Saturday, October 11, 2014

Dorset Day 1 (Part 1) - Peveril Point & sturdy masts

Woke up to fog, so like any right thinking person, I figured it was time to give Corfe Castle a go, in the hope that the fog wouldn’t be too thick, and a lovely bit of morning sun would light up the delicate mist as it twirled and wafted around the impressive hill top ruins, ruffling the battlements and wafting about the crenelations.

So as I heaved myself up East Hill, to get a view down and across to the castle remnants, I hoped against hope that it wouldn’t be as discouraging as the previous visit. It was as discouraging as the previous visit. For the second time in as many hard won ascensions, I couldn’t even see the castle, let alone admire its ruffled battlements.

So yet again, I hung around for a while, in the vain ambition that Mother Nature might take pity on my situation, and spoil me with a view, but as usual, my wishes were comprehensively ignored, and I was left desolate and crestfallen. Once I realised that was the way it was going to be, I strode obstinately back down the hill and returned to the car, in a righteous cloud of huffy indignation.

I didn't bother to take a picture, so here's one from the last time I was there to give an idea what it was like. 
In fact this is exactly what it was like. It couldn't be more spot on if it tried. 

After regaining my composure I drove back to Swanage and made my way out to Peveril Point, to get a few long exposure images in the cool, grey dawn light. If I thought I was a touch deranged, standing on the water’s edge at such a time in the morning, and on so dreary a day. It was nothing compared to the two fishermen who I shared this small patch of coastline with. They were both half submerged in the cold ocean, throwing their rods about, and showing every sign of enjoyment.

The overcast sky bought out the colours in the rocks nicely,
Using a black and white conversion gave some definition to the rocks.
I quite liked this stone jetty.

After about an hour, having seen the grey dawn slowly turn into a grey morning, I took a wander along the coast path and got a few abstract shots of the small craft that are berthed along the shoreline on the way into Swanage. Before heading back to the apartment to get a cup of coffee and a second breakfast.

A stack of canoes caught my eye.
A collection of boat masts sporting some colourful flags, with the misty ocean behind.
More boat masts, but this time with a bit of light on them.
Looking back towards Swanage, with the old pier in the foreground.
The roof of a building. I zoomed in quite tight, to get the pattern of lines is sported.
Looking towards some seafront properties, with a few boat masts included for a bit nautical ambiance.

I took a while to decide where to go next, hoping the weather might improve, but it showed no signs of cheering up, so I decided to make my way to Studland Beach, figuring I should be able to find something to photograph that wasn’t too reliant on a clement day.

I drove to the northern end of this 4 mile stretch of golden sandiness, making sure I avoided the section that provides refuge to the most popular naturist beach in Britain. I’m sure there is a joke involving tripods here, but I shall wisely leave it be.

The northern end of the beach, despite being where the ferry to Poole departs, is less busy than some other areas of the bay. So I could wander freely around without destroying any lovingly crafted sand castles or other cherished beach bound structures, which annoyed me a great deal, but on the bright side, I managed to find my entertainment elsewhere....

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