Ringstead

The Jurassic coast is wonderful throughout, though some places have that little bit something extra, Ringstead is one of those places. A wild landscape of overgrown landslides capped by limestone outcrops and crowned the impressive chalk headland of White Nothe. We've clambered over this landscape for many years, making our way along the pebble and boulder beach or down the steep grassy slopes into the undercliff to explore the thicket filled folds and their limestone and chalk block cappings. Over those years, those countless visits, I've seen the grassy landscape increasingly colonized by a thicket of thorn, bramble and stunted trees. Many of the rock blocks which we used to sit up on have now disappeared under a blanket of ivy. Paths on the undercliff we used to use are now increasingly impassible, not surprising really, we tended and still tend to walk the paths less trodden, yeah, and when I say 'paths' I really mean animal tracks. I'm not complaining, mind. I like the 'off road' way and to see nature retaking her land. The sun really beat down today as I slipped down the slope from the cliff top, questioning how sensible I was being, but still continuing. Down in the folds of the undercliff, where the breeze couldn't touch you, it really hotted up, lizards sunned themselves and scampered off as I approached, surprised deer raised their heads, alarmed to see me, whereas a basking Adder alarmed me as I moved through the clumps of grass, making me jump. I was in their world now.  After a long sweaty struggle, a bit of clambering and several bramble scratches I'd navigated the slides and reached the beach, where a cool and refreshing breeze made for welcome relief.  I thought about a swim, then thought better of it, too early in the season. I sat and chilled for a while, taking in the views, particularly White Nothe high above me and the winding smugglers path which snakes up to its summit. There was no alternative, no putting it off, that was the path I'd be taking.  If you know the path in question, you know it's a bit of a beast. Starting off gradually, it undulates as you traverse the folds in the undercliff before it rapidly pitches upwards, a thin path zigging and zagging. A one particularly scary section you look down a smooth very steep grassy slope which end abruptly with cliff; I don't like that section, not one bit. Folklore has it that smugglers used to negotiate this treacherous path with a barrel of Brandy or similar on each shoulder. Mental! Finally the summit was upon me and I was afforded spectacular views in both directions along the coast. Man, I feel so lucky to live in such a beautiful part of the world. I sat for some time taking it all in, well, to be honest I sat for some time taking in the views and then fell asleep in the sun for a while. All good.  After such an exhilarating walk (and the power nap) the 3 miles or so back along the ridge to Daggers Gate flew by, I was buzzing, man. A top walk in an outstanding location.