To Hounstout

[puddleshark]

Sunshine battling a cold northeasterly wind, with the cold northeasterly wind winning easily. Drove down to the coast early, with the roads still empty. In Corfe village the dog walkers all bundled up in their winter coats, and the dogs greeting each other with wagging tails in the sunshine. Took the road that winds and winds uphill to Kingston, and left the car in the little car park in the woods.




The first stretch of path through The Plantation, an area planted by the owner of the estate in the 19th century, the way lined with laurel and snowberry.


Then along a track lined with beech, sycamore and ash, where the wild garlic is in flower. Most of the ash trees are looking in a bad way, but one or two of them have leaf buds, so maybe ash dieback hasn't quite finished them off.


Then it's out onto the open headland. A long, long level path to the sea, with the wind flattening the long grass and shaking the gorse and trying to snatch your hat. I wanted to sit in the lea of the dry stone wall and drink my coffee, but the wall is crumbling and lined with barbed wire fence on both sides.

No skylarks singing from the heavens - they had been grounded by the strong wind. Though now and again one would flutter up to perch on the wall.


Down in the bowl of Encombe, Encombe House. I'm not sure who owns it now. Last time I heard, it was an airline tycoon. I can still remember when the house was owned by the Scott family, and every year they would hold a fête in the grounds there, and the house would be open to the public. Village fêtes at the manor house: that seems like something from a fairy-tale now, a Golden Age that never was. Or maybe a period BBC Agatha Christie production.

I do see that Encombe House is part of the Open Gardens Scheme:



Hmm. I do love visiting gardens. But not that much. I would want an ornamental lake of tea and a slice of homemade cake with a considerable butter-cream filling for that sort of admission price.

Anyway, time to stop gazing down into the bowl, where you cannot go, and time to walk onwards to the sea.


At the end of the headland.


The Coast Path westwards.

The wind was very strong, but there is a very sturdy stone memorial bench on the cliff, just far enough away from the edge to be comfortable, which provided some shelter, so I got to sit and drink my coffee, and watch the sea being many different shades of blue.




Looking westwards along the Coast Path.


Walking eastwards along the Coast Path.


Looking down on Chapman's Pool, and in the distance on the right, St Aldhelm's Head and the coastguard cottages.


Descending Hounstout. Cautiously. The chalk is loose and rolls underfoot. As I was creeping down, a small group of runners were ascending the path, considerably faster than I was going down, and all of them with breath enough to say 'Good morning'.


Follow the white chalk track...


Once down in the valley bottom, onto the farm lane back towards Kingston. A long gentle climb.





As I was climbing, I met some runners descending. And it was the same runners who had been climbing the headland earlier. While I had ambled maybe a third of a mile, they had run a mile along the headland to Kingston and back. Perhaps they were all in training for the London marathon...


More crumbling dry stone walls. It's only really the National Trust who keep their walls in good repair. All the other landowners leave them to decay, then put up fencing.


Fields near Kingston. Not sure what has been planted, but a great flock of rooks seemed to be having a feast. I tried to remember the rhyme they taught us at school about the old days of sewing seed broadcast...

One for the pigeon,
one for the crow,
one to rot
and one to grow.

Back down into the village of Kingston, with its old stone cottages.


The old village pump, beside the Old Post Office, now a private house (as is the Old Schoolhouse). There is still a pub in the village.


The Scott Arms.




St James, Kingston. Sometimes known as 'The Cathedral of the Purbecks'. (A seat for a very small and lugubrious bishop. Yes, it's a grand church. But inside it is amazingly dark and oppressive. I visited back in 2019.)

Comments

[sartorias]

Oh that wonderful green!

Sixty pounds for TEA? Wow, what a gouge. Even with a garden visit thrown in.

[puddleshark]

Heh! The National Open Garden Scheme does raise a lot of money for charity, but even so, at that price I don't think they want us riffraff in their garden. 😊

[watervole]

£60 is ridiculous. I've visited some lovely gardens under the NGS scheme, but they do seem to have been geeing more expensive.

And you don't even know if your refreshment is actually included in that...

[puddleshark]

I suppose the owners of Encombe want to limit numbers while still raising a respectable amount of money. I wonder how many people have booked tickets...

At £60 a visit, it would be criminal not to include free cake. 😊

[house_wren]

Thanks for another walk. It brought back memories of when I was young and I spent a lot of time - A LOT! - taking long, solitary walks at the ocean's edge. There were cliffs and crumbling pathways down to the beaches, and vistas. I enjoyed it so much. I often sang the whole time, knowing that no one could hear me.

[puddleshark]

You're welcome!

There were cliffs and crumbling pathways down to the beaches, and vistas...

It sounds lovely.

I have been known to sing, too. When there is no-one around to hear me.

[heleninwales]

Sixty pounds for a garden visit and afternoon tea!! That's a rip-off, even allowing for it including car parking.

Re garden fetes, the still have them in Midsomer, but then someone always gets murdered, so perhaps best that they don't happen in the real world any more. :-)

[puddleshark]

LOL

Yes. We really want to avoid a Midsomer-type garden fête...

I've been to a few of the National Garden Scheme open gardens round here, but usually it's only £10 to get in, including tea and lovely homemade cake.

[nikonf3]

So the church only goes back to 1870?

[puddleshark]

Yes. There's an older church in the village, dating back to 1833, but it is quite plain - not nearly grand enough to suit the third Earl of Eldon's tastes.

Before the 1833 church was built, the villagers would have had to walk to the neighbouring village a couple of miles away to attend church.