HeadRightOut: One Coast Any Age

Mud, Kindness and an Unexpected Bed in Wareham

Mike and I hugged Sarah goodbye, thanking them for their kindness over the past two days as we prepped for the restart of our One Coast Any Age adventure. Kevin, Sarah’s husband would be walking with us today.

At our starting point, more hugs all round for Lyndon who kindly drove us to Studland. Then we stepped away from the starter marker at South Haven Point, to begin walking the mainland coast of Great Britain (again).

I’m not sure how we managed it, but the weather gods were kind to us that first day … or maybe we were just lucky. The sun shone, and the temperature peaked at a balmy nine degrees. Not bad for February!

While the waters of Poole Harbour glistened with a spectacular postcard picturesque-ness, really it was all show. Underneath the beauty, reality soon hit home as the tide was in this time, with next to no beach left on either side of the Studland spit that approaches Sandbanks.

Within a few miles, the Purbeck landscape reminded us that south coast winter walking was going to challenge us. The heaths and causeways on the western side of Poole Harbour were flooded, with footpaths and roads that just disappeared into water. We sploshed along boggy tracks and over full fields, brimming with more rainwater than Dorset had seen in years. The sound of squelching became the expected daily norm … as have the reroutes. We were forced to rethink the route over Sharford Bridge, now totally impassable, so by the time we reached Norden Station (inland at Corfe Castle and way off the planned route), seven muddy miles later, we were tired but happy to have found a workable option and to be moving forward again.

That night was not the romantic wild camp you might imagine. The bench seats in the waiting shelter at Norden Station were hard and unforgiving, but we knew with heavy rain coming in overnight, it could be the better option. Or perhaps it wasn’t … I caught Mike sleeping while sitting upright. Kevin declared it the worst night’s sleep ever. My hips felt bruised from the benches and every time I turned over I thought I might fall off. In the morning, while we packed away, stiff and bleary-eyed, we noticed a small sign for free Wi-Fi inside the shelter. After struggling with signal the whole time, (mainly to check new routes) we could only laugh at the irony.

As is always our motto, we left the station shelter tidier than we found it, picking up some items of litter that had blown in, or been left. We said goodbye to Kevin outside the station. He needed to head back for an MOT on his car, so couldn’t continue with us. There was a big man hug, a selfie, and then that strange moment when our paths split and we walked away in different directions. It felt strangely quiet after that, having walked and chatted with Kevin all day, the day before.

The fields across Norden Common were more full of water than we had expected. Woodland sections looked more like swamps, though the lichen-covered birch trees softened everything with their pale sage greens and silvery peeling bark. Fallen branches and crazy awkward stiles turned the route into an obstacle course, challenging for both of us in different ways. Me, height-wise and Mike with his new hips.

Somewhere along a lane edging the heath, we met Sandra Brown. Before we even spoke we sensed she was our kind of person. Sandra, now seventy-seven, once held the record for the fastest LEJOG back in 1993. She talked about the joy of movement and about staying active later in life. We hugged, took photos, exchanged emails, and carried her energy with us long after we parted.

For the second time in four months, RSPB Arne gave us a welcome break. We chatted with volunteers Lynn and Steve about birds, books and life after big career changes.

Later on, with heavy rain settled in for the long haul, we thought we had found a simple, dry place under the canopy to lay our sleeping bags for the night. A duty manager arrived and, kindly but firmly, explained we couldn’t stay. We packed up, apologised, finished our noodles quickly and walked on for another four miles in the darkness and the rain.

By the time we reached The Quay Inn in Wareham we were soaked through and after ten miles, my left foot was letting me know I’d gone too far. We asked about a room at the pub but decided it was out of our budget. Instead we dried ourselves, and our jackets by the fire and regrouped. When I later explained to Eva behind the bar what we were doing, she spoke with the owner who generously offered us a room with full breakfast, free of charge. He said what we were doing was amazing.

In that moment, the emotion was too much for me. Overwhelmed, I burst into tears and then couldn’t stop for ages!

Seventeen miles into One Coast Any Age (Edition 2.0), the journey had already shown us flooded paths, friendships, flippin’ hard decisions and unexpected generosity. If this is how the coastline welcomes us back, despite the challenges, I can’t wait to see what lies ahead.

I know Mike feels exactly the same.