Ruth's Coastal Walk (UK)

This morning I start my walk with a heavy heart. Bucklers Hard is beautiful, but I face several miles of road walking as I am unable to get any closer to the coast than this and there are no footpaths.

I set off towards Lymington. This small lane is the official Solent Way. Luckily the road is almost free of traffic today and I make good progress.

I pass an old tithe barn with a green space outside. Horses roam freely on the grass and across the road.

As the road slopes gently upwards, I can see across green fields to the sea and to the Isle of Wight beyond. I pass a information sign and realise this was the site of an important airfield during the war – Needs Oar Point – from which bombers flew in support of the D-Day landings.

On my map, the spit of land at the entrance to Beaulieu River is called Needs Ore Point. I thought this was an odd name. What sort of ore would you need here? Now I realise the correct spelling is ‘oar’ and the name makes far more sense.

Further up the lane I come across an old-fashioned Volkswagon camper van following a smaller car. Both vehicles pull to the side of the road and I am immediately suspicious. I have seen nobody all morning. Why are these people stopping near me?

But it is nothing sinister; only two women, one in each vehicle, and they are lost. They are looking for a place called Sowley Corner where there is a man who fixes these old Volkswagen buses. I get out my map and my iPhone with my GPS. I find a Sowley Pond. It is back the way they came. Is that it? We don’t know but they decide to head back. The road is too narrow for them to turn around in. So they are forced to drive onwards.

Some few minutes later, they pass me, in convoy again, heading back along the road. I come to a staggered crossroads and turn left. Some twenty minutes later, I meet them again, driving up the road – back towards me. The woman driving the camper van waves when she sees me and points to a man who is sitting beside her. “He knows the way,” she mouths at me through the windscreen.

I continue walking along the road and come, at last, to a footpath sign. It is a relief to be off the road and I really enjoy this part of the walk. I walk along the side of a field and follow the public footpath into a wood. I meet nobody else.

The woods are wild in places with fallen trunks and thick undergrowth.

Other sections have trees planted in regular ranks – for timber I presume.

At one point, I walk through a farm area. There is a lovely avenue of trees and the footpath leads straight down the middle.

At the end of this, I come to a kissing gate and an omninous sign. “Beware of the Bull”.

I look around. The public footpath leads into this field. I can see no bulls. I continue and realise that the field next to me is where the cows are and, maybe, the bull in the distance. I am safe on this side of the fence.

Safely through the field, I walk through more woods. I hear the sound of things falling from the trees. At first I think it is acorns but then I realise it is horse chestnuts (conkers) falling around me.

On the other side of the forest, and across another field, I am on a road again. The official Solent Way leads up to the right and through a place called Snooks Farm. But I turn left and follow the small lane around two sides of a triangle. I do this because this in the closest route to the sea. Not that I actually see the sea.

I pass a fine looking country club hotel and reach a busy little road. Ahead I see this odd site – large polythene tunnels with their ends tucked up. They look like a group of giant plastic caterpillars.

I round a corner and there is the sea – finally – just ahead of me. Here is the Ferry port where you can catch a ferry over to Yarmouth on the Isle of Wight. Tomorrow, my husband is taking his mother over to see Queen Victoria’s Osborne House on the Island.

I walk past the ferry port and head down the road along the river towards Lymington. It is late and I am hungry – so I am very pleased to spot this attractive pub. When I walk in, I am the only customer.

But it is bank holiday Monday and they don’t do food. What a disappointment!

The young bar man tells me there are plenty of places to eat in Lymington. I consider buying a bag of crisps but decide to continue onwards and find a proper meal.

The road leading into Lymington is busy and I cross over Lymington River, heading into the old part of the town.

I notice the ‘Otters Crossing’ sign. I have never seen this before. Not that I think it does much good to have such a sign. The cars whiz by at a fair speed anyway.

Lymington has a lovely area by the water – wide walkways and some nice eating places. I sit inside (they only have benches outside and I want a comfortable seat) and have a good meal.

From the pub, I can look across the water at the boats moored in the calm water by the bridge. And, an added bonus, I can watch the trains go by on the other side of the river – heading for the Isle of Wight ferry terminal.

From here, I walk along the waterfront. There is an outdoor seawater swimming pool – looking rather sad at this time of year with no water and no bathers.

I head past the bustling marina at the mouth of Lymington River and come to an area of open land with a series of ponds – and with paths winding around them. This strip along the shore is shown on the map as being a National Park and signs tell me this is the Lymington – Keyhaven nature reserve.

Now I find there are plenty of footpaths, including one right by the water – at last, I can walk by the sea – with great views across to the Isle of Wight.

So the last four or five miles of this walk turn out to be the best section of the day’s walking. Unfortunately, the clouds have come over and, as the sun sinks lower, for much of the time the light is too dim for good photography.

Across the water, in the far distance, I can see a tall, white spire on the horizon. Through my telephoto camera lens, I discover it is the Spinnaker Tower – all the way over in Portsmouth. (Later, I get out my map and string and discover this is 20 miles away as the crow flies.)

With my lens out on full zoom, I take a photo of the Spinnaker. I guess this is the last time I will see it on my walk around the coast.

The tide is out and there is plenty of mud to see.

The walkway through the nature reserve is well maintained and flat. At first I meet plenty of families with pushchairs and people with dogs but, as I leave Lymington further behind, I find I am on my own, apart from the occasional jogger.

This has been another long walk (by my standards) and I am getting tired.

I am pleased to see Keyhaven ahead. This is a lovely place and I approach it across a bridge.

Unfortunately, there is nowhere to sit in the middle of Keyhaven – just a large car park. So, while I wait for my husband to arrive to collect me, I am forced to visit the pub. It is early, only just 5 o’clock, and I find the pub door is shut. While I wait outside, a few people join me. By the time the landlord arrives to open up, quite a queue has formed – but I’m in the front!

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Vital stats: Miles walked = 14

Route:

The car park at Calshot is not the most scenic place to start my walk today. I head up the B3053 and turn left into a housing estate. From the back of this estate the map shows a footpath, leading to a quiet road but it takes me some time, wandering around the estate, until I find the right path.

The footpath takes me into a wooded area and I cross a wide gravel track. Ahead I can see the road, with cars passing by.

I decide to avoid walking with traffic and walk down the track instead. According to my map, the track runs parallel to the road, through woods, and I should meet the road further along. But, after walking about half a mile, I come across large ‘Private’ signs. I am worried I might end up in somebody’s back garden. So I retrace my steps and walk back along the track, to find the public footpath again.

I wish I wasn’t such a coward. This detour adds an extra mile or so to my walk today.

Luckily the road is quiet. A few cars pass. I hear a clip clop of hooves behind me and turn round to see a woman perched on a very large horse. Her husband and children are cycling alongside her. As the road slopes downhill, the children speed off on their bikes and the woman breaks into a trot (or canter – I know nothing about horse riding). They soon leave me behind.

The road continues for 3 or 4 miles. I pass several turning off to the left, private driveways with warning signs, all heading in the direction of the sea. But I can’t walk along the coast. It is all private property.

So this is the famous New Forest. Not much coastal access here. I am disappointed.

Finally, I come to a public road that leads down to the sea-shore. I see a group of walkers behind me – proper walkers with maps and walking poles. I stride ahead briskly. I don’t want the indignity of being overtaken again.

The road is narrow and busy. Cars pass to and fro, heading for the shore and back again. There are no pavements and I am uneasy about being hit by the car and glad when I arrive at the shore.

This area is labelled ‘Lepe Country Park’ on the map. There is a play area for children, set among tall pines.

It is great to see the sea again. Cars are parked and people are strolling. The sun is shining. There is a cafe and I sit and drink a cold drink.

Out to sea, over the Solent, I can see the misty outline of the Isle of Wight. Sailing ships pass to and fro. The sun is in my eyes, in the East. The sea sparkles and the ships are silhouetted against the light.

From here there is a footpath running along beside the sea wall. The tide is high and an occasional wave splashes up and sprays the path. I hold my camera against my right side to protect it.

Ahead, a house juts out into the sea. This is a private residence and would make a wonderful home for an artist or a writer. I wonder who lives there and whether they ever grow tired of the view across the Solent.

And here is the same view painted by my wonderful ‘artist in residence’, Tim Baynes. [You can see more of Tim’s work on on this page.]

To my right, inland, there is lovely countryside with grazing cattle. A family are out walking. In the distance are the tall structures of the oil refinery and the single tall chimney of Fawley Power Station, where I walked yesterday.

There is a good breeze and ships pass to and fro. They sail close to the shore to navigate the narrow channel that leads into the mouth of Beaulieu River. I stop to take photographs. Today I have my zoom lens and am glad to have the extra freedom to choose the views I want to capture.

Above me, on the gently sloping bank, I see a lighthouse above the greenery. Later I learn this is the Millenium Light House, built in 2000. This lighthouse guides ships into the mouth of the River Beaulieu and towards the popular Bucklers Hard anchorage.

Most of the land adjoining the coast is private property. I catch glimpses of houses beyond the vegetation. Pampas grasses grow along the route – a strange, foreign plant to find on the English coastline.

Sadly, this is the only section of coastal footpath in the whole New Forest area. A shame.

The footpath ends earlier than it should, covered by the high tide. I head up the bank and find myself on a road, yet again.

I am in a surprisingly good mood. There is no traffic on this narrow country road. It is a beautiful September day. The wind is warm. I can smell the sea close by and catch the occasional glimpse of shining water through the trees. I have several great days of walking ahead of me and I feel a pinch of excitement in my stomach – a holiday feeling.

The road winds around and turns the corner, leading up beside the Beaulieu River. Well, not exactly ‘beside’ the river, there are fields and private woods between the road and the water.

I reach the town of Exbury and was planning to stop here for lunch. But there are no obvious pubs. I pass an area with a steam train and consider going in – they must have a cafe. But it involves a detour off the road and I decide to keep walking.

In retrospect, this was a mistake. The sky clouds over and drops of rain begin to fall. I pull out my waterproofs and pack my camera and iPhone away. Just in time. Rain falls in a steady drizzle.

The next part of the walk is pretty miserable. I walk along a straight road in the rain. Traffic is heavy and there are no pavements. If caught with two cars passing me in opposite directions, I have to leap off the road and into a ditch. The road is straight. I am confined by trees. The grey rain falls around me.

Sometimes during my walks – not often, but sometimes – I wonder why on earth I am doing this. What possessed me to start walking? And why have I continued? And what is the point of it all? This is one of those days. I am walking along a boring road, in the dripping rain, dodging traffic. I am hot under my waterproofs, tired and hungry and nowhere near the sea, heading inland. What is the point to it all?

I think of other things and keep walking. I think of lunch and keep walking. I think of books I have read and music I have heard. I keep walking.

Suddenly, I reach a place called Otterwood Gate and the scenery opens out. There is a car park and I sit on a tree trunk and eat a snack. Heathland stretches ahead of me and I can walk along a wide open patch of green grass by the side of the road. In the distance I see horses. Far across the heath are the tall chimneys of Fawley Oil Refinery – hidden from sight when I walked along the perimeter of the plant, but now obvious across the open heathland of the New Forest.

And ahead of me is a pub. I hope it serves late lunches.

When I reach the door, the way inside is blocked by a group of donkeys, sheltering in the lee of the pub to avoid the rain. I walk gingerly around behind them (is it true that donkeys kill hundreds of people each year?) Inside is dry and I enjoy a rest, a large glass of cider and a meal. By the time I have finished eating, the rain has cleared.

When I set off again, the donkey’s have moved from the door. A couple of adults are attempting to persuade a young child to stroke one of the beasts. He looks, understandably, rather doubtful about the enterprise.

I walk down the road and into Beaulieu.

There is a green space by a large tree with horses standing by the river and a few tourists taking photographs. The tide is out and Beaulieu is not at its best – with not enough water in the river, too much mud and stranded boats.

From now on the sun starts shining – low in the sky and lighting up the trees with a golden glow. I walk back along the other side of river, heading towards the sea, through woods. This route is popular and there are plenty of people around.

The leaves are just beginning to turn. The tide is coming in. The boats start moving about on their moorings as the water in the river rises.

I walk past families, couples, young children playing in the mud. Men admire my camera.

And, finally, I arrive at Bucklers Hard. This really attractive area has a pub that sells cream teas. They apologise – they have run out of butter. I don’t mind. Clotted cream will be fine with the jam. Who needs butter?

I sit out in the late afternoon sunshine and enjoy tea and scones.

There were two disappointing things about today.

Firstly, the lack of access to the shore because of private property and no public footpaths. If the New Forest wants to maintain its reputation as a tourist destination, it really needs to do something about this.

Secondly, my Trip Journal app froze up yet again, kicked me out, and then told me I had only walked two miles and I lost all my iPhone photographs of the walk. So I decided to keep it switched off for the rest of this holiday. That will teach it!

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Do donkeys kill many people each year?
No: according to www.snopes.com.
Yes: if you take the figures from Namibia and extrapolate them across Africa, www.donkeywelfare.com

Vital stats: miles walked = 12

Route taken: