Golden Cap

A long lie-in, a leisurely breakfast and then off we all go – moving on? As it turns out, no – they wanted to show me Chidehock Hill for myself so I could see what they had been grumping about. I have to say it is quite steep and about 1.5 miles long so, to be fair to them, they had done well to get up it. We then continued into Charmouth where he went in search of the bike locks, but returned empty-handed, although the beach warden had said that he’d seen them on the railing when he left for home at 5.00pm yesterday – Why hadn’t he put them in his office then? Before we left Charmouth He took the opportunity to take a photo of Golden Cap, which you can see above.

The Smithy, Branscombe

From Charmouth it’s back to the A53 until we turn off for Branscombe in Devon where, following an interesting drive along an increasingly narrowing lane , they park me up next to a working smithy whilst they go and look at the smith’s wares (and very fine they were too!), visit a mill that is closed – just like the pub they had stopped at to quench their thirst on their way back yesterday and the bar/restaurant on the site which they had hoped to have a meal in when they did get back !!.

We then move on to Beer (the Devonian Village, not the mucky sort this time!)

Beer Terrace

Beer is lovely (the village! the village!!) with great views, and a good fish’n'chip shop – so good in fact that Him’n'Her were able to walk out without paying for their freshly cooked fish’n'chips – but they did go back and pay for them after they’d eaten them down by the beach. I hope the lad that forgot to charge them still has a job – although his boss, who was only a young lad himself, seemed to be OK about it.

It had to happen, though, mucky beer in Beer…and a very good local brew it was too, apparently, although they were quick to get out of the Beer beer garden when the rain started!

They also saw some stunning gardens/allotments with huge globe artichokes which you can see here.

Globe Artichoke in Beer

They also found out that Beer is a long, long way from Sydney – whoever he is!! Mind you, this milestone begs a question – why is a nautical mile longer than a land mile? Answers on a postcard…

Beer to Sydney

On their return they introduced me to Harry the Helmsman who, it turns out, is to be my new constant companion. Harry, a bear, is a member of the RNLI and so has pride of place, as Helmsmen should, right at the front of my cab. Hopefully, with Harry’s helmsman skills this will mean no more getting lost

Beer view

We return, with excellent guidance from Harry, via Lyme Regis, another lovely place that they have wanted to visit for ages, and I get to park in my first motorhome only designated parking place. Is there no end to the excitement of today??! After they had visited some fossil shops (looking, not buying – they only brought back ones they, well Her mostly, had found themselves!) and strolled along the west beach promenade they came back up the hill to the carpark and we set off for a supermarket in Bridport to but stuff for a barbie.

Beach Huts at Seaton seen from Beer

With the stuff all bought and Her preparing it, He goes to get the BBQ out and realises that it’s not with us any more. After a very thorough search, including in places it couldn’t possibly be, they come to the conclusion that their memories have let them down again and they have probably left it behind in Troutbeck, cos that was the last time we had been out before this trip. So, instead of a barbie they settle for egg, beans and tatties with thoughts of replacing the barbie and the bike locks tomorrow.

Charmouth Bay looking East

Up early, no rain, breakfast, bikes taken out from under their cover, helmets on and away…leaving me to look at the hordes of tits, robins, finches and sparrows feeding from my pitch marker and also to keep an eye open for the buzzard that occasionally swoops across the site, and that He has failed to photograph.

When they get back about 10 hours later, they swear that they are never going cycling in Dorset again – not just because he’d “accidentally forgotten” (Yeah, Right!!) that he’d put the bike locks on a railing and left them there – but because it seems that there isn’t a flat piece of road anywhere in the whole county. They found the 15% slope of Chideock Hill on the A 53 particularly challenging – especially as a lot of the artics and towed caravans didn’t bother to slow down or pull out to give them some room as they roared past them.

Still, they had a good day out at Charmouth, where they had locked the bikes up to a railing by the beach while they went for a stroll along said beach. I say stroll, it actually turned into a fossil hunt, with Him smashing open rocks left, right and centre with His geological hammer and finding very few fossils, and Her ambling along using some sort of in-built fossil radar and finding loads, including some lovely ammonites.

Charmouth Bay looking west towards Lyme Regis

Charmouth Bay looking east towards Golden Cap

The return journey wasn’t so bad, especially as the weight of the fossils in His panniers were compensated for, to some degree, by the loss of the weight of the cycle locks which, as mentioned earlier, He had left on the railing He had locked the bikes to. The return journey also involved coming down Chideock Hill which was a breeze.

Despite the trials and tribulations caused by the cycling, the day had been a good one, and He’d even had the chance to use his new GPS toy – having put in the route that they needed to take to get from the site to Charmouth before we’d even set off from home. Personally, I don’t see the need for GPS and Sat Nav gadgets cos I never get lost – oh, but He does!!!

It was nice for them to meet my feathered friends who had been keeping me amused as they guzzled down the seed they had left for them.

Feeding Finch

Chesil Beach

And it goes on, and on, and on – to point where my rain shelter (or sun canopy if the weather is right!) tries to divorce itself from me. Just as well He remembered to peg it down. After a while they get up, unhook me, roll up my rain shelter and off we go – leaving the bikes and my lovely pitch-marker/bird feeder behind – must mean their memories are really getting bad now, or that we are coming back later today.

Chesil Beach

20 miles or so through the pouring rain and we pull into a car park near Abbotsbury and they go off for a stroll along Chesil Beach, another place they are excited about visiting. They couldn’t go too far along it’s 17 miles, however, as most of it is closed to human’s between April and October due to sea-birds laying their eggs on the pebbles.

Chesil Beach

Chesil Beach

Still, they agree that it is a fantastic place and they really enjoyed lying on the pebbles in the drizzle (yes, the rain had softened to a drizzle at this point).

They could see the swannery at Abbotsbury from Chesil Beach and we went there to have a closer look at the swans, but when they saw the size of the entrance fee (£9 each) they decided that it wasn’t worth it – after all they have seen lots of swans all over the place – and so they went for a wander around the quaint village of Abbotsbury instead. Mind you, everything seems to be expensive round here – including their lunch of baked potatoes – must be where all the rich folk from Sandbanks come for a day out

Abbotsbury Swannery from Chesil Beach

On the way to Abbotsbury, He had spotted a viewpoint that gave a view right along Chesil Beach and we agreed to stop there on the way back so that He could take some snaps but no dice…it was that misty I had to get her to turn my fog lamps on.

Still raining, we called into Bridport to do some shopping before returning to Bingham Grange. Despite the rain, they seem as if they had a good day and that’s all that matters, bless ‘em.

9.00am and He’s got into Her seat, pulled me forward a few feet on the drive and then got out again. What’s he up to now? Call that a test drive?! Ah! – making enough room to get his pudgy tummy between me and the hedge while He fills my water tank – must mean we’re away and I’ll have to say a fond farewell to the dogs and my holiday home. About 30 minutes later, She’s in the driving seat and we are, indeed, off.

After about 40 minutes we pull into a grassy, sloping car park at Lulworth Cove and He’s getting all excited, bouncing up and down and saying that He can’t believe He’s finally gotten here. Turns out He’d wanted to come here since He was knee-high to a leek (well He is Welsh!!). Btw, the pic at the very top is what happens when you combine the two just above, along with a few more, using some clever stitching software and shows the entire cove.

On their return, He arrived back first and stood next to me until She arrived and they then put their bags on board and then went off for food and mucky beer in the pub, before we set off again.

10.00am, after a very hearty breakfast, they set off again in Her brother’s car for a day around Poole – which is full of people doing watersports, Sandbanks (where all the rich people live – He was very disappointed not to be able to find Harry Redknapp’s house and persuade him that he didn’t really want to sigh Crouchy for Spurs) and then over to Studland Bayvia the remarkable chain ferry. I’d have been a bit dubious about getting on such a vessel until they told me that they saw a double-decker bus on it…and a tasty Morgan.

A quick stop off for Him to get some photos of the stacks known as Old Harry’s Rocks and the a delightful trip to Corfe village which started off with a cuppa and some delicious cake at a garden tea party. They didn’t know whose garden it was, having been invited/accosted to attend by some bloke in the street, but they enjoyed the refreshments and the 1930′s style disco nonetheless.

This was followed by a great visit to Corfe Castle and then it was back to the house for a lovely meal and a very nice evening of chilling and chatting.

Me, I had a very restful day watching over the house and the four dogs – and very well behaved they all were as well.

Bikes now on, off we go again…obviously heading for somewhere nice and flat if they’re thinking of going cycling, hehe!

So, south down the A1, west along the A66 and straight into Mainsgill Farm – breakfast for them, a chat with the alpacas, emus, donkeys and cows for me…but no camel to be seen today.

After they’ve filled up we continue west on the A66 until we get near Penrith, where we turn south down the A6, go through Shap, skirt Windermere and then turn right up the Troutbeck Valley to Limefitt Caravan Park. I’m given pitch no 99 – so you can guess the size of the place…but, as it turns out, most of the pitches are statics or holiday lodges with just a couple of short avenues for those of us who like to travel around a bit. It was a fairly good site, with nice views and good facilities, although the dodgy mucky beer they had in the onsite “traditional Lakeland Inn” counted a bit against it (end of the barrel stuff or something I heard them say).

The pitches were also very regimented and fairly close together, although I got on well with my immediate neighbour, a smart caravan from Leeds whose people, a taxi driver and his wife, were leaving her there for the week to look after their son and his family.

Having settled me in, including extending my sun canopy (or rain shelter, as I prefer to think of it), Him’nHer went on a tour of the site, a stroll along the banks of Troutbeck, got bitten by horseflies (His right elbow and pinky knuckle didn’t half swell up, and had the aforementioned really mucky beer. After a bit of a chill and a yummy tea, it was off to bed – upstairs!! Can’t wait to see them struggling down in the morning

Well, they didn’t struggle too much, actually, so it was only mild chuckles for me, rather than loud guffaws!

After a fine breakfast – some Cumberland sausage they had bought at Mainsgill yesterday, they set off up Wansfell Pike which, they later told me, was a fine walk with lovely views of Lake Windermere, The Langdales, and the Kirkstone Pass and some fine-looking sheep. They said the only thing that had spoiled it was a large group of doctors who all wanted to be the centre of attention and so talked incessantly and very loudly. To get away from them, Him’n'Her deviated from their planned route, when they realised the loud ones were on the same trail, and were fairly quickly away from them, although they could be heard in the distance for some time.

On the way back they called into The Mortal Man in Troutbeck for some mucky beer (Old Speckled Hen – nice mucky beer, not end of barrel yuck) only to find the loud ones hogging the bar…but they quickly moved out into the beer garden and so Him’n'Her sat in a quiet corner of the bar and engaged in some decent conversation with a couple from down south who were staying in a hotel run by John Lewis for their employees.

The following day we pack up and head off home, calling in at Keswick for a bit more retail therapy and fish’n'chips at the Old Keswickian – apparently, they were not as good as on previous occasions, but this didn’t spoil what had been a fab weekend.

I’m really getting the hang of things now… load me up in the evening, fill my water tank the following morning and off we go when they get back from ‘work’ in the evening. But where to this time?