Seatown to St Gabriel's
Seatown.
A grey day, and a cold north wind for walking on the high ground. But I have a new winter coat, finally. After my unsuccessful expedition to Dorchester last month, where there wasn't a single coat with good deep pockets to be found in any of the shops, I picked up one half price in Mountain Warehouse yesterday. (Apparently it was Black Friday, even though it was a Tuesday? How does that work, then?) And if it doesn't have the secure inner pocket of my last coat, because it would be too much to ask that a New Thing be as good as an Old Thing, at least it has pockets deep enough to carry a small Thermos.
Went exploring paths in West Dorset, without any expectation of arriving anywhere. November is a muddy time of year to go exploring. And it hammered down with rain last night. Lots of flooding on the roads on the journey over. The car park in Seatown mostly puddles, but I managed to find a parking space that did not require any wading to reach the beach.
The sea state not rough, but the water still grey-brown with sediment from Storm Bert last weekend.
From the scattering of cottages at Seatown, up the one-track lane towards Chideock. I climbed up. Water flowed down. The equilibrium of the universe was preserved.
Duck Lane, in Chideock. Whenever you come across Duck Lane in a Dorset village, you know it will be a watery spot. Signs of recent flooding: mud on the roads, and planks forming flood-barriers raised across the cottage gateways.
From Duck Lane onto Pettycrate Lane...
...which is at first both a stream and a lane...
...until the tarmac ends, and it becomes just a stream.
One of the those hidden Dorset ways, sunk between steep banks, overhung by trees.
The path was passable, despite the water flowing down. But it was more a half kilometre stretch of stepping stones than a lane.
Further up the hill, the path starting to emerge into open countryside.
The view back down to Seatown.
Pettycrate Lane, running along the edge of Langdon Woods, and growing rather muddy.
Golden Cap, the highest sea cliff in Dorset. I did not climb it this time. After all the rain we have had, there will be landslips. (Also, it's steep. And, by the time I had climbed Pettycrate Lane, I was tired of steep).
Looking back across the fields towards Langdon Wood, and Seatown.
Lyme Bay ahead in the distance.
Lyme Regis across the bay, with the famous Cobb jutting out into the sea.
The path down to Stanton St Gabriel. Luckily the sheep had not been grazing it this time, and it wasn't too slippery.
Halfway down the hill, water bubbling up, marking the spring line.
View inland.
The ruins of St Gabriel's. There was a village here in medieval times, but the "old settlement had become virtually deserted by the 18th century; the inhabitants had moved either a short distance inland, where the new Dorchester to Exeter turnpike road had been rerouted, or to Bridport, where work was available in its ropewalks." https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stanton_St_Gabriel
A gate to keep the cattle out, and a puddle to baptize the feet of any visitor.
Hardly any dressed stone survives, except above the door, and that very eroded.
Sat on a wooden bench, which was only a little damp, to drink coffee from my flask, listen to the ravens calling, streams running down the hills.
Then it was time to make the climb back up towards Golden Cap.
The village of Morecombelake across the valley.
Back along Langdon Woods.
Rather than retrace my steps, and pick my way back down the steep rocky section of path with the stones turning under my feet, I turned off Pettycrate Lane to cut across the fields, to join the coast path back to Seatown. Which turned out to be slippery mud & inelegant slithering, followed by many, many steps.
Then, a very soggy field, which tested the waterproofing on my boots, before the path emerged between the cottages in Seatown.
The Isle of Portland on the horizon.
No cup of tea in the Anchor Inn, this time. I couldn't see any signs that it was open. That was a disappointment.
Here's a picture I took inside back in 2015, when I visited with Max.