Birthday surpriseDarren and I had scheduled a week off in November this year – a wise move as it is a long slog from August until Christmas (the UK – the savages – have no holidays in this period)!
Our time off coincided with my 35th birthday – which fell on the Wednesday of the week off. I didn’t realise we were going anywhere until I started making noises about wanting to have a party and Darren told me that he had planned a couple of days away for us instead. He is fond of surprising me on my birthday so this year all he would tell me is that we were going to the Jurassic Coast and that he wanted me to figure it out for myself as to where that was.
The Jurassic CoastThe
Jurassic Coast is a little known treasure of England...well I should say little known to those who do not watch BBC’s
Coast. This 95 mile stretch of coastline between East Devon and West Dorset represents 185 million years of spectacular history.
A bit of background here to let you know just how spot on a husband choosing this mini-break for me could be...I was brought up in a household with a father who was very interested in geology, paleontology, archaeology, and any kind of general old-stuff with a mother who was an artist with a penchant for landscape painting of seaside and mountainous scapes...add that to my almost fanatical love of all things water (puddles, streams, waterfalls, lakes, seas, oceans, rain) and you get the idea! Husband, we have a winner!
We were booked into a little town, which any of you who have ever read or watched
The French Lieutenant’s Woman will know, called Lyme Regis. We were staying at a little hotel facing the harbour with a view of the famous Comb. The area, if you do not know, is a popular destination with old-folk from around the nation to retire to (more on this later) and so there were the requisite zimmer and cane gang. This town, however, is still a living-breathing one and is quite posh in many ways. Surrounded by all the kinds of views one could want I thought it was a very romantic.
We arrived early on Tuesday and left our car at the Red Lion Hotel’s car park and went off wandering along the beach. It is a rock beach which knackers your ankles and knees. After the 3-4 hour drive I think Darren was a bit weary so we didn’t do our usual full on quick-march but managed a leisurely stroll along to Charmouth and back again before a few beers in the bar and checking in. Then it was a quick change and a wander down the other side of the beach for a few photos of the sunset before returning for our dinner.
Why you should never meet someone who is having a birthday on Tuesday when you are planning on walking on Wednesday morningDinner was a lovely affair – included in the price of our room along with breakfast – we had crab cakes to start, venison and veg for mains and a nice tiramisou for pudding. A bottle of red shared between us added nicely to the beer we’d had before our check in...and then a couple walked in quite late for their tea...a chap we’d seen in the bar earlier asking the barman about “getting some fresh prawns”. It turned out that he was celebrating his 64th birthday and so after chatting with them and another gentleman we adjourned to the bar for drinks – after closing the place (thank goodness at around midnight) we went up to bed.
I spent the night popping over to the loo to have a glass of water (about 10 times) because I know my husband...and after having said we would probably walk to Seaton (8 miles away) and back I knew that we would be in for a long day and having a hang-over would not help.
Thank you Red Lion Inn for serving breakfast starting at 8:30AM....you saved me from a 6:00AM start. The Full English later and off we marched to begin our walk to Seaton. I don’t know what either Darren and I were expecting really, but when they say “Coastal Walk” we were not expecting to walk through a forest...not that we have anything against forests...but let’s just say it took the whole “Coastal” aspect out of the walk. It was clammy in amongst the trees...kind of almost tropical really and considering it was November – rather freakish to see bumble bees and other bugs flying about...let alone wandering around with just t-shirts on. The walk itself was not terribly challenging (in spots it was but being used to the Glyders in Wales this was pretty tame) and was managed in three hours...much slowed by the dehydration of the members of the walking partnership: I am writing this down as I never expect to hear it again from the lips of my Uberman “I feel sluggish”...well knock me over with a feather!!!
All of the above is not to say that the walk was not spectacular in its own unexpected way...we both felt that the forest itself had a Jurassic quality to it – being that the trees and plant life were intense and strangely tropical (again not knowing that much about the place before arriving and having seen no photographs of anything but the rocks in the area we did not know what to expect). In 1839 there was an enormous landslide and apparently it was the first ever to be scientifically recorded by eye-witnesses, which is to say: “Cool a house slid over the cliffs and you can see its ruins in the forest to this day” and “apparently the family who owned it used to sell afternoon tea to the Victorian visitors (amongst them Jane Austen who set part of Persuasion in the area after her visit) in this unusual setting” and hence a photo:
Village of the Living-deadWe arrived in Seaton ::::shudder:::: which had a collection of fossils of a different kind than those found on the beach. The town should change its name to “Village of the Living-dead” because the average age was 82. As we wandered up the High Street we felt all cataract and ropy eyes on us...we must have found the only young person (that being a woman in her 30s) at the bus stop – exceedingly friendly and helpful. Once all the old folks had teetered onto their various busses and we were alone with her I asked her if they had been a good example of what the average citizen was like and she said yes. Sad fact: the average local earns around £12,000 a year and as a consequence of the influx of old dears from richer areas further north property prices have been driven up so much people born in the area cannot afford to buy property and are priced out of the market. In a cynical moment I said to Darren...what the young people need to do is start up funeral parlours...which to me seems to be the only growth and non-seasonal industry. It was a very strange experience coming from London where the average person tends to be a young professional and also made me realise I have to keep fit and plan a good hairstyle for my retirement.
Portland...feeling ambivalentAt dinner on Wednesday, my birthday dinner, we discussed our return journey and decided to take in the sites along the coast to Lulworth Cove (which my readings on the Jurassic Coast site made me keen to visit). Driving west along the coast to Portland you see plenty of spectacular scenes including the Fleet, a natural lagoon which is home to, amongst other things, the largest managed population of swans on earth...sadly, the swannery was closed so we pushed on to Portland.
Portland is a strange old place – it is a living town (with actual working population and children and everything) – famous for its rock quarrying. It is hard place to love because many people would like it if there was no longer this kind of industry going on – pretty impressive to see them removing the stone and seeing all of the disused quarries littering the place (big holes in the ground). Coming from Canada you have your share of controversy in terms of costal employment so I am not unfamiliar with the ambivalence people might feel towards the Isle. I feel it is a difficult thing to ask a population to do nothing so as to comfort a (usually) more affluent part of the population uncomfortable with what the local industry represents. Bearing in mind that in this case Portand is literally responsible for building the more affluent parts of cities further north (Portland stone is a major building element in many of London’s best-loved scenic attractions: Nelson’s Monument, the National Portrait Gallery to name but two).
Why didn’t we walk this way?Lulworth Cove was a bit of a surprise...we pulled in to the car park there, situated in a valley, at around 11:00AM and a kindly lady vicar gave us the hour left on her car parking ticket (we know she was a vicar as her friend remarked that this might not be the correct thing to do if one is a vicar – any CofE readers are welcome to this debate...but I thank her because we had no change!)!
We walked down toward Stair Hole...sounds far less impressive than it is. Here was exactly what I had expected to see when I was thinking “Coastal Walk” – Darren took several amazing shots here with his new SLR camera (its first major foray).
We then decided to climb up the hill (by this I mean slog up to the top pretending as I passed older people on their way down that I wasn’t breathing like Darth Vadar) to see Lulworth Castle. This climb was what I would call: “worth doing on hands and knees over glass” for the following reason:
All I can say is that if we do not go back here in the spring or summer I will be very, very cross indeed! I can just imagine this as the set of some part of Pirates of the Caribbean...and thus have decided to use pester power to have my way on this one...that and agreeing to staying in a stationary caravan (think trailer park) and you will have idea of the lengths I will go to to see and walk this coast again!
