I got up quite early to get on the road for my last day. There were loads of old seaside quarries which are now big ledges the locals treat like beaches. Although the weather continued to be dismal so no one was swimming or sunbathing. My mood soured a bit towards mid day and the town of Swanage as my hangover progressed along its course from slap happy jubilation toward the over-arching greyness that normally follows any over indulgence of alcohol. I called the couchsurfing host to let him know I'd be arriving a day early since the previous day I'd covered what I had planned to do in two days.
After Swanage the way was easy and would have ended in 3 miles walk along a beach but I opted for an alternative route through the dunes. I only found out later that this choice meant that I missed seeing a notorious nudie beach. Ah, well. After a strenuous walk through the dunes, I finally made it to the end of the coast path. I had planned to sit there and mull over my experience, but the wind was blowing sand into me like needles and the ferry was just leaving, so with hardly a glance backwards I boarded and crossed away from the path and the end of my long journey.
The couchsurfing host sighed a lot on the ride to his house, seemed very uninterested in me but was perfectly accommodating. He even offered me some of his microwaved, fake meat and veg soup mixture he made and wouldn't take no for an answer when i declined. He did get a little disgruntled, however, when I called the UK flag "Union Jack". No, that's a slang name for it, it's the union FLAG! Okay, cheers man. Then I told him our flag had a nickname too: Old Glory, and it was okay for him to call our flag by her nickname if he wanted. Americans are very informal.
I went to a pub down the street and had a terrible jacket potato with baked beans on top and a fully mediocre glass of cider (all now pale in comparison to the home pressed one I'd had at the Square and Compass). And either that lovely combo has made me a bit sick or the tick I found on my arm a while ago did give me Lyme disease because even a day later I'm not feeling so hot. Or perhaps it is 9 days of eating fried food, scones and clotted cream, and bread and cheese with hardly a vegetable in sight. Can you get a vitamin deficiency in 9 days?
After a surprisingly good night's sleep, despite being in a strange house, my host gave me a ride to the waterfront so I could have a full English breakfast. A mistake I'm afraid. Talk about a horrendous grease bomb: fried egg, potatoes, "bacon", sausage, fried bread, and a few grease drenched mushrooms and tomatoes. It was horrifying. I only ate some of it and brought the rest away with me, but-- I can't decide if it's fortunate or unfortunate -- I accidentally left it at my hosts house when I left to catch my bus to London.
When my post alcohol doldrums pass I will post some closing thoughts about the walk in general, but for now I will say: it was beautiful, difficult, fun, and quite rewarding. I walked 100 miles over rough terrain on my poops foot and only ended up limping at the end of one day. In retrospect it occurs to me that my assumption that shoes designed for running would naturally be good for walking may not have been that well reasoned. And English old ladies are my new favorite. Have fun.
After Swanage the way was easy and would have ended in 3 miles walk along a beach but I opted for an alternative route through the dunes. I only found out later that this choice meant that I missed seeing a notorious nudie beach. Ah, well. After a strenuous walk through the dunes, I finally made it to the end of the coast path. I had planned to sit there and mull over my experience, but the wind was blowing sand into me like needles and the ferry was just leaving, so with hardly a glance backwards I boarded and crossed away from the path and the end of my long journey.
The couchsurfing host sighed a lot on the ride to his house, seemed very uninterested in me but was perfectly accommodating. He even offered me some of his microwaved, fake meat and veg soup mixture he made and wouldn't take no for an answer when i declined. He did get a little disgruntled, however, when I called the UK flag "Union Jack". No, that's a slang name for it, it's the union FLAG! Okay, cheers man. Then I told him our flag had a nickname too: Old Glory, and it was okay for him to call our flag by her nickname if he wanted. Americans are very informal.
I went to a pub down the street and had a terrible jacket potato with baked beans on top and a fully mediocre glass of cider (all now pale in comparison to the home pressed one I'd had at the Square and Compass). And either that lovely combo has made me a bit sick or the tick I found on my arm a while ago did give me Lyme disease because even a day later I'm not feeling so hot. Or perhaps it is 9 days of eating fried food, scones and clotted cream, and bread and cheese with hardly a vegetable in sight. Can you get a vitamin deficiency in 9 days?
After a surprisingly good night's sleep, despite being in a strange house, my host gave me a ride to the waterfront so I could have a full English breakfast. A mistake I'm afraid. Talk about a horrendous grease bomb: fried egg, potatoes, "bacon", sausage, fried bread, and a few grease drenched mushrooms and tomatoes. It was horrifying. I only ate some of it and brought the rest away with me, but-- I can't decide if it's fortunate or unfortunate -- I accidentally left it at my hosts house when I left to catch my bus to London.
When my post alcohol doldrums pass I will post some closing thoughts about the walk in general, but for now I will say: it was beautiful, difficult, fun, and quite rewarding. I walked 100 miles over rough terrain on my poops foot and only ended up limping at the end of one day. In retrospect it occurs to me that my assumption that shoes designed for running would naturally be good for walking may not have been that well reasoned. And English old ladies are my new favorite. Have fun.
Booo hangover :( I will feed you many veggies while you are here.
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