Poole was the destination on Friday and we stopped first on the quay near the old town. The sun was out but it was a bitingly cold wind that blew across the harbour as we gazed at the Sunseeker factory on the opposite side of the quay. A number of yachts and motor cruisers were lined up here and indeed the cellophane wrapping was being removed from the shiny chrome fittings of one. There was some serious hardware here, the sort of thing that even the most substantial of lottery wins couldn’t finance for long. I’m sure many have dreamed of their numbers coming up one day and how we’d spend it but knowing that this sort of thing would still be out of reach was quite sobering.
The reek of money was making us queasy so we headed away from the quay to the old town which was nice enough lthough pretty quiet but there was more life as we moved along to the high street to the main shopping area. Nothing much of note here, just the usual tax avoiding multi-nationals and a railway line that cut the high street in half.
On the other side of Poole Harbour is the peninsula of Sandbanks. The beaches are beautiful – long stretches of pale golden sand populated with dog walkers taking in the bracing air. The stench of money had returned though as this area is one of the most expensive for property in Britain. Large houses and small apartment blocks back on to the beach offering the most stunning of views for the well heeled but one or two were up for sale. We poked our noses in the windows of an estate agents. one was for sale at a shade under eight million, though a couple were available for a more modest three and a half. A different world – even the beach huts looked luxurious. Heading away, we drove through the suburb of Canford Cliffs home to yet more people clearly with too much money (i.e. more than me!)
In the afternoon, having called at the Co-Op for a lunch of sarnies and crisps – no expense spared – we returned to Lulworth Cove and this time, with the weather at least dry, we actually got out of the car. The cove itself of course is the star of the show here but the street leading down to it is just as pretty. The private helicopter was in for a service so I wasn’t able to get the aerial photo’s this beautiful part of the coast deserves – there’s plenty on the ‘net anyway – but hopefully the pictures here will convey some of it’s beauty.
Saturday was a quiet day – we popped briefly in to nearby Wareham – a pleasant little walled Saxon town – for a stroll and some air and the returned to the site to take down the awning and packing up in preparation for coming home.
It was another great trip. Dorset is certainly a beautiful county and the coastline is stunning. There’s something nice to about caravanning in the winter – you have to be prepared of course – during one night the water in our aquaroll did start to freeze but a bit of insulation would have solved that. There is the advantage too that most places are quieter – Christmas shoppers not withstanding – although some attractions close down out of season. We didn’t get everything done of course. the deserted village of Tyneham will have to wait as will a look through Wareham forest. but it’s good to have an excuse to come back.
Patsy is now almost empty and parked up for the winter – probably. I would imagine that our next trip wont be until the end of February, but who knows, maybe a miracle will occur and I’ll have a job by then and time won’t be so free and easy. Needless to say – but I will anyway – if we do get away, you’ll hear about it!
What a difference a year makes! This time last year we weren’t even contemplating a caravan. We had just returned from an autumn cruise and were working our butts off delivering them bloody parcels and counting the days before our post Christmas jaunt to the Canaries. The winter sun I shall miss – the parcels I don’t – not one bit!