And on the third day of the holiday, the sun did shine upon the land and Jelltex did speak and he said that it was good. Once again we lay in bed until dawn crept through the curtains and so it was very late, nearly half past seven once again before we got up. We had a coffee and a bite to eat and then set off into the Dorset rush hour on our way to the Jurassic Coast.
I did realise as we retraced the route to Wareham, that despite coming to the New Forest on holiday, we have not spent much time actually inside the boundaries of the park itself. And indeed, on this day we headed even further west to Lulworth Cove, Durdle Door, Weymouth and the Isle of Portland. However, other than Lulworth and Durdle Door we had no firm plans, the other two places just kinda happened, which is how a holiday should be.
Really.
Traffic was bad until we got past Bournemouth and Poole, and then we were out in wide open country, and the low sun was painting the moorland from a golden canvas. To say it was a glorious sight would not be doing the vistas that rolled past the car is a gross understatement. It was wonderful just to be alive.
Even better was when we arrived at Lulworth and parked up, put on our coats and set off for the bay. What can I say about the bay? Well, it is almost circular with a narrow entrance, and is pretty fantastic, even better as it is before nine and we have the place to ourselves. We climb up the path to the south to get views back to the bay and along the coast all the way to Weymouth and Portland bill on the horizon. Little did we know we would be looking back the other way before the end of the day.
Back in the car, and the two mile drive along the coast to Durdle Door. Durdle is a natural arch set along the coast. It is very famous, and like Lulworth, I have never been there. We follow the signs from the main road, through a caravan park to a parking area at the edge of the cliffs. The path down went sharply out of sight below us. So, back on with the coats, pick u the cameras and off we set.
It was a tricky climb down, as neither of us were wearing our walking boots, just trainers. But, taking small steps we got down to the path which follows the cliffs for dozens of miles. We make our way down to the outcrop, on one side a solid arm or rock stretches back towards Lulworth, and on the other side, Durdle Door itself point away towards Weymouth.
Once again we have the place to ourselves, and the strong breeze is wonderful, as is the glorious sunlight. Although for photography it was in a bad position to get perfect shots of the Door, but still, never complain about sunshine. A few people are now coming down to where we were standing; the path down to the beach near Durdle door has been swept away in a cliff fall, so we did not try to scramble down to the beach, although some have tried as the cliffs are made of earth so it would be possible.
We turned back to the north and headed back up the climb to the car park, just as a squad of soldiers on a route march go past, each one weighed down with a sixty pound pack. It looks character building stuff, which is why we didn’t have to do that kinda stuff in the RAF’ we already had character! That’s my story and I’m sticking to that!
The climb was very steep, nearly 45 degrees for a long way, but with a few pauses the admire the view behind us, we got to the top, crashed into the car and looked at the map to decide where to go next. It was eleven, and thoughts turned to lunch, and I fancied fish and chips, as so did Jools. And so I looked across the bay to Weymouth and thought there would be fine chippys there.
We drove round the wide sweeping bay, and into town, finding a place to park. A quick walk along the side of the river brought us to a fine looking place called The Marlboro. We go in and order cod and chips twice (one each!). It came filling the plate, indeed hanging over it at one end, and is so fresh the fish is pure white so clean tasting.
Wonderful stuff.
We walk along the river to the dock where a wave piercer ferry was being loaded before heading to the Channel Islands. I feel the need for another drink, so we find a nice looking pub beside the tramway and it was warm enough to sit outside, and so I nurse a pint of Hobgoblin in the winter sunshine, watching the world go by.
Last night we had watched Michael Portillo in Weymouth on BBC2, and he ended the show standing on Portland Bill with stunning views over Weymouth and Chesil Beach stretching away along Lyme Bay. We thought we would like to see that view for ourselves, and so we set off on the short drive across the causeway and then up the rock. Much to my surprise, Portland is a substantial town, which climbs high up the rock until the houses give out, and right at the top is the viewpoint. The light was perfect, with little fluffy clouds to the horizon, and the light on the beach and Weymouth, stunning. The wind was keen, and as the sun was an hour from setting, what warmth there was in the day was fading, so we hurried back to the car, and began the hour drive back to the cabin.
At six we called home, and much to our pleasant surprise, Nan is awake and lucid and is to be released tomorrow. We are amazed to say the least. Her heart stopped twice yesterday, but came back to us. She’ll get that telegram next year yet!
England played Germany in a friendly. So I sat down to watch it, and what a dispiriting experience it was, as England were toothless, and rarely threatened the German goal, and managed to give a second string German side a goal just before half time. And that’s the way it ended, and England walked off the pitch to another loss at Wembley with boos ringing in their ears for the second time in four days.
What hopes we had before these for the World Cup have been further tempered, and I don’t think many will be sitting up for the games kicking off in the wee small hours. I could be wrong, but I doubt it…..
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