The whole point of setting up this blog was to write about lesser-known places, which are less visited than the popular spots we all know about like Mount Snowdon. In recent weeks there has a been a call for concern about the amount of human excrement on the mountain. Photos have also emerged of people queuing just to get a photo on its summit. How mad is that? Sometimes there are too many tourists, which can soon become rather annoying.
With four days off over The Queen’s Platinum Jublilee though, myself and my girlfriend Louise did something rather silly. On an extended weekend when most of the country was off, we headed to the famous Jurassic coast down in Dorset. We fancied some sea views and walking barefoot in the surf. Surely small coves, sandy beaches and dramatic cliffs were just what we needed. It was expected to be busier than usual, but what greeted us was something I’m in no real hurry to repeat again. I like to avoid people as much as possible when away, but on this trip I was almost tripping over them at certain points. It turned out to be a bit of a nightmare for reasons I’ll explore more below.
Going Nowhere Fast
This heading doesn’t refer to my dodgy knee I injured when descending Plynlimon Mountain only a couple of days before. It is true that I was walking like a geriatric at times, but I am of course referring to the roads. The Dorset coast is just over 140 miles from my door, yet it took nearly five hours to complete the journey. My primary school maths would suggest that is an average speed of just shy of thirty miles per hour. Just for comparison, I have raced my bike for 100 miles in 3 hours 40 minutes. The winner that day did it in 3 hours 14 minutes, which would surely work out quicker than my poor Sandero on this little jaunt. There was only one cause- traffic and lots of it.
I could write a whole separate post on why I despise traffic, but will leave it by saying that Louise got rather tired of me asking for any other possible route that was available to keep us moving. I didn’t care if I had to travel via Birmingham as long as the wheels were still turning. We were both relieved when we finally reached our destination- a little village near the well-known Chesil Beach. Things actually started well here. I was able to find a parking space easily and it was free. Other than the local Morrisons supermarket, I wouldn’t see that luxury again for the entirety of the trip.
Camper Vans- Please Do One!
If you’re reading this and own either a caravan or camper van, then you may well give up reading here as we might have just fallen out. For most people driving regular vehicles though, I am sure they’ll agree that these monstrosities are a royal pain in the bottom. They are usually painfully slow and driven by folk who are out for a gentle potter along the lanes. It’s not too bad on a motorway, but on the winding single carriageway roads of rural Dorset they are a nightmare. A slug can almost accelerate faster than a Dacia Sandero, which made it near on impossible to overtake them. Louise feeding me quality tunes from the passenger seat thankfully kept me sane.
Parking Spaces- A Needle In A Haystack
It stands to reason that all those cars we shared the roads to Dorset with would also be there to enjoy the same stretch of coastline we hoped to. I’m sure inland Dorset is lovely, but most tourists visit to enjoy the cliffs, beaches and views.
Our first experience of the parking nightmare that weekend was at Chesil Beach. It was close to our accommodation and I had remembered from my GCSE Geography course that it was rather long. Louise figured that even if crowds had descended onto the beach, it would be big enough to allow them to spread out a bit. She was right. It was busy, but the scale of the beach is incredible. If you want space then this place is well worth the visit.
Parking though was nowhere near as tranquil and relaxing as the beach. It was off-road and the Sandero was bouncing all over the place. We then discovered that several cretins had parked in such a way that they had made sure they had given themselves as much space either side of them without providing just enough for another vehicle to squeeze in. One couple were even sat on deck chairs in such a space. I wanted to ask them two questions- how could they be so selfish and why they couldn’t be bothered to walk another two hundred metres for the sea view everybody else had come for. In the end I couldn’t be bothered wasting my breath. The beach and an ice cream were calling.
Thankfully we didn’t experience this selfishness anywhere else, but there were other factors which were equally annoying. In the most popular spots like Lulworth Cove, we had to complete several laps just to find a space. When we finally did, we had pay over-the-odds for it. It was actually amazing how quickly the cost of parking added up when visiting several places in one day. I did wonder where the money went, as they must have made a royal mint that day with the sea of cars around us. Give me a free parking bay in the middle of Wales or Scottish highlands any day.
People Everywhere
The number of people around us was a shock to the system, I had spent the earlier part of the week in The Cambrian Mountains and seen only five people in two days, such was its remoteness. I beat that number here within ten metres of leaving the car. I’m not a hermit and do a job, where I’m surrounded by people ( albeit little ones ) everyday. I get along quite well with others on the whole. When there are too many tourists though, it can soon become annoying.
I come to enjoy the landscape I’m in and can just do this better if there is hardly a soul around. Not a chance here. Even ordering fish and chips from the local shop had a one hour wait time. Tourists had also filled every table and seat in the pub. Perhaps it is better on a different weekend, but perhaps it is not. If you’re visiting somewhere that everybody knows about, then you’ve got to deal the consequences of that I suppose. You may well experience open wallet surgery, so come prepared with food, patience and a sense of humour.
Noise
I suppose this is a by-product of the previous section. You come here for not only the sights but also the sounds of the coast. Waves washing onto the beach, gulls searching for their next meal or even the sea breeze blowing up and over the cliffs. Instead you get to experience people like the one below. What a lovely thoughtful chap her was!
To Conclude…….
I know I have moaned almost as much as Karl Pilkington in An Idiot Abroad. The number of people this particular weekend did get on my nerves a bit, but it should have been expected. I have learned to never visit well-known spots like this over a national holiday again if I can help it. I’ve also learned even more why I set up this website of mine. It is good to interact with your fellow man, but it’s equally important to escape them from time to time. You might end up talking to yourself after a day about how lovely the scenery is, but at least you feel that it is yours and yours alone. There is something quite special about that in my eyes.