Jurassic Coast Day 4: Abbotsbury to Weymouth

We awoke to a sunny, nearly hot morning.  Nothing small and stuffed had murdered us in our sleep.  Time to hit the trail for a final stretch- walking along the coast to the town of Weymouth, where a train would haul two dirty tired hikers back to the Big Smoke. 

The best part about this walk was to watch springtime happen before us.  The weather went from cool and cloudy to warmer and sunnier each day until we got a amazingly beautiful one.  We saw herds of heavily-pregnant ewes start to turn into fields of ewes with tiny freshly borne lambs.  The swallows were returning from Africa, and skylarks were chattering away in almost every field we walked through, and the little bits of forest and wooden hillsides were tinged with green.  This time of year is pure magic, and my favorite time to walk.  

 Instead of heading straight for the trail, we headed up the big hill to St Catherine's Chapel, the larger-than-all seafaring chapel that announced to sailors that they were near Abbotsbury.

Ah, first, we had a bit of a distraction.

 Trail side tyre swings are never left alone.

It's not an easy climb up through a terraced cow pasture, but the views from the top are worth it.

 The downs, the town, the sea.  Really spectacular, helped by the fact the sky was cloud-free.

 The coast path winds its way around the privately-owned Swanery, through farm fields and hills before settling down to sea level along an enormous body of still saltwater called the Fleet Lagoon.  It is a place to bring binoculars- this long, still body of water is of great importance to birds of all kinds.  I had to keep reminding myself of the non-refundable train that left Weymouth at 6.  There was just so much going on.  Without even trying, I saw dozens of waterfowl and songbirds.  The unique protected lagoon coupled with farmland and pastureland and a nearby beach meant this was birdy heaven.

Corn Bunting

Yellowhammer

Terns

Greenfinch

Oystercatchers

Long-tailed tit

Little Egret

Goosander

 It was pretty amazing.  In the space of an afternoon, I saw more birds appear in front of me than I had all winter.  Understandably, the lagoon was fiercely protected, with a few scientist having access to the water and that was it.

Finally, after passing a military firing range and some large industrial estates, we were back in civilization.  There was a very well-reviewed lagoon-side crab shack that we wanted to try, but they were closing post-lunch just as we walked in.  Which was fine: there were no fewer than three Ferraris in the front lot, all of them parked at "asshole parking space" angles for maximum "LOOK AT ME" exposure.

The Southwest Coast trail crosses the bridge and continues to do an 8-mile loop of the Island of Portland.  The island is connected by a bridge from Weymouth.  Before there was a bridge and if you didn't want to hazard the ferry crossing, you would have to go all the way to Abbotsbury to cross the Fleet, and walk all the way to Portland via the beach.

Portland is famous for its stone- the creamy-white limestone quarried for use of some pretty famous buildings- Buckingham Palace, St. Paul's Cathedral, and the far-off UN building in NYC.  

I won't be visiting this trip.  I looked at the map.  The train station was at least three miles away (!) and we had over an hour to make it there and find something eatable to bring for the journey.  Hustle the bustle, as my grade-school bus driver would yell at the pokey kids not willing to make good time.

So a small gripe:  I got the idea for this 4-day walk on the Southwest Coast Path website.  Not only do they have a great system of planning your trips along the trail, they have suggestions as to where to go for multi-day walks.  I booked the trip based on their recommendations and reasonable mileage between stops, but little did I know:

1.  The mileage they gave on the website was off by about 20% every day.  Meaning, we walked 20% more than what we planned.  We walked 9 hours the first day, and nearly 7 hours the next three days.  Even when we stuck strictly to the trail, we ended up doing 3-4 miles more each day than we though we would.

2.  They didn't include the trail closures adding miles to our trek, and that bumped up the total to 12 extra miles (which is a full days walk for most!).  At least 10 miles were done pounding the pavement on a diverted path alongside busy roads.  That is not enjoyable:  it's exhausting.  

3.  It would have been nice if they kept the website updated with the landslips; I only knew about the first one.  We would have planned ahead and taken a bus further down the trail instead of waiting and paying for a cab.

In the end, we did a whopping 70 miles over 4 days.  Even with that cab ride to shave 7 miles off, it was about 10 more than we thought we would be doing.  Three of the days were exceedingly difficult, with many steep ascends and descends.  I was exhausted and ready for a break, and my new-ish boots have proved to be less cooperative than the last pair and I was tending to several blisters and general sore feet.

Alas, it was a lovely walk.  The coast was stunningly beautiful and wild and remote in spots, and so civilized and charming in between.

From Weymouth, you could see the next bit of coastline:

More cliffs!  Lovely limestone ones.  The next bit of trail stretches between Weymouth and Poole along the Dorset coast.  I think I can do it in 3 days.

Weymouth was the biggest town he had been through on our walk, and it sprawled out quite a bit.  Being a beautiful bank holiday day, we were quite sad that the only ice cream flavor to be had was "natural", meaning not even flavored.  A seaside town that runs out of ice cream is a poor excuse for a seaside town, the calender be damned!

I had read about a pie shop that did excellent homemade pies near the train station so I jetted off to place an order before we had a long 3 hour train ride back to London.  I put an order in, mindful of the fact that the disclaimer on the menu said it might take up to 20 minutes to get our order since everything is homemade and from scratch.   I even checked with the server- we had about 35 minutes before the train left- and she assured me it would all be good.

Except a halfhour later, there were still no pies, and a few other patrons had left because they had been waiting so long.  Ah, the joys of bank holiday skeleton crews.  I begged the server for pies, and asked to refund my card because we had to go (with no time to find a backup sandwich) and she scrambled back from the kitchen with a paper bag in hand.  I grabbed it, breathless and thanked her before dashing across the square to the train with just a minute to spare.

I probably should have checked to make sure she had remembered to add cutlery of sorts.

Because she didn't.

The pies were easy enough as they were the delightful kind you could eat like a cornish pasty, but the mash potato and broccoli presented an issue.

I asked the train conductor if there was a cafe car and was told we picked one up in Bournemouth, about a  half hour down the track.

We got to Bournemouth, rushed the cafe car and was told nope, no cutlery- they only serve pre-packaged sandwichs.

So I improvised.  I tore up corners of the takeaway container, and used them like pita bread.

We had hiked 17 miles in the heat, I was starving.    Not my proudest moment.

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.

Walking the Jurassic Coast

Having a long weekend is a good excuse for a stretch of the legs.  Luck was with us- aside from a little rain in the forecast, we had brilliant early spring weather.  

We chose a section of the Jurassic Coast on the South West Coast Path.  Our walk started in Exmouth and finished at the train station almost 70 miles away in Weymouth.  Ambitious, yes, but a good distance over 4 days.  

Accommodation, as always, was scarce, so our first day would be quite a long one, as the first spot on the trail where we could lay our heads in something other than sand and mud would end up being near 20 miles along.  

Exmouth was a pretty little town- I would go back and explore anytime.  It's very sleepy Victorian seaside village surrounded by red sand beaches along the ocean and the Exe river estuary.  They have a lovely marina and a beautiful new rescue lifeboat and a boardwalk that I'm sure is just a treat in summer. 

Soon, we were on the beach and walking along the red sandstone cliffs.  These were once brutally hot and dry desert sands.

Worn smooth by time and tide, they made for an impressive sculpture park.

Three miles in and we hit our first caravan park.  These would become a feature of our walk- huge, sprawling chinzy real estate on former farmland.  This set off many a debate.  Affordable seaside getaway cottage or eyesore?  I understood their appeal- who wouldn't want to have a place near the sea?- but I couldn't get over how awful they looked.  Although, they seem to be much tidier than the trailer parks that I knew from home.

We didn't let that ruin us- it was really some gorgeous seaside walking.  The cliffs are important seabird nesting areas, and many of the beaches are completely cut off unless you are very brave or very stupid.

We did pass a woman walking her dog on the trail with the cat in tow.  I don't think I've seen someone out walking their cat before.

We hit Budleigh Salterton, our first village on the trail.  We soon realized the benefits of coastal walking in this area- no need to pack a lunch as we sat down on a seaside bench and shared a crab sandwich purchased seaside.  You couldn't walk more than a few hours without encountering an ice cream stand either.

Northern Wheatear

As we went around the river Otter, the skies opened up.  I spied a flash of blue as a kingfisher flew by, but kept trucking down the trail.

We rounded a bend and it became clear that the last 7 miles of our day were going to be tough.

One thing I love about hiking in the UK is that any place where you might want to sit and admire the view, someone has thought to put a bench there.  It's quite good.

We rolled through the town of Sidmouth, which was bustling.  Someone really likes Goldens....

The other thing that was nice about this seaside trail is that every town we came to had public toilets on the boardwalk.  This was a lovely thing for me- these vast expanses of cliffs had very little cover.  While I couldn't quite make it in between public toilets, it was nice to not have to scramble in the thistles and brambles every time I needed to wee.

From here, the trail did get steep and rough.  We had three big climbs and descents to tackle over a series of steep cliffs, and they were not easy.  

Still, this was my favorite part of the hike.  It was getting late enough in the day where everyone else had gone home, the trail was remote enough to be quiet and peaceful, the sun was out, and I was getting loopy with exhaustion.

The Coast Path is really well marked, but I had sworn we only had 2 miles to go to Branscombe many miles back.

Down the muddy downs to Branscombe, finally!  It's an adorable little village, tucked into an isolated valley near the sea, with the Nation Trust running an iron forge and maintaining a bunch of the thatched-roofed cottages there.  Cows grazed the steep hillsides.  It was so perfect.

We would our way through the narrow charming streets to our pub accommodation for the night.  The best thing about staying at pubs is you don't have to go far at all for dinner.  Although I do quite like a post-dinner walk, I was quite alright with walking from pub to bed after 20 miles.  Plus, our room was an adorable thatched-roof outbuilding.

We were the only walkers in town it seemed, and everyone else in the pub were dressed quite posh.  We arrived post-shower in our clean hiking clothes and flip-flops, famished and so tired that we turned down desert in favor of getting to bed by 9:30.

Perhaps doing a massively hilly long walk as your first day out was a bit mad.  It felt really good to be out walking again after a lazy winter.