July 3, 1997: Abbotsbury to Upwey
The Hardy Monument
It was still grey on the last morning of our 1997 walk on the South West Coast Path. We breakfasted at 8:30 – slack-jawed staff serving suburban toffs. Before we donned our packs we went up the street to a grocery store – where there were ready-made sandwiches (Tosh convinced herself that these were the same ones we had seen on the shelves the day before). Harold settled up with the manager, who, he insisted, reminded him of Oscar Levant, and at 9:30 we were ready to go.
I had gotten the idea of doing the inland alternative coast path from Hugh Westacott, who had taken both routes as a tour leader. In my investigations I had discovered that this route came within a mile or so of a railway halt, Upwey, and that from Abbotsbury this was a nine-mile stretch. But I now had to improvise a return to the ridgetop path by leading us out of Abbotsbury, with its many thatch-roofed cottages, and hunting for a bridle way off the Bishop’s Road. I found it. We continued steeply forward on a marked bridleway in the grass, with wonderful views behind us of the village and the Chesil Beach. It started to drizzle, but we had seen so many of these quickly passing episodes that no one bothered to put on rain gear. The way forward was no more arduous than a middling black arrow and before long we had entered a little gully and emerged on the ridgetop, with the official inland route coming in behind us just as we crossed the road. We were in a good position to see the Hardy Monument, but it would take us some time to reach this spot.
A fairly level path, well-marked but clearly not as well-traveled as the coastal version, lead eastward through pasture and crops. A stone circle appeared to have been buried in broccoli – well, none of could actually identify the vegetable in question. Portesham village was down below and on the down side of Portesham Hill we encountered farm tracks leading to the Hampton Dairy. We had to use the road for a few feet, then climb a stile and proceed along a field edge in the direction of a hidden Black Down Barn. The route was rather wet and overgrown here, but we did encounter one other walker heading our way; Tosh ruined his day by challenging him with a question from left field, “Say do you know what broccoli looks like.” (And he had considered himself an outdoorsman until that moment.)
At the barn we turned sharp left and, after four isolated pees, headed uphill again through a delightful woods. There was even a brief hint of sun on this verdant stretch. Two mountain bikers came haring down the track; I didn’t like this. Bracken succeeded woodland at the top of the hill and on the level plateau the Hardy Monument stood, a commanding gray presence. Here we were, marching through Hardy country, and here was a monument to Thomas Hardy but, ironically, not one to the author at all – but to Admiral Thomas Hardy, who fought at Trafalgar.
We didn’t linger long – it was cold and windy up here, but we couldn’t find the official continuation of the route in the bracken on the opposite side of the motor road and we used the latter instead to approach Smitten Corner. A bridleway leading off to the right offered an escape from day-trippers and also some shelter and so we found a secluded spot and had our lunch. I spread my rain cape and used my pack as a pillow.
Ridgetop poppies
Again, the Lees got chilly so we had to move on – this in spite of the fact that I kept warning them that we were now well ahead of schedule (Tosh had bought tickets that required our use of the 4:54 train only). A family of Irish Setters was being loaded into a car (and one old mutt, who could no longer make the leap into the boot) and a large group of people of mixed ages was just about to set out on our track to the east. We pushed ahead of them and were soon alone again, staying very much with bridleways and tracks on the ridgetop. We crossed Bronkham Hill and descended to Corton Down, where we had to climb a fence. Visibility was great and now included much of Weymouth and Isle of Portland to our right. On Great Hill we had a rest next to a poppy encircled wheat field, whose visiting proprietor, we surmised, was out to sample the progress of his crop.
The Lees had convinced themselves that they would find some form of refreshment when we returned to civilization so there was no point in trying to retard our pace. We circled some tumuli and topped Ridge Hill, passed beneath more power lines and marched past a radio mast. I caught sight of a train moving up the valley on the line we would be using. At Gould’s Bottom we crossed the B3159, but there was one more farm and one more hill to check off before reaching the A354. Here an old Roman Road provided direct access to the village of Elwell. We were leaving the coast path here, though I never saw a turnoff and later, anticipating our next trip, I climbed up to the highway to make sure I could find my way to the crossing of the highway at a finger post I could just see above me.
The Roman road to Elwell
There was a pub in Elwell, but it had just gone 2:30 and they were closing. They recommended a teahouse in nearby Upwey and Harold began another charge in search of the unreachable, or so it seemed. Both Elwell and Upwey were getting ready for a flower weekend and the gardens were in great shape. Unfortunately I found us doubling back toward the ridge as we marched along a stream that soon swept past a mill described by Hardy in Tess. The Wishing Well, whose water gardens also backed onto the infant Wey, was a friendly enough establishment. The others naturally wanted hot drinks but the closest I could get to a soft one was an orange-scented mineral water. My companions had some sort of gooey confection and I had a last dish of chocolate ice cream. Geriatrics were shuffling through the restaurant and some mentally deficient folk were outside having a peek at the gardens. I did too, using the last of a roll of film.
We got directions to Upwey Station from the waitresses and at 4:00 we began a long plod on pavements, past the mill, through Elwell again and down the main road. Tosh asked again for instructions at a petrol station and we soon located the railway viaduct. There were no places to sit down so some of us sat on the platform and some of us used the risers of the steps that led to the other side. Our train was on time and we found our seats. We made a lot of stops as we approached Southampton and Bournemouth but at 7:29 we pulled into Waterloo. The Bakerloo line was still being repaired so I had to take the Northern Line to Charing Cross, and the Jubilee line to Baker Street. I was home shortly after 8:00 at the end of a very successful walk. But days later I was in physiotherapy for my bad back – and this certainly provided a sour echo to an otherwise grand adventure.
To continue with the next stage of our walk you need: