Blighty 2025 - More railways, and a near death experience.

I woke very early, and decided to take a walk to a local beauty spot called Durdle Door. It's a fantastic rock formation in the sea and can be viewed atop some commanding cliffs. The only thing was that it was seriously foggy at 0630hrs.

Still, I donned my running shoes and headed up Hambury Tout Steps to Durdle Door, marked as being one mile distant. I'd decided against a jacket or fleece, despite the chill of the fog, and very soon realised what a good idea that had been. The path up the cliff was very, very, steep. It is at least paved nowadays, but I was puffing and wheezing in a way I hadn't puffed and wheezed for many, many years. I took it easy but still had to stop frequently to catch my breath, and I seriously contemplated giving up, fearful of dropping down dead or something. 

I just read that on that path up the hill, you gain 345ft in height, over 0.4 miles (2112ft) in distance, which is a steep climb for anyone. Being so incredibly out of condition, I really felt the burn.

But the birdsong, and my stubbornness, kept me going, and eventually I reached the high point, albeit that it was shrouded in even thicker fog. As I got nearer my goal, I could hear the sea far below, even if I couldn't see it. There was quite a steep drop from the path's high point down to the Durdle Door viewing area, and I really felt it in my knees as I descended; goodness, this getting old is no joke.

There were already quite a few people at the viewing area, but I got the impression that some had overnighted in their cars in the car park at the top of the hill, because no one drives out here at seven in the morning. The Door was looking magnificent in the fog, and my view of it wasn't too badly obscured, especially as the fog at sea level wasn't so bad. Then it was time to walk back.

The stretch back up to the level of the cliff path was tough, especially as it was on loose stones and was criss-crossed by ditches cut by rainwater, but it was mercifully short. As I struggled up there, I paused frequently to check my birdsong app on my phone. The Skylarks, Corn Buntings, Goldfinches, Dunnocks and Jackdaws were out in force. Indeed, the Skylarks were amazingly busy, and I'm not sure I'd ever heard or seen one before, so that was a memorable moment or two.

The walk back down Hambury Tout Steps into Lulworth Cove was tough on my knees and my back, and it took me back to my youth, backpacking in the German Sauerland, where downhill sections while carrying packs were horrible on the knees. I met a man who was coming up the hill who was carrying an enormous rucksack on his back. He looked considerably older than me, but was gamely making his way up. I paused to say hello and as we parted he wished me a lovely day of rest, which I think implied that he had a day of walking ahead of him. Poor chap.

After a much needed shower, I gathered the family and we set off for Norden Station, at one end of the Swanage Railway, now a heritage railway. The original line ran from Swanage to Wareham where it connected with the main line between Weymouth and Southampton. British Rail closed the line in 1972, presumably because of falling traffic numbers, and I have the unique, if oblique, distinction of knowing that my older brother had travelled on the last BR train between Swanage and Wareham.

The movement to restart the railway after its closure began in 1978, but it wasn't until 2017 that the entire line between Swanage and Wareham was open for use by trains. Linking with the line at Wareham was problematical because British Rail was not keen to have the Swanage private trains running on their tracks approaching Wareham, or going into their station. So, Norden was designated the "end of the line" and double track was re-laid so that locomotives could be swapped from one end of the train to another. The people running the railway did strike a deal with Network Rail to operate a service in Wareham in 2017, and it ran for two seasons. However, the Government wasn't prepared to cough up the subsidy that a regular daily commuter line would attract, so the Swanage Railway people ceased the operation, and now all trains terminate at Norden.

Norden is actually a tiny little station, but the Isle of Purbeck Council has seen fit to install a good-sized car park adjacent to the station, and even though it was £4.20 to park for the day, it was nice to be able to leave out car there while we rode the rails. Our run into Swanage was in some lovely old Southern Region rolling stock, and was behind a big and noisy Class 20 diesel loco. There are two trains operating throughout the day, one diesel and one steam, and we'd missed the Battle of Britain Class steam Loco "Manston". However, we saw it as the trains passed at Harman's Cross. Charlie was as happy as Larry, of course, and absolutely loved travelling in the old train.

The first stop down from Norden is Corfe Castle. The village, impossibly pretty in Purbeck stone, is huddled under the huge Motte of the 11th Century Norman castle. Cromwell and his Parliamentarians partially demolished it after the Civil War, but what remains is the most romantic set of castle ruins that you can imagine. From any angle, it's just magnificent. While we didn't really have time to get out and explore, just viewing from the train as it slid gently past was just wonderful.

We trundled down to Swanage into the lovely little terminus station there, and took a gentle walk down to the sea front. Swanage has a broad crescent of a sandy beach, and given that the weather was warm and glorious on this late May day, the place was thronged with families enjoying both promenade and the beach. Emma bought (more) postcards, and we had a bag of chips (fries, for the non-Brits) while sitting looking out into the bay. You could even see the high white cliffs of the Isle of Wight on the horizon. 

Back at Swanage station, Emma dropped lots of money on souvenirs again, and we waited for the Class 20 diesel to hove into view. The last coach on the train was the "Devon Belle" observation car, an old carriage with big windows to the side, and more importantly, on the end. We stumped up a bit more cash to sit in there as the train headed back to Norden, and watched the rails recede into the distance as we quietly boiled in the magnified sunshine.

We had planned to stop at Corfe Castle on the way back, but circumstances dictated that we had to head back to Lulworth in fairly short order, so it was straight back to the car, and on to Lulworth Cove.

I have to say that the Swanage railway is a delight. It's not as swept up and professional as the GWSR at Broadway, but it has a lovely, country feel to it with its tiny stations and Southern Region quirks like concrete lamp posts and station sign holders. I hope it prospers in the years to come.

Sunday was slated as going home day, although as the accommodation at Lulworth had been paid for until Monday, it didn't have to be. We'll see what happens.

Blighty 2025 - Friday Travels

This fine Friday, we set off for Lulworth Cove, and a family birthday celebration. 

The roads in England tend to fan out from London, and this trip was north to south, crossing the M4, A3, A303, A35, and many, many more, which makes driving distances quite awkward. Add to the mix the fact that it was fine weather and it being the last Friday of the half term holiday, we knew the traffic would be horrible, and we weren't wrong. Indeed, the first holdup came just south of Burford with people lining up to get into the Cotswold Wildlife Park, so we knew what was coming. 

We were travelling slightly off track to visit the visit the village of Holt, just outside Trowbridge, where Dear Wife's paternal grandmother is buried. The family tree people, Ancestry, threw up the precise location and as it was sort of on the way, we decided to pay a call. 

Holt is a lovely little Wiltshire village, and the graveyard we were seeking was one of three that surround the Anglican Parish Church of St Katherines. The grave was duly visited, and we decided to stop for our picnic lunch, and it was then that we met a vary nice lady who may have gone by the title "Church Warden", or she may not, but had the church open and invited us in. The good people of Holt had removed all the pews and replaced them with tables and chairs. There was a childrens playgroup area and three audio visual systems to make the place usuable in so many more ways that a simple Sunday service. I also noticed a lot of musical instruments up towards the altar, so it was also a refuge for musicians. I'm not a religious person, but I couldn't help thinking that these people were making so much more of their church, and that it would remain the centre of village life, and I like that.

The nice lady also invited up to sit in the church's outside area, under the Yew trees in the oldest part of the graveyard. Far from being buggy, it was a cool and pleasant, and make for a lovely picnic setting. But we had to get back on the road.

We wriggled and twisted, went up hill and downhill, and at one point I commented that it was a good job that Charlie didn't suffer with travel sickness, but almost immediately he said he was feeling unwell. He cuddled up with him mum, as best as he could while in his car seat, and I slowed a little and tried to take it easy, and he dozed off. When he woke, he said he felt much better. Upset avoided.

The traffic was heavy, but we nosed our way south, although not directly to Lulworth Cove. We were on a mission to visit the lighthouse at Portland Bill, although the slowness of the traffic, particularly through Weymouth, was cutting down our usable time. I don't recall ever having been to Portland, although while there I was getting the occasional flashbacks. Portland is a s block land that pokes out into the English Channel and forms the eastern edge of Lyme Bay. Out on the "Bill", what the place is known as, it's wild and wooly, and almost completely devoid of trees thanks to the almost constant winds. If you're worldly wise, you might have heard of Portland Stone, or Portland Cement, both products hailing from this little outcrop of rock.

We did arrive at the lighthouse in good time, and how magnificent it looked, all red and white stripes against the blue of the sea. Where the tides meet, immediately south of the Bill, the sea was all churned up and rough looking, an area that is known as the Portland Race and not much loved by mariners.

Three of us took the tour of the lighthouse, which involved climbing 155 steps to the top. It's a working lighthouse, but is now fully automated and runs just two LED lamps rum though doughnut-shaped lenses, rather than the massive rotating lenses that were a feature of lighthouses of the past. It still gives out the same "Character", four flashes every twenty seconds, but in a very modern manner. Of course the view from the top was fabulous, especially given the great weather.

We finally set course for Lulworth Cove, but didn't anticipate the traffic in Weymouth being at a complete standstill. Again, it was the Friday blues.

We pitched up in Lulworth about half-an-hour off schedule, which probably wasn't too bad given the roads and the time of day. I hadn't been to Lulworth in a fair few years, but it was just as pretty as I remembered it.

The family portion of the visit isn't for the blog, so I'll pick this up again after we've been to visit the Swanage Railway on Saturday.