Dorset, Part One

I've changed my header to one which is a bit blurry but it was taken out of a plane window. It makes me think of the feeling of excitement as you are descending at night to some unfamiliar place - in this case, I took the picture over Africa, and you can see how few settlements there are, just one not-very-big town.  I look at it and I wonder what it is like to be down there in the dark African countryside with the plane droning far above?

I haven't gone far recently, and have so much to do here I'm glad of that - daresay I'll change my mind when winter gets under way though!  We had a great trip to Dorset during the recent sunny spell.  It was to attend a golden wedding celebration in the extended family, and then the weather was so nice that we decided to just stay on in Dorset. 

These beautiful blue butterflies could be one of several varieties, and I'm not smart enough to tell them apart. But I'd like to think at least one of them is a Silver Studded Blue,  a rare one local to Portland, where we took the picture. Portland is an island reached by an isthmus and overlooking a long, wild and empty beach, Chesil Beach. It's of great geological and wildlife interest, and has good fishing, but I'll be honest with you that its eighteen miles of unadorned shingle wouldn't make it my choice of beach on which to spend the day. 

Portland has been quite industrial in its time, and is indeed the main source of Portland Stone, a prized white limestone that has been used both for Buckingham Palace and St. Paul's Cathedral.  The island is bleak, stony, quite densely populated and not too affluent but it's interesting.  The butterflies live in one of a number of disused quarries which have become nature reserves. Each has their own personality.

 The one below, Tout Quarry, is notable for its sculptural decorations carved into the rock, which you come across unexpectedly. I loved this Victorian fireplace, complete with clock in the centre and what might be geological specimens on either side.  

And here is a life-sized falling man, below. The sculptures are not named or indicated in any way so it's startling to come across these curious things unexpectedly as you explore. 

The beaches down this coast are mostly rocky, although in different ways, so very different from each other. The coast is actually a World Heritage Site on account of its geological interest.  From a photographic point of view, I found the different sorts of beach rocks very interesting. This is one of my favourite pictures of the trip, taken on the beach near Osmington Mills,  east of Weymouth. Do you think the irregular shape on the central rock looks like part of an ancient map?  Of course it is a type of seaweed, which close up looks like curly hair.   

Many of the stones on this beach are huge, brown, smooth and sculptural, in fact the sculptor Henry Moore is said to have gained inspiration from them - there's an interesting little item here showing some of the other things that gave Moore sculptural ideas. 

There's also a very jolly pub in the hollow near the beach, called the Smugglers' Inn.  It is not just a fanciful name - the area used to be a haunt of smugglers and in fact there is an amusing tale which I found written in the church of the nearby village of Langton Matravers .... 

So, here is a picture of the west wall of Langton Matravers church, below.  If you look carefully you'll notice that the wall looks old and if you look very closely you will see two different roof lines, both of which show a pointy roof.  That shows the church has been rebuilt, and these are the ghostly remains of earlier churches. 

  To be honest with you, they haven't been so very lucky with their churches in Langton Matravers, and maybe it's not surprising.  The church before this one was built with a large space above its concave ceiling, some way below the roof timbers.  It seems this large space struck the churchwarden, Charles Hayward....

...who also happened to be a smuggler, as an ideal place to hide a large number of barrels of brandy, which he just happened to have in his possession. He stationed his grandson at the church gate as lookout, and he and his mates carried the huge barrels up and hid them above the curved ceiling.  

 Since the floor was obviously not at all flat in their hiding place, (in fact, it was very curved, almost in an arch) the barrels all rolled down to the sides, and such was the weight of them that they pushed the walls of the church outwards, and eventually, the whole place collapsed. 

We only know this because Charles' grandson, the lookout, wrote about the whole exciting incident in his diary.  I don't think the diary surfaced in time to convict Charles, in fact, he seems to have got away with it, perhaps because smuggling was one of the local businesses and not exactly a crime, or something. It certainly looks from the plaque above that Charles Hayward died a respected member of local society.  

 One of the best known villages on the coast is Kimmeridge.   It might be well known but it is very small.  It's about a mile from the sea, which is reached by a narrow toll road.  It's a lovely place, with the gardens of its thatched cottages absolutely alive with butterflies.    

Someone drove a vintage car up the road as I was there.  You can see it going past the old thatched pub, Clavells, which does very nice food.

Kimmeridge has several claims to fame.   There is a circular folly called Clavell Tower, built in the Tuscan style in 1830 by the wealthy local vicar, Rev. John Richards Clavell. It's now owned by the Landmark Trust, which lets out fantastic unusual quirky old buildings to holidaymakers.  They actually rescued it from falling into the sea by moving it physically back from the cliff edge where it once stood.

There is also a modern and spacious museum, beautifully designed and built of the local stone. This is the Etches Collection, the lifetime's collection of local plumber Steve Etches who got into collecting local fossils in a big way when he was young and ended up getting a PhD.  He has donated his stunning specimens to the nation in a museum built with National Lottery funds. (click the link above to find out more about it). The museum's displays give a real feeling for what these bizarre and often unnervingly huge marine animals were like, how they looked and moved and lived, and the many little films of Steve at work convey not only his great enthusiasm for them but are also really informative.  I can only feel grateful that they died out many millions of years before I came along because I would definitely not have liked to encounter them when swimming in the sea.

The layered rocks on Kimmeridge beach are very striking and interesting.  T and I thought the broken off bits looked a bit like sandwiches with thick fillings.... but I guess that just shows we don't know much about geology.

On the way to Kimmeridge, down extremely narrow and steep little roads, we stopped off at the village of Steeple.  By coincidence, there's also a village of Steeple in Essex (that's the area I visited in the last post). The name in Steeple, Essex refers to an ancient lookout point, and its church doesn't have a steeple. Nor does the church in Steeple, Dorset.

What Steeple Church in Dorset does have is a barrel organ. These were used in small remote places where there wasn't anyone to play a real organ.  If you've ever tried to play a barrel organ you'll know it's fiendishly difficult, specially if you have to pump it with your feet at the same time. You need to turn the handle very smoothly at exactly the right speed otherwise the notes come out as a jumble.

Here's the organ. It should have a case but that's being used in the vestry for something else.

It does play, though.

... and here is  a very similar barrel organ, playing the hymn tune "Cranbrook,"

The church considers this to be the old tune of "While Shepherds Watched their Flocks By Night."

  You, though,  may recognise that the tune often has very different words sung to it.  "On Ilkley Moor" is almost the National Anthem of Yorkshire, although I wasn't able to find any decent videos of people singing it - not unless you like listening to people singing in the pub on Saturday night anyhow. 

Oh, forgot to say. We saw this caterpillar in the quarry in Portland. T. reckons it is a moth of some sort, but we couldn't identify it. 

It curled up when picked up, and I took it off the main path which it was slowly crawling across and put it into the long grass. If anyone can suggest what sort it was, I'd love to know.

This post is getting a bit long so I'll end it here, but we did lots of other things in Dorset, and I'll write some more about it in my next post. I know I often say I will and then don't, but this time,  I really will! 

All the Bs.

As I started to write this post about the last week or two, I realised that a lot of the things I was writing about began with B

This is where stayed. It's a Bed-and-Breakfast called Seymours Court, a farm on the Somerset-Wiltshire border, not far from Bath. 

It looks very grand, and in some ways it is - it's thought to have been a hunting lodge for the family of the man who married Henry VIII's final wife, Catherine Parr, after Henry died.  It seems to have been let out as a farm when hunting lodges went out of fashion, and it has been a farmhouse for five centuries. Personally, I think there might be more to it than that - any old house known as a "Court" often really was one, where local disputes were settled.  But anyway, because it is a farm and not a stately home, it's fairly simple and old fashioned inside, and the present tenants have some very old furniture which was probably in the house for generations. 

The front door is magnificent, made of oak, and with a "lock" that is extremely effective. Here is the farmer's wife, Jane, showing it to me - it's a gigantic oak Bar which is pulled out at night. When this bar is extended fully, the door is as immovable as a stone!

 They only have one b&b room, which is the one on the top right. So that's where we were.  Very peaceful, very nice hosts and great breakfasts. 

I was doing a bit of work in Bath.  I've been there before  (though not for years) and didn't get much time to look around before I had to continue, but here are some pictures that T. took of the restored  Baths, which were built in Roman times.  Amazing collection of ponds and pools in the middle of the city, lots of Roman remains and later medieval additions.  And a rather cool tourist, I thought. 

It's strange that people still keep up the custom of throwing coins in water, which originated in the pagan idea of placating water spirits. The Roman Baths were certainly considered to be magical by those who used them, and among the exhibits on display are visitors' written-out prayers for help, or curses on thieves or crooks,

And here is the gilded head of Minerva, to whom the people used to pray.  It was found chucked in a pond and forgotten about but is very nicely displayed now. 

Bath Abbey was being renovated, so was noisy and full of builders, but I liked this reflection of windows and stone tracery....

And outside, the 16th century sculpture of angels climbing a ladder to heaven was apparently based on a dream of one of the  Bishops of Bath & Wells.  Or so they say....  I think it's a wonderful image to have on a church! 

We took the chance to have some walks - luckily the weather was really good, not too hot but sunny and bright.  I've been getting a bit obsessed with spotting Butterflies, so here are a couple I snapped although there really were clouds of them around, a marvellous sight. I'm not very knowledgable so forgive me if the names are wrong but I think this delicately coloured butterfly is a Painted Lady...

and the much brighter Comma, which is brilliant orange

And this is my favourite, although it's not a very good picture, or shall we call it an "action shot"?   I was photographing a Small White on a nettle when all of a sudden a Marbled White flew down and landed right on top of it. Butterfly confusion, and they both fluttered off in a hurry.

The area is very pretty round there, some of it is indeed what we used to call "chocolate-boxy" which I suppose relates to the days when boxes of chocolates and sweets often had pictures of country cottages on them.  I had to take a picture of this Blossom beneath a window.

and a Blue-eyed cat which was one of two very elegant cats patrolling around Iford Gardens, an Italianate garden deep in the countryside.

Here is Iford Manor, and you might just be able to spot Britannia on the Bridge. 

It's a medieval bridge so most odd to see what seems like an 18th century statue on it, her helmet on her head and her shield by her side, guarding the charming little river that flows by the house.

 

The garden was very well worth a visit and we spent hours there. It's not very large but there are all sorts of curious corners and some beautiful Blooms.  This poppy was deep red and looked as if it was scattered with silver.

And here are roses climbing up a pillar. 

We returned to London by the M4, stopping off at Hungerford, West Berks, and noticing a Boat that seemed to have a bit of a problem... 

And went for a walk on Hungerford Marsh, a nature reserve by St. Lawrence's church, listening to the Bells.  The ringers were practising the changes, and went on for about an hour. It sounded very nice but they must have been exhausted at the end of it, not to mention a bit deaf.  But to me it felt like an archetypal English country afternoon.   

Altogether a Beautiful trip. 

Waiting for the Season to Start in Kefalonia.

The political situation here in Britain is so dreadful that I've decided I can only deal with it by quitting newspapers and magazines, switching off television or radio, abandoning all social media and turning off the internet all day. I reconnect it for an hour or so daily,  the way we always used to do - remember? Saving up all those little questions we'd normally google and having all the emails in at once.  As someone said to me the other day, "well, it means we talk to each other a lot more, doesn't it?"  Yes, and that's good.  It means I'm behind with blogs, although I do my best, as I love to read what you all write. 

So, almost immediately after I finished my last post, we finally headed off to two of the Greek Ionian islands, Ithaka and Kefalonia, which we'd planned to visit before my ankle started giving trouble.

You can only get flights to Kefalonia in the off-season via Athens, so after spending a night at the airport we took one of those little planes that I rather like.  You can see everyone in their winter gear, despite the bright sun.  Greek weather isn't always great in March, although we had some sunny days up to about 21 degrees (around 70F), but it became so cold and windy at times that I was sorry I'd left my woolly gloves in England!  

 The reason we went to Kefalonia is that T subscribes to something called "Footpaths of Greece"  which waymarks and describes some of the many old pathways and donkey tracks that criss-cross the country and its islands. Kefalonia and neighbouring Ithaka are two of those islands.   I was hoping my ankle would be better enough to risk tackling at least some of the easier tracks, and I'm glad to say I didn't have any problems at all. 

I can't tell you how beautiful it can be walking Greek trails at that time of year.   This is the start of a 2 km hike up a hillside to an large abandoned Venetian castle at Assos, dating from 1598, which we had entirely to ourselves the whole balmy sunny afternoon.

We stayed in the capital, Argostoli, where many shops, cafes and hotels stay open before and after the main season.  I don't usually recommend hotels, and I didn't get any freebies from ours, but I'll recommend the Aggelos Hotel for two reasons. No, three reasons. It is only a two star, and inexpensive, so that needs to be borne in mind, but it has a beautiful, beautiful view of the bay and the mountains. This is what you see when you look out of the front door. And so quiet, with just the  occasional pedestrian, yet an easy walk to restaurants and bars if that's what you want. 

Second, the breakfast was great, with a big variety of food ranging from Greek cheese pie to sesame sticks, lemon cake to the most delicious Greek yogurt and honey ever.   There was a breakfast room in the basement, but since we were staying out of season we had a choice where to sit and eat, so we took our food up to the small terrace, and sat in the morning sun with that view. Yes, I know it's a half eaten breakfast - but I hadn't thought to take the photo beforehand! 

And third, the staff were really helpful.    Nothing was too much trouble.  I guess you could add a fourth plus, which is that it was actually open when so many other places were closed. 

In fact, Argostoli is quite a thriving little town and it has been spending the winter renovating its sea front to create walks and places for visitors to go. Here's an evening photo of the causeway that cuts off the end of the bay to create a wildlife lagoon beyond. 

One of the nicest walks we did was called "Seven watermills," and it's near the port town of Sami. We only saw two mills before the path became too technical for my ankle to cope with, but even so we took four hours meandering around,  including a stop for a picnic, because there was so much to see.  We didn't meet a soul, and all the time we were accompanied by a very, very clear and fast river running between white stone banks.

We really did spend a lot of time just sitting and looking at the water, rushing and twinkling in the sun.

There were clouds of butterflies of all types. I'm never going to be a wildlife photographer but I managed to catch a common blue 

and a much rarer one called the Southern Festoon

Before we left the UK, I went on the Kefalonia forum at Tripadvisor and asked advice from one of the experts about things to see in Argostoli.    He suggested I visited ARK, Animal Rescue Kefalonia. "You might like to bring the volunteers some sandwiches," he said. 

So, one evening we drove down an extremely narrow country lane, and just as we were wondering if we'd come to the right place, we arrived at the rescue centre. It had officially closed for the day, but the chorus of barking at our arrival brought along Joyce, a young Dutch woman who has volunteered there for three years, followed by Marina, the lady who started the refuge in memory of her friend Doris, many years ago.  They were happy to show us around. 

We loved it.  It was run entirely for the animals' benefit, with just the kind of things animals like ... here you see dogs sitting on chairs and tables to their hearts content. 

The cats were allowed to lie on the bed all they wanted, too - and note the little tiled "houses" and carefully divided feed plates so all the cats can live together in harmony and have a night on the tiles if that is what suits them....  Of course, the cats roam about more than the dogs, but most of them chose to live in the shelter. 

What struck me is that the place smelt completely clean, and considering there are 250 dogs and goodness knows how many cats, I can't imagine the work it takes to keep it that way.  

Marina was really delightful, a most warm hearted lady who reminded me a bit of one of my great-aunts, who was also a devoted animal lover.  Here she is. 

Each of the animals is given a name, and Joyce and Marina know their histories and look after them appropriately.  These two below, for instance, are a mother dog (at the rear) and her son.  I've forgotten what they were called, but the mother was chained on a very short leash and starving when found, and the son was the only puppy from her litter that had survived.   Now they are fully restored to health, but are still unhappy when other dogs are in their compound.  And, when the son was adopted, he pined so much that he was returned.  So the pair of them now live at the shelter permanently, in a compound of their own. 

All the dogs in the group below, though, are happy in a pack but would probably like an owner of their own. 

Certain dogs who are used to all kinds of people and understand a domestic environment, are allowed to range around freely and meet the visitors, and very well behaved they all were.   T and I were full of admiration to see such a huge crowd of happy healthy animals. 

 The whole place is supported by donations, and it gave me quite a headache to wonder how much it costs to feed 250 dogs every day - not to mention vaccinate and de-worm them, and neuter them if there is enough cash.  We hadn't brought any sandwiches after all, but we gave them a bigger donation than we'd planned, and I am sure that every penny of it was put to good use. 

That evening we ate in a souvlaki place on the main square, and very good it was... but there was far too much, so we took away a doggy bag.  Literally so.  Next day, we took the ferry to Ithaka, and a couple of dogs at the Ithaka port were very glad indeed of the leftovers.

I'll leave you with this picture taken one evening at dusk on the other side of Argostoli lagoon. I've been wondering for years what this pink shrub is called. It lives near water and is quite pale and dainty in appearance - so if you know, please tell me!