An Isle of Wight Weekend - 22nd-25th October 2010

The car parking area at Alum Bay covers a fair area of the clifftops, but the land that it covers is no longer fair. It sheer size indicates the popularity of one of the Isle of Wight's main attractions, but on the day that Pam, Jenny, Garry and myself visited, cars were pretty sparse, although in total there were probably quite a few visitors nevertheless.

This was our first destination on the morning after we had arrived to meet the rest of the EFOG group staying at Shearings' Broadway Park Hotel at Sandown from 22nd-25th October. We had indeed met some of them at Portsmouth while waiting for the ferry, and others on the ferry, but our Saturday group of four had pre-decided what our basic itinerary for the weekend would probably be. Pam had researched a walk which took in Alum Bay, a view of the Needles, and Tennyson Down and Memorial. That certainly suited me, as I'd memories of Tennyson Down from a distant-past lone-walk around the Isle of Wight, and of the coloured sand on the cliffs at Alum Bay from childhood family holidays.

The amusement area at the top of the cliffs was open, but the amusements were mostly closed, with non-galloping gallopers and shuttered shooting ranges. But the chair-lift to the shore was operating and as we'd a walk planned anyway, we booked a return journey to save our energies. Chair-lifts are chair-lifts, unless you are afraid of heights, and completing a few photographs of Jenny and Garry waving from the chair-in-front, we obviously reached the base of the cliffs. I suppose unless the chair had to be reversed back up, we'd have achieved the bottom whatever happened.A race against the tide at Alum Bay

The tide was well in to the pebble beach, a high tide, and only a narrow strip separating the soft cliffs from the sea. It's easy to see on a day like that how vulnerable much of the island's coast is to erosion. We had to wait until after the seventh wave had receded to attempt access to a bit further along the shore, at the risk of wet feet or being swept out to sea. We four - and a few others - succeeded triumphantly, to enable views up the steep, soft sand and clay cliffs of many colours. There is a prohibition on climbing them now, but I was tempted to re-try my childhood experiment of a climb up the heights and the pleasure of throwing oneself out into space to hit the sands at an angle such that you travelled a long way down without injury. Perversely, it was the “without injury” bit that deterred me, rather than the “Do Not Climb These Cliffs” notices.

We caught the last chairs back to the top - a lunch-time interlude, apparently - and made our way to the Marconi Memorial. Of course, ultimately we would be heading for the Tennyson Memorial, but this - to my mind - is just as important; it is all to do with communications. From near here Guglielmo Marconi experimented with radio: in 1897 he set up a 40 metre radio antenna and established contact with ships in the bay below and in early 1898 communicated with stations in Bournemouth and then Poole, 20 miles away. Shortly afterwards he demonstrated that ships out of sight in the Channel could also be communicated with. We now carry the descendants of his experimental equipment in our pockets.

The walk along the no-through road to the battery and cliffs above the Needles was glorious, but a bit wet. Great rain-belts were rolling eastwards along the sea to pass through the Solent, and we caught the hail-edge of some of them. You get some views of weather from sea-sides and cliff-tops that you miss from houses and woodland, and the sea and the sky rewards with changing prospects and colours. We decided not to visit the historic Needles Battery, perhaps because we didn't need that re-charge, but continued up past the coastguard cottages and round the point to view the Needles. One is missing – in fact the one that is missing is the one that gave the chalk formation their name, and I overheard someone telling his party that he'd dived there and seen it laying on its side in the depths. I asked him if he'd tried to put it back up while he was there, but there was a lack of appreciation.

Just over the cliff-top from the Battery and hidden in a shallow bay from the Dorset mainland is the experimental facility which the British rocket programme used to test the Black Knight and Black Arrow space rocket engines prior to these being shipped to Woomera for launching. We dived into the facilities' command centre as another rain cloud struck the island, had hot chocolate and watched Alice Roberts explaining on a video taken from the Coast series about where we were (or at least I did). We then went deeper into the centre to see the display about “Prospero”. Look it up – not many people know that - but don't confuse with Shakespeare.

Prospero (and Jenny)The rain having cleared, we hiked on to Tennyson Down with its magnificent both-sides sea-views: the Channel to the right and the Solent to the left – or perhaps that should read starboard and port? From here we could see the Spinnaker at Portsmouth north-eastwards and Solent and Dorset coast towns glistening in the sunshine. Northwards was Lymington with its marina, Barton with its beach-huts, and the town of Christchurch. Then there was Hengistbury Head, and westward - beyond Bournmouth and Swanage - Durlston Head and St. Adhelm's Head were clearly visible.

At the Tennyson Memorial, surrounded by messages written with chalk pebbles, Pam read us some poetry – such that she felt was apt for where we were. Of course, it was by Tennyson.

As we descended the down, we paused to peruse a kestrel performing for us a personal aerial display, then our last visit of note as we returned to the car was at the farm tea-room, voted one of the best in Britain for its cream teas. We each had a cream tea, and then watched the Kunekune pig eating a turnip, or maybe it was a mangle-wurzle. We watched the goat too, but that was trying to eat our hats. We also raided the sea-buckthorn we found growing below the downs for its vitamin-C-rich fruits to keep us healthy.

So, that was Saturday. Sunday had been forecast to be the less settled of the weekend, so Jenny, Pam and Garry - and I – had decided we'd do a walk closer in to the pleasures of Sandown or Shanklin, in case of inclemency. We set out on a beautiful morning (having kicked the red squirrels out of our path) down to the pier and along the sea defence promenade towards Shanklin. There are a line of coloured beach huts along here that gave us a lot of pleasure, for they all have a humorous name associated with them. It was sunny and warm, so we sat just above the sands with the sounds of waves breaking gently near us. I awoke to find a Hitchcock-style scenario which involved seagulls; could it be that one of my companions had dropped some food? Halfway to Shanklin we ascended by a stairandslopeway (I did that deliberately) to the cliff-top path, and reaching my remembered “Hideaway” cafe above Small Hope Beach, we sat on a bench where we possibly all nearly or did doze in the sunshine. I couldn't do that in Wanstead.

Sandown Bay from Dunnose Head

Shanklin Chine was next - certainly my main objective for the day - where we had poor repast in the cafeteria and watched gannets feeding with the gulls on some great shoal of fishes out at sea. We also saw the remnants of Pluto. (look it up). Exiting the Chine, we ate from a Strawberry Tree and then trudged up and up the street leading out of town through Luccombe Village to the lovely coastal walk towards Dunnose Head. This is an area of chines and landslips, with occasional grand views back across Sandown Bay to Culver Cliffs and beyond. We were heading towards Ventnor, but I wanted to re-find the Devil's Chimney. In an area of wild oakwoods, ferns and lichens, I began to feel we may be close, and then a metal hand-rail helped in a journey upwards - and for me pastwards - into a dramatic and narrow cleft in the rock that I'd remembered since childhood.The Devil's Chimney

We arrived just as the “Smuggler's Haven” cream-tea establishment was closing, so had to decide on how to get back. It had been a longish walk that had taken a longish time, so we decided that the nearby bus-stop might be an asset. A bus was conveniently due heading for Shanklin and Sandown, so we hopped on (well – perhaps not quite hopped). At Shanklin Old Village we got off, cos there was much to see and it wasn't time for tea, and the tapping and waving from the upper deck proved that we'd been on the same bus as other members of the group returning from their expedition. Well, ours wasn't over, so after hostelry refreshment in an old-village pub with a new-town interior, we walked through Shanklin town and back down to the lower promenade to walk back to Sandown as night fell. It was so pretty, with the lights of Sandown in the distance, the moon coming up over Culver Cliffs, and the planets and stars gradually appearing in a black sky.

We made it with enough time to join the others for our evening meal and for our drinks in the lounge in the evening.

I won't bore you with details of the wonderful next-morning's visit to Culver Cliff-top, its kestrels, ravens and pipits, nor the stop-off at St. Helen's beach-side before reaching the ferry terminal in the afternoon, nor the enjoyment of the ferry crossing itself. Pam, Jenny, Garry and myself had a pretty good run home via the M25 and the Queen Elizabeth Crossing, and we stopped for an evening meal not too far from our homes. It was great weekend, with great company. Even though the four of us had done much our own thing, it had been an EFOG trip and we are grateful to Ken for getting us all together to do it. I am grateful to Jenny for doing the driving and I apologise for forcing Jenny, Pam and Garry to climb the Devil's Chimney. Wasn't it good, though!

Paul Ferris, November 2010