South of England

First night in London returning from Italy.  Late arrival due to delayed flight. Collected car.  Headed south to Basingstoke.  About four miles out of town,  stopped at a pub, The Beach Inn that still had a couple of rooms available for the night.  (we didn't see any beach nearby)  Without the foresight of knowing what was up ahead, we decided to stop there for the night.  It was getting too late in the evening to take a punt.  Besides, we'd given our digestion a rest all day, so my stomach was starting to wonder what was going on.  The Roast of the Day Carvery was beckoning!


Next day we continued south through Dorset.
Thatched cottages hundreds of years old, some painted white, all with thatched roofs manicured to perfection.
Narrow winding country roads with high hedges either side grown right to the road edge, forming natural walls and often times canopies.
Quaint, ancient, historical villages, all hosting at least one Free house (pub), sometimes two.  All proud of their "traditional English food" and friendly atmosphere.

The New Forest, hundreds of acres of national forest where ponies and donkeys (over 4000 of them) roam freely, grazing on the open plains and lush pastures, cars and ponies all sharing the Forest freely.

Sunny skies, warm air, bringing every Brit from his chair and into the sunshine, creating long lines of traffic snaking through the picture book villages.   We stopped in Lyndhurst for a much needed coffee, but had to escape the traffic snarl.

The Wayside B&B

While looking for a B&B, we interrupted a casual
Sunday lunch with friends in the garden, all the men wearing ties and address each other by their surname.

Brekky in the back garden

The Wayside Cottage B&B in Burley, with Janet and John the hosts, very friendly, very comfortable, was our stop for the night. Four poster bed with drapes on all sides!  Fish n chips down at the local that night, an easy evening stroll.
Sunrise is usually around 4:30am and sunset as late as 10pm, I wonder how well the children sleep?




Onwards to Wareham.  So many characterful towns , so much beauty in the open fields delineated by drystone fences or thick brush, creating a patchwork quilt in all shades green.  The road took us through Canford Cliffs, stately homes on large estates, very similar to those built in Bellevue Hill, Toorak areas.  Millionaires Row but with traffic continually disrupting the pleasures of the rich and famous, we wound our way down to Poole Harbour and the car ferry waiting to transport buses, cars and semi trailers  across the mouth to Studland Bay.  Headed to Corfe Castle to find a famous old pub, the Fox, but sadly it was closed.  The Greyhound, just yards away, served our first taste of local oysters and a jolly good Ploughmans.

Oh, that's another odd thing, all distance is still measured in yards and miles, but currency is metric and and fuel is by the litre.

Wareham, on the Piddle River, another hive for tourists both local and international, swarm the town, soaking up the sunshine, picnicing by the river edge, some throwing in a line, some rowing to nowhere.
Holbrook House Bed and Breakfast, our hostess Anita a chatty, friendly soul.  Chooks in the garden, black pudding with brekky.



The Cranary in Wareham for dinner - seafood share plate,beef pie, seafood pie, on the deck, watching the ducks  and a beautiful setting sky.

Next day onto Swanage, then Worth Matravers, where we stumbled upon the Square and Compass, probably one of the tiniest pubs in Devon, with only sufficient room at the bar for two people at a time.

 
Their specialty, apart from their lager, is Cornish pasties.  Meat or vegetarian, that's the enti extend of their bar menu.  A favourite stop form the many walkers tramping the open fields spanning the entire coastline.  More chooks roaming freely in the garden, having a peck at anything that looks appetising.

Passed through many towns with strange names, like Doodle Door and into a tiny little village with two pubs, a general store and not much more.  The Royal Oak Hotel at Bere Regis (Royal Forrest) was our next overnight stay.  Local punt food for dinner - shepherds pie, lambs livers and onions
Apple crumble cake, cheese platter.  Another huge meal before retiring for the night.

We caught up with friends from Sydney next day, meeting at the Sailors Return in East Chaldron - yes this does sound like a pub crawl - and it is.  There are so many to see, too to sample each, so it's a selection based on locals' knowledge and need at the time.  A short trip through more amazing country lanes leading down to seafront fishing villages brought us into Lulworth, with school excursions, grey nomads and the occasional younger van dweller. Later that afternoon we ended our journey for the  day at Weymouth, where all the hotels sit side by side along the waterfront.



Tiny little terraced houses just one or two rooms wide, their front parlours filled with enticements to catch the travelers' eye and coax to their door.  We chose the Bedford for no other reason than it was close to where we parked the car and they offered a reasonable room on the 2nd floor.

A walk along the quay front where the Olympics sailing will be hosted next year, left us with the impression this was the rough end of town.

Weymouth has a beautiful white sandy beach on the ocean side, with many carnival activities for families to enjoy, regardless of summer sun.  Donkey rides along the sand seemed a favourite with the children, with the leathered, weathered wrinklies basking on their deck chairs - not on the beach, but on the sidewalk, scattered between  the constant flow of visitors and locals.

Next day we pointed towards Torquay as our next destination.  Along the way we discovered the tiny village of Beer, where photo opportunities presented us with a plethora of "great shots".

Maidencombe, a tiny little spot on the map just outside Torquay, has a thatched roof tavern - the Thatched Tavern as it's crowning glory.  Found at the base of a steep winding single lane road, it offered us a good reason to grab the last room at Bowen House, at the top of the hill and an even better reasons to negotiate the steep descent on foot for a great dinner of sea bass and beef and ale pie.  Another great tavern meal!

Cornwall, the home of Cornish Pasties and clotted cream.
The scenes have changed as we've meandered along the narrowest of roads, in parts only wide enough for one car, still enclosed by high hedges, restricting sight of oncoming vehicles to last minute face offs.





Port Isaac, the little seaside town scattered on the edge of slate grey cliffs and steep, mountainous hillsides, known as Port Wenn in the Doc Martin series was our destination point for today.  Mussels and Ploughmans for lunch (I think I'm over the Ploughmans now!)























More meandering along brilliantly scenic hedgerows brought us to Widemouth Bay, next door to Bude.  Bude is apparentlymfamous formats surf beaches, and Widemouth Bay is one of them.  A wide, long beach with sand, lifeguards and plenty of parking, sheer slabs of cliffs as far as the eye can see, and a little wave often enough to make grown men sit waiting for their time on the line.