Compton Valence and Kingston Russell

Delayed start while HP sorted out drivers and BIOS on my new laptop today but managed a decent walk despite the navigational cock-up in Compton Valence. Komoot summary here.

No photos to start with as the whole place fog and mist bound. Heavy going but Komoot says I went at something like 20mph at around the 20 minute mark. Don't remember that, must have drifted off. The route went just east of north this time out of Litton, past Baglake farm up to the A35 and straight over onto what felt almost like moor tops. I'd thought these hill tops might have drained off the rain of the last couple of days (water goes downhill, right?) but no such luck. Huge fields but all waterlogged. At least today I'd got the gaiters on. A lot of conservation work going on here with tree replanting and high, anti-deer fences. Not a soul in sight but some wildlife, and I gave a few deer a fright. Some evidence too of badger setts but there have been extensive culls hereabouts recently as farmers and DEFRA try to control bovine TB so I think the setts may well have been empty.

Over the old Roman road into another huge field where any evidence of a footpath stops after the initial fingerpost. First need for the compass, which gave me the direction for the over the hill and out of sight gate which (doh!) I then ignored for some reason and struggled along the field boundary instead of the track, by now the other side of barbed wire. Eventually passed what looks like a dew pond, though I wouldn't have thought there was a need here in soggy Dorset, near Compton barn.

The barn is actually a collection of them, largely for drying grain, as evidenced by the dedicated 3 phase electrical supply. Oh, and the sign saying 'Grain Drying'. Rather cutely, they seem to have named one of the barns - after a favourite son/lover/trans, or maybe James is the name of the manufacturer. I'll never know.

From there down a 1 in 7 (14% in EU speak) hill into Compton Valence. I know I'm going to pay for this downhill section. I was interested to see the village here as I'd never been but the main house was very shy - no chance of getting a good picture. As is common in these parts it is a rather splendid place. Most villages have one, usually the old estate house but in this case it's a rectory, grade 2 listed and dating from about the 17th century although this particular building was moved here and rebuilt in 1872. Sale particulars from Knight Frank are here and show just how grand it is - even the separate grooms cottage is 1,500 sq ft. It may still be for sale if you'd like 40 acres of prime Dorset countryside. 

There are many links with Little Bredy whose then owner Sir Philip Williams used to own this village as well but sold most of it in the 1950s to a farmer in nearby Wynford Eagle. It's renowned locally for its displays of snowdrops: I should've come last week. Henry Moore's daughter (Mrs Mary Spencer Moore Danowski) lived in the village. Maybe still does. 

Despite skillful compass bearings and reverse plotting on the OS map I managed to get completely off track here and came out of the village on a different route than planned. However, the road out gave a wonderful view of the village and its setting. This is the kind of rolling country that Karen and I both loved. It is a lot steeper than it looks by the way.

From Compton back over the Roman road and down into Kingston Russell (not to be confused with Kingston Russell House, in Long Bredy) but not before startling a couple of deer and a few buzzards.

This is now rather unkempt (as you can see from a couple of photos in the Komoot summary) but must have been quite important in its day. The farm is rather unloved to look at and clearly the emphasis is now on horses as there's a new rink, if that's the right word.

 

From there lorry-dodging back over the A35 through Long Barrow Farm. My interest here is the adjacent Martin's Down. Not much to look at but fame on the Ordnance Survey at last.

Quick chat with the farmer who explained that his 13 year old sheepdog was supplementing the dog biscuits by eating the lambing afterbirth. Nature in the raw (literally) - I'll spare you the picture.

The route now goes up and over the down, and takes a marvellous hollow way down into Long Bredy. These are generally ancient drovers' tracks where it is supposed that time and the animals have worn the path down well below the height of the surrounding land although sometimes they have been made by creating artificial embankments. I like to imagine the ghosts of shepherds and flocks being taken to market.

On a previous walk I came into Long Bredy from the other side, but this route goes past yet another splendid property, Langebride House. Yours for £1.75 million, particulars here. This is only a 'village house' (actually the old rectory) but it's Georgian and grade 2 listed, with tennis court and orchard so not too restricting. There really are some fantastic houses and histories in my immediate area and it's been fun finding out about them.

Now it's onto the road back into Litton Cheney but from the East this time which takes me back past Baglake farm. This is yet another grade 2 listed building, there's a lot of that round here. One curiosity is its thatched wall, I've never seen another one and I believe it's quite unusual. The house itself is beautiful but I don't have much information about its history or background. Despite its location on the edge of Litton Cheney village it's actually in the next door parish of Long Bredy. Why is lost in time, at least to me.

So, back home after just 8 miles and despite my navigational errors still averaging just over 2 mph, useful to know for the SWCP. And as a welcome back, at least one of the gardens starting to look colourful. I'll have to spend some time in mine soon.

As ever, hope you enjoyed this. Next blog should be after the first leg of the SWCP proper, from Fowey to Par. See you there. Woohoo!

Peter

Two hill forts and a pint of beer

I couldn't get as good a photo of the bigger hill fort, Eggardon, as this (not tall enough) so I borrowed it off Megalithic.co.uk You can see what a remarkable place it is. I didn't walk to the top but 1,700ft of climbing today was more than enough. As usual, the Komoot tour summary is here.

Today's walk was about heading inland, getting some more map-reading practice and braving the mud. Also climbing a bit more as the SWCP will have plenty of that so there's not much point in my practising on the flat but I hadn't reckoned on climbing quite that much - still, a good day all round.

Heading out from Litton the path rises steeply and quickly up the side of the vineyard towards the A35. My photo of the vineyard got lost but this shows it in summer, looking back on the village:


I wrote about it before but you can find more at http://bridevalleyvineyard.com/ including the history and where you can buy their produce (Liberty Wines). The Times wrote this month of the 2014 Blanc de Blancs "a tongue-tingling, steely, zesty, preserved lemon of a chardonnay fizz" so if that sounds like your kind of thing it might be worth a try.

Along Chalkpit Lane it got a bit chilly which I hadn't been expecting but a beanie and gloves kept me toasty. Managing temperature is a vital skill on long walks. Get too warm and you'll be sweaty, and then chilled when you stop. I'm generally too warm on all my walks, even in winter, but I find I can control it well with zip-fronted tops and vents in my trousers and jackets. 

Across the A35 and down into Stancombe Farm. This looks like another old manor house but I couldn't find any information about it. It's set in a lovely sheltered location right down on the valley floor and looks like it's been there for yonks. In the hills above Stancombe there is a small private airfield that I have long envied but I discovered that it was the site of a fatal crash in October 1993 and in truth I haven't seen any flying from there for a while.

The thing about being in the valley is that of course it meant another climb out. More beanie, glove and zip work. I was conditioned as a boy on long walks in the Alps that for any descent "we'll have to pay for this" and so it proves. At the top of the climb (3ft higher than Eggardon according to the map, so bragging rights to me) there are 3 radio masts which I presume are for local radio hams but there's no sign of nearby buildings. The reward for the climb is a wonderful view to Eggardon and around to the West across the Marshwood Vale

Eggardon is truly a remarkable place. A Guardian article on great walks gives a good description of it for when spring will have sprung - This is Thomas Hardy’s Dorset – a folded, green landscape of wooded coombes flooded with bluebells, contrasting with the high, chalk ramparts of Eggardon Hill. It’s an evocative place, where the sound of the wind thrumming over grass mixes with endless lark song. You might see buzzards and ravens wheeling and tumbling above the escarpment.  

It's actually easy to get to by car, should you wish to visit, and was for many years the site of an annual kite festival. When Karen and I went last, the winner of the highest kite reached over 4,000 ft. Hopefully air traffic were notified. Less recently it was originally an Iron Age hill fort and there are also two Bronze Age barrows within its ramparts. To quote Megalithic.co.uk "Field boundaries, and a huge octagonal feature run across the interior, but are well disguised by taller grass, thistles and nettles in summer. The octagonal feature has been described as an arboretum, or coppice, and was also used to give navigational assistance to seafarers." The whole place is only half owned by the National Trust, the other half is privately owned. Imagine, owning half a hill fort.

From there it's back down the hill towards South Eggardon farm. This is a listed building, dating back to the 16th Century or earlier, and looks well cared for. It would be a truly lovely place to stay but I've no idea whether that's possible. This is as close as I could get:

From there it's through the muddy paths to North Eggardon farm and there you'll have more luck as the 18th century stables have been converted into accommodation - called North Eggardon Carthouse (It is also now home to Chalkbarn joinery run by a squash buddy of mine, Jeremy Snell.) The website for the Carthouse is here. 

It used to be owned by the famous smuggler Isaac Gulliver whose wikipedia entry makes fun reading. He not only faked his own death (face covered in white powder, lying in a coffin when the Excise men came calling) but was wealthy enough to build a number of houses. One of these, Howe Lodge near Bournemouth, had a secret room that could only be accessed through a door 10 feet up a chimney. He was also church warden of Wimborne Minster where he was finally interred. Latterly he had become a 'respected citizen and banker' following a Royal pardon for smugglers. A true establishment figure.

We've had a lot of rain and snow lately so it was no surprise really that the fields here were pretty waterlogged. I'd decided not to bother with gaiters up to this point and by now it was too late. I'd been well spattered though at least I hadn't got wet feet. Next stop was the Spyway Inn, my first pub stop on any of these walks. TBH I was embarrassed to go in, in my dishevelled state, but talked myself into it, had a quick pint and, as is my wont, a chat with some random strangers. Perfect interlude before getting back on the trail.

So if you've been counting, that's one hill fort and one pint. Next up (and I do mean up) was Shipton Hill which Karen and I had often talked of walking up but never found anywhere near enough to park. Another stiff climb and glorious views although the visibility wasn't great.

I don't know if this actually was a hill fort, though it does look like one. Flint arowheads from  excavations suggest it was once an ancient village.

Now to get back home. I had two routes, either along the lanes or cross-country so of course I chose the latter. If it had been muddy before, this was on an altogether epic scale. Frequent map checks required and one top tip: carry some small binoculars. Mine fit in the hip belt pocket of my pack and were invaluable for finding hard-to-spot stiles. 

Through Chilcombe, which dates back to Domesday and has a an 18th century farmhouse and a few buildings. In 2013 it had an estimated population of 10. You'd think with so few they wouldn't have had to estimate, they could surely have just counted everyone. The farmhouse is the home of the famous landscape painter John Hubbard (http://www.johnhubbard.com/) and one of the outbuildings is the workshop of furniture designer Petter Southall (https://pettersouthall.com/) whose work sells in Sladers Yard in West Bay. He specialises in steam bent wood, drawing on his expertise from boat building, and makes some quite beautiful pieces, like this:

From there I splashed my way across to Lower Coombe and on to Pins Knoll, a site on the corner of Litton's Chalk Pit Lane that has had settlements dating back to the Iron Age. Excavations have turned up remains from then as well as the Durotriges tribes and the Roman eras.

Home now, for a cup of tea and some home-baked sodabread. I hope you vicariously enjoyed  the walk. It's just one week now to the start of the SWCP proper!

Peter

Abbotsbury Hill Fort and the Bredys

A beautiful, cold 10-miler today. As usual, full Komoot summary here.

After a couple of hours squash last night I wanted to do a reasonable mileage - that's what it'll be like on the SWCP, heading off for 10+ miles after a tiring day before. This walk was just the ticket. It looked a lovely day for a walk: Sun starting to come through, snow all going or gone (ha! I wish) and not too cold. Of course, when you start in a sheltered valley and head for the hills you should expect some change. 

Easy enough start, along the road to the Ford Farm cheese factory that I mentioned before and the trading name for the Ashley Chase estate. Much of their cheese is matured 200' underground in the Mendip hills, hence their Wookey Hole cave-aged cheese. However, Ford wanted (doesn't that sound very HHGG?) to store and mature cheese locally so they dug a 7 meter hole in the hillside above the factory to create a man-made cave and then covered over the top. You'd never know from the entrance, looks very Hobbitty:

The track above the farm was a different story. High hedges and a north facing slope meant the large snowdrifts hadn't cleared yet. The snow had been sculpted into fabulous wave-like shapes that I discovered were at least thigh-deep (oops).Beautiful but hard work to get through them. Two farmers watched me with that fascination we all have for people doing stupid things (Jeux sans frontieres, anyone?).

Shortly after this the path passes by a coppice with an intriguing diversion to the chapel in the woods. This is the ruin of St Luke's chapel, built by monks from Netley Abbey (a Cistercian order near Southampton) in the mid 13th century. Seemingly it didn't do that well and was already in ruin by the mid 16th century. It is a beautifully peaceful place surrounded by the ancient woods and full of (English) bluebells in season. Today there was only a light smattering of primroses giving some welcome colour to the monochrome winter scene. Some conservation was attempted  in the 1930s by David and Olga Milne-Watson who set up the altar and cross. There is an interesting account of the help they gave to a Jewish family in WWII here.

 

Reaching the top of the Abbotsbury Hill Fort I was rewarded with the marvellous view over the Fleet and towards Portland. <See, these walks all link up>.

The beacon was put there for the Queen's diamond jubilee in 2012 but there was a beacon nearby in Tudor times which was lit to warn of the approaching Spanish Armada. The fort itself is/was about 4 acres in size but you do have to use your imagination a bit to see some of its outlines. From there the route follows the ridge line so it was pretty exposed and I was glad I had packed some cold weather gear - the Buff neckwarmer in particular.

Once past that I turned North along the side of the old WWII airfield to follow a track I've long wanted to explore. It passes by Topparts dairy which was abandoned as a dairy in 1964 and is now available for B&B. It's a wonderful spot, with only a farm track for access and sitting at the head of the Valley of Stones, a quarry for sarsen stones used in nearby megalithic sites. The valley is now a national nature reserve.

Walking now downhill into the bowl above Bridehead (unlike Oxford, only one bride here) where some of the final series of Broadchurch was filmed. The main house is enviously next to one of the prettiest cricket grounds I've ever seen (it's the green patch in the middle distance!) with a nostalgic but new pavilion. There aren't many matches played there but if you get a chance, just go and watch one. It's a John Major moment. I saw a game involving a travelling team of over 50s from Birmingham - you can imagine the energy levels. There is a famous painting of a match there by David Inshaw who painted a copy that now hangs in Bridehead. 

There are other reasons to envy the house occupants. It's owned by Sir Philip Williams (as in Williams & Glynn bank, as was), High Sherriff of Dorset for 2016/17, deputy Lieutenant for Dorset and Patron of the Swanage Railway Trust. As one is. His wife, Catherine, was a GP in Portesham for many years. The house dates from the 16th century with 19th century additions and was acquired in the late 1800s by the Williams family who had lived in Winterborne Herringstone since the time of Henry VIII. The river Bride rises here and was dammed to create the lake. Julie Hesmondhalg was assaulted just by the bridge (in Broadchurch, not really). The village of Little Bredy has a population of just 85 and must be one of the most lovely places to live. When not snowed in. There's also a lovely walled garden here if you're visiting....

Since I was now in the Bride valley itself navigation was a tad easier. I opted not to use the roads but go cross country for a bit longer, to practise my map reading. It didn't help that the footpath went via a stile cunningly concealed in the hedge:

A muddy mile later I stopped to talk to a wayside painter. No, really. From nearby Long Bredy, George Paul Sainsbury (www.georgepaulsainsbury.com) had been chasing snow scenes for the last few days to paint en plein air. We had a chat (I couldn't pass up the chance) but he declined to be photographed so I've made do with his painting which he suggested I complete with photoshop.

From here to Kingston Russell, yet another stately home, this time dating from the late 1600s but with much earlier origins, the land having been granted to the John Russell some time before 1211 presumably by William, the Bastard. By 1913 the house was dilapidated and bought (and restored) by George and Norah Gribble who evidently made a habit of this sort of thing, having previously renovated Henlow Grange in Bedfordshire. Various owners later it has been owned since 1984 by Dr HHJ Carter and Miss T Silkstone who, according to wikipedia are "the longest continuous owner-occupiers since the 1760s". Gotta be a story there. It's rather austere to my eye - the faded gentility that may be my own eventual lot (yeah, right).

I should have mentioned in passing the house Bellamont, a sham-gothic eccentricity that looks historic but was actually built in the 1990s. It is quite extraordinary and I can do no better than direct you to this BBC programme about it from 2005: https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/p03krzj6/the-curious-house-guest-series-1-3-bellamont. Clearly planning regulations were different in those days.

Finally, into Long Bredy itself. The whole of the Bride valley is an AONB and you can see why. Almost as pretty as Litton Cheney:

Litton is only a 15 min walk from here although it's hard pounding along the road. I was pleased to get home, this was the longest walk so far but still short of the 13 miles that will be common for a stage on the SWCP. The walk ended in sunshine which was a bonus.

As ever, thanks for reading this far, if you did. 

I hopefully have fixed the email subscription button now but let me know if any problems

Peter

Litton Cheney

With the mini beast from the east arriving overnight, I opted for a much shorter walk today - wimp - but I thought you might like a look around my village, especially since it's very pretty with all the snow (though it's even nicer in the summer). As usual, the full trip summary with more photos is on Komoot, here.

There's a lot of information about the village at www.littoncheney.org.uk if you want to see what's going on, then and now pictures, and all that. Karen and I were originally going to live in Long Bredy, then Charmouth before finally settling on Litton but I'm glad we ended up here. From outside the house it's a short stroll down the track (leading to the playing field and allotments) and then straight across the fields. We loved that closeness to the fields, the sound of running water from the streams alongside and the lack of street lights for those dark sky, starlit nights. I still do. It took a while to 'bond' with the house that did its best to reject us with all its problems but we finally wrestled it into submission and I wouldn't be anywhere else. Well, maybe Cornwall for occasional visits.😉

Although the shop, the garage and the brewery have all long since gone (shame) at least the pub still remains and of course any village worth its name has to have a ghost story. This one's set in what's now called Baglake, at the East end of the village:

"Bagley House, near Bridport, has very gloomy legends attaching to it. Tradition (for the stories are traced back to the last century) says that 'Squire Lighte, who then owned the place, had been hunting one day, and after returning home had gone away again and drowned himself. His groom had followed him with a presentiment that something was wrong, and arrived at the pond in time to see the end of the tragedy. As he returned he was accosted by the spirit of his drowned master, which unhorsed him. He soon fell violently ill, and never recovered, one of the consequences of this illness being that his skin peeled entirely off. <blimey> Shortly after 'Squire Lighte's suicide his old house was troubled by noisy disturbances, which were at once associated with the evil deed of self-destruction. It was suggested that the spirit should be formally and duly' laid ' <no, not the modern meaning, that would be gross, not to say difficult> or exorcised. A number of the clergy went therefore for that purpose, and succeeded in inducing the ghost to confine itself to a chimney in the house for a certain number of years,—it is not known exactly now for how long.

" For many years after this, however, the place remained at peace ; but on the expiration of the power of the charm very much worse disturbances broke out again. Raps would be heard at the front door <an early form of carol singing>; steps in the passage and on the stairs ; doors opening and closing. The rustle of ladies dressed in silk was audible in the drawing-room, and from that room the sound was traced into a summer-house in the garden. The crockery would all be violently moved, and at certain rare intervals a male figure, dressed in old-fashioned costume, is said to have made itself visible and walked about the house. The neighbours say that these extraordinary occurrences continued for many years." 

It's just missing the wronged servant girl, the defrocked priest and a royal connection. That last is provided by Bridport of course where Charles II just avoided capture in 1651.

We are right on the western edge of the chalk hills here which is why the streams are so beautifully clear (although sadly fish-less by my house) but I'm guessing it's also the reason why we have a vineyard, owned and run by Steven Spurrier, Decanter's man of the year for 2017. It is in production (by the local Furleigh Estate) but I'm told the wine mostly goes to Japan. According to the always reliable Wikipedia Alan Rickman portrayed Steven in a 2008 film called Bottle Shock, which sounds more like a hairdresser horror story, which Steven described as largely fictional and threatened legal action during production. (There's a typically enjoyable Rickman performance in this trailer here.) The vineyard is reached via Watery Lane, which suggests some kind of Biblical miracle at work.

As a city boy I'm always surprised, and shouldn't be, to find significant businesses in the depths of the country. We also have nearby Ford Farm who are renowned for among others the Wookey Hole and Coastal cheeses exported worldwide and for their handmade traditional farmhouse cheddars. And of course there's also the builders C G Fry who have built most of Litton for the last umpteen years - not least my house, 'the prettiest house he ever built' according to Eddie Fry's daughter. With accolades go brickbats, though, as they have also built large swathes of Poundbury, that Avengers set-like, hill top town beloved of all who have bought there (well, they would) but I don't think they were responsible for the mini Buckingham Palace there:

"a rich person's view of what poor people aspire to". Good grief (and apologies if you're a Poundbury fan).

Litton Cheney by the way is named after Sir Ralph Cheney in the early 1300s, Kingston Russell after Sir Morys Russell at the same time and Shipton Gorge after Thomas Gorges a hundred years earlier. I'd lay claim to nearby Martinstown if I thought I could. 

Hopefully the snow will have gone by Tuesday and I can get out for a longer walk. Let me know if there's anywhere you'd like me to visit/waffle about.

Best wishes all

Peter

Abbotsbury and Portesham

Thought I'd take a shorter walk today and one that went inland so a bit more navigation required. As it turned out it was nearly as long as Sunday's and just as much climbing. Komoot map, photos etc here

I started in Abbotsbury which many of you will have been to. It's best known for its lovely high street (all stone and thatched buildings), the Swannery and the sub-tropical gardens but I went in the other direction, straight up the hill to the old hill fort. The view from the top is pretty spectacular and you can just see the end of The Fleet.

The Swannery there is owned by Charlotte Townshend through Ilchester Estates, one of the great estates in England with 15,000 acres of Dorset, Chesil Beach, the Fleet and something like 30 acres of Holland Park including Michael Winner's old house. Not to mention sizeable bits of Nottinghamshire and Yorkshire. A lot of the land was acquired when Henry VIII was busy taking it off the church  and you can still see the ruins of the old Abbey. Charlotte is the only woman apart from the Queen allowed to own swans - not sure how many women want to but can't. 

Just in the picture on the hill top is St Catherine's Chapel built in the 14th century as a place for the Abbey monks' private prayer. There's also a huge tithe barn of similar date just to the south of the village. Clearly a lot of history here and worth a day on its own.

Along the ridge top to the east is Gorwell farm where I recently was tutored by Andrew Dumolo in the art of making dovetails, like these which I'm proud to say I did myself albeit under his supervision:

I couldn't pass by without stopping to say hello and for a selfie:

When Karen and I walked around here, inevitably in search of a long barrow ("the old grey mare and her colts"), I found some old perimeter signs from a WW2 airfield, now sadly disused but I went and had a look for old times sake. The track then goes across the face of the hills, past the Hell Stone (a restored burial chamber -  there's heaps of prehistoric archaeology here), through a sea of mud and finally up to the Hardy memorial. 

 It's not, to my eye, beautiful - a lump of a thing really, although a landmark par excellence, but it's substantial enough that you can climb the 70' inside to get the extraordinary vistas from the top. Closed today but open from Easter to October I think (National Trust). As you probably know it's a monument to the Admiral Hardy of Trafalgar fame, not the author. He survived for 30 years after Nelson died and being a Dorset lad born in Kingston Russell but raised in Portesham returned to live there (he called it "Possum": Dame Edna would have approved) - my next stop on the walk. He lived in this rather lovely house:

Portesham, like so many of the villages here, goes back a long way. It was first given as a manor by Canute to his servant, Orc in 1024 and thereafter ownership passed to the Abbey, unsurprisingly, and then I rather suspect to Ilchester Estates. I wouldn't be surprised anyway. There was a plan to develop the substantial stone and oil shale deposits here, as well as iron ore at Abbotsbury, and a branch line ran from Weymouth. I'd had no idea of this so it was a nice surprise to find the old railway track back to Abbotsbury - easy, level walking apart from anything else.

Back in Abbotsbury there was just time to call in to Dansel, a wonderful craft emporium (shop sounds too prosaic) of all things wooden. The website is here .  

Andrew sells his creations here, and having seen a console table taking shape in the workshop I was keen to see the finished product. The picture doesn't do it justice, it's just a lovely thing.

For a better look at what he does, have a look at his website here.

So there we go. No idea where to go for the next walk but I'm sure I'll think of something.....

Peter

Portland round trip

11th March - Portland

 NB - you should now see an option to sign up for email updates on this blog. It was a bit tortuous to find out how to do it so if it doesn't work please let me know. Also, apologies for a very long blog this time: I need an editor!

Not the best weather but this is the payoff at the end of the 9 mile circumnavigation of the Isle of Portland. It's Chiswell/Fortuneswell from Tophill, with Chesil Beach - all 18 miles of it - towards The Fleet (where Barnes Wallis tested his bouncing bombs) and Abbotsbury, which is for another day. The stones making up the beach are large at this end, much finer by West Bay. Portland is a very 'separate' place with strange customs - it's forbidden to refer to rabbits here, only 'underground racehorses'. When the Wallace and Gromit film 'The Curse of the Were Rabbit' came out, the posters on Portland were changed to 'Something Bunny is Going On'.

You can see the full walk with all the pictures here plus the map and stats (speed, time, all that) on Komoot. I really like this app as it's so easy that it encourages me to take more photos and they're all tagged with time and place, so I can't forget. Tell me if there's anything you want me to change about it.

However, it's not great for actually writing the commentary (and on the SWCP walk I'll probably do that at the end of the day anyway) so back to the blog. The walk is part of the official SWCP and starts at Portland Castle (an English Heritage site, see here). This and the breakwater were constructed from stone quarried on the island and the walk soon finds the old track down which they lowered the stone-carrying carts for the breakwater in the 1850-1870s. When completed it was the largest man-made harbour in the world and it's still #3. Then it's a stiff climb (600ft according to Komoot) up to the Verne Citadel. This is also Victorian and a massive construction that effectively takes up the entire hill top. It's now an immigration detention centre but from 2011 to 2013, although being a prison, it opened the Jailhouse Cafe to help reduce re-offending. I'd love to have seen it.

By this stage I was walking in cloud so the views were only imaginary. Luckily I've done this walk before so I knew what they were! The route goes alongside a small farm where kids can come to see and touch the animals. There were some pretty forlorn-looking wallabies but at least it wasn't actually raining - not yet. Next comes the Young Offenders Institute, another Victorian construction and pretty bleak from the outside. Not guaranteed to motivate a change in behaviours you'd think but a local equine therapy company (Paintedhorse.org.uk) has been doing some inspiring work there with great results.

The path then drops down onto the East side of the island and this is my favourite area. Much less visited or known it's rough and scruffy and deserted, just my kind of place. There's miles of terrain like this:

From there it's an amble along to Church Ope Cove. Why 'Ope' I've no idea - maybe opening but then why Cove as well. Anyway it's a lovely spot, really tucked away although somewhat exposed to Easterlies which regularly remodel the beach front. (It was a cruel trick to padlock the toilets, even though I wasn't expecting to find them anyway). It used to be sandy but is now covered by quarry debris become shingle and is believed to have been the site of the first ever Viking attack on Britain in 789AD. So now you know.

From there it's about 2 miles to the southern tip of the Island: Portland Bill. Along the way are several sites where they lowered the quarried stone onto barges alongside the cliffs and one or two of the cranes survive. It must have been pretty hazardous even on a calm sea.

 

By now the weather was turning and the promised rain 'showers' arrived (more prolonged downpour I reckon) so I didn't bother with pictures of the lighthouse on the Bill. It started in 1906 and is still operational but unmanned since 1996. It took over from the original two lighthouses that date back to 1716. The lower one became a bird observatory and the higher one was home to Marie Stopes until 1958 - it's a holiday let now.

The rain set in and the west side was a bit of a slog but a good chance to check out the gear. For persistent rain Goretex is no good as, like almost all other membrane systems, it eventually wets out as I found to my cost walking the Lulworth ranges. Paramo works differently and kept me bone dry throughout. Also kudos to my friend Pete who recommended my shoes (Lowa). These were ideal when combined with gaiters. They're not much more than trainers in size but the lack of ankle support didn't seem to matter and I had no blister issues (on my Hagland's Deformity: he can have it back frankly) unlike my full size boots. It's a good example of how it's very easy to over-specify the gear you need.

The weather thankfully cleared by the time I got to Tout Quarry, another favourite of mine where a sculpture park has been made out of the disused quarry "..giving back where so much had been taken away", a nice sentiment. A local couple now run sculpture courses locally, in the quarry itself in summer, but it started in 1983 with artists residences. There are no plaques or maps, you just have to discover for yourself which only adds to the magic. There's an Anthony Gormley there if you can find it (I didn't) - the Falling Man. You can see some more pictures here, this is the Philosophers Stone

From there it's all (severely) downhill to Chiswell (previously Chesilton). Most of this is below the height of the beach; it's actually at sea level but the beach and sea defences are very large because of its vulnerability to storms. It's a small and quirky place, like most of Portland (see Rabbits, above) as you can see:

On the subject of quirks, reputedly one of Portland's quainter customs is to wait until the bride-to-be gets pregnant before getting engaged: that way, there's no doubt about the couple's ability to raise a family. It's a different world.

And after all that, back to the car at Portland Castle. This has been a way longer blog/ramble than I intended, I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed the walk.

Peter