Portchester Castle, a tough climb, amazing views, a ghost and a bit more graffiti

22 April 2015

In the end we decided to give it a go. What was the worst that could happen? Having bigger feet, CJ found the wedge shaped steps quite difficult and even I had to watch my footing as they were quite slippery in places. At least there were small windows at intervals so it wasn’t dark. As we climbed, a strong memory of climbing these very stairs once before came back to me. When my boys were little, possibly before CJ was even born, we’d visited the castle. The one thing I remember about the visit was the climb up this spiral staircase and a slight feeling of panic that one of the boys would slip.

Our reward for making it to the top, was a series of fantastic views. We strolled around the walkway along the perimeter of the modern roof looking over the crenellations and gasping. Partly this was due to the climb, partly the vista spread out before us. Below was Portsmouth and the Spinnaker Tower, the town of Portchester, the little boats in Portsmouth Harbour and the castle itself. How different must those views have been back when guards patrolled the battlements?

Of course no ancient castle would be complete without a ghost or two and the tower has one of its own. Rumour has it that the White Lady can sometimes be seen prowling the battlements and throwing herself into the keep. It’s said this apparition is the ghost of Charlotte White who, during the reign of Queen Victoria, drowned in the moat trying to rescue her baby who had fallen in. We didn’t see her on our travels.

When we got back to the beginning it occurred to us that the only way down was the stairs we’d climbed to get up. Going down was harder than going up, but the need to go slowly did at least give us a chance to look at a bit more graffiti. Obviously others had found the stairs as tough as we did and had taken the odd stop on the way, leaving a little something as they went.

Finally out in the sunshine at the bottom, having survived the scary spiral stairs, there was one more bit of the keep to look at. Originally the ground floor was used as a store room. These days the rooms act as exhibition halls. Small platforms were laid out with artifacts unearthed on various archeological digs. Unfortunately these were all inside glass cases so there were no photographs. There were shards of glass, pottery, coins, jewellery and, the thing I found most interesting, a leather shoe dating back to Roman times. Apart from walking shoes I’m not really a shoe kind of girl but the fact that this shoe had survived so long and the size of it were quite astonishing. Apparently this was a woman’s shoe but it was so small it was hard to believe an adult ever wore it. My feet are fairly small but the feet of Roman women must have been positively tiny.

We weren’t quite finished with the inner bailey yet. Extending around the west and south sides we had Richard II’s apartments to peruse. Built between 1377 and 1399 they have not fared as well as the keep. Roofs and internal floors have long since disappeared so it’s hard to get a sense of what they must have been like when they were in use. The guide book told us the lower floors with doors leading into the courtyard would mostly have been used as store rooms and by servants while the upper floors would have been the king’s living quarters. The first room we came to was the exchequer where the King’s money was counted. The idea of a counting house put me in mind of the old nursery rhyme Sing a Song of Sixpence and I wondered if the queen ever sat in the parlour eating bread and honey or if the maid hung out the washing in the courtyard.

It isn’t really known what the other ground floor rooms were used for but they seem to have elaborate windows and fireplaces so I doubt there were store rooms. The rooms above were probably the king’s formal reception rooms and these too had a large fireplace and much larger windows looking over the courtyard.

The south wall rooms were even harder to decipher, although we could have been suffering from castle overload at this point. We had been walking round for over an hour and a half after all. The guide book told us the upper floors were the great hall but, from below, it just seemed like a series of interesting doorways and random openings. Downstairs in the kitchen and buttery were the remains of walls that must once have divided up the space but, again, it was hard to work out what these might have looked like. Perhaps this was where the four and twenty blackbirds were baked into a pie.

Back out in the courtyard we found a well, covered by a metal grid. CJ looked down and spotted the glint of coins inside. They looked to be modern ones and we wondered if, in centuries to come, archeologists would find these and put them in an exhibition. If they did, what would, they make of them?

By this time we really were all castled out so, after a brief, and expensive for me, stop in the gift shop, we made our way back across the drawbridge into the outer bailey. As a treat I’d bought us ice lollies so we found a spot as far as possible from the hoardes of children running around, sat on the grass and ate them. Unfortunately it was very windy which spoiled our enjoyment a little.

Much as I’d have liked to have a look around the church and maybe walk along the shore time was getting on. An ice lolly does not constitute lunch and we were getting hungry, plus we had a train to catch. In the end we made our way back past all the pretty cottages towards the tiny row of shops we’d passed near the station. The front of one house was covered in wisteria with the flowers were just beginning to open. The beautiful scent followed us for some time.

The best we could find for lunch was a coffee shop that also sold snacks. This was actually a blessing in disguise as the cheese and ham panini we shared came with salad and freshly made root vegetable chips and the coffee was delicious. With perfect timing, for once, we made it to the station with minutes to spare and our train was on time.

All in all it had been an interesting day. Maybe next time I’ll have a look round that church and I heard there’s a pirate’s grave somewhere on the shore. Now what a story that must be…