(Almost) around the Isle of Wight part 3

[nigheandonn]

Time was against me on the last day - as well as being a couple of miles behind, and worn out from yesterday's epic, I had had to leave a key deposit which I couldn't reclaim until the day staff came on at 8, so no chance of a particularly early start.

The bus takes an hour to wander its way down to Alum Bay, but it was still too early for the Needles park, where a couple of people were strolling round uncovering things - it was wildly windy, really no better than the night before, and all the rides were shifting and clattering.

The monument marking the site of Marconi's original wireless station is through the far side of the park, but there's nothing to stop you wandering through.

Marconi monument

As I left the park various people were turning up for work by car and bus and being sent home again - obviously there was no chance of most of the amusements opening today.

From this side I finally had the good view of the Needles I'd been hoping for the day before, in a rough grey sea.

View of the needles

Headon Warren was, as suspected, no place to be in the dark, but it was a glorious spot, winding paths through heather - a little bit of the central Lake District lifted up and put down in the middle of a completely different landscape

Headon warren

A brief return to roads brought me down to the battered looking shore at Totland - the helpful sign was presumably designed for a very different kind of weather.

Useful advice

This is more land on the move, with the promenade recently rebuilt after a landslip, as well as being definitely Atlantic coast with the waves crashing in - it was wild enough that I started to get a bit worried about the ferries, and could understand better Waverley's reluctance to leave the Solent, if Saturday had been at all similar.

Waves on the shore

Despite the late start I had managed to rush away without any breakfast, being more worried about time than food - there had been a chocolate machine at the entrance to the Needles, but it seemed to have been out of order for several years, judging by how faded the wrappings were, so my first chance was the cafes around Colwell Chine - a couple were already open, but everything on offer looked more solid than I could face, so I went on hoping for a shop on the main road.#

Quite suddenly, it seemed, I was closer to the mainland than ever before, looking over to Hurst Castle and the land behind.

The mainland coast

I was starting to really regret not having had some breakfast when I had the chance, feeling a bit #like a ghost - the main road had been empty of anything but houses, and I knew from the map that I was turning away into emptiness. However an unexpected but friendly shop in a fairly unpromising looking holiday park came to my rescue with not only chocolate but tea, which kept me going for the next while.

The path plunges into the woods before Fort Victoria, which contains another solar system, this time pictures in signs on posts, but still punctuated by butterflies, and various other bits of sculpture and information, including a wooden Victorian sailor sitting on a bench - this surreptitious snake was one of my favourites, although it was the least dramatic.

Surreptitious snake

I looked in briefly to Fort Victoria, which has bits of information about the island, but didn't have time to linger. Beyond the fort the path finally returns to the coast, and Yarmouth is in view.

Approaching Yarmouth

I was looking forward to coming back to the Yar, which had been excitingly wiggly when I first arrived on the island, but the tide was in and most of the marsh covered in water.

River Yar

It was just on 12 as I arrived in Yarmouth, too late for breakfast but just about time for an early lunch - whether I had time for it or not I decided I had to sit down and eat a proper meal. A sign at the pier announced that Waverley's sailings were cancelled, which wasn't very surprising, although it was amazing what a difference being inside the Solent made, and Yarmouth's ferries were sailing quite happily.

I sat outside the cafe on the pier, and watched 5 people in succession turn back as they decided that 50p was too much to pay to walk on the pier, but that they weren't willing to go on past the donation box and walk on it for free!

I'd done my prowling around the town when I arrived, and just pushed on, through the houses and along a promenade at the edge of a little park, and then back onto the main road to Bouldnor, where a sign described the discoveries of a prehistoric settlement made in underwater excavations - especially memorable because the site was discovered by a lobster!

The coast here was another scene of destruction, slipping into the sea and leaving great trees lying in the water.

Destruction

The path wandered in and out of woodland, but one part had been diverted inland away from a crumbling cliff - signs warned of cows in the field, but there were none to be seen, and it would have been hard to fit them in, as about 75% of the field was filled with gorse bushes.

Field detour

#The path wandered on through scattered houses and into farmland - it was quite tempting to cut the corner to the south at Hamstead, which would take more than two miles off the route and make it much more certain that I would finish on time, but that loop was the only place where the path really touched the Newtown estuary, which looked like the most fascinating place on the island.

The path briefly touched the shore and then turned inland again to cross two little points and head on round the edge of the estuary - a lonely place, more marsh than water.

Walkways and water

There were a few boats further out, and farmland in view on the far side, but there's almost nothing on the western side, just a little jetty where a few boats were wrapped up.

Newtown estuary

The path turned from the water up a good farm track which was quite autumnal in places - with good ground underfoot I did my best to hurry, and overtook two men and their dog, who were out for a more leisurely walk.

An autumn walk

The track becomes more of a forest road further on, joining the track leading down from Hamstead and crossing another sprawling finger of the estuary, which for some reason was bright green, to eventually follow the main road along to Shalfleet, a little place with a nice old church. I was hoping for a bench here for a rest, but ended up going into the church, which was giving away apples, and sitting there for a while.

Green water

Shalfleet was decision time - from here the path turns away from villages and bus routes until the edge of Cowes, so if I kept going, I was committed. Although I'd meant to go on over the Medina and get the slower passenger ferry, the real last chance was the catamaran at 18:45 from East Cowes, 9 miles and three hours away, and although that was possible, I didn't trust my speed at all.

But I did want to see the little town hall in the famously rotten burgh of Newtown, and I thought I had time to get up there and back before the next bus came along, so I kept to the route, down one track to a bridge and up another to join the road, crossing a finger of the estuary mysteriously named Causeway Lake.

The hall is a nice old building - if I come back to complete the loop (and have a third attempt at steaming round the island) I'll try to visit it properly.

Newtown town hall

But this time I had to hurry back down to the main road, only I just misjudged my return - I thought it would be quicker to go straight down the road, which it was, but at the corner I reached there was only a bus stop on the other side of the road, and as I was hurrying back to the village the bus went flying past.

The bus runs once an hour through Shalfleet, and once an hour, in between, through Newbridge, a mile away, so it seemed like I still had plenty of time to walk down for the next bus -- however having got part way I was chased back by a whole fieldful of lively and vociferous cows, and decided that retreat was wiser.

It wasn't a serious problem, because the next bus through Shalfleet would easily get me on the catamaran, although I wasn't exactly looking forward to that, having not been on a catamaran since I was horribly sick on one in the Mediterranean 20 years ago. However further disappointment was still to come - the pub at Shalfleet had closed down, so, as I said at the time, I couldn't even be an ignominious failure With Beer. The only advantage to this was that I could sit on the pub's benches without feeling guilty, which I did until the bus eventually came along.

The buses fitted neatly, and I had time in Cowes after buying my ticket to go and buy some food, and I didn't feel at all sick on the catamaran, and there turned out to be a free bus running from the ferry terminal in Southampton to the train station, saving me the hurry across the city and letting me catch an earlier train to the airport - in fact everything went very smoothly up to the point when my flight was horribly delayed! But I did make it home that night, and I expect I will make it back at some point, having a thing for islands.