Nine Stones, Wild Garlic & Ransoms

We took an Easter trip down to Devon . About half way, my son and I stopped to stretch our legs and explore the Nine Stones, a 4000 year old stone circle by the side of the main road. If you can ignore the rumble and roar of the traffic, it can be quite a magical spot.

There are obviously some happy hippies that visit this ancient site because we discovered many small good luck tokens wedged into the various crevices of the rocks, which was a nice surprise. I left the 10 cent coin that I received in my change for ghastly coffee in the nearby Happy Chef restaurant.

Behind the stone circle we discovered a whole hillside of Ransoms, the first edible on the Urbane Forager's seasonal calendar. When it is in flower, you often smell these plants before you can see them. We also noted Raspberry canes growing on the spot but it was way too early for any fruit yet.

Wild Garlic is presumably related to Ransoms in some way and this is popping up all over the countryside at this time of year too. Our children always like to pick a leaf of this abundant forage and chew on it to keep hunger at bay, or so they say. Perhaps we should feed them a bit more often...

This year, we may have had Daffodils in January and Plum blossom in February but the beautiful Bluebells are marking time with their normal April schedule. They are beginning to pop up throughout their habitat and soon the woodlands will be carpeted with their delicate ethereal glow.

Agglestone and Old Harry

It had been quite a bad week for us. Both children had gone down with a virus, which rather spoiled the school holidays for them. We had a couple of sleepless nights ourselves nursing the sick. 

Then, just as I was planning my birthday day out, I started to feel a bit poorly too. We were all a little run down; I wasn't quite laid low like the kids but I wasn't my normal perky self and my energy was quickly sapped.

However, we were not going to let a little virus stop our fun, I just had to moderate my ambition somewhat. I didn't go out with friends Saturday night, I got an early night instead and had a bit of a lazy Sunday morning. Then we fearlessly set out for Studland in Dorset, a beautiful stretch of coastline with miles of soft sandy beaches flanked by extraordinary white chalk cliffs.

Of course when visiting the beach in February in the UK you are not going to be packing swimming costumes and sunglasses, especially if you are not quite feeling yourself. The fringes of the Isle of Purbeck, as this area is known, are wonderful but they are only a tiny part of the appeal of the fantastic landscape. It is an absolutely fascinating place geologically and, as a result, historically.

I planned two short walks to exciting places, Old Harry chalk stacks and the astonishing Agglestone; I hoped that everyone, including myself, would be able to cope. Old Harry was first and it was blowing a gale when we tried to step out of the car in the National Trust car park. We started from the sandy beach but after a short while my daughters legs were going a bit wobbly, so she begrudgingly decided to turn back with Mum. 

No, You Cannot Walk Down There, Even If You Are Very Careful!

My son, who was now recovering, soldiered on with me and we were rewarded with the sudden and quite shocking view over the end of the path. He was permitted to carefully creep a lot closer to the edge than his Mum would have ever allowed. Having said this, neither of us ventured down to the very end of the suicidally sinuous path, that would have been highly irresponsible.

Pepped up by fresh air and the exhilaration of peering over the edge of the world, we set off down ancient holloways and across the sodden heath to hunt down the simply brilliant Agglestone.  We even spotted a group of Apple trees on our way.

From our first distant glimpse of the rock my son simply did not believe it, and thought initially that it was a tree. Later he said it looked like a giant broccoli stalk (it does) and renamed it the Brocclestone.

"The Brocclestone"

The Agglestone used to stand straight up but it did wobble and eventually it fell over, about 100 years ago. However, even lying down it is still a truly weird and wonderful piece of multi coloured, rippling rock. 

It does look alien, as if an asteroid dropped from space or a flying saucer landed and became fossilized. It sits atop its own special hill, standing out in the landscape as if deliberately placed there.

Many visitors have carved their initials and names in the soft sandstone around the base and it would be simple to say that this is a bad thing, but you can easily see the temptation. We decided to climb the Agglestone, it would have been a shame to get all that way there and not show our fascination for this beautiful geological beast in some significant manner.

We had to squint to stop sand blowing into our eyes and cling on like limpets to prevent ourselves being swept clean off. I let my son go first, he's a very good climber but I stayed very close behind him. We did quickly gain the summit without any trouble, then scrambled back down and victoriously squelched our way back to the girls.

We arrived in Studland via the millionaire's row of Sandbanks, a short-cut around the gigantic natural harbour of Poole but we returned via the ancient towns of Corfe and Wareham, tipping our caps to the castle on the way and stopping for well earned fish and chips in Southampton.

Because it was there! (Sandbanks in the background)

Hardy to Hellstone

We were making the most of the late-summer sun, camping at the lovely Ewleaze Farm in Dorset. I have always wanted to walk the whole South Dorset Ridgeway; it is a stunning prehistoric landscape, but past experience leads me to believe that the kids would collapse, without a constant supply of ice lollies.

Being a card-carrying Luddite, I don’t yet own a sat-nav but I do love paper maps, and often find interesting looking places and routes via the Ordinance Survey. We plumped for a short, but exciting walk from the Hardy monument to the Hellstone. I always like an accompanying legend to regale the kids with along the way, and the Hellstone’s Satanic designation comes from a local tale, telling of Lucifer Himself, hurling huge stone Quoits from Portland Pike! It is actually a Neolithic burial site.

The Hardy monument was constructed to commemorate Captain Hardy, of the good-ship Victory (Kiss me Hardy!), as opposed to the writer, Thomas Hardy, who also lived in Dorset. The monolithic tower commands spectacular views, with Chesil Bank and Portland Bill to the South, Maiden Castle to the East, and apparently five counties in other directions. A stiff wind was blowing off the sea, when we arrived, it was clear and sunny though, once the morning mist had burned off.

We checked our compass, with the friendly chap who was selling tea and him Mum’s tasty cakes, from a caravan in the car park. He directed us in a generally South-westerly direction and said it should be an easy trip, mostly down established footpaths. The wind was cut off as soon as we descended into the heather and bracken of the coastal path. Shortly everyone was stripping of layers and tying them round their waists or cramming them into my tiny rucksack; it wasn't long before we spotted our first sign.

The walk was rapidly turning into a sweltering stumble, so it was just as well that it wasn't too far. Fortunately the march was staggered (quite literally) by frequent pauses, to scoff copious amounts of Blackberries. We knew we were close but were short on clues, when my son stopped for a quick rest... Then we suddenly spotted a mossy stone carved with the epitaph, HELLSTONE ONLY.

Filled with renewed vigour, we scrambled over the wall and through the field, to our target. En route, I had told my son that treasure hunters had occasionally found gold or swords at sites of antiquities such as this, and as he scrambled on to the top of the Hellstone, he was duly delighted to discover £1.22 in coins that had fallen out of a previous visitor’s pocket.

We ate our picnic and before we headed back down the lovely path, I left a couple of coins on the top of the stones, in the hope that it might delight another caller to this haunting place. This was a pleasant, walk along established footpaths. The route leads through heath, farm and woodland, with just enough navigational and landscape challenge for the children. The Hellstone itself is a spectacular monument, tall enough for and adult to stand inside and craggy enough to enable kids to climb onto the roof. I always get a deep and romantic sense of ancient belonging when I visit these places. The remarkable Hellstone proved no exception.