The decision must have been made with the help of some wine. It’s the sort of decision men in their late ‘60s and early ‘70s are prone to make, and we must be among many thousands who have decided that walking the South West Coast Path is the essential next step in life. How many of those intentions convert to action, let alone completion, we don’t know. But on 19 January this year we took the first steps. We are planning to go the “wrong” way – from east to west whereas most do the opposite.
It was a glorious sunny day when we arrived at South Haven Point for our first day. We looked north to Sandbanks and the real estate of footballers and the very rich. The ferry clanked off towards them. Looking east towards the Isle of Wight the sea looked bright and calm. It was an encouraging day to start. To give it additional spice we – Richard and Dugald – were joined by Martin who is an enthusiastic naturalist.
He added great interest as well as moderating the pace. Trudging along the wet sand of Studland we stopped frequently to admire a variety of gulls, a Slavonian grebe and some delightful small waders which scuttle at great speed along the edge of the water. Their speed relative to size is amazing and they seemed fearless as well as busy. Some debate about whether they were dunlins or sanderlings, but later it became clear they were sanderlings.
We passed notice boards announcing imminent potential nudity, but the snowflake naturists were not risking January exposure, even on such a delightful day. Walking along the beach was an easy start and we were soon lunching well in the Bankes Arms. From there up to Fort Henry, more a bunker than a fort, where allied commanders including George VI watched full scale D-Day rehearsals. The amphibious tanks with inflatable canopies were ingenious but must have been terrifying; many of their crews perished in the real landings. Soon after we were admiring Old Harry: the rocks looked wonderful in the winter sun.
The cliffs are sheer and Martin was neurotic about the risks for dogs without a sense of danger, even though his spaniel was safely at home. The slow climb up to Ballard Cliff reminded us that the flat beach was the exception not the rule in this venture.
Over the top we came down to Swanage and opted for the beach route. Flat but the numerous groynes make it feel like a point-to-point race. Heading for the castle at Durlston Head we were intrigued by the old tramlines on the front leading to Swanage pier, one of the export routes for Purbeck “marble”. As we got further west the relics of the old quarries became more prominent. But the first day ended just before the quarries as we were picked up by the castle – a misnomer for a rather eccentric Victorian restaurant and pleasure spot. It felt a good start, but the weather lulled us into a false sense of security and ease.
We had used up all the remaining January sunshine in one day. Day 2 was damp and overcast throughout the drive to Durlston, although the haze and cloud lifted a bit by the sea. After a brief review of the pleasures of Durlston we were off along the path with the very limited objective of getting to Worth Matravers via St Albans Head.
Early on we passed the delightfully named Tilly Whim quarry.
Like the others on the coast this relied on craning blocks into small lighters to carry them out to larger vessels anchored off. In anything but the calmest weather it must have been very tough and dangerous work indeed. Further on we passed the first of the fixed mile marks. It took us a long time to get to the second.
The ingredients for this section were the winter and a narrow path much worked on by the resident cattle. The result was fiendish hard work. We slipped and slid our way along. Richard and Martin opted for trying to avoid the mud and often fell as a result. Dugald plodded through it and got very wet and muddy [editors note: this might suggest that Dugald did not fall over, although the mud on his backside told a different story]. The net result was very slow progress and a feeling that Day 1 might have been too easy. But along with the mud we saw fulmars soaring up to the cliff tops.
We stopped at Dancing Ledge to admire the quarry and the rock ledge. In the swimming pool hollowed out at the behest of the vicar of Langton Matravers for the children of the village, there was a young couple swimming. No wetsuits, they were showing up the Studland naturists.
We carried on: the mud climbed relentlessly up our legs and clung onto our steps.
St Albans Head suddenly looked difficult, as did the prospective row with the three wives who had been given a very optimistic ETA. Martin had promised ravens before Weymouth and delivered early with a pair above Seacombe Quarry. When we got to Winspit we turned north to the village. On the way Martin whooped with joy to see a hen harrier, and then mourned when he didn’t get another sighting. These bird enthusiasts are hard to please. Through the village, which is striking for the uniform use of local stone, we made it to the Square and Compass. Fortunately they see a lot of grubby walkers so we were no problem and the beer and pasties were very welcome indeed.
As for the walkers they were a humbler group than set off in the morning. It feels further to Minehead than we thought. We have two days planned in February – for further modest gains.
Pensioners on The Path 