Saturday, June 11
Abbotsbury to Castletown, 16.9 miles
We started the day by laying in some provisions in Abbotsbury; we had a very long walk ahead of us, and nowhere to stop for a bite.
We wanted to see a bit more of the village, and especially the pilgrimage church of Saint Catherine atop a hill overlooking the valley. The first shot is back to Saint Nicholas.
Built at the same time as the abbey, the church of Saint Catherine had survived the dissolution because it was used as part of the same beacon system that we had seen on the ridge.
There were fine views back to the village and the Abbey from the church.
Our walk led us down toward the Swannery (which houses not just thousands of swans but a swan maze!) with fine views over the western end of the Fleet.
In the second photo, the white blur in the upper center is a gaggle of a thousand swans.
We had some pleasant hill walking as we left Abbotsbury behind and made an oblique approach to the Fleet–so as to avoid a wildfowl sanctuary.
We soon found ourselves on the edge of the Fleet; the path wound crazily back and forth as it followed the many bays of the tidal basin.
In truth, this was not our favorite part of the walk. The scenery wasn’t enormously varied, and the day turned into a bit of a slog. Fifteen miles is, after all, fifteen miles. This was the only day my knees gave me any trouble, and that was just from the unrelieved pounding. As we neared Ferrybridge, the bridge that leads onto a long causeway built atop a sandbar–the tombolo–that connects the Island of Portland to the mainland, we were all glad of a bit of a break.
The causeway to the Isle of Portland leads along a protected bay (note the cruise ships in the distance); the high winds made it a paradise for windsurfers, kite surfers, and foil surfers (ask Gary).
Our hotel, The Aqua, had seen better days; it was pretty minimalist and the common areas a bit shabby. But Portland is a strange place. Several locals told us it was virtually unknown until the sailing events from the 2012 Olympics put it on the tourist map. But the tourist infrastructure hasn’t caught up; there are very few hotels and fewer restaurants….and they all seemed to be booked.
For the first time on the trip, we had no reservations for dinner; Gary and Cindy tried the Portland Yacht Club (he and Cindy race sailboats at the Westlake Village Yacht Club), but their credentials cut no ice here.
We decided to try our luck at the Cove House Inn, a pub right on the seaway overlooking the end of Chesil Beach. The joint was hopping, and we were looking at a long wait, but a very nice young woman with–that rare thing–a clear sympathy for Americans took pity on us and gave us a table inside. It turned into one of the best evenings of the trip; my excellent fish pie didn’t hurt!
And here’s the happy gang after a wonderful evening! In the background is the cliff that we’ll climb to start our day…but that’s for tomorrow!
