Mrs Nigel and I do not like to rough it. If you pass us on our traversal of King Charles’ Coastal Path, you will not see us labouring under large backpacks, nor will you see us touting tents from place to place, in order that we can “wild” camp on the way. If we had to do that, to paraphrase Not The 9 O’Clock News’ gorilla, Gerald, we would be “livid”. No, instead we employ friendly locals to transport our bags from place to place, and we stay in the finest establishments the budget will stretch to along the way.

Sadly, in some cases, “finest” can mean “only”, or in extreme cases “least worst”, which was very much the case at the Exmouth Beach Hotel on our most recent walking sojourn. It has to be said that much of the eastern end of the South West Coast Path is lacking in the sort of boutiquey, chi-chi places that urban hipsters such as ourselves go for. That stretch has been made both famous and infamous by Raynor Winn’s book and the subsequent film, and it has not noticeably improved the hotels. If the hoteliers west of Dartmouth could read my review of the Reading Rooms in Margate before we embark on the next leg, I would be very grateful.

Men Who Stare At Goats (In Awe)

So, we were looking forward to the Cary Arms, which sounded more pub than hotel, but which had good reviews and seemed to be on a beach. It also had the great benefit of being halfway through the walk, at the point where we had allowed ourselves a day off to stretch, relax, and tend to blisters. And did we need it. What studying the books doesn’t tell you, or at least doesn’t tell you adequately, is that the South West Coast Path is better designed for fit goats than for humans. Over the course of a week it offers the up and down equivalent of five and a half Ben Nevises, and that half was very nearly the final straw. Nor are those gentle inclines, and nor, in many cases, do they provide footing of any significant description. When we started walking many years ago, setting off in trainers and jeans, we used to scoff at the old people in their quick-dry trousers, rugged boots, sturdy poles and Kendal Mint Cake. We are now those old people, and even properly kitted out, these walks can feature mild peril, albeit sometimes only from an overly large piece of confectionery.

It is hard to believe there was a time in the English summer of 2026 when it wasn’t Sahara-like in outlook. This walking trip was in June, back before rain had been uninvented, so staying and walking on the coast was a little risky. The sun was struggling a bit when we arrived at the Cary Arms. By the second day it had decided to poke its head out, not warm enough for a drink watching the sunset, but warm enough in the day to sit outside in a fleecy.

Rainy, With A Chance Of Hardboard

It is hard to describe the Cary Arms in a few words. It looks like it started off as a pub, and then someone started dropping rooms and extensions from the sky onto nearby bits of land. Wherever one came to rest, they put a door on it and gave it a nautical name. That is not to suggest that it is anything other than a lovely place to stay, just that it has a slightly hodgepodge feel to it. I should add that after the Exmouth Beach Hotel I would have been thrilled by a well-appointed shed.

We stayed in “Vice Admiral”, chosen by Mrs Nigel on the strength of the large bath in the picture, which is her favourite methodology for room selection. We got some sort of romantic dinner package, which got us spa access, dinner on one night, champagne and flowers. The flowers were amazing, and it was such a shame that we could not take them: Our luggage was being carried over cliffs by a man in a van, and our own personal carrying capacity ran to a small rucksack and a bar of mint cake. The room as a whole was superb. Well kitted out, with an amazing balcony, the best in the place, where we gingerly ventured out for a glass of fizzy in the mizzle.

The Wardrobe Has No Narnia In It

My only complaint, and it is a small one, is that there was no space anywhere for toiletries, which is a peculiar thing to overlook in a hotel built around a bath that size. The wardrobe, which is in the bathroom, presumably for reasons of space, has an unexpected drop in the bottom of it. I did not climb into the wardrobe to investigate, I hasten to add, partly on grounds of dignity and partly because I have read the book and I know exactly how much walking is involved on the other side: Cue Lions and Witches. It did mean that fishing the iron out was a two-handed operation conducted at an unnatural angle and that is not what you want on the one day of the week you have specifically set aside for not doing that sort of thing.

There Were Bubbles, To Be Fair

The spa is surprisingly large, given that they have had to fit it onto the side of a cliff, and it was very welcome indeed. I do love a steam room, and I even managed to get into the small pool by convincing myself that it was a large jacuzzi. That took rather longer as a piece of internal negotiation than I am prepared to admit, although there were bubbles, to be fair. We spent a very relaxing couple of hours in there. Do book your slot before you arrive, because there are not too many places, and the competition for them on a wet afternoon in Babbacombe is fiercer than you might imagine.

Funicular In The Sun

We ate in the hotel both nights, as Babbacombe, while geographically near, is up a very steep road. In fact it boasts a funicular, so steep is it, and the funicular is well worth it. Being winched up a near-vertical cliff face in a Victorian carriage, on legs that have spent all week going up and down, is one of the small perfect pleasures still available to modern man. What I am rather less sure about is Babbacombe itself, which we did visit, and which I remain unconvinced holds anything worth walking to on the flat, let alone mountaineering to. The funicular, in other words, is comfortably the best thing in Babbacombe, and the reward for riding it is leaving Babbacombe at speed.

The Man Who Never Was (Awake)

Are you the sort of person who can recollect every mouthful of every delicious meal? Well, in that case, you should probably have my job. Sadly, there is very limited room between my ears in which to store the finer details of a couple of meals I ate several months ago. I am not going to sit here and guess at them now, which makes the food portion of this review distinctly sub-par.

Because what the memory has kept is quite instructive. It has kept the very loud table next to us. It has kept the odd seating arrangement, a “love seat” overlooking the sea, presumably an artefact of the romance package. I like to think that I am not unromantic, but I do like to be able to speak to my partner without a near-fatal crick in the neck. It has kept the vague sense of something very slightly amiss somewhere in the meal, one of those small wrongnesses you register at the time and forgive before the plates are cleared. And it has kept the cheese plate. I am looking at that cheese plate again in the photographs, and I simply cannot believe I let it pass without comment. Regular readers will know that I do not do pudding, and that I take cheese with a seriousness bordering on the clinical. Whatever it was I saw in that board back in June, I am clearly still cross about it now.

What the memory has entirely failed to keep is the food. I think maybe the first night was good, but the second less so. But after some thought I have concluded that a meal which mattered would have stayed with me, so the gap where the food should be is itself a sort of verdict, either for better or worse. What did stay is the room, the view, the walk down to it, and the whole feel of the place. Given that the rest of this review is a five out of five, I think the honest reading is that the kitchen was the least interesting thing about the Cary Arms rather than the worst.

The Pinnacle of Porcine Provisions

The hotel staff were on the whole very friendly, although some of the service could fairly be described as “robust”. But nothing to put you off. The ambience was great. There is a nice snug for residents after dinner, and had the weather been amenable you could have had an amazing meal or drink outside. We were at least able to sample the view on day two, and there are very few places I have woken up and been more in awe of.

If you are looking for lunch, right outside the hotel there is a small café/shed which serves extremely good bacon sandwiches. They are up there with those at Pen Ponds in Richmond Park, which for regular readers remains the pinnacle of porcine provisions. It is also a great place to sit and watch people gamely frolicking in the extremely cold sea, attired literally head to toe in neoprene. You eat your bacon sandwich in a fleecy, and for the only time all week you feel entirely superior to somebody else on that coastline.

Verdict: Worth Every Blister

Even at the distance of a couple of months, and I did get distracted along the way with other, shinier places to review, I remember how much we enjoyed this stay. We were actively plotting train routes from London, to work out whether we could get to the hotel and back within a reasonable length of weekend. The answer, thanks to Dr Beeching, is that we would be better off going to Paris or Edinburgh. So it is unlikely that we will be going back in the near future, which is a genuine shame. But if you are walking the path, or have access to a car, a reasonable amount of petrol and a spare travel day, you really should try this place out. Five out of five, from a man who cannot tell you what he had for dinner. I accept that is an unusual position for a restaurant reviewer to adopt, but the Cary Arms was never really selling me the dinner, and I offer that as the highest compliment I currently have available.

You can keep the Costa Brava: When the English seaside is this beautiful, it’s hard to see why we travel. Well, except endless sun. Great food. Amazing wine. Cheap beer. Culture. I mean, who needs that…

Conclusion

Overall Rating: 5/5

• Food: 4/5
• Drinks: 4/5
• Service: 4/5
• Ambience: 5/5
• Accommodation: 5/5
• Spa: 4.5/5
• Value for Money: 5/5
• Bacon Sandwich: 5/5
• Price: £££
• Would we go back? Only if Dr Beeching rises from the grave and lays a fast line into Babbacombe, so realistically no. Which I find slightly annoying.

Cary Arms and Spa: https://www.caryarms.co.uk/