We arrived at Kingston after lunch time – a little later than I planned – after getting distracted by Corfe Castle. I immediately knew we were in for some good walking because parking at the pay-and-display car park below the castle gives one a sense of being towered over by massive landscape – the suspiciously leaning remaining chunks of wall of the castle may have something to do with this.
Not being one happy to depart with £6.90 to be several yards closer to massive castle walls waiting to fall on people, compared to not paying, still being able to see exactly the same thing, and being considerably safer, we opted for the walk up the hill on the north-east side of the castle, above the train line. A good move – what a view. Coming from St Albans, where the biggest hill in the area has a constant queue of angry motorists on it hardly moving much because of the congestion of the city centre, it felt like we had just been released from a cage. Really magnificent views all around, the steam train quaintly tooting and bellowing its white steam below us, and the satisfaction of having the best possible view of the castle without paying for it made this initial distraction worth the three and a half hours drive via Stonehenge worth the effort even if we went no further.
But thanks to the advice given by kind contributors to this forum, we had a plan. We parked at Kingston, stopped in at the Scott Arms pub where we each had a quick pint of local ales and ciders respectively (surprisingly, none of us would recommend these – the cider especially tasted like dish-water, but this is probably a comment more on our tastes than the liquid istelf), and set off for Swyre Head.
Loads of walkers were out and about and we were given extensive answers to the shortest questions; one, upon being asked if this path (as opposed to that one) was the right one, managed to get information in about the crashed military planes of 1935 and 1942. We strode on and quickly were confronted by one of the most beautiful meetings of seaside and cliff-face I have encountered in the UK. Our response was uniformly that of disbelief – the weather, the serenity and the view combined together and facilitated that rare feeling of being in the best of all possible worlds.
Let me just say that if there ever is an apocalypse that isn't caused by a comet into the ocean and our coastlines therefore stay in tact as they are, and I happen to be one of the few survivors of this event, Encombe dairy is mine! I can't remember ever seeing such a perfectly secluded establishment lying in the bottom of such a beautiful seaside basin. We were, of course, high on the cliffs above it, so couldn't knock and offer compliments such as “Damn!”
Swyre head comes around quickly and is a great viewpoint. The view is just endless on a day as good as yesterday. This really is a dramatic landscape, just how I like it, one where you can see areas where you can walk along and know that death lies several feet this way or that if you're not careful. So instead of heading off to Kimmeridge, which looks lovely, we scrambled down Swyre Head straight to the coastal path and went east because the cliffs are much bigger that side.
We spent the next while walking along the coast and up to Houns-tout cliff, where we sat and absorbed the remaining heat of the sun. The pillars of crumbling cliff there are great for some, but not for others, as one passer-by clearly expressed – gives him the [censored] apparently, and I do quote. I wonder how may walkers unknowingly undertake the swcp and find themselves with the [censored] then, because it looks like a lot of the Jurassic part of it seems really cliffy from what I've researched – even more incentive to walk it in its entirety sometime.
We were about to head down to Chapman's Pool when the sun started to lose its heat, so we hastily retreated to the car in a valiant attempt to add the cherry to the top of this impressive cake of a trip we had already had: to see Durdle door at sunset. We made it, and despite being somewhat indignant that it was guarded by an extensive holiday park, I was impressed to see that the park is far enough away from the immediate coast area as not to be an eye-sore. Just down the hill towards Durdle Door, there is little evidence other than the large number of people that there is a holiday park anywhere near, and before we knew it we were totally taken by the beauty of that striking feature and its impressive surrounds.
The sunset brought with it the most saturated shades of pink and the blues and greens were equally enhanced – really breathtaking. The ocean was sublimely peaceful and people all over the place were just there to absorb the experience – definitely not something common to many inland areas of the UK. We watched the light fade and agreed that we needed to start the drive home.
At the top of the hill, however, one of our company exclaimed surprisingly, “What the hell is that?” Such was the size of the moon on the horizon that we sprinted up a hill to oogle at it. There is nothing quite like seeing the full moon disproportionately large and unfamiliarly orange envelop the sky. We sat silently in complete disbelief at this and the previous indescribable beauty of the day.
After fish and chips at the holiday park restaurant, which, surprisingly for a holiday park, could have been worse, we hit the road. At that time on a Saturday night, one might be forgiven for thinking the traffic flow in this country functional, and we were home in just over 2 hours.
A big thanks to the advice given to me – without it, I could have missed one of the best walking days I've had.