Coast Path, Portland
The Isle of Portland in the sunshine...
The morning still grey when I arrived on Portland, and the wind cold and strong up on the Heights above Fortune's Well. So I headed away from the cliffs, before the wind could snatch my hat, and went exploring more sheltered paths inland. Followed the footpath along what was once the track of a quarry railway, passing under stone bridges, and winding along rocky gullies, to the disused quarry at King Barrow, now a nature reserve.
Narrow chalk tracks through brambles and scrub. Everywhere, rock-loving species: Buddleia and Red Valerian, Oxford Ragwort, Marjoram and Viper's Bugloss. Clumps of ivy, its flowers humming with honeybees and drone-flies.
While I was exploring, the sun came out, and so did the Speckled Wood butterflies.
The leaves on the Dogwood beginning to change.
The Isle of Portland is such a strange mix of nature and industry. Home to the rarest of species, in among the quarry spoil and the rusting gear.
Working quarry.
Easy to identify an islander - their car is coated in white chalk dust.
By the time I had retraced my steps through the quarry, back to the Heights, the sun was warm, so I decided to follow the coast path for a while, and enjoy the sea views.
Chesil Beach, the shingle bank that connects the Island to the mainland.
Chiswell. There are several villages on the Island. But the Underhill villages, down at sea level, take the brunt of the storms. When the waves get up, they can throw shingle from Chesil Beach onto the roads.
Fortune's Well. I mean to explore it on foot one day. When I have the energy. The streets are steep.
The coast path goes all the way to the tip of the Island at Portland Bill. But I wasn't feeling that ambitious. My ankles don't much like the stony Portland paths where the loose chalk rolls under your feet. And in the end I didn't get far. Cliff falls had diverted the path inland through quarries in a couple of places, and the diversions involved scrambling up/down some quite steep chalk tracks, one of which was too steep for me. I turned and came back.
Jackdaws over Portland.