Jurassic Coast Day 3: Lyme Regis to Abbotsbury

This was the day on this walk that I'm not especially proud of.  

Leaving Lyme Regis.  The town is beautiful, and we followed the stream down to the waterfront, and I even spotted a clever piece by Banksy:

So here is where my day turned to shit.

Another landslip meant we had to work our way far around the coast path again.  This added six miles onto our hike on what would be an already long day- 18 miles- and it was just miserable.  After a pretty stretch in a forest, it was a strenuous uphill climb along an A road, and then across a golf course, and then on the pavement along the really busy A35 road for miles.  Alternatively, we could have walked along the beach a stretch to Charmouth, but the tides were against us and the waves were pounding the cliff faces when we checked out that option.  I was in pain- all the pavement walking had really done a toll on my feet and shins.  Also, since this was the first big walk we'd done since our Welsh adventure over Xmas, I was in less than stellar shape.  Exhausted and slightly beaten, we made our way to rejoin the coast path in Charmouth, only to see a sign saying there was another landslip ahead, and go back and join the main road for a few more miles.

This was just awful.  I had known that we would be going around a landslip the day before, but these two took me by surprise, and they were adding really tough miles to an already long day.

Drastic action was taken.  We sat in a pub in Charmouth and called for a taxi.  While the easter sunday crowds lined up for pub lunch, we sat near the fireplace, warmed ourselves with a drink, and waited for our hero to arrive.  My mood was gloomy.  I felt as though I had failed.

Once our knight in shining minivan arrived, things were cheerful once again.  We told him our situation, and he took us 7 miles down the road to West Bay, where we picked up the trail again.  We skipped a lot of road walking, saved our feet, and we wouldn't be making our way to our night's lodging after midnight.  So we cheated a bit.  

The rest of the walk was easy though.  The majority of the big cliffs were behind us, and we just had one more grand climb to do at Burton Bradstock before the trail and the coast flatted out to miles of  beachside walking.

We paused for something I can't get my head around:

People go ga-ga for Cadbury Creme Eggs this time of year.  Kind of like Peeps in the states.  Except nasty.  Waxy-sweet chocolate that contains a surprise of gritty, sugary fondant does not a bon-bon make.  I am one and done on this one.

After a few uneventful miles of beachside walking, I noticed an alternative route to Abbotsbury.  We could have just stayed the course and followed the beach there, but I had noticed a line of big hills closing in to the shore.  At West Bexington, we veered off the coast path and started the long, steep climb up the downs.  I was atoning for the cab ride and the creme egg and felt much better once I had a lofty view of the coast.

So many sheep!  Jacob sheep, too.

There were sheep and views and meadows and a big ruin of a hilltop fort.  I forgot how much I loved ridge walks.  My mood, instantly sunny.

I was almost sad to see Abbotsbury come into view.

Even with the cab cheat, we ended up doing 16 miles, and we had quite a nice bit of elevation gain at the end.  

Abbotsbury.  It was lovely, a really quaint little village, tucked between the downs and the sea.  there's a swan sanctuary here, and as the name suggests, an Abbot, and a chapel up on a hill by the sea.

The only place to stay in the area was a B&B that was decorated by someone who loves dolls and bears and lace and had the strong opinion that all three together is something one might never get enough of.  You guys, I almost cancelled the entire trip based on the fact that the only room available in the entire area was frilly and pink and had multiple dolls and bears and doily covering every surface (which made it really hard to put a cup of tea down, never mind your muddy hiking stuff).  Also, carped bathrooms are just....no.  Just.  No.

It was just for one night, and the owner was nice and proud of her home and the decor.  To each her own?  Most of the guesthouses, hostels and B&Bs we end up staying in are always spotless and clean, and tend to be comfortable and minimal with the decor, which to me adds to the "clean" element.  It's hard to sleep at night with the dead glass eyes of a million stuffies staring out at you.  I don't mind camping, I don't mind bunk houses, I'm just dandy with hostels.  I just can't deal with pink frilly ruffly things coming at me from all sides.

But we are beat-down hikers, we'll sleep through anything.  Even murderous dolls coming after us in our dreams.

FO: Var

My obsession with all thing Icelandic continues.  While I won't be stocking deliciously fragrant Hakarl any time soon, I am loving lopapeysa sweaters.  Casual, functional, warm colorwork pullovers and cardigans were my go-to this winter.  Now that it is springtime, I still wanted to wear one, so I decided to fight my fear of zippers once again and make a jacket that is still warm and weatherproof without being too swampy-pits on.

The great thing about Icelandic sweater patterns is they all follow a very basic formula for men and women alike- a tube for the body, two tubes for the sleeves, then you join the whole mess when it hits the yoke and decrease down to the neck.  They are perfectly unisex, and while you can add waste shaping for a more flattering fit, I opted not to.  I found a yoke pattern that I loved but it didn't match my gauge (Var), so I mashed it up with another sweater that did (Frost) and added a steek in the front so I could install a zipper.  Both patterns are found in the Istex Lopi 29 book, which is full of patterns that you can just adapt and run with your own creation.

I wanted a longer sweater, a bit oversized, so I know this isn't the most flattering length on someone with curves.  I wanted function over fashion this time around though, and having something that reaches you hip makes for a really warm jumper.  I also added a hood.  It just felt right to be able to have a built-in hat on something that I would wear in such changeable spring weather.  Plus, I've never made anything with a hood before and was long overdue.

I am also getting so much better at installing zippers.  This one I got right on only the second try!  It's practically bulge-free, and the whole process went so smoothly that I have conquered my fear and I'm zipper-ready for anything.

The pattern for the hood also said that you should roll the edge of the hood under and seem it in place, but it does that naturally without any help from me, so I left the edge unfinished.  If you were really inspired, you could do an i-cord edging on it, or extend the button band up and around it, but I think it was fine as it is.

I used up almost all of the Rowan British Sheep Breeds that I had in my stash.  The colors:
White= BFL
Black-Brown= Black Welsh
Brown-Grey= Jacob
I also used small amounts of Grey Suffolk and Moorit Shetland, as I was just down to scraps with those and still wanted to put them to use.  

It's just fascinating to feel the different wool characteristics in this way.  The BFL is by far the softest and silkiest and I want to buy all of it in the world and live in a house made of it.  

I am quite pleased with it.  It's just suck a simple design and only took a few weeks to whip up with no real intense effort needed.  I'm quite sad to see it done, as this is the very last of the instant gratification projects for a while.  On to sock-yarn pullovers!

South Downs Day 4: East Meon to Petersfield

Another beautiful day.  I explored the gardens around our pig shed before being treated to the full-english fried experience.  I try to be polite about it, but really.  No one can possibly eat that much.  

I tried my best to knock off some of the mud off my boots.  It is the heavy, thick clay mud that picks up gravel.  Pretty soon, you are hauling around cement bricks on your feet.

Back on the trail, with so much pretty green everything.

And sheep, of course.  These might be Shetlands?  Or maybe Jacobs.

They were smaller, and more woolly looking (literally!) than the other sheep we've seen.

There was quite a bit of road-side walking on this day, which is never a favorite thing.  The road did take us past a cafe and nature center called the Sustainability Center, so we stopped to check it out.

They had beautiful gardens and a leech field and some interesting symbiotic plantings, but nothing really prepared us for what we saw next.

They have a natural burial ground!

Instead of being pumped filled with formaldehyde and put in an airtight casket, advocates of Natural Burials get buried in wicker caskets where they can easily become part of the life cycle of the forest.  They had lovely little forest paths with grave sites marked simply with sticks and stones, and the forest is allowed to retake anything it needs, and there were benches where relatives could visit.  It was somber, but the forest was far more beautiful than any manicured cemetery I've ever seen.  It's an interesting idea.  I'd be curious to see if this catches on in more places.  It was a little morbid, but I found it touching and beautiful.

There was also a tap for hikers here.  These are always welcome, especially on such bright, hot days.

The great thing about hiking is that you can hike all morning, and then come to a road intersection and realize that if you had taken the road, you'd only be out two miles.  Trails don't always take the fasted route.

You can see the cute little church tucked into the downs at East Meon:

This wasn't a very long day of hiking anyway (well, in theory...) and we soon crested the hill overlooking the A3 motorway in Queen Elizabeth Country Park.  We were supposed to branch off the trail here and walk from Bruiton the three miles north to Petersfield, but we left the trail a bit earlier than we were supposed to and ended up being stuck on the wrong side of the A3 with no way to cross it.

We ended up walking back up the hill, and picking up some public footpaths down the north side of the hill, which seemed to solve the problem of cutting down our road-walking miles.

Which would have been fine, except we hit a point where the footpath didn't seem very often used.  It appeared on the map, we would see an occasional signpost.  We could see where we would end up, but the trail was almost completely overgrown.

The buzzards started circling.

Also, deep in the woods, there was a very tall fenced enclosure electrified with a car battery.  It could only mean one thing: someone was keeping velociraptors as pets.  

After crashing through some farmland and some forest and losing the footpath several times, we found a farmer who put us back on the right track again.  See what I mean?:

That's the trail!  It was chin-high and choked with weeds and filled with thorns and stinging nettles, with the superhighway running right next to you- no one had walked here in a while.  Once again hiking in capri cargos is a bad idea.  My legs were scratched and on fire.  Those last three miles ended up taking us much longer than they should have.  Taken the beaten path through town would have been a much more pleasant option.

Finally, we hit the road and a place where we could cross under the busy highway, and then we booked it into Petersfield.  We approached the train station just as the road gates began to close and the train pulled in right as our feet touched the platform, which was quite serendipitous as it didn't look like there was a pub nearby to kill an hour if we had to wait for the next.

It was a good day of hiking, aside from that nasty bit at the end.  We did the "worst" part of the Southdowns: passing industrial farms, a tank and quad-bike track, a military firing range and doing a fair bit of road-side walking.

The next leg promised to be more lovely hills and sweeping views.   I love this trail so much.

I decided not to go to Maryland Sheep and Wool this year. I checked the forecast a few days before and it was supposed to be near 90 for the weekend. I went to the beach instead. I love Rhinebeck because it really gets you into the sweater-season mood. You're outside in the chill fall air all day and it makes buying wool seem completely sensible. I just couldn't see myself getting into the sheep and wool spirit while wallowing through heat and humidity.

Plus, I still have this rather gorgeous Cormo fleece from last year that hasn't seen the spinning wheel yet.



Anyway, here are some pictures from last year. It wasn't quite so hot, but we had some rain and then some crazy swampy humidity.


Blue Face Leicester ewe. I think she looks kind of bashful.


Getting ready for the show ring


One of the things that MDSW has that Rhinebeck doesn't is lambs. Baby animals make me go "awwwwwwww".




Jacob lambs


Cotswold


Corriedale


This was a really friendly Blue Face ram. He was gorgeous but I couldn't get a picture of him since the second I scootched down to his level he would shove his face at me for petting.


Angora kids. Curly awesome sproingy goats.


I wish I had faster photo reflexes because this llama was about 3 seconds away from spitting.




Maybe next year we will get a nice chilly spring weekend for MDSW.