I woke up quite early and headed out of the camping ground. In half a mile I came up on Moon Fleet Manor, I have no idea what its function is, it was alone next to the lagoon bounded by chesil beach. For some reason it brought to mind an expensive mental institution. Someone should write a story about that. After I passed it, I caught up with the first two fully loaded walkers I have seen. A mother and son who had walked the rest of the path in pieces and were on their last section, to finish in Poole like me. I walked with them and talked to the mom while her teenaged son alternately glowered at and ignored his mother. She added a few things to my list of thing to try: whiskey, cake and a strong cider with a funny name I don't remember now (strumpy I think it was). She also told me that the coast path was originally a series of paths between villages that locals used to warn their smuggling neighbors that the tax man was on his way.
It was a short and easy 7 miles to weymouth. Except on bit when I fell down and twisted my ankle because I was talking to the mum instead if looking where I was going. I wasn't really hurt though, so that was lucky. We parted ways at weymouth where I went to find my hostel and they carried on walking.
Weymouth was full of seagulls and men. Twice I barely missed being hit by a shower of Seagull poop. I live a charmed existence I guess. Weymouth is a very touristy town with fish and chips places every other building and ice cream places in between. Once you get off the beachside and main streets however, it is less picturesque. A bit dirty, really. And every person I saw on a side street was a man. Alone or in pairs skulking down the street. Either there are no women there, or they are staying in to avoid the men.
When I got to the hostel I entered the keycode they had sent me and went in to reception. No one was there, no one was in my room of 4 beds, no one seemed to be in the hostel at all. Later in the afternoon, when I heard footfalls on the stairs outside my room, I hoped I would be the only one in my room. I went out to get some food and wine from the grocery. When I got back there was quite a strange man in the downstairs lobby area. I can't explain how he was strange, just got the feeling he was very aware of my presence even though he studiously ignored me.
When I went up to my room, sure enough, I saw one other bed had been claimed, a mans pullover sat on it. I took a shower then sat on my bed considering all the terrible things that a weird man might do to me once we were alone in the room. What if I woke in the night to his face right above mine staring? When I went doewnstairs to eat I was relieved to see two very blond Swedish girls in sailing team jackets eating curry at the table. The strange man was watching the TV, ignoring them. They Swedes were there for the sailing world cup, not part of the Olympic national team they had been relegated to a hostel while their country men and women were staying in a posh hotel somewhere else in town. We discussed their royal family and they explained that their king, Karl, was really the youngest child, but when he had inherited the thrown, queens were not allowed to rule. They have since changed the law and Karl's eldest child was a girl, and her first child, recently christened, is also a princess, so they will have 2 queens in a row next.
After our conversation and several glasses of wine I decided I would bring a knife to bed with me and if the weirdo decided to make an appearence over my face in the night I would use the knife and yell very loudly and the Swedes would doubtless come to my rescue. I fell asleep in a wine induced stupor, the knife next to my bed. In the morning I discovered that it was not, in fact, the strange man I had seen downstairs who was sharing my room, but a very small man with a bad leg and a crutch who had long grey-red hair and a bushy white beard. I'm afraid to say he reminded me strongly of a leprechaun gnome cross, and when I saw him in the kitchen he told me he was in weymouth for the folk festival. The previous night he had been to a laser light show, but he though the lasers had been broken because it was rubbish. He seemed very disappointed.
I didn't take many pictures on the way and none in weymouth.
It was a short and easy 7 miles to weymouth. Except on bit when I fell down and twisted my ankle because I was talking to the mum instead if looking where I was going. I wasn't really hurt though, so that was lucky. We parted ways at weymouth where I went to find my hostel and they carried on walking.
Weymouth was full of seagulls and men. Twice I barely missed being hit by a shower of Seagull poop. I live a charmed existence I guess. Weymouth is a very touristy town with fish and chips places every other building and ice cream places in between. Once you get off the beachside and main streets however, it is less picturesque. A bit dirty, really. And every person I saw on a side street was a man. Alone or in pairs skulking down the street. Either there are no women there, or they are staying in to avoid the men.
When I got to the hostel I entered the keycode they had sent me and went in to reception. No one was there, no one was in my room of 4 beds, no one seemed to be in the hostel at all. Later in the afternoon, when I heard footfalls on the stairs outside my room, I hoped I would be the only one in my room. I went out to get some food and wine from the grocery. When I got back there was quite a strange man in the downstairs lobby area. I can't explain how he was strange, just got the feeling he was very aware of my presence even though he studiously ignored me.
When I went up to my room, sure enough, I saw one other bed had been claimed, a mans pullover sat on it. I took a shower then sat on my bed considering all the terrible things that a weird man might do to me once we were alone in the room. What if I woke in the night to his face right above mine staring? When I went doewnstairs to eat I was relieved to see two very blond Swedish girls in sailing team jackets eating curry at the table. The strange man was watching the TV, ignoring them. They Swedes were there for the sailing world cup, not part of the Olympic national team they had been relegated to a hostel while their country men and women were staying in a posh hotel somewhere else in town. We discussed their royal family and they explained that their king, Karl, was really the youngest child, but when he had inherited the thrown, queens were not allowed to rule. They have since changed the law and Karl's eldest child was a girl, and her first child, recently christened, is also a princess, so they will have 2 queens in a row next.
After our conversation and several glasses of wine I decided I would bring a knife to bed with me and if the weirdo decided to make an appearence over my face in the night I would use the knife and yell very loudly and the Swedes would doubtless come to my rescue. I fell asleep in a wine induced stupor, the knife next to my bed. In the morning I discovered that it was not, in fact, the strange man I had seen downstairs who was sharing my room, but a very small man with a bad leg and a crutch who had long grey-red hair and a bushy white beard. I'm afraid to say he reminded me strongly of a leprechaun gnome cross, and when I saw him in the kitchen he told me he was in weymouth for the folk festival. The previous night he had been to a laser light show, but he though the lasers had been broken because it was rubbish. He seemed very disappointed.
I didn't take many pictures on the way and none in weymouth.
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