Barton-on Sea again

Took my class to Barton-on-Sea recently as part of our topic on coastlines.  It is good for studying coastal erosion but not as good as say Charmouth that has the added dimension of real fossil hunting to boot.  Still it was a fine sunny day - much diffefnt than a few weeks previous when i cycled past on a grey afternoon on my way to Langton Matravers. 

The highlight of the day for me was to come across a young Adder.  I have never seen one before juvenile nor adult and when ido i shall make sure i take a better picture.  I was just in awe of the little fella and its incredible verticle slitted eye.

A very small Adder that was almost squashed but several unobservant 8 year olds.

Barton-on-Sea, on a fine day!

Southsea - Exeter list May 29th-June 2nd

Not a massive list of rare wildlife, however we were busy getting from A to B and also surveying the other sights along the way but as requested here is the list of birds we, i saw / heard.

Birds
swallow                      wren
comorant                   dunnock
house martin               robin
green woodpecker       swift    
skylark                      shag
chiffchaff                     collared dove
meadow pipit             wood pigeon
rock pipit                   little egret
pied wagtail                heron
rook mute swan (+ suicidal cygnets)
canada goose            rook
shellduck                    jackdaw
mallard                      house sparrow
buzzard (on several occasion saw these birds doing the kestrel 'hover' trick, must have been a Dorset 'thing')
stonechat
song thrush                blue tit
blackbird                    great tit
lesser whitethroat        long tailed tit
whitethroat                 magpie
reed warbler              carrion crow
chaffinch                    goldfinch
greenfinch                  SERIN
yellowhammer


Not a bad list without even trying

Also heard a cuckoo, cetti's warbler and sedge warbler

Mammals
otter, fallow deer, squirrel, hare, rabbit and a seriuosly mangled badger

Little tern creche at The Kench

After getting over the trauma of Jacob realising the basic properties of helium via losing his balloon ('baoon')to the skies, we pack up my paniers and cycle over to Hayling. 

The kench is part of langstone Harbour and is quickly reached from the ferry.  It offers seclusion and shelter from the sea and yet still is the sea but less busy and affords great views of the South Downs in the north.

Immediately i noticed through my bins (that i had convieniently had taken) terns.  Sandwich, common, poss. arctic and the fantastic, feisty and noisy little tern.  I first encountered these birds at farlington and then properly at the oysterbeds.  The latter was as traumatic as the 'boy's' balloon incident.  Black-headed gulls have a penchant for little tern chicks and i have seen these blighters swoop down take said chick, dunk it in the briney drowning it then swallowing it.  Subsequently, for a variety of reasons little terns, who migrate as far as many of our passerines and are as fragile as any other small bird, have failed to have any birds survive their breeding seasons here.  This irks me slightly.  It is like inviting esteemed guests over for a meal only to have track suit-bottomed baseball capped chavs ruin the party.

Or am i thinking again?

All around the little lagoon area of The Kench are little terns, bright yellow bills and little neat black caps.  Such a great sight.  Then i notice interesting behaviour.  On a little spit are a number of little terns, flighty, circling and landing at the end of the shingle shoreline.  On closer inspection these birds have speckled wing colourings and no bill colour.  Juveniles!  Ten!  Then an adult bird screeched over landing witha small fish and atracting the attention of its obvious fledglings and before they grab said fish the adult, teasingly, flies off and drops the dead fish in the water.  The fledglings flew over and collected fish from the water.  Meaning the bird had been taught by it's parent the food if from the ocean and from the neak anymore.  Learnt behaviour.  Genius!  I was amongst a little tern creche - what a privilege.  I stay for as long as i feel comfortable not wishing to disturb nature and crawl back along the spit.

If i had a HD digital camera i could have made a documentary on the event.  Exhilarating, ultimately satisfying as ten extra birds will be returning to Africa without being bothered by chavs!

I did to have a camera but it was only my pocket fuji - please excuse.

There are ten juvenile little terns here honest .  If i only had my Nikon.

Swifts

I don't know where to go with this one really.  For a start with why am i typing this up to post it on a blog held on the net?  That is before i get onto content.  I walk around questioning why one would put things on a blog knowing it could be read and would be read as i have given out the address.  I mean i am not writing to other people in an e-mail or a secure personal letter.  I am the one who detests 'facebook' etc.. and yet here i am revealing some of my innermost thoughjts and posting pictures.  Seems daft. 

Then you get to the bit where i am constantly looking towards the sky with a smile on my face.  I make no apologises that i am more and more curious about the natural world, especially the avian kind, and that i 'notice' it more as i get older and more interested.

Take this for instance.  I have just thrown a ball back to a group of lads who are playing footy in their back garden that backs onto ours.  Not that that is unusual.  But i am trying to photograph the swifts whirling and twirling overhead and they wouldn't even notice them.  Unless maybe a big pack of swifts flew low overhead, screeching as they do, surely they wouldn't go unoticed then?  Portsmouth is alive with swifts at the moment as are many other places in Britain and yet very few people - i believe, marvel in their sheer incredible aerobatical wonderments.

'Our' swifts arrived back here on May 5th.  This was in any case the first time they had been seen in proliferation over the city since they left earlier than normal last year due to our awful summer.  Sightings of single birds had been posted on internet sites during April and i saw my first of the year in the Meon Valley on April 29th.  But i wait for 'our' swifts.  Portsmouth's swifts.  Ever since i have 'noticed' them screech around the terraced houses at brakeneck speeds and hunt in packs like spacecraft from Star Wars, manouevering with incredible agility this way then that, catching insects on the wing, i have been 'hooked'. In the countryside your are more likely to see hirundines such as swallows and martins but in our city it is swifts and more swifts. 

Each year i wait for them and worry for them.  And this is where i begin to question myself a little. 

A) I am wondering when they will arrive, if they will arrive in as many numbers as last year, will the weather be kind to them????
B) I am sharing this information.

Perhaps that is it.  Partly catholic, get it off my chest and out of my system.  Partly i know i want to write it down.  I do sometimes in books.  Which is is a little documentary in style, like a diary.  Which i guess, is what a blog is.  What a blog can be.  What ever you want it to be regardless of how it is perceived by others.

What i have noticed about 'our' swifts is this.  They are 'seen' like i did, over the city (May 5th) then they disappear for a while.  This year i was wondering whether the ones i did see were 'ours' or just on migratory passage through the country.  Normally though when 'ours' appear you have constant sightings daily of swifts.  This didn't happen this year.  So maybe my first Portsmouth swifts weren't ours.  Also sightings of many birds at this time were limited due to northerly winds that were chilling us so late on in the year and also bringing ash from the volcano in Iceland. 

Needless to say i was worried as i didn't see many up to late May, as i normally do.  However, whilst supping chilled Muscadet in the garden after the Exeter cycle ride, i sat in the garden and counted 50 swifts overhead, smiled and sighed with relief.  Sad? Who cares?  I don't.  It is all genuine.  Don't know how this 'change' manifested itself - perhaps it was always there, but i was chuffed to see them.

Swifts are habitual like all animals i guess.  Except these birds can travel great distances during habituality.  For instance - Now (early July) i see them screeching around the street past our windows at 7am  Around 5am they aren't as obvious.  By 8:30 am they are moving slighly higher up over the gardens and by midday they are swirling high all over the palce.  But then they sometimes disappear.  By early evening they begin to appear again in singles or small groups then they build up to big numbers.

Life before July over here depends on successful breeding and the influx of birds will be their young, learning, playing, getting their barings for return journeys, fattening up.....  The numbers have swelled the packs screeching around high over Craneswater Junior School (Craneswater is an avian story in itself - apparently common cranes used to land on the water in the area around canoe lake - long time ago - what a sight that would be compared to the enormous plastic swan pedallos there are now!) can be 100+ and a sight to see.  If you are interested that is? 

We are off to France soon.  The swifts will not be here when we return and it will be quiet here for me and i will look forward to their return.  But of course others arrive like the brent geese at Farlington - such is migration.  But i have a soft spot for swifts.  Even now as i type this in the garden head down all i can hear above the occassional car in the street is the screech of swifts.  I am lucky in that my job in the country gives me great views of swallows who are amazing, and whom i could eulogise masses about in terms of their migration.  I love seeing them back too and they are real spring bringers due to being even earlier arrivals.  We also saw them in April in South Africa waiting in lines on telephone wires (in their hundreds/thousands) and i remeber thinking what a privilige it was to see these African birds in their back garden parked up ready to apopear in our back gardens.  What amazing creatures.  I didn't see many of them at Cape Town airport waiting to get on a plane.  They flew themselves and it didn't take them long. 

In the Meon Valley where i work we have meadows that have swallows and house martins. The village is full of them.  Our emblem on our school uniforms is a swallow.  They are amazing creatures all of them.  I have been trying to take pictures of them and have not succeeded in anything other than dire record shots.  But they are 'our' swifts.  When eventually we move i hope will still have 'our' swifts.  Maybe evn swallows or martins too.  Whilst cycling through Devon we came across this beautiful farmhouse, lord knows where, with swallows swirling around it's eaves. 

One may notice i have been thinking a lot.  Always have.  Always pondered about this and that. When i was younger and moody and winsomely hankering after a Smithsonian/Morrissey/McCulloch- like world desperately hiding spots, i would listen to fantastic music in my bedsit and daydreaming about girls i might pluck the courage up to ask out.  Now as i get older the ponderings about birds are more of the feathered kind.

Bloody hard to photograph.  At least i have a 2010 record shot.  Am working on it Percy!

National Treasure

Went to King's Theatre , Southsea not long ago to see Tony Benn in an 'Audience with...'

Really enjoyable stuff and totally enthralling.  The man talks so much sense and yet one wonders why people in government don't take up his views more often.  First half of evening was more successful as it was a 'organised and probably scripted' interview. The second half  was where he had to answer questions from the audience.  This went a little flat as the success depended on the questions and most were long winded and dull.

There are several things that stand out from the evening for me though. 
1) His involvement in ending pirate radio (which must have affected John Peel)
2) His belief that our ailing economy could be helped by not wasting money on Trident after all 'No Nuclear weapons have been used in the recent or distant past'
3) His belief that 'his' generation made dreadful mistakes i.e. Two world wars
4) Sign posts and weather cock analogy for politicians.  Principled, sticking to their beliefs and those who change their beliefs depending on public mood, how they are advised or what is popular and the time in terms of current thinking.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/politics/6004384/Tony-Benn-making-mistakes-is-part-of-life.html

Link above to an interview eludes to more of the evenings discussions.  Soph was pleased as she went and met him at the interval book signing session.

Good stuff.

Day 4.

Salcombe Regis to Exeter
24 miles

http://maps.google.co.uk/maps/ms?hl=en&safe=off&ie=UTF8&msa=0&msid=113047351549821446850.00048511aa1fc5fa094b1&ll=50.72885,-1.151161&spn=0.020836,0.038581&t=h&z=15


We awake to rain, drizzle, grey skies, more rain and soaking wet tents and bikes! It was a case of packing inside tents and then just getting on with taking down tents in the rain resigning ourselves to the fact that we couldn’t get any wetter.

Tearing down the A3052 at 30 odd mph in the pouring rain, wet spray spinning up in my face from my front wheel making visibility extremely difficult, praying I don’t hit an iron man-hole cover and spin out or just losing grip on the slippery speedy descent, I reach the bottom wetter than if I had just jumped into the Exe with my socks full of water. And laughing out loud because, after all of the above, it was still great fun and something one doesn’t do often.

There was no time to fanny around seeking tea and food so we just marched on in the rain for 12 sodden miles or 12 rain sodden miles until we reach Budleigh Salderton. ‘God’s waiting room’ as one local tells us in the same breath as the bit where she said there was no cafes in the town. We leave one of our number guarding our bikes outside a couple of shops whose awnings would provide shelter whilst we ate take outs from the bakery. Returning we find him on the other side of the road in the rain with our bikes having been turfed away the premises. In the rain, the pouring cold, damp, grey rain Budleigh Salderton could not find any ‘milk of human kindness’.

Traipsing around we find a shelter overlooking the sea on the cliff edge and we eat and drink tea the bakery afforded us – which I have to say wasn’t half bad! The rain eases and it isn’t long before we are joined by an unusual old lady. I thought she was some sort of bag lady with a hole in her shoe and well er .. a bag. But the general consensus was that she was just an old lady that definitely had her marbles and probably just stopped off at the shelter from to time to time to look out to sea, sit quietly and be alone with her thoughts. Today she had company. Three new individuals with a vaguely unusual story to be told, in her Budleigh Salderton lifestory. To us, as we leave and are given a Mars bar each, one kind, generous soul – the shining light of Budleigh Salderton putting some of those we met who lacked humility, to shame. Beddy likened her to his gran who used to give him sweets when his parents weren’t looking.

Pushing the bikes up the clifftop path we descended (some with brakes) down towards a disused railway line which coasted us fantastically down through Exmouth to the Starcross Ferry.

Eating our Mars Bars(that obviously brought us good luck as we just walked onto the ferry although Beddy almost choked to death on his whilst Percy documented the incident on his camera) we crossed the Exe, passed Cockwood, to Starcross.

After another cuppa, this time in the Atmospheric pub, we cross the railway line and cycle along the river northwards to Exeter. The ride was beautiful. Fantastic scenery and wildlife for example Fallow Deer in Powderham Castle enclosure to the left, estuary and wildlife (including a multitude of waders) in all its glory to the right.

On and on heading north, easy riding, almost a glorious, victorious procession (like coming down the 'Champs Elysees' at the end of well known long distance cycle race….not too different from ours :) The cheers of adoring fans are replaced by the sound of sedge, reed and cetti’s warblers, yellowhammers with the occasional views of Otter and Rabbit. (What a load of b***cks i hear you say)

  

The Exe and canal begin to reveal more man-made sites, roads, bridges, buildings and boats – all interesting but the further we cycled we realised the ride was coming to an end and we amble…which was great because although we were pre-designed to start and finish a route, a to b, each day we had time to enjoy this last stage.

An interesting ride through the centre of Exeter and we arrive at Exeter St. James station. The end. Well sort of. The first train couldn’t us so we ride back along the river to some interesting shops that had a pub. Celebratory drink and ponderings about what we have achieved and we head back to the station, dodging dockside cygnets, and we end up at the end again.

This time we say goodbye to one of our number, the very important, trustworthy guide and celebrated GPS map programmer, who was bloody brilliant in getting us from A to B….namely Percy.

It is not long before Beddy and I are on the train home via Salisbury and by the time it takes me to read The Independent I am on my bike cycling from Fratton train station, Portsmouth to my house. Four days and 160 miles of sheer fantastic fun (most of the time) getting there – 3 South West train hours to return.

Something great achieved, another chapter not to be forgotten. What is on the next page? Exeter to Truro? Bring it on…..

Day 3

East Fleet Farm to Salcombe Regis (42 miles)

http://maps.google.co.uk/maps/ms?hl=en&safe=off&ie=UTF8&msa=0&msid=113047351549821446850.00048511a83dbf6786086&ll=50.72885,-1.151161&spn=0.020836,0.038581&t=h&z=15

The previous day’s ride was thankfully shorter than the first and ended relatively easily. This was totally in order considering the climbs Day 3 would bring. Dorset into Devon would prove to be hard graft! The back lanes to Abbotsbury were fine with a few hills and most of the cycling around the Rodden area on the road. Abbotsbury was missed out and we headed down to the seafront at East Bexington. This was a great section and a good place to stop and take a breather. Sights included a smart pair of stonechat and lesser whitethroat and an also old bird who had been walking for 99 days along the coast from Bristol – all for charity.

Sadly we had to head inland and slog up a hill towards Swyre then to Beacon Knap and then down through Burton Bradstock to the ghastly grockle hole that is West bay. What a foul place! And yet we still do the ice-cream bit with the best of them!

The immediate climb out of west bay was lung busting and included tracks, trails, paths, puddles, motorcycles and a World War 2 ‘Pill Box’ (very similar to those dotted along the North Downs). The next section seems a blur of ridiculously high hills, beacons, fantastic views, cows, Percy tumblings, superb grassy descents around places I may never see again, that reminded me of the pleasures and pains of the South Downs Way which included Lower Eype, Thorncombe Beacon, Doghouse Hill, Seatown Ridge, Langdon Hill, Upcot to Stonebarrow Hill.

A quick water stop outside Charmouth we slog through Uplyme and begin to realise that the day is fasting running out along with our stamina and patience. Quick and sensible decisions lead to us charging along the A3052 and within in no time the last 15 miles are eaten up and we are at our last campsite a Salcombe Regis.

With fantastic views of the coast and swallows swooping we pitch our tents, shower and a short taxi ride later enter the Blue Ball at the bottom of a very steep hill in Sidmouth.

Beddy frequented this pub many times with his family when he was younger and it was good for him to see it again. Great food, lots of beer and wine later and we are back in our tents with one final day’s ride left.

Day 2

Langton Matravers to East Fleet Farm (27 miles)

http://maps.google.co.uk/maps/ms?hl=en&safe=off&ie=UTF8&msa=0&msid=113047351549821446850.00048511a234c76beb883&ll=50.72885,-1.151161&spn=0.020836,0.038581&t=h&z=15


It is amazing how loud birdsong can be when you are camping in tents. The song can pierce deep slumber as was the case with the blackbird and song thrush that woke me up on a sunny morning in Tom's Field. Percy bemoaning the snoring that woke him rather than the birds, led the way in healthy breakfasts with a pork pie and some yoghurt covered nuts. It is also amazing what bizzare combinations one eats on these energy draining jaunts, but there is no doubt you need it. Not sure about the pie at 8 o'clock though!

Unfortunately we had to say goodbye to Duncan

(the globetrotting IT man) who had to head east due to work commitments whilst we headed off west towards Corfe castle.

We then turned left and headed towards the sea. After yesterday's gloom, wind and rain (which did ease a little) today's sunshine and clifftop views of the sea were exillerating to say the least. We reached a place called 'Heaven's gate' (where my sunglasses could still be now) and surveyed the scenery.

The cliff top ride along the Kimmeridge ridges was fantastic with the tower to our left http://www.isleofpurbeck.com/clavel.html and the isle of Portland ahead in the distance. One waymaker even pointed to ‘Scratchy Bottom’. We had a steep descent to Worbarrow Tout which was too much to cycle down and then we stumbled upon Tyneham. http://tyneham.org.uk/ This was a piece of luck as we may have missed this by taking another route and also the place isn’t open all year round. I won’t eulogise about the place too much so I’ve included a link to the website concerning the place – I personally found it fascinating. Ironically it was crawling with a busload of German tourists.

Through Tyneham we walked which had some amazing old woodland around, (which we did stumble across lots enroute)– perfect for flycatchers but no time to investigate. As we started the very steep ascent to the top of the ridge again one of our number found the freshest, widest and deepest cowpat to stand in. His cries of despair and curses cheered me up all the way to the top of what was a painful push uphill. Fortunately Lulworth ranges weren’t firing so we carried along the cliff tops and although some paths weren’t for bikes and the fences and stiles meant we had to lift our ridiculously heavily laden bikes up and over, we still had immense fun being off-road in the sun with stunning scenery. Lulworth cove, Durdle Door Swyre Head all passed before we paused to take in the view high above Ringstead Bay where we passed two cracking NT sites with some great future campsites in the valleys to our left.


Portland was becoming much clearer and looking back one got a sense of achievement at the ride we had covered in the previous day and a half. After spotting a couple of yellowhammers and munching on more ‘energy’ food we set off on the Osmington Road and ate the miles up descending fast into Weymouth.

After surveying people ‘waddling’ along the promenade whilst we supped a cuppa and then headed through the town and it wasn’t long before we reached East fleet campsite on Chesil Beach. This place, although vast, seemed less cramped than Tom’s field. The staff were true to their word and gave our pitch for free which was to be their donation to our cause. They gave us a huge pitch high up on the hill overlooking the site and the fleet. Facilities were fine but the showers were unbelievably immense.and free. Imagine your own scandanavian wooden shower block with individual wet rooms, power shower, toilet and sink in each little room.

Whilst the other two were supping ales I wandered down to the lagoon at the fleet with my bins to indulge in a bit of birding. I followed a narrow path lined high hedges which followed the edge of the lagoon. It was here that I saw at common whitethroat with food going back and forth to it’s nest. Wandering past reed beds I saw a reed warbler then I turned inland. The 2 mile circular walk back to campsite takes in a famous church that appeared in the smuggling book ‘Moonfleet’. http://www.weymouth-dorset.co.uk/fleet.html I had a little look around this and headed back for well earned beers and a burger.

Cycle ride Southsea - Exeter 29th May - 2nd June

Percy, Duncan, Beddy and Myself

Day one Southsea - Langton Matravers (64 miles)

http://maps.google.co.uk/maps/ms?hl=en&safe=off&ie=UTF8&msa=0&msid=113047351549821446850.000485118e6d6faad79d4&ll=50.72885,-1.151161&spn=0.020836,0.038581&t=h&z=15

Waking up early on the Saturday morning, Duncan and i loaded up the final bits onto our bikes, woke the rest of the house up by being noisy, ate breakfast and glugged our tea whilst watching and family of cute foxes (mum and four cubs) rip up the newly planted flowers and shrubs and dig holes in the green thing that we loosely term 'our lawn'.  It wasn't long before Beddy arrived and the three of us met Percy at Portsmouth and Southsea train station to catch the7:15a.m. 'cat' to the IOW.  One grey and cold crossing later we were at the start of our adventure.

A dodgy geezer called  'Jackie' took our starting off picture - there was concern he was going to run off with the cameras...and then it was off, up and away.  Riding through Ryde isn't the most sulobrious of starts but it is not long before the hilly, tired seaside town is lost replaced by field, trees ....... and rain.  Part of the ride to Yarmouth was familiar but the majority wasn’t which is testament to using ‘Sustrans’ routes and the GPS alongside an extensive OS mapping system. The benefit of this is that you generally avoid major roads, where possible and take the most scenic route as possible which may not be as direct. We had no complaints as we cycled alongside the sea from Cowes to Gurnard, for example, and then through the back lanes enroute to Yarmouth. A good taster to what road conditions we would encounter along our journey, unfortunately it coincided with the rain starting and gradually getting worse and by the time we reached Yarmouth we were soaked through and freezing cold – nearly June and we were all shivering, waiting for the ferry. One dry ferry journey later, perpetuated with warm food, hot coffees and a prolonged use of the hand dryer, clothes dry – step off ferry and it started pouring with rain again!

The merry band of travellers waving!

We headed through Lymington to Pennington Marshes where I had hoped to do some bike birding. By the time we reached the marshes and the sea wall the only thing I could hope to do was cycle very slowly with a 40mph side wind trying to push me into one of the lagoons desperately trying to stay on bike. No birds and one could hardly blame them! After nearly falling into a gorse bush at a gate at the time when we actually came upon someone we headed away from Keyhaven and along to Milford and barton-on-Sea, a little taster for a future school visit (more of this later). Not fantastic landscape but looking back through the grey, gloom one could see The Needles back on the island.

The ride along the cliff tops and into an uninspiring Christchurch was a little dull with the only excitement being us cycling the wrong way up a one way street. By the time we reached Boscombe pier the rain had stopped. We needed a break and a cuppa. The enormity of the first day’s length was beginning to dawn on us. For me especially 60 odd miles with hills, strong head winds and the additional bike weight wasn’t something I had experienced enough in my all too little training.

A bit of a surreal moment sheltering from the wind, surfers one side in the sea the other side a horse and carriage with a happily wedded couple....us in between resting with a brew!

The next part should have been fun but for me it was purgatory. Boscombe – Bournemouth – Poole, all along the seafront. Good on the local authorities for letting bikes along this very scenic seafront route – shame they laid on atrongwinds and not tailwinds. I couldn’t get above 6mph! I should have enjoyed it but it was a slog and it drained me. By the time we got to the ferry at Sandbanks I was good for nothing! The crossing (my fourth ferry crossing of the day) was a much needed breather.

Ferry four for me and five for Percy!

The next bit was special as no sooner had we got past the toll booth at Studland than did I hear a familiar yet unfamiliar birdsong. I remembered hearing it everyday around our campsite in France and delighting in the canary-like wonders of the serin but to hear it in Blighty is a rarity. And there it was. I had to stop even though the others would be cycling well ahead (Duncan did stop as well although probably didn’t get much from the view, especially as it was in silhouetted profile due to the poor light as, I did) because it was my first in this country and it was also such a bright thing on a bit of a grey slog of a day.

By this time we were in the 50 miles covered zone and the last thing we really needed were hills but hills we got, Dean Hill up to Ulwell and then a final slog up to Langton Matravers (the start of the hills on the ‘Isle of Purbeck’) and then TOM’S FIELD CAMPSITE!!. Worthy of capital letters as it was such a welcome sight. Pitched tents, had a shower and another ride to an amazing pub at Worthy Matravers called the ‘Square and Compass’. An amazing pub that had no seating room inside (due to it being a gem of a pub and very popular) meaning we had to sit on Stonehenge type slab seats outside. The pub had a shepherds hut outside where an amazingly side-burned Dorset country bumpkin yokel was serving up cheese to go with cider. One pie and a beer later and I had to leave the guys and head back to the tent to sleep (with a tailwind meaning I got back with joyous ease, especially as most of the trip was down hill. The others stayed later, journeying back in different groups, with differing levels of booze inside them and very little in the way of bike lights. And they loved it! An early night I needed, deserved and got.