Showing posts with label Isle of Wight. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Isle of Wight. Show all posts

Saturday 7 July 2018

A Second day (well actually it is still the first...)


Climbing the Matterhorn meant that he and I had little enthusiasm for anything but lunch.  So it was off the beaten track to a beaten track at Hartland Moor where we scoffed lunch and rested bones.  This type of moor is somewhat bleak in my view, the purple stretches for miles into the hills in the far distance and small beasties crawl here and there but few birds fly by and in my mind there is no obvious beauty to be seen.  To observe that requires careful searching into the scrub to find the many insects that live here but at first sight I see it as somewhat bland.  This did not stop people, aged and with dogs, appearing out of nowhere and disappearing in similar fashion into the distance.  The road is quiet and apart from a selfish female cyclist who would not let us pass on the narrow road, he man moved aside, few other vehicles came that way.  A good place to stuff the face when the sun is shining.


Then it was time for the beach!


Raised in Edinburgh, a city that slopes down to the Firth of Forth, I love to be near the sea.  Growing up we often heard the deep long blast of the foghorn based on Inchkeith and often we could see the light from the accompanying lighthouse turning around.  The advancement (?) of lighting and creation of blocks of flats where my old school once horrified they surroundings would hinder both, if indeed foghorns actually sound thee days.  The smell of the sea and the light produced by the action of light bouncing of the water does lift the soul I say.  There is something about the closeness of the water, the end of land and the reaching out to whatever lies way over yonder that speaks to us in some way.  In times past few lived near the sea as it appeared dangerous, only sailors and fishermen would venture near, but today the majority love the sea, crowded beaches show that.
Naturally the woman of the party despises the seaside and prefers moorland and forest!  This is good however as we dumped her on a seat at the front knowing she would retreat to the car and sleep the day off.  We trekked on bravely.


Swanage is a small town in a bay which gathers an enormous number of visitors.  Possibly it is comparatively cheap, I suspect it is not that cheap to live here, but lots of UK visitors were noticed.  There again Bournemouth and possibly Swanage attract young folks to 'Language schools' and Bournemouth teems with such types and maybe there were some among the throng here.


We did not venture far, the break in the buildings ahead offered a seat and a 'Heritage centre,' a well run small and very well set out museum resplendent with history and well informed volunteer helpers.  I am very impressed with this place.  If collecting stones, those shiny things kids love is your thing this is the place to go, they have thousands, this is the 'Jurassic Coast' after all.


We sat listening to a group of men in English shirts informing the world around of their inability to hold their drink while we cogitated on the number of 'Fish & Chip' shops advertised or seen in the small square.  The Jewish man who apparently began selling chips with his fish in the 19th century did not realise he was introducing the UK's main lunch when he did so.  The pesky foreigners keep changing good old English attitudes and it really must stop!  By the way it was supposedly an Italian, one who had walked all the way from Italy, who late in the century introduced Scotland's first 'Chippy.'  When you consider how in the last fifty years the UK now eats Indian (often Bangladeshi actually) and Chinese (are we still banned from saying 'Chinky?') you see how the nations eating habits have developed with the introduction of foreign Johnnies into the country.
 I await the popularising of Middle Easter cuisine in similar fashion however that may be limited by cries of 'Islamic Terrorist!' every time you went in for a falafel.  The gulls however cared not what you ate just as long as you ensured they got their share.


The sun shone brightly but there was a haze limiting the sight of the Isle of Wight.  At times it was almost clear but rarely could we see the lower end.  The sea itself was somewhat rough as the wind roughened the tops of the waves while the tide came in our direction.  The sea is very much colder than it looks and those tempted into it discover this fooled by the warmth of the sun.

 
Surprisingly few yachts were out there and this was good weather for that kind of thing.  Were the owners all off making money in the city in this heat I wonder?  Few craft of any king out there while we meandered about and headed back via the shops.  Lots of small shops still surviving in spite of business rates and greedy councils but a lot of them were, shall we say, tatty?  Lots of pap on offer, ice cream and chips, not at the same time,  and all the other requirements of holiday makers and their kids in the sun filled cheery seaside.  I wondered where these people resided?  On returning we found our madame still sitting there, now people watching, now gossiping with strangers, very like her.  These strangers were holidaying nearby, were others doing the same?  Swanage does not appear to have many obvious 'Bed & Breakfast' places, maybe I juts did not look. 


Then it was time to sail the seven seas, or at least make use of the Sandbanks Ferry.  


Timing it to be just too late to board we waited in the sun while people clambered out of cars, avoiding the massive chains that keep the ferry stable, and photographed their surroundings.  The young men on their jet skis bouncing upon the waves somewhat carelessly were less interesting than the madman trying to reach France by paragliding there on wind power.  He would be lucky to make the other side, which he would not do if he ran into the ferry from Boulogne.  It amazes me when you see the size of the ships which enter this narrow channel into Poole Bay.  Huge ships arrive and park themselves way over the far side of the bay yet in other parts the water is only a few feet deep.  For several thousand years men in boats, from dug out canoes to car carrying ferries have deposited their loads here, one of the reasons Many folks have made use of the hill upon which we found Corfe Castle and where I must have left two stones of ugly somewhere on the way up.  


Brownsea Island, not somewhere I have been but maybe if we could walk further we might venture onto one day, not this week mind.  Fampusly owned by one woman, famous for the first Boy Scout Jamboree (girls allowed but no boys allowed in Girl Guides for some reason) and we watched the ferry (yet another) pull away from the Island and make of round the bay.  Maybe next year but I doubt his missus will be up for that!  The island is now another National Trust property.


The Sandbanks Ferry has been running since the 1920's, a fact which surprised me as I always thought it a Victorian achievement.  £4:50 gets the car across in a few minutes accompanied on occasions by the sound of someone aboard informing a yachtsman or sailboarder of their opinion regarding how close he could get to a moving ferry chain.  Most big boats work the passage well.  
If you ever have too much cash floating around pass it on to me and I will buy one of the flats where I will waste my life watching the ferry move back and forth day after day, that is how active my body wishes to be these days.  I note one available for a mere £950,000 which appears to me to be a bargain that must not be missed. 


In the distance Bournemouth towers above the cliffs while on the beach thousands frolic in the sun, we will be there tomorrow.  Just think, around 1850 nothing much but bracken and a small stream, the Bourne, had its collision with the sea here, known as the 'Bourne Mouth' the name has stuck but now from Christchurch at one end to Poole at the other how many thousands cram into this place day after day?
I do like it however.



Monday 4 May 2015

Sea Sick, Too bad!



Since I was last here a couple of years ago I wanted to return to this car park and sit here watching the ships go by.  The sun glinting off the water, the sounds of the ferry's chains rattling, the water sloshing against the walls, the variety of craft that run back and forward on occasion ignoring the 'Give way to the Ferry' sign on the ferry.  The sun shone but there was a chill in the wind still, note the two at the back of the wee boat!  They have been out on a fishing trip and I wonder if they have caught anything out there apart from pneumonia?
There were over twenty cars on the ferry but I lost count as they came off.  A tourist bus, a 7:5 ton van and other large vans also travelled alongside a cyclist or two and foot passengers.  During the summer this place must be teeming!  The sands opposite filled with revelers and others indulging in things you keep kids away from, unless you are Ofsted of course!


Away in the far distance stands 'Old Harry Rocks.'  Once in the days of long ago these were attached to the Isle of Wight that is now far across the Solent.  I have clambered out along the top, in the 1980's, and it seems to me bits have been worn away since then by the storms.  There is no chance of my clambering over the brutes now!


Somewhat closer than in reality the distant Isle of Wight is clearly seen, even the southern end often shrouded by haze can be seen in the far distance.  So what happened to all that chalk land that has eroded?  I suspect someone somewhere has a mountain or two on their beach that they are not too happy about.


We climbed up to a high spot on the cliffs to gain a better view.  Down below the handful of people walked along the bright sand, sand that looks as if it has been relayed in time for the summer season.  The tourist income is vast and this long beach stretching from Christchurch to Poole more or less is a fabulous place to be.  Thousands consider it so and it gets a wee bit crowded.  There is very good support from lifeguards and council controls.  Mostly for lost kids during the day I suspect.


More fishermen!  They are also the only folks at sea it appears.  Usually this place is teeming with life.  Ferries to France, lifeboats rehearsing, small craft passing by, occasional other bigger ships in the distance heading for Poole.  Today little moved except a  dog or two and some people enjoying the sun. 


The different shades of blue in the sky intrigued me.  The sea was the same, various shades, changing as clouds passed over.  The blue above lightens as it heads towards the horizon, gradually the blue dissipates until it touches the sea.  The clouds remained small cotton wool like and insufficient to fill the picture, which is good.

Sick off the sea?  OK, no more now.


oops, sorry!


Sunday 30 December 2012

O Happy Week!



What a lovely Christmas time that was!  I was so happy I never thought about the missing laptop until I wanted to play around with the photos I'd taken.  Goodness gracious, who would have thunk it?  A whole week without reading the online Mail, grumpy folks on football forums, 
and spam merchants clogging up the web.  Wonderful!  Of course Mr Anonymous had left several thousand posts for me to remove but that has been done and the papers really don't need reading do they?  


I started on the Monday in the hope of missing much of the weekend traffic, and bar a pair of women gossiping behind me forcing the aged Walkman out of the bag the train was quite enjoyable.  Of course I had to change at the new interchange at Stratford and climb aboard the Jubilee line.  How long since I endured an underground journey I fail to remember but little appears to have changed.  Almost no English to be seen, which is not something to complain about, no smiling faces, no helpful gestures, no view out of the window after we left West Ham.  Glancing around I noted the majority no longer read newspapers, now it is ipads, tablets and the like.  My Walkman hid quietly at this point.  At Waterloo the one real problem was the daft idea to buy a coffee before boarding.  There I was suitcase in one hand, coffee in another, and no hand left to put the ticket through the gate!  A smiling lady employee used her key, rushed through, smiled and let me wait outside!  Grrrr!  However I managed to balance the £2.05p worth of coffee (worth about 15p actually) on the far side of the gate, maneuver the ticket into the slot and barge through without spilling anything.   

  
How lovely to stay in a clean house, warm, well fed, and not required to do anything but look out the very wide windows at the birdies squabbling among the feeders hanging in the garden.  The Robins, Blackbirds, Finches and Tits fed happily undisturbed, bar the intrusion of a Buzzard which spent an hour or two hiding in the corner until we decided it was better chased off.  Having found the garden empty on arrival, been fooled by a fluttering leaf to dive to the lawn the bird sneekily hid behind the garden shed and watched carefully through the windows at the feeders.  You may find it difficult to believe how enjoyable the garden scene is but I assure you he and I spent many an hour, with her grumbling in the background, discussing the activities of the feathered folks.  Of course it would have been better still if the sun had shown up a little more often, sulking behind clouds was it's major occupation most of the time. 

Can you see the Buzzard?


Some folks have difficulty finding one family, I have two!  How lucky to be able to find two families!  Not only that I get on with them.  I suppose I would not be there otherwise.  Work and poverty stopped me getting down there for years and it was a week of restful tender loving care - for me at least!  So much so that I spent hours watching the kind of TV I would normally abhor!  More than this I found myself enjoying what was on offer and getting involved with the hero's problems.  The feeble young Viking befriending the injured Dragon brought tears to my eyes.  Quite why he and the girl hero had American accents and the older Vikings Scots accents escaped us.  Do Americans not realise Vikings (who do not have horns on their helmets) come from Scandinavia   Look it up on the map!   So slouched on the couch, yet another mug of tea in hand, chocolates around, possibly home made fruitcake in hand, I passed the week amongst intelligent conversation and laughter.  Made a change from talking to myself.

A trip to Poole Bay to be blown away and around the corner to watch the ferry and sit admiring the view of the sea.  Gales of wind blowing folks hats from their heads while aboard the Swanage Ferry gave us a laugh.  The view gave us reason to sit and stare for a while.  There is something healing to the soul sitting and watching a view, either of the sea or the land.  Some wrongly call this 'spiritual,' what they mean in 'tranquil.'  We need deep inside to get away from the workshop or office, the sink or the routine and refresh the mind by sitting and just watching the almost still view.  Try it today!


The view of 'Old Harry,' the rocks at the far end of the bay from high above on Canford Cliffs was well worth a look.  'Old Harry' is the solitary rock sticking up at the end of the land in the centre of the top picture.  What a day to be there!  This has been a favourite view of mine since the day I first came here in the late 70's.  The beach below is clean sand, well controlled by the lifeguards, although only one dunderhead was actually swimming in the freezing water, and the long slow walk along the front is one I long to do once again, possibly next time.  


The view in the other direction, to the left gave a clear view of the Isle of Wight.  The chalk cliffs reflecting the sun.  Wonderful!  The flats behind us along Cliff Drive in Poole have this vista daily and I want it also.  Please lend me half a million and I'll pay it back  as soon as I can.    

Now I am back in the smelly home with a bagfull of dirty laundry. Rejoice, rejoice......   On the other hand I have dozens of the other photos to post, can you wait....?

I hope your Christmas week was a good as mine!


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