Winspit

[puddleshark]

The weather forecast for today was grim: the wind in the northwest gusting at fifty miles an hour, and 90 per cent chance of rain. Not many walkers on the path from Worth Matravers to Winspit today, but all of them cheerful, in the way that people who choose voluntarily to go out in bad weather are so often cheerful. (All this weather! Ain't it splendid!)


The Square & Compass Inn, Worth Matravers, with the inn sign swinging and squeaking in very traditional fashion.

In the lane, bumped into my mechanic, who was out running, clad only in lycra, being towed along by two labradors: swift, but not quite outrunning the north wind.

The first stretch of the path from Worth, down through the fields, was very slippery indeed. An undignified path of slithering, mild oaths & waving arms about wildly. But it's only a short stretch, and I was soon on the stone track down to the disused quarry. No matter how muddy it gets, the footing there is always good.





A few spots of rain in the air now and then, but the deluge promised by the Met Office (and by the black clouds hovering over Worth Matravers) never materialised. The sun shone. The sea was somewhere between blue and grey, the wave-tops translucent green, very beautiful, and I wished I had brought the Canon instead of my little wet weather camera.









Wandered back inland a little way and took the narrow path down to the disused quarries at East Man, on the other side of the inlet.


Quarry ledge, where once cranes would have loaded stone onto ships.







Sat for a while on a quarry spoilheap, drinking coffee, listening to the wind blowing through the dry cliff-top grasses, and to the roar of the sea crashing against the quarry ledges. Then it was time to retrace my steps. It's always warm work, climbing back up the sheltered valley, until you reach Worth Matravers at the top, and the wind finds you again.



Rather than the slippery path through the fields, I took a slightly longer route, onto a lane that skirts a little estate of what were once modest retirement bungalows, now mostly extended outwards and upwards (sometimes using considerable ingenuity), or demolished and replaced with insanely grand villas with balconies and huge picture windows looking down the valley to the sea.


There was a little family of bullfinches perching in the broad-leaved dock beside the gate - such beautiful birds! It must be two or three years since I last saw a bullfinch. They used to be common here, but, like most of our songbirds, have been in steep decline over the past fifty years.


Bullfinch (Pyrrhula pyrrhula) - image courtesy of Francis C. Franklin, Wikimedia.

Comments

[sartorias]

Bullfinch is indeed pretty.

[puddleshark]

They really are one of our prettiest birds - the males are such a glorious flame-red.

[kaishin108]

Such stormy seas!

I looked up to see what a Bullfinch looks like, how beautiful!

[puddleshark]

We rarely see huge waves here, because the Isle of Wight is off the coast, and shelters us from the worst storms. But there were some pretty impressive waves coming in that day.

Yes. Bullfinches are such striking birds.