Note that all maps on this site are only indicative. You should
never set out without the correct OS map.
Here's a hike situated at the edge
of the Westcountry - a stroll that takes you out of our beloved
peninsula and into the far-flung chalk lands of Wessex and beyond.
No heather moorland here, no craggy granite or strip of golden sand,
but a seemingly infinite landscape nevertheless - a coastal demesne
that is full of interest and charm.
Basic hike: from West
Bay near Bridport, east to Burton Bradstock - then across the hill
to Burton Beach before returning via the shore and the South West
Coast Path.
Recommended map: Ordnance Survey Explorer 116.
Distance and going: four-and-a-half miles - easy
going as long as you don't walk too far along the beach.
Bridport sounds like a harbour town
but is in fact over a mile from the waves. Its 'port' has more to
do with free-trade than with ships and wharves.
However, just down the road there is sea, spume, thrift, bladderwrack,
quays and candy-floss - and all the other ephemera you'd expect
from an English shore. At West Bay the English Channel laps at the
new harbour development, people eat fish and chips and play on fruit
machines, and boats bob about doing their best to be picturesque
in the shingle-locked haven.
Some parts of the small resort are pleasant enough, but other
areas have been given over lock, stock and barrel to a great clutter
of caravans. Why can't someone design an aluminium home that is
not downright ugly - especially when gathered en-masse?
Towards Golden Cap from West Bay there are any number of alluring
footpaths and routes that lead into, around, and over, a jumble
of hills, but on this occasion I turned east as I had an urge to
see Chesil Beach - the great curve of shingle that shoots off into
the English Channel and terminates at Portland Bill.
But first - a visit to the golden grit
shore of West Bay. Worth it, indeed, just to see that wonderful
grit. It's the sort that well-to-do people like to have on their
drives. It's also the variety sought after by fish fanciers who
use it to line their aquarium floors. Until the 1980's it was taken
from the beach under licence by the Good family who still operate
at West Bay, but now they import similar stuff from as far afield
as Alderney so that they can process it and send it off to such
aquarium-loving countries as Sweden.
Behind the shingle bank there's the harbour basin where ships
have been able to seek refuge from inhospitable Lyme Bay for centuries.
There were times, I understand, when smaller boats would go on up
river to Bridport. Various harbour improvements have been carried
out over the years, made necessary by the rope and net making industry
that once burgeoned in the district. But it wasn't until 1740 that
one John Reynolds undertook to build a proper harbour for the princely
sum of £3,500 and it was he who diverted the river to run
out between the piers.
Now a new scheme has been completed
that makes the many old photographs in the harbourside museum seem
even more historic. Whit Tuesday Fairs were, for some reason, spectacularly
large events at the little port - one picture shows thousands of
people enjoying themselves at a huge 'do' down on the beach. The
photographer must have climbed the near vertical slope of East Cliff
to snap his gull's-eye view of the proceedings - and, as it happens,
that is where we must go to begin our walk.
The South West Coast Path is the obvious candidate for the route,
but in the interests of enjoying a circular hike we found a right-of-way
that headed slightly inland. Along a shallow valley behind East
Cliff we meandered - all the way to, oh dear, to yet another large
caravan park. One that, from a distance, looked like something from
a Cubist's bad dream.
Marching quickly on we found that the footpath continued up to
Burton Bradstock - a charming and pretty village of some 1,000 souls
- the sort of place where thatched cottages cluster, quaint and
tidy, around a stately 15th century church. But Burton Bradstock
is not just a quaint corner - the place is very much a working village
with a school, a shop, post office and stores, three pubs, an hotel,
a garage, W.I. Hall, Reading Room and a library. It's one of the
old rope-making centres, but it may easily have missed out on the
twine boom. There is a story that the people of Bridport objected
to Burtonians setting up in competition and petitioned parliament
against it. The government agreed that Bridport should be protected
if the Navy was to be sure of its supplies, so in 1530 the making
of ropes was banned within a five mile radius of the town.
How serious this was for Burton Bradstock,
no one seems to know - not too bad perhaps, given that by 1841 a
census was showing that there were still plenty of people involved
in the hemp and flax industries. These included hacklers, weavers,
flax spinners, dressers and corders, a twine netter, a breder of
nets, and one rope-maker. Several footpaths allow you to leave the
village and head south up the hill to reach the clifftops. I took
the one that led me over to Burton Beach, from where I was able
to admire the great curving sweep of Chesil Beach and distant Portland
Bill.
The tide was half-in, half-out, so we walked in the direction
of West Bay along the beach itself - which was much tougher going
than I'd expected. The golden grit has a nasty habit of giving way
under your feet, so that one mile feels like three. But it's well
worth the effort because the cliff formations along this stretch
are weird and wonderful to say the least.
However, having reached Burton Freshwater (where the cubist caravan
site struts its stuff) we gave up with the shingle and took to the
coast path. To do this, walk a little way inland along the stream,
and cross a footbridge which brings you back among the caravans.
Soon you'll be climbing the steep hill to gain the top of East Cliff
and from there it was a simple dawdle back to West Bay. A dawdle
that has the advantage of offering fantastic views
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