Places of Pilgrimage – Isle of Purbeck

Following on from the first installment - Salisbury Plain of this three part article Places of Pilgrimage, which is inspired by an article I recently read by Chris on his blog Wisdom and Life called Your Magical Place, which he wrote after seeing my seed on *Seededbuzz (a blog promotion service) about my article Places that speak to the heart and draw on the soul and it got me thinking about my places of pilgrimage, hence this article.

There are a few places that I make a pilgrimage to regularly, where I have a kinship and need to pay homage.  These places are all clustered around three key areas in the South West of England, the Salisbury Plain in Wiltshire, Purbeck Isle in Dorset and Glastonbury in Somerset.  However as I was writing the article to include all the places in those areas it turned out to be far too long, so I decided to make this a three part article.  Today’s article looks at an area that perhaps has the happiest and most holiday feel to my memories, the Isle of Purbeck.

Purbeck Isle

The Isle of Purbeck is not actually an island, but a 60 mile square area of land on the south west coast in Dorset, England.  There are a number of places here that I find irresistible to visit, Corfe Castle, Studland Beach, Swanage Bay, Wareham Forest and Lulworth Cove. Lulworth Cove I discovered in later life, but Corfe, Studland and Swanage have been mainstays of holidays and family days out since I was a very young child and I have nothing but positive memories connected with these places.

Corfe Castle

Corfe Castle holds a mystical power over me which I find difficult to explain.  All I can say is that for as long as I can remember I’ve felt at home there, as if a part of me knew it before I ever became conscious of such complex thoughts.  When I have been in dark places it has been a beacon calling out to me, a true north to guide me back to the essence of me when all around me are trying to contain me within fleshy walls of unreality.  Perhaps that sounds overly dramatic, but regardless it is my truth.

Walking amongst the ruins is a true joy to me. I love to touch the stones and let them speak to me, call to a me that isn’t me, to a time in which I can’t possibly belong.  I have walked around it countless times, photographed, videoed, sketched and written about the castle ruins, slept in its shadow at the Bankes Arms hotel, studied it’s history, witnessed an eclipse from within it, dragged numerous friends and family to it and constantly wondered at the magical spell it holds me under, musing as to why it makes me feel so warm, content and safe.

As a child it was the first sign that we were only minutes from Studland beach and I always felt a strange tugging, a longing to go there instead of the beach.  I would find myself turning in my seat as we passed it, watching it until it was finally out of sight.  My Granddad would always recite his silly story about how the castle got its name:

“Do you know how come it’s called Corfe Castle girls?” my Granddad would say, to which my sisters and I would unerringly reply, “No Granddad” amid girlish giggles at the tired and worn joke we knew was coming, but couldn’t help, but love.  ”Well, it’s because the silly idiot that built it forgot to put glass in the windows, so all the people who lived there caught colds and started corfing and corfed it right down”.

The wry grin that would play across my Granddad’s lips was a warming sight, as was the mischievous glint in his eyes that always accompanied it.  Then one of my sisters or I would pipe up “But there’s not such thing as corfing Granddad!”
“Ah, but there is, it’s how they used to say cough and coughing in old English!”  The laughter that always issued forth from Granddad and his three granddaughters is a precious memory that it always warms me to share and I can’t help but keep up the tradition myself whenever I visit with guests in tow!

To say that Corfe is captivating, inspirational and awe inspiring is like saying water is wet, it’s so obvious to you the moment you see its majestic beauty rising up above all the surrounding landscaping.  A commanding presence, it must have been quite a sight when it was intact.  Corfe Castle is now lovingly cared for by the National Trust and is open all year round to visitors and I thoroughly recommend a visit to my castle.

Studland Beach

Studland beach was the place my Nan taught me to swim, where I became her mermaid diving beneath the waves.  It was where my Dad took me rock pooling and I felt like I was an intrepid naturalist in the vein of my hero Sir David Attenborough.  It was a place that my whole family visited often for weekend beach days, to rest, relax and have fun.

I remember setting off with my Mum, Dad and sisters, stopping off at Westbury to have my Nan and Granddad and my Uncle Steve join us and create a three car caravan to Studland.  I remember begging to be allowed to go in the car with my Uncle Steve, because he always drove fast over the long road past Wareham Forest with the big bumps that had your tummy sailing up to your throat!

We would arrive early – the Weal family always made the most out of beach days, up at the crack of dawn and leaving the beach just before the car park closed.  We would arrive just as the gates to the car park were opening and we were always sure to get our obligatory large area marked out with blankets, towels, wind-breakers and assorted inflatables before settling in for some hardcore relaxation and beach time.  Granddad would be sat fully dressed in a deck chair, with his shirt unbuttoned down to his navel and the shirt sleeves and his trousers rolled up.

Nan was always the first to come into the water with us, even though it was probably too cold.  At lunch a great big feast of a picnic was a must and cheese, ham and sand (yuck) rolls were always on the menu along with a carton of orange juice and the obligatory trip to the ice-cream hut with Nan or Uncle Steve.

Sand castles and sand pits were an art form with Uncle Steve and Dad on hand, whether it was being buried alive, or burying someone else alive, creating and elaborate fort, castle or boat, there was always much fun to be had in the sand.  This probably also accounted for the copious amounts of sand in the ham and cheese sandwiches, my swimming costume, my sandals, the car and at the end of the evening the bath after we washed up for bed!

After lunch was the rock pooling with Dad and Uncle Steve.  We would always bring back the catch in our buckets to show the rest of the family before quite rightly setting them free back in the sea a little way out from the shore to keep them safe from those pesky seagulls who would otherwise have made a feast of them.

Late afternoon heralded the time to build up the sea defences as the tide turned and headed back in shore. Dad, Uncle Steve, my sisters Shelley, Sarah and I would all valiantly attempt to hold back the sea with large sand walls, deep trenches and lots of shells and stones, but alas to no avail.  The surf always won in the end, but watching the final destruction was also half the fun.

The year I turned ten my Nan taught me to swim at Studland, it is one of those picture perfect memories indelibly written on the fabric of my mind.  I remember how firmly I believed that I was a real mermaid and bless her heart, my Nan didn’t contradict me. Some years later I wrote the following poem about my experience learning to swim at Studland with my Nan.

THE LITTLE MERMAID

If I hold my breath, if I dive real deep, Nan, will the mermaids come and fetch me?
If I close my eyes, if I swim real fast, will I get my mermaid tail at last?
If I sit on the sand, with the sea on head, will I find the mermaid’s bed?

I have to be the little mermaid again; the ten year old girl who believed in miracles, that if she held her breath for long enough, her legs would dissolve and she would be the mermaid beneath the waves. Dancing in the surf, diving in the shallows, revolving around her grandmother’s legs, like yesterday had never happened, that today would never end and there would never be a tomorrow. She lives in me still, the brown eyed, sun kissed child that made her grandmother laugh with the absurdity of her belief and the strength of her conviction. At one with her own nature and the world that she surrounds herself within. Lost within her words, weaving stories around those she loves to fascinate and entice with her picture of another world, a world through her eyes, a world that only she can truly behold.

I feel sometimes as if the cup of my emotion would never cease to overflow, my soul too big for this meagre earthbound frame, spilling out and infecting others with my heightened emotions. An almost frightening power, it slumbers restlessly beneath the surface of the organised and rational woman who stands before you now. I guess she is my artist, she is the words, the movement that courts the tempo, the paint strokes that flow from my hand, the voice in my head that drives me to write, the vision that sees before I ever create the shapes of which only I know the true meaning and the whisper of a thrill that drives me as my body melds to the music. Yet she is also the insidious whisperer, who can drive me to distraction, who can take me to the depths of despair as quickly as she can launch me into the moonlight to bask amongst the stars. And so again it begins to sound like poetry…

If I hold my breath, if I dive real deep, Nan, will the mermaids come and fetch me?
If I close my eyes, if I swim real fast, will I get my mermaid tail at last?
If I sit on the sand, with the sea on head, will I find the mermaid’s bed?

Awaken little mermaid, I truly need to find you.
Ruth Weal 08 November 2006 6.24 am
Copyright R.Weal 2006

Dedicated to two special women
For Nan, for never telling me I could not be the Mermaid of my daydreams
For Susie, for giving me a reason to write the words and find my little mermaid again
x

Swanage Bay

And now we fix our gaze on Swanage Bay.  Just around the corner from Corfe Castle and Studland, it forms the third point in a geographical triangle of mystical power and protection for me.

Swanage was always where we went for our early evenings after a day out at the beach on Studland.  Fish and chips eaten with legs dangling over the edge of the path down into the harbour.  Wrapped up warm in cardigans to keep out the evening sea breeze.  Fending off the seagulls out to nab our chips (I had a fair few stolen from my fingers) and then into the penny arcades to win a piece of tat and waste some 2ps on the shove ha’ penny machines.

It was with great pleasure to me that Ben and I took Dylan to Swanage and introduced him to all my favourite things to do and it was heartening to see that he enjoyed it as much as I had at his age and that over the years so little had changed.  But what is always enchanting to me is that my enjoyment of the activities had not dimmed in the intervening years between my child and adulthood.

The whole family, grandparents and Uncle Steve included spent a summer holiday in Swanage when I was ten.  I remember clearly the self catering house we had rented high up on the hill and the long walk up from the town centre to get to it.  I remember my parents worrying about our Volkswagen Beetle’s brakes, leaving it in reverse to ensure it was still there when we got up in the morning!

It was that holiday where my Granddad and Uncle Steve successfully got me to put a saucepan on my head and of course my Uncle Steve had his camera handy to record the moment for posterity!  I never did live that one down, it was almost as memorable as the time I excitedly flashed my Granddad my new bra – well it was my first one and I was about 9 at the time!  Truth be told I didn’t have a lot to put into my 24 AA cup anyway ;-P

Well, not to change the subject, but back to the saucepan – you’re probably wondering how they got me to put it on my head in the first place?  Well my Granddad being a first rate deadpan joker had asked me why I was taking a saucepan up the stairs.  When I informed him that there wasn’t a shower head attachment in the bathroom so the saucepan was being used for rinsing of hair he promptly asked me if it would fit and muggins here said “of course”, stuck it on my head and then heard the click of Uncle Steve’s camera.  Yes, I was well and truly got!

I have always loved the little curio shops in Swanage and I could and have spent hours walking in and around them perusing the various items of curiosity, tat and art that they contain.  Even today where many other town high streets are becoming devoid of any diversity Swanage remains a beacon, an oasis of individuality that always heartens me.

There are a number of alternative clothing outlets and I remember I bought a pair of trousers in one of them back in the mid 90s that I still had until a year or two ago.  The patterns on the waist band were faded beyond recognition and the fabric was falling apart, but I had worn those trousers religiously throughout the 90s and into the 00s and it was a really difficult decision to finally let them go.

One of my favourite things about Swanage is the open air theatre and it is a place that I’ve often visited over the years, especially around my birthday, I sketched the picture on the right of the open air theatre as the sun was fading on my birthday back in 1998.

Throughout the summer Swanage puts on a beautiful fireworks display every Saturday night that attracts people from far and wide.  The best vantage point for viewing the fireworks is definitely up on the hill or on the open air theatre.  If you’ve never seen the fireworks you really should go along, especially as they are free!  Get there early (they start at about 8.30 to 9 pm) to get your fish and chips before the queues get too long and to make sure you get a good place to view them as it is very popular, especially in the School summer holidays.

In 1998 I spent my first and only birthday to date alone sat up on the hill looking down over the open air theatre watching the fireworks.  It was as if they had been put on especially for me and it was a wonderful culmination to what was a great day and part of a very special pilgrimage for me.

Swanage is an excellent place to take a holiday or day trip out to.  There’s lots to see and do and it’s also a great base for exploring the surrounding area within the Purbeck Isle.

Wareham Forest

Wareham forest is a stretch of forest that we always used to drive past on our way to Studland beach and also the location of the bumpy road that I mentioned above.  It’s seems strange that as a child we never stopped to walk around this lovely evergreen pine forest, but then again when you’ve got three young girls eager to get to the beach perhaps it’s not so strange!

I didn’t really come to appreciate Wareham forest until I was an adult.  I’ve visited a few times and always had my camera with me to take some pictures of the flora and fauna that is on show in abundance from spring through autumn.

As someone who has grown up in an area dominated primarily by deciduous forests Wareham forest also has a slightly alien and foreign feel to it that is very appealing to me.  Sometimes it is good to walk in a different world, even if it is only an hour or so away from home.

Wareham forest has some lovely walks, with well trodden and mapped paths which don’t require too much effort to navigate and are not challenging in terms of terrain.  A nice post-Sunday lunch walk could easily take in a good part of the forest and leave you feeling like you walked off the extra roast spud you shouldn’t really have eaten, but not leaving you feeling like you climbed Mount Everest!  It’s also a great place to visit to pick up a few fallen pine cones to decorate for your Christmas Tree.

Lulworth Cove

Finally we come to Lulworth Cove, which I didn’t discover until I was in my early twenties.  It is a beautiful little cove round the corner from Swanage, Studland and Corfe.  Think challenging windswept cliff walks with outstanding views and you’ve pretty much got Lulworth Cove pegged.

One narrow and hilly road descends through the tiny little village, which leads you down into the cove itself.  There’s a large and well equipped  visitor centre which makes it clear to you immediately that this is a National Trust protected piece of coastline.  There’s also ample parking and facilities as well as some local shops and pubs.

If you’re looking for more than a few curio shops and seaside vendors, a good bite to eat with a pint followed by challenging walks with great views then I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. The size and peacefulness of Lulworth is the next biggest attraction on top of the outstanding views and walks.

It’s part of the south west coast path, which is the longest way marked long distance path in the country and a national trail, which basically takes you round the south west “foot” of England, starting up in Minehead, Somerset, travelling across the top of Devon and Cornwall, round the tip of Land’s End, back through the bottom of Cornwall and Devon and into Dorset where it ends just past Studland.

Lulworth is also part of what is known as the Jurassic Coast, which has been deemed a world heritage site as it consists of Triassic, Jurassic and Cretaceous cliffs, spanning the Mesozoic Era, documenting 180 million years of geological history.  Lulworth is particularly known for the Cove and its fine example of Limestone folding.  You can see an example of this in the photograph to the left, the limestone folding here gives the impression of a sleeping bassett hound, at least it looks that way to me!

If you want to find out more about the Jurassic Coast the heritage centre at Lulworth Cove is a great resource.  If you’re lucky you might even find yourself a fossil down amongst the rocks and pebbles on the shore!

There isn’t really much more I can say about Lulworth, really it’s the breathtaking views that speak volumes, so I’ll let a few of my pictures do the talking instead of my words.

That concludes the second instalment of my Places of Pilgrimage, if you haven’t seen the first instalment please feel free to check it out and find out about the places I love in my home county of Wiltshire and specifically around the Salisbury Plain. Keep your eyes peeled for the final instalment number three – Glastonbury!

Tread safely in the light my friends.

Wealie
x

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Don’t forget to check out my other Places of Pilgrimage articles:

Salisbury Plain
Glastonbury