First class coast
Andrew Penman tries to keep away from the madding crowds as he explores Hardy country
NOTHING reminds you that we live on a small island as much as spending a sunny day trying to get to one of its pleasant extremities.
The experience was summed up by the stressed driver I overheard on his mobile surrounded by his equally stressed family.
“We drove a little, queued, drove a little, queued, drove a little...”
That’s the trouble with the most attractive stretches of the British coast – they attract us.
In my case, I’d made for the small Dorset town of Wareham, which ticks so many boxes.
It has fascinating history, still featuring some of the defensive earth embankments built by the Saxons to keep out the Vikings, with mixed results.
It has natural beauty in the surrounding woodland, reed-covered wetlands, and heathland of gorse and heather.
It has a fine selection of bars and restaurants to finish the day in, from basic pub grub to the luxury Priory Hotel with lawns rolling down to the River Frome and a waiting list for a table of a couple of months.
Above all, Wareham is a jumping off point for the wonderful surrounding walking and cycling country.
There’s Wareham Forest to the north, though heading south to the coast is the more obvious way to go.
Swanage, Studland Bay, Lulworth Cove and Durdle Door are all delightful and striking in different ways and all likely to involve driving a little, queuing, driving a little more...
And that’s if you ever make it through Corfe Castle, as gorgeous a village as you’ll find anywhere for a cream tea – and also the perfect bottleneck. At least you’ll have plenty of time to gaze up at the still imposing Norman walls as you sit in traffic.
There is one thing, though, that’s guaranteed to keep most of the crowds away: British weather.
We set out for the South West Coast Path
one August day when the forecast gave a 40 per cent chance of rain.
The path begins to the east in Poole Harbour, snakes along the Dorset, Devon and Cornwall coasts before finishing after 630 miles in Minehead, Somerset.
The stretch we aimed for began at Studland Bay, from where you can see giant slumbering cruise liners parked off the coast after being mothballed by the pandemic.
Walking away from the beach and tea rooms selling home-made crab sandwiches, the path climbs to the west and towards the chalk cliff outcrop of Old Harry Rocks – this is not a good trek if you’re scared of heights.
There was a steady stream of fellow walkers on the path but that thinned out as the skies darkened.
The clouds out to sea could be seen shedding their loads in solid sheets of grey rain and they were moving inland.
Minutes later we were huddling in the only shelter we could find – a grove of stunted hawthorns where a flock of sheep and lambs were already hiding. Like the bedraggled remnants of a defeated army, we eventually left the thicket to squelch down off the cliff path and back to the car. It took three days for my shoes to dry.
A second walk a little further west ended at Kimmeridge Bay. Although not actually wet, the sharp wind carried a sting and so for once we found ourselves the only humans in sight as we climbed the inland ridge after leaving a small car park and passing a gate ominously labelled Hell Bottom.
Some of the paths here are so- called permissive ways, where you don’t actually have a right of way, but the landowners have allowed people access, which seems very public spirited.
We descended from the ridge to the coast path on one permissive way, a winding route through blackberry bushes, hawthorns and sloes – an amazing autumn larder for the local birds.
Further west again there’s Lulworth Cove and Durdle Door, iconic landmarks on the Jurassic Coast, but I would advise avoiding both, at least if going by car, unless the weather is somewhere between very damp and absolutely foul.
These are beautiful but small sites and when busy you won’t just queue for the car parks, you’ll queue for a coffee, an ice cream and the toilet.
Better to get a good walking map, stay inland and admire the wonderful coast from the quieter paths along the Purbeck Hills. And if the heavens do open, well that just adds to the thrill of the great outdoors, so long as you’re a little bit like the famous Dorset author – Hardy.
I can’t remember where he set Far From The Madding Crowd but it certainly wasn’t Lulworth Cove.
We squelched back to the car and my shoes took three days to dry out