by As they carve through the lush Devonian lanes from Totnes to Salcombe, via Halwell, King’s Bridge and Marlborough, it doesn’t immediately seem that the South Hams and the Nicoya Peninsula in Costa Rica, or the Nuoro Province in Sardinia, have much in common. definitely not Okinawa Prefecture Japan.
Admittedly, they’re all pretty photogenic, pretty places – there’s so much to see after even the lightest flirt with Google Images. They are all so richly verdant, hemmed by white sand beaches, or both. But since they’re all separated by thousands of miles, and in some cases even more cultures, that’s where the similarities end.
Or so you may have thought. As it turns out, this quiet corner of south-west England has an invisible superpower linking it to that disparate group, and it’s all in the people: the South Hams is one of the few areas in the country that can, pushing , to claim it is a UK “blue zone”.
Chances are you’ve seen Live to 100: Secrets of Blue Belts, a Netflix documentary series in which US writer and explorer Dan Buettner visits six communities around the world where people live incredibly long lives. In addition to Nicoya, there are Nuoro and Okinawa Ikaria in Greece, Loma Linda in California and the latest addition, Singapore.
The term “blue zone” was coined in an academic paper in 2004 by the Belgian demographer Michel Poulain and the Italian doctor Giovanni Mario Pes. Buettner, through a book and now a Netflix hit, later popularized it.
All three have now trademarked the term and it is a brand certification with strict, albeit vague, criteria. One suspects that, whether their life is long or short, they will not die penniless.
To qualify as a blue zone, the official website states, “An area should demonstrate “statistically significant higher longevity compared to national levels and reflect various aspects related to its lifestyle, nutrition, genetics and conditions both human and physical environments that could be considered as. determinants to live longer and better.”
Pes, Buettner and Poulain haven’t considered official accreditation anywhere in the UK so far, but it’s possible to see where in the country you’d have the best chance of living a very long life.
According to the Office for National Statistics (ONS), in the latest period, 2020-2022, Hart in north-east Hampshire has the highest male life expectancy, where men could expect to live to 83.7 years. Women are also at risk in Hart, surviving 86.1 years, but the women of Kensington and Chelsea take the lead, who top the table with a life expectancy of 86.3.
There can be a significant difference between the sexes in terms of life expectancy. Males in Kensington and Chelsea, for example, can expect to live almost six years less than females. But numbers are extremely high in some areas regardless of sex.
One is Hart, and another is South Hams, a local government area located between Torquay to the east, Plymouth to the west and Dartmoor National Park to the north. Then, men can expect to live to 82.2, and women almost 86. That’s more than four years more than for both sexes in even the areas on the border on both sides.
“” But, jeez. Well, how long am I going to live? I’m feeling old enough already,” says Sally Hannaford, manager of The Pasty Shack in Salcombe, the pretty tourist trap in the center of the South Hams coast. Hannaford is 54 so the answer is … some time. She sighed melodramatically, then laughed. “Well I’m not surprised, it’s very nice here – see?”
Following the line of her hand down the lane, the eye is drawn to the azure water of the Kingsbridge Estuary, where sailboats are moored, an RNLI lifeboat ready for duty, and an elderly couple with a Spaniel enjoying sandwiches on his bench. They are probably visiting, but their standard of living seems very high.
Like generations of her family, Hannaford was born and raised in the South Hams. She manages the pastry shop, helps the rugby club, raised children here and many of her relatives have lived well into their 90s. “I don’t think that’s a coincidence. No one is going to die of stress here, that’s for sure.
“It can be an affluent area but there’s also plenty of fresh air, access to nature, community and small lanes so nobody’s in a rush. Not like somewhere like London, though.”
Up the road in King’s Bridge, a thriving market town of around 5,600 people, Mel and Clive Rollinson show exactly why people would feel ageless here. They moved from Haslemere, Surrey (life expectancy, for those who score: a not-too-shabby 81.9 for men, and 85.3 for women) in January 2020 apparently to retire, but now they’re busier and happier than ever.
“We’ve been coming here for a while and fell in love with it. We wanted to live relatively close to the sea, but mainly we wanted to live in a town so we could walk everywhere. We didn’t want to drive to get a pint of milk,” says Mel, 63.
And they don’t: Kingsbridge is the kind of model town with at least one of everything, as well as excellent restaurants and local produce, and no end to talk about. “We have it all, right on our doorstep,” says Clive, 69.
The coverage of true blue zones, as seen on Netflix, always gives plenty of airtime to that largely ineffective quality: “community”. You know it when you find it, and the Rollinsons have. Mel is a town councilor in King’s Bridge, and Clive is a director of the community-owned tennis club.
Both also work part-time, Mel for in-house business and Clive – who has spent his career in operations, mainly for global food and drink companies – is up early and back late in his role as sommelier and bar supervisor at Very local. Mill Cove Hotel.
“There are so many community groups around, Till the Coast is Clear, Kingsbridge in Bloom, games clubs… Flavia oh Strictly Come Dancing living nearby, she takes dance classes. There are a lot of people doing a lot of good things around here, and that’s how you make friends. Many of the people who do those things are past retirement age, too. And that’s important,” says Mel.
Clive knew he would be bored in retirement. “I didn’t want to stay dead,” he says. “There’s only so much golf you can play… And I like to work again, meet interesting people, and learn things. Quitting is bad for your health.” Mel turns to me. “Also, I come in from work and he goes out, so it’s great, we barely see each other,” she quips.
They don’t miss Haslemere “at all” these days. “Kingsbridge is by no means perfect,” says Mel. “We need more affordable housing, we need to retain educated people, and like everywhere in the country we need better access to hospitals, but it’s a working home, not just second homes.”
Perfection is not a necessary criteria in a blue zone, but it is true that the Southern Times cannot be immune from the occasional disasters of the nation’s water companies for all their life-giving qualities.
The area next door, Torbay, is the epicenter of the recent parasite outbreak. About 25 miles from King’s Bridge, on the edge of Torbay but within the South Hams, two of the five areas issued by South West Water with a boil water notice are found.
Salcombe isn’t “only” second homes either, of course, but it mostly is: the population swells by more than 1000 per cent in the summer, when the visiting crowds, crabbing lines and labradoodles in between hands. However, this keeps its permanent residents young even, they say.
“It’s an odd place, all or nothing, with the seasonal change. You get quiet winters and nice summers. But there’s a nice buzz about the place, and the water keeps you mobile, it keeps you active,” says Maxine Hern, 65, who works in the fishmongers opposite The Pasty Shack.
Together with The Salcombe Yawl, an excellent sandwich shop next door, they have their own little community within a small community.
“I spend half the year in Australia, half the year here, so I get a whole year of sun and swimming, and that’s not bad for you. My mother is 97, still swimming too,” says Hern. She has no plans to stop working, but is looking forward to receiving her pension.
“I just had to wait until November,” she laughs. From inside The Pasty Shop, where she is accepting payment for the last big tradition of the day before she storms out, Hannaford is crying and jealous.
“I have so far to go…” she cried. It’s not a sentiment you often hear in Nicoya or Okinawa, but it’s true: she lives in a blue zone. There is still a way to go.
