July 1, 1997: Lyme Regis To Bridport
Fossil hunting on the way to Charmouth
After breakfast we headed downhill one last time, pausing at a bakery for our daily sandwiches. Tosh took against these, but the rest of us were quite satisfied with the selection. The checker made a £70 mistake as she was ringing up my tuna sandwich on the till. When we reached the seafront I chose a route behind the Rock Point pub and followed an esplanade to the beginning of the long beach that stretched between Lyme Regis and distant Charmouth. We were extremely lucky that our start coincided with low tide, for had we been here several hours earlier or several hours later there would have been a lengthy inland detour to challenge us – on a day that already promised enough challenges.
Before climbing down to the sand at 10:00 we lathered up, for the first time on this trip, with sun blocker. It was not necessary to repeat this precaution on this day, for clouds soon rolled in and the day got greyer. Tosh was now able to employ her new hammer and goggles on the rocks that had rolled down from the cliff face on our left. She never fond a useful ammonite, though other fossil hunters here had better luck. One of these was a little boy named Oscar, who seemed to be wearing two hats, as though he needed extra protection because of some injury. His father, an advertising man stationed in Seoul, spent a lot of time with Tosh as she made painfully slow progress – often losing what she had collected when she absent-mindedly moved on to a new pile. Margie continued up the beach at a slow pace, and was soon lost to sight, and Harold followed her. I actually took my pack off and found some interesting rocks to add to my collection while waiting for Tosh. Eventually I could see the waters advancing so I got her moving at a more rapid pace toward Charmouth. There were dozens of school kids and their teachers sifting through rocks and looking into tide pools.
I had another orange juice in a cafe at Charmouth at 11:30, as we waited for Tosh to show up. Little Oscar (minus the tin drum) was there too; we had a short period of relaxation before donning our gear, several pounds heavier because of the rocks, and beginning the steep climb up Stonebarrow Hill. A 500-foot crest, Cain’s Folly, marked the 2700th mile of my British walking career and I was photographed on the spot. We then headed steeply down past Westerhay farm and crossed a number of fields. At the foot of our next hill we decided to have our lunch, hoping to get it digested before a light drizzle turned nasty. They were harvesting a field above us and during the course of our meal three separate pieces of farm equipment were introduced; an energetic dog dashed around the field in hysterical circles, leading the parade.
Seatown from Golden Cap
I wore my rain gear as we continued over the next summit and descended to cross a bridge, where the great climb up Golden Cap began. Hall and Mason give this summit, at 616 feet the highest cliff on the southern coast of England, three black arrows and we felt them. First there was a ridge to ascend, then a bit of greensward to struggle up, and finally a gravel path that switchbacked to the surprisingly narrow summit. There were lots of other day-trippers about. It was sunny again, at 2:10, and I took my rain gear off. We had a bit of a rest and then began a steep descent, often aided by steps, down to Seatown. It was 2:40 and the Anchor Inn was not only flying an American flag, it was open. I had an eerie sensation as I arrived. A chap, whom we had met on the trail, was sitting facing us in front of the pub and for a moment I thought I was looking at me: same glasses, same blue green t-shirt, same grey hair. Margie, who came around the corner a little after I did said she was confused too.
We had a nice leisurely pint – after I had raised the umbrella over our table. The hallway to the loos inside was decorated with Schweppes girl posters from the Twenties. By 3:30, however, we had to turn our back on this scene to climb the next hill. I was trying to eat an ice lolly in the early stages of this endeavor and got a bit behind the others as we surmounted Dog House Hill and made an assault on Thorncombe Beacon, as tough a climb as Golden Cap. I should have remembered just how tough it was because I had climbed it once before when Dorothy I and were visiting Gussie Greenlees in December, 1981.
West Bay from Thorncombe Beacon
Tosh wanted to declare victory for the day but this wasn’t quite possible. We had to descend to Eype Mouth and climb one last hill, West Cliff. You could tell Tosh was into her attack mode because she and Harold disappeared on the descent to West Bay and Harold had to wait behind as we reached the bottom of the hill in order to point us in the right direction. West Bay looked quite attractive, with its ring of churches, shops, and hotels surrounding an inner harbor – in two years it would be the prominent backdrop for the ITV series Harbour Master. I found some loos and everyone had a visit here but, though it was already 5:30, we still had more walking to do – since our hotel was closer to inland Bridport than to this harbor.
We began a hike north on pavement and I think we were all feeling today’s nine and a half miles. To add to our discomfiture it began to rain again and Tosh had to help me into my rain cape. We were all hoping that around every corner our Roundham House Hotel would appear. At last it topped the road on our right and Harold scouted an approach route up Roundham Gardens.
There was a long palaver about who got which room and Tosh ended up agreeing to sleep in the same bed as her husband. I ended up with the “room with a view” first offered to Margie. It had a view of a highway, but was otherwise quite comfortable. I watched some Wimbledon and the news (much about the British departure from Hong Kong on this trip), had a shower, and got dressed for the evening meal.
We met for drinks at 7:00 and I had a gin and tonic. Everyone seemed nicely relaxed and we were looked after quite well – Tosh was convinced that ex-school teachers were in charge of this establishment. There didn’t seem to be any other guests at dinner. We ordered half a bottle of red and half a bottle of white as Harold and I had fish and the others meat. The homegrown vegetables were excellent. There were also some yummy desserts – Harold had the syllabub, but when I did have a dessert these days it was usually ice cream alone that sufficed.
I phoned Dorothy from my room, watched a little more telly, and had my usual early night.
To continue with the next stage of our walk you need: