England and Wales by public transport
Aug 10th, 2016, 01:30 PM
#21
My first afternoon in town, after checking into my cosy B&B, I walked over to, and along, the Cobb, taking care not to fall down the steps, as I hadn't brought a Captain Wentworth along to catch me. >>
did you have your cloak [a la French Lieutenants Woman] with you though?
did you have your cloak [a la French Lieutenants Woman] with you though?
Aug 15th, 2016, 04:13 AM
#28
Original Poster
<b>August 8-11, 2016: Underwhelmed by Weymouth</b>
After negotiating a twisty one way street, buses arriving in Lyme Regis from the east stopped at the bottom of Broad Street, and I had had an easy walk to my B&B. But buses arriving from the west stopped instead at the top of Broad Street, and I had a bit of a trek to get there. London to Bournemouth, and Bournemouth to Lyme Regis by public transport had worked fine, now I expected to take First Bus's X53 service direct to Weymouth.
Until, that is, the friendly locals waiting at the same bus stop told me that strike action was in progress and the service was probably not running. The driver of their local bus confirmed the bad news. Well, the X51 was still running - I could take it back to Dorchester South and get a train to Weymouth from there. It would just cost me time, as the X51 left thirty minutes after the X53. But then the X51 driver told me that the X53 was running east of Bridport, and I could connect with it there. At the cost of another thirty minutes, but the views of the coast were worth the wait. If I had checked the First Bus website instead of relying on the timetable I had down loaded or my phone I would have seen the notice about strike action and could have avoided the first wait.
The bus ride terminated roughly in the middle of Weymouth's long Esplanade, which bordered its curving, sandy beach. Unlike San Sebastian, which I visited last year, where most of the tourist action was inland, here it reached to the sea. While I was amused to see an old-fashioned Punch and Judy show set up on the beach, I found the overall impression a bit tacky, and the crowds thronging the pavement a nuisance. The crowds on the main pedestrian streets turned out to be worse, Weymouth was definitely doing good business. Virtually every building along the Esplanade was a hotel or B&B - I did notice one or two cafes, and a lone dentist's office - and so many sported "No Vacancies" signs I had to wonder what was wrong with the occasional exception.
My B&B, the Chatsworth, was nearly at the southern end, and a little away from the action. My London-small single on the first floor was screened by tall bushes from the beach, but also from a collection of fun fair rides. The bathroom appeared to have begun life as a closet. However, there was a nice terrace overlooking the harbor at the back of the house, where I drank my breakfast coffee. I spent my first afternoon exploring the town, winding up on the south side of the harbor, which I much preferred. Although there were a number of cafes and restaurants, it was quieter, and behind the buildings I found the Nothe fort (closed) and the Nothe gardens (well worth a wander). I had my first scone and clotted cream of the trip in the Ivy Coffee House, and ate my splurge meal for Weymouth in the Monkey's Fist, just inland. The monkey's fist turned out to be a rather impressive knot - http://www.netknots.com/rope_knots/monkeys-fist - but the food wasn't anything to get excited about.
I spent the my two full days based in Weymouth out of town.
After negotiating a twisty one way street, buses arriving in Lyme Regis from the east stopped at the bottom of Broad Street, and I had had an easy walk to my B&B. But buses arriving from the west stopped instead at the top of Broad Street, and I had a bit of a trek to get there. London to Bournemouth, and Bournemouth to Lyme Regis by public transport had worked fine, now I expected to take First Bus's X53 service direct to Weymouth.
Until, that is, the friendly locals waiting at the same bus stop told me that strike action was in progress and the service was probably not running. The driver of their local bus confirmed the bad news. Well, the X51 was still running - I could take it back to Dorchester South and get a train to Weymouth from there. It would just cost me time, as the X51 left thirty minutes after the X53. But then the X51 driver told me that the X53 was running east of Bridport, and I could connect with it there. At the cost of another thirty minutes, but the views of the coast were worth the wait. If I had checked the First Bus website instead of relying on the timetable I had down loaded or my phone I would have seen the notice about strike action and could have avoided the first wait.
The bus ride terminated roughly in the middle of Weymouth's long Esplanade, which bordered its curving, sandy beach. Unlike San Sebastian, which I visited last year, where most of the tourist action was inland, here it reached to the sea. While I was amused to see an old-fashioned Punch and Judy show set up on the beach, I found the overall impression a bit tacky, and the crowds thronging the pavement a nuisance. The crowds on the main pedestrian streets turned out to be worse, Weymouth was definitely doing good business. Virtually every building along the Esplanade was a hotel or B&B - I did notice one or two cafes, and a lone dentist's office - and so many sported "No Vacancies" signs I had to wonder what was wrong with the occasional exception.
My B&B, the Chatsworth, was nearly at the southern end, and a little away from the action. My London-small single on the first floor was screened by tall bushes from the beach, but also from a collection of fun fair rides. The bathroom appeared to have begun life as a closet. However, there was a nice terrace overlooking the harbor at the back of the house, where I drank my breakfast coffee. I spent my first afternoon exploring the town, winding up on the south side of the harbor, which I much preferred. Although there were a number of cafes and restaurants, it was quieter, and behind the buildings I found the Nothe fort (closed) and the Nothe gardens (well worth a wander). I had my first scone and clotted cream of the trip in the Ivy Coffee House, and ate my splurge meal for Weymouth in the Monkey's Fist, just inland. The monkey's fist turned out to be a rather impressive knot - http://www.netknots.com/rope_knots/monkeys-fist - but the food wasn't anything to get excited about.
I spent the my two full days based in Weymouth out of town.
Aug 17th, 2016, 08:52 AM
#29
Original Poster
I'm no longer on the Dorset coast, seems that might be a good thing!
https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/...est-bay-dorset
https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/...est-bay-dorset
Aug 17th, 2016, 09:24 AM
#30
thursdaysd - glad you avoided being buried by fossils unlike some unlucky people who were walking along that stretch of coast a couple of years ago. it does seem to have become particularly unstable recently.
Still enjoying your travels, where next I wonder?
Still enjoying your travels, where next I wonder?
Aug 17th, 2016, 10:00 AM
#33
Original Poster
Nice to see you, LCBoniti.
Update: my sister emailed me to say she has just seen a report that the Punch and Judy show in Weymouth will close because kids have been throwing rocks at it! That is so depressing. I had seen the Punch and Judy puppets and booth in a museum right before arriving in Weymouth, and had been so pleased that there were still real shows.
Update: my sister emailed me to say she has just seen a report that the Punch and Judy show in Weymouth will close because kids have been throwing rocks at it! That is so depressing. I had seen the Punch and Judy puppets and booth in a museum right before arriving in Weymouth, and had been so pleased that there were still real shows.
Aug 17th, 2016, 01:34 PM
#34
Original Poster
<b>August 9, 2016: Swanning Around Abbotsbury</b>
Abbotsbury offered a Subtropical Garden and a Swannery, and was reachable from Weymouth by the X53 bus. When I first heard that the X53 was affected by strike action I had thought I might have to forego Abbotsbury, but since it was running east of Bidford I could still visit, although there was only one bus an hour. I got an early (for me) start, and was set down at the new bus stop just up the lane from the gardens shortly after they opened.
Although I enjoyed the gardens, and there was a Japanese bridge, and a "Burma" rope bridge, and even a stand of rather thin bamboo, I had a hard time seeing them as subtropical. Lots of flourishing hydrangeas, plenty of shade, and an excellent view of the coastline if you trekked up a grassy slope at the far end, but not what I think of as subtropical. The view was especially interesting, because Chesil Beach was visible to the east. Beach is perhaps an odd name for what is essentially a long sand spit, but it is a very impressive sand spit - a full 18 miles of pebbles, separated from the main beach by the shallow salt water of the Fleet Lagoon.
After visiting the gardens and having a morning cup of coffee, I was between buses. Rather than waiting half an hour in order to ride one stop into the middle of the village, I chose to walk it, and was glad I had. The road into the village was picture perfect, lined with thatched cottages built in mellow stone. I had lunch - crab salad sandwich with salad - in a quintessentially English tea room in what had been the school house.
Then I headed out of the village in the other direction to reach the Swannery. I had thought of walking cross country from the gardens, but had been assured that it was longer that way, and the route looked to be short of shade. As it was, I had a look at the village church and churchyard on the way. August turned out to be molting season, during which swans are grounded, so, while there were certainly a lot of them, none were flying. It might be a more interesting visit at a different time of year. In addition to the swans, a small group of enthusiasts were displaying birds of prey and owls, and there were boards with information on the large reed beds.
While it had been a pleasant walk down, I went back uphill rather fast, just making the 15:09 bus to Weymouth.
Abbotsbury offered a Subtropical Garden and a Swannery, and was reachable from Weymouth by the X53 bus. When I first heard that the X53 was affected by strike action I had thought I might have to forego Abbotsbury, but since it was running east of Bidford I could still visit, although there was only one bus an hour. I got an early (for me) start, and was set down at the new bus stop just up the lane from the gardens shortly after they opened.
Although I enjoyed the gardens, and there was a Japanese bridge, and a "Burma" rope bridge, and even a stand of rather thin bamboo, I had a hard time seeing them as subtropical. Lots of flourishing hydrangeas, plenty of shade, and an excellent view of the coastline if you trekked up a grassy slope at the far end, but not what I think of as subtropical. The view was especially interesting, because Chesil Beach was visible to the east. Beach is perhaps an odd name for what is essentially a long sand spit, but it is a very impressive sand spit - a full 18 miles of pebbles, separated from the main beach by the shallow salt water of the Fleet Lagoon.
After visiting the gardens and having a morning cup of coffee, I was between buses. Rather than waiting half an hour in order to ride one stop into the middle of the village, I chose to walk it, and was glad I had. The road into the village was picture perfect, lined with thatched cottages built in mellow stone. I had lunch - crab salad sandwich with salad - in a quintessentially English tea room in what had been the school house.
Then I headed out of the village in the other direction to reach the Swannery. I had thought of walking cross country from the gardens, but had been assured that it was longer that way, and the route looked to be short of shade. As it was, I had a look at the village church and churchyard on the way. August turned out to be molting season, during which swans are grounded, so, while there were certainly a lot of them, none were flying. It might be a more interesting visit at a different time of year. In addition to the swans, a small group of enthusiasts were displaying birds of prey and owls, and there were boards with information on the large reed beds.
While it had been a pleasant walk down, I went back uphill rather fast, just making the 15:09 bus to Weymouth.
Aug 17th, 2016, 03:50 PM
#35
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I'm enjoying your report - especially since I'm considering a trip to that region next summer. So I have a question. You mentioned traffic - how bad is it? I've read in a number of places that going to southwestern England in summer is a bad idea due to clogged roads, overrun towns, parking problems, etc. What was your impression in that regard?
Aug 17th, 2016, 11:47 PM
#38
Original Poster
Traffic going west on Friday was definitely bad. Come to a stop and crawl bad. I would expect traffic in bith directions to be bad over weekdends in the summer. If you will rent a car a better solution is to take the train west and rent when you get there.
Crowds in popular places were bad, but concentrated. Oxford was worse....
Crowds in popular places were bad, but concentrated. Oxford was worse....
Aug 19th, 2016, 10:09 AM
#40
Original Poster
<b>August 10, 2016: Portland, Home of Stone</b>
Inigo Jones' Banqueting House? Christopher Wren's St. Paul's Cathedral? The Palace of Westminster, the Tower of London, the British Museum, even the U.N. Headquarters in New York, all are made of Portland limestone. The stone has been quarried at least since Roman times, from the unusual "tied" island that juts out into the English Channel south of Weymouth, the southern anchor of the equally unusual Chesil Beach.
In the summer months, open-topped bus 501 runs from Weymouth's King George statue all the way down to the lighthouse at Portland Bill, the southern tip of the Isle of Portland, once an hour. A five GBP ticket gets you a day's use. There is a more frequent local bus that serves the several communities on the island, but it doesn't go the whole way. Given that the sun was still shining brightly, and the wind was strong even at ground level, I chose to ride inside. I also chose to get off at the first stop to visit the now-defunct Tout Quarry.
I quickly realized that I was wearing the wrong footwear - boots, not sandals, were needed to cope with the stone chips littering the ground. I also quickly realized that the quarry was not a particularly interesting destination. Plenty of loose chunks of rock, but they soon all looked the same, and the carvings scattered around didn't hold my interest, either. There were a few good views if you made it up to the rim of the quarry, although here, as around Lyme Regis, the Southwest Coast Path had been rerouted back from crumbling cliff edges.
I walked back to the main road and headed south for the next bus stop, only to encounter a remarkable church. Built in the mid-1700s, it was resolutely Georgian, and it was a little hard to tell from the outside that it was actually a church, as the tower and steeple at the west end looked as if they had been grafted onto an unrelated building. Inside, I found that it boasted two pulpits set across from each other in the center of the nave, with box-style pews at the altar end turned to face the pulpits. Although the church had been Anglican, it had clearly been very low church Anglican. The building had been decommissioned and was now cared for by the Churches Conservation Trust. The elderly gentleman seated near the entrance told me that words had been deemed more important than sacraments, and allowed me to go up into one of the pulpits, a new experience for me. It provided a commanding view into all of the pews and the gallery, and I could see that it would be all too easy to develop illusions of grandeur from frequent occupation.
The gentleman recommended the Sugar Loaf in Weston for lunch, and after a good macchiato at Cycleccino, a cafe and bike shop across the street, I enjoyed an excellent crab salad. In fact, it looked so good I took its photograph (see my blog for the photo). After lunch I missed the next bus because traffic kept me from crossing the road in time, and walked on to the island's museum. As I had suspected, this was not a compelling destination, aside from a few mineral displays, but I did learn three interesting facts. First, the museum had been started by Dr. Marie Stopes, the birth control pioneer, who turned out to have a doctorate in paleobotany and not medicine. Second, a panel told me that the women on the island had enjoyed property rights well before the repeal of the Married Women's Property Act, which infamously gave husbands total control of their wives' money and goods, and some had even served as Reeve. Third, less surprising, was a map showing the shipwrecks round the island. Even with the lighthouse I was going to visit - and originally there had been two - this was clearly dangerous territory for ships.
By the time I made it to Portland Bill the day was clouding over. I chose not to go up the lighthouse, and instead watched the waves breaking on the rocks and an occasional fishing boat, and caught the next bus back to Weymouth. While I was glad to have visited the island, it occurred to me that Lulworth Cove might have been a better choice, although there were fewer buses headed there.
Inigo Jones' Banqueting House? Christopher Wren's St. Paul's Cathedral? The Palace of Westminster, the Tower of London, the British Museum, even the U.N. Headquarters in New York, all are made of Portland limestone. The stone has been quarried at least since Roman times, from the unusual "tied" island that juts out into the English Channel south of Weymouth, the southern anchor of the equally unusual Chesil Beach.
In the summer months, open-topped bus 501 runs from Weymouth's King George statue all the way down to the lighthouse at Portland Bill, the southern tip of the Isle of Portland, once an hour. A five GBP ticket gets you a day's use. There is a more frequent local bus that serves the several communities on the island, but it doesn't go the whole way. Given that the sun was still shining brightly, and the wind was strong even at ground level, I chose to ride inside. I also chose to get off at the first stop to visit the now-defunct Tout Quarry.
I quickly realized that I was wearing the wrong footwear - boots, not sandals, were needed to cope with the stone chips littering the ground. I also quickly realized that the quarry was not a particularly interesting destination. Plenty of loose chunks of rock, but they soon all looked the same, and the carvings scattered around didn't hold my interest, either. There were a few good views if you made it up to the rim of the quarry, although here, as around Lyme Regis, the Southwest Coast Path had been rerouted back from crumbling cliff edges.
I walked back to the main road and headed south for the next bus stop, only to encounter a remarkable church. Built in the mid-1700s, it was resolutely Georgian, and it was a little hard to tell from the outside that it was actually a church, as the tower and steeple at the west end looked as if they had been grafted onto an unrelated building. Inside, I found that it boasted two pulpits set across from each other in the center of the nave, with box-style pews at the altar end turned to face the pulpits. Although the church had been Anglican, it had clearly been very low church Anglican. The building had been decommissioned and was now cared for by the Churches Conservation Trust. The elderly gentleman seated near the entrance told me that words had been deemed more important than sacraments, and allowed me to go up into one of the pulpits, a new experience for me. It provided a commanding view into all of the pews and the gallery, and I could see that it would be all too easy to develop illusions of grandeur from frequent occupation.
The gentleman recommended the Sugar Loaf in Weston for lunch, and after a good macchiato at Cycleccino, a cafe and bike shop across the street, I enjoyed an excellent crab salad. In fact, it looked so good I took its photograph (see my blog for the photo). After lunch I missed the next bus because traffic kept me from crossing the road in time, and walked on to the island's museum. As I had suspected, this was not a compelling destination, aside from a few mineral displays, but I did learn three interesting facts. First, the museum had been started by Dr. Marie Stopes, the birth control pioneer, who turned out to have a doctorate in paleobotany and not medicine. Second, a panel told me that the women on the island had enjoyed property rights well before the repeal of the Married Women's Property Act, which infamously gave husbands total control of their wives' money and goods, and some had even served as Reeve. Third, less surprising, was a map showing the shipwrecks round the island. Even with the lighthouse I was going to visit - and originally there had been two - this was clearly dangerous territory for ships.
By the time I made it to Portland Bill the day was clouding over. I chose not to go up the lighthouse, and instead watched the waves breaking on the rocks and an occasional fishing boat, and caught the next bus back to Weymouth. While I was glad to have visited the island, it occurred to me that Lulworth Cove might have been a better choice, although there were fewer buses headed there.
