Dorset Part 1: The Cabin

I hadn’t been fossil collecting with my two youngest sons Tom and Charlie for many, many years so it was a bit of a surprise when, in February, they asked me if I fancied going to Lyme Regis, on the Jurassic Coast. I’d got them into it as a hobby when they were very young and of course whilst most kids are into dinosaurs, some enjoy cracking open a rock, to be the first to lay eyes on other smaller and less glamorous creatures. I’m not trying to make it sound grand by the way, this was not going to be an expedition, just a bit of fun time together and I jumped at the idea. For my part though, the 5 hour journey warranted more than just the two night stay the boys had planned, so I drove down on the Wednesday, they were to join me on the Friday afternoon. I’d be staying on an Airbnb, while they preferred to go camping.

I had no specific plans for the Thursday so I was more than happy to meet up with my brother Paul and his wife Sue who were staying in the area, just an hour away from my place. It was nice to see them and after a good chat I drove back to my accommodation, which was one of a few retreats in the area, the location being quiet and secluded. Packing light for this trip would have been a good idea but I struggle with that, even though I knew ahead of time that I’d have to leave my car 150m away from the cabin, separated by a meadow. It’s nestled in a wood of willow trees, which form part of an eco friendly water purification system that includes a large pond. There weren’t many people about, in fact my closest neighbours were three rotund sheep who would occasionally look up from their munching and waddle over to the gate for a little attention. I spoke to them and made sure they were OK with the idea of me taking shots. They didn’t say much in response, just carried on ruminating so I took that as a ‘yes’.

After eating an early evening meal, I took a stroll around the area. Beyond the meadow was a lane, narrowed by engorged shrubbery, which led to the village, at the centre of which stood an inordinately large church. Whitchurch Canonicorum itself is only a small village so it must have drawn the faithful from many miles around in times gone by, to justify a worship house of such grandeur. The headstones spoke of love and loss and the abundance of large Oxeye daisies added colour and texture to the picturesque graveyard.

I sauntered around for a bit and took a few shots, then returned to my cabin and settled down for the evening, eagerly awaiting the arrival of my boys the next day. A message from Tom, however, dampened my mood because Charlie had apparently twisted his ankle while playing football. The X-Ray results had come back ‘nothing broken’ but having seen a picture of how badly swollen it was, I didn’t think he’d be up to travelling, pitching a tent and hobbling about on a pebbly beach whilst fossil hunting. Desperate not to spoil things, however, Charlie said he’d defer his decision until the morning.

I’d intended to read a little and edit some text I was working on but I was feeling too down in the dumps after the flurry of messages and couldn’t settle. Instead I spent much of the evening trying to distract myself taking shots. In fact I took as many selfies in the ensuing hour and a half as I would normally have taken in months.

Sadly my fears were confirmed early the next morning: Charlie couldn’t put any weight on his bad leg. Tom’s car was off the road and borrowing Charlie’s for a long weekend or catching a train at short notice weren’t viable options so I had to get my head round the fact that, as beautiful as this place was, I was going to be on my own for the duration. “Best laid plans of mice and men“ as the idiom goes.

The cabin itself was rustic, ‘compact and bijou’ and a friend playfully referred to it as the Hobbit House, when I showed her a few shots. She was right, it did have that feel about it. Considering its size it had more than enough amenities to make it comfortable but to supplement the space, the bed was up a stair ladder, perched just below the rafters and the shower room and toilet facilities were outside in separate buildings. I must admit that I don’t normally take shots of loos but the arrangement of a sculpture, the filtered light and uniqueness of this outdoor water closet was a picture begging to be taken.

I was still feeling disappointed but mooching around here wasn’t going to do me any good so I messaged Charlie to make sure he was OK, packed a picnic and headed off to Charmouth to take in the sea air. We’d actually stayed here when Tom was 6 and Charlie 4 years old, so at first I was reluctant to go back without them but I’m glad I did. It was invigorating and after getting back to my cabin mid afternoon and resting, I set out again early evening, to another beach, Branscombe. It had been sunny and the excursions had cheered me up and I got plenty of shots but I’ll save them for a second blog, rather than create image overload.

Unfortunately Friday’s glorious weather didn’t last and the forecast for Saturday was wet, so I took a late breakfast before showering. I’m not sure how I’d feel about using the outdoor facilities in winter but it was really pleasant stepping out of the shower room onto the decking at this time of year. The air was so fresh and the roses, with their pale orange and yellow petals, gave off a sweet perfume. Back in the cabin, birdsong still loud in my ears, the lingering smell of the coffee I’d made earlier persuaded me it was time for another.

Gazing through the window as I waited for it to brew, I noticed movement in the foliage, branches bowed down by the weight of something other than a bird. When I realised it was a squirrel I tried to ease my way out of the door quietly for a better look but that was impossible. The decking had swollen with the wet and the door jammed. Forcing it open was a noisy affair. By the time I’d got outside with my camera the bushy tailed rodent had scarpered but perhaps he took pity on me because about twenty minutes later, not only did he come back but he sat atop one of the posts on the decking and started preening himself. I couldn’t believe my luck and learning from my previous mistake I grabbed a shot through the window. He was skittish at first but I swear he put on a show for me. He’d probably heard my bones creak earlier and decided to show me how morning exercises should be done, performing a series of tail, paw and limb stretches as he cleaned himself. I’m sure he must have gone through his whole repertoire.

I felt at peace here, time seemed to have slowed, especially as I took shots of the clock, cutlery, spice jars and wall hangings, before popping out to Axminster, a nearby town, to grab a few groceries and wait until the late afternoon weather window to visit a lighthouse. The latter trip, to Portland Bill, wasn’t as spectacular as I’d hoped but it got me out at least and on my return I had a simple meal and settled down for the final evening.

Positioned within the wood, this place sees very little direct sunlight. In fact the light that does manage to reach the cabin is so filtered by the boughs and branches that it doesn’t tend to warm it up much at all, so I found myself switching on the electric radiator fairly often. I couldn’t resist lighting the wood burning stove just once though, to enhance the mood and capture shots of the flames licking the darkness. I could get used to this simpler lifestyle.. but not for too long. I can do without the trash on television most of the time and I certainly don’t need constant reminders of the world’s woes but there comes a point when I need my WiFi and a decent phone signal. Besides, I still missed my boys and their crazy exuberance.