasionally take me to Bigbury-on-Sea and I remember clearly one day the lines of American GIs wading out to landing craft with their rifles held above the heads as they practised embarkation. I remember the soldiers marching out of Modbury in single file on each side of the road towards the coast and the tanks traversing the sharp bend into New Road. One of the tanks hit and damaged the wall of the Red Devon Inn.

I remember seeing open army trucks carrying prisoners of war with a jeep escort front and back covering the prisoners who were blindfolded and had their hands tied behind their backs. Toward the end of the war some prisoners would walk into the town and sell toys they had made.

On VE Day there was a big bonfire on the Green opposite the school with people singing and dancing in front of it.

I think it was once a week when we would have a cinema show in the upstairs function room of the Red Devon Inn. We all sat on wooden benches and waited expectantly as reels were changed for the next part of the film.

I will never forget those early years in Modbury.

Roger Stevens (son of Sydney and Ethel Stevens).

Our Honeymoon

These pictures bring back delightful memories!

We spent a week of our honeymoon in the 16th century mill at Lydia Bridge.  Across the lawn was a view of the brook and early spring flowers.  We stepped outside to the sound of the waterfall across the narrow, winding road.  From the bridge on closer inspection the waterfall was spectacular.  A path along the brook led to the ancient church where we wandered around the cemetery and the historic interior, and then explored the village of South Brent, little changed since these pictures were taken.  No tourist traps here!  At the local pharmacy, we bought Hummel type, Leonardo Collection, figures as souvenirs and gifts for our wedding party; we ate at the tea room, feasted in the pub, and cooked local produce in our quaint, antique studded cottage.  

Up the hill from our cottage, the lane twisted and turned sheltered on both sides by tall hedgerows.  With only enough room for one car, occasional pull-offs beside the road allowed one vehicle to wait while the other passed. Half way up the hill we stopped to take photos of a sudden pastoral vista of cloud speckled sky over hills and fields and lovely homes. Later we pulled through a gate for a walk on the moor dotted with sheep.  Another day we entered a park for a long walk uphill beside another brook to a dam at the base of the moor.  I climbed the hill to discover that the moor went on unbroken as far as I could see.  On still another day we drove to a village on the moor and stopped to watch wild moor ponies.

Cornwall was within easy reach and we motored to Plymouth, the Lost Gardens of Heligan and Mevagissey, a quaint fishing village with palm trees and tropical views!

A wonderful area! We hope to return next year or for our 10th anniversary.