A SALTY WEEKEND AWAY
Cambridge graduate LEONA KURIHARA-ALLEN finds respite, fresh air but no Hollywood stars on a refreshing coastal walk in Dorset.
Recently, a good friend and I decided to run away. By run away, in this case I mean hop on a train to Dorset and fling our Finals-torn bodies toward coast for a weekend. We had both recently lurched to the end of our degrees and sorely needed an escape from the Cambridge hubbub. Having grown a little too accustomed to the thrum of late-night key tapping, we agreed to effect a change of scene. It was high time for an adventure – and one that extended beyond the online Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library.
As we wended our way down the country, I felt my spine unfurl like a fern recovering after a thorough prod. In our little carriage of calm, the weeks of hunching over my laptop (which was similarly suffering from a severe overdose of modernist articles – it was eventually posted to Poland for some R&R) sloughed off as the verdant flats outside my window grew wilder and we were propelled toward Dorset’s undulating hills.
The journey is as leisurely as the views are renewing. With only two changes and for under £30 on a student budget, you can find yourself careening among fields of deer, across eddy-mottled streams and, after not too long, the infinite expanse of the ocean tumbles out in front of you. For the more adventurous escapee, the South West Coast Path stitches a neat hem around the foot of England. We refrained from tackling its entirety during our brief getaway but tracking along a portion of the West Bay cliffs was enough to steep our lungs in ocean air and lace our hair with a good dose of salt. Like two ships with their sails puffed out by a kind wind, we ambled along listening to the dull roar of the tide.
One particularly striking thing about the Jurassic Coast is its permeating atavistic spirit. Well celebrated for their wealth of fossils, the beaches coax you into an awareness of, not only your smallness in relation to the magnitude of unspooling ocean ahead, but also the colossal tapestry of time behind. Ammonites, belemnites and crinoids are all common finds for those with an eye for spotting them, and our walk soon took on an added element of delight by becoming a treasure hunt. My good friend has a far better track record of sifting these little gems from their pebbly hiding places and he demonstrated his eagle-eyed knack with impressive ease. I, on the other hand, contented myself with a modest banded rhyolite that charmed me with its rusty hue and perfect palm size. The thin lines marked the friction of viscous magma in contact several millennia ago. I imagined a time where the beach rose into great volcanoes and dinosaurs ruled, and I did my best to crop out Jeff Goldblum. For a precious couple of days, we were able to forget the minutiae of daily niggling thoughts. They became a drop in that sprawling blue blanket that wrapped us in its briny smells and sounds. The rest of the world trickled away.
By the time our seaside adventure ended, we had been salted by its rumbling ferity. To anyone looking for a sanctuary to neglect their Outlook inbox for, the Dorset coast offers a breath of fresh air and a firmly grounding landscape. And who knows what else you may stand to discover? Where bare feet walk upon long bygone creatures and the sky knits itself to the sea, above all, this local getaway is a geographical nucleus of mystery and potential to discover, unravel in and explore.
Text: LEONA KURIHARA-ALLEN
