On the Saturday night after my May 2014 battle with the Itchen Navigation I was trying hard to plot a short walk that didn’t involve the river. After all the mud and wet feet I’d had quite enough of the Itchen for a little while. Hamble came to mind but it was further than I wanted to go, Millers Pond wasn’t far enough. The old walls were a possibility with maybe a look at the work being done on Town Quay. Then Commando said he was thinking of driving out to the New Forest for a run…of course I jumped at the chance to go with him and have a wander.
11 May 2014
When Commando said he was driving out to the Forest for a run I was thinking Deerleap or Lyndhurst but he had other plans. He fancied a run by the sea, the English Channel to be exact, at Milford on Sea. A little bit of map checking and Googling had me quite excited about it. Not only was it somewhere I’d never been but there was a nice beach to walk on, part of the Solent Way, a 60 mile footpath linking Milford on Sea with Emsworth Harbour, and a castle. As a bonus the Isle of Wight was so close I was certain we’d be able to see it. What more could a girl want for her Sunday morning walk? Thank you Commando!
We did get a tad lost after we’d passed through Lymington and almost ended up in Keyhaven but eventually we found ourselves parked up on the top of a small cliff looking out at a very boisterous sea. Windy doesn’t even begin to describe it and I was so glad I’d brought my hat. A row of little beach huts lined the shingle below, not as colourful as the ones in Bournemouth but pretty nonetheless.
There were toilets that we both made use of and a little cafe kiosk where I thought I might get a coffee at at the end of the walk. Looking out across the water I could see the Needles, a row of three chalk rocks rising out of the sea on the western end of the Isle of Wight about four miles away. Straining my eyes I could even make out the lighthouse right on the end. They would be my companion for most of the walk.
Commando set off in one direction and I set off along the cliff path. The grass at the edge of the cliff was liberally sprinkled with pink thrift. I’d hardly started off and I was kneeling to take photos. The wind made this rather more difficult than I’d have liked because the flowers wouldn’t stay still. On closer inspection there were bunny tail grasses, lagurus ovatus, too.
Eventually I dragged myself away and carried on walking but I couldn’t stop myself looking over at the flowers and the Needles now and again. Every so often I came to steep paths running down to the beach below. There was a temptation to take one and walk beside the sea but some looked quite precarious and I’m not known for my agility. Besides, walking on shingle is tough, slow going and I really wanted to get to the castle. When I came to a second car park I thought I could just make out the lighthouse in the far distance.
Below me the beach seemed to be lined with large black rocks, probably to keep the raging sea from washing away the shingle. In places it seemed to be doing just that even with the rocks. Perhaps staying on the cliff top was the best plan after all. Just as I was congratulating myself on a good decision I came to a sign tellng me the path ahead was closed. This was not what I wanted to see at all but, luckily, there was a grassy area behind the fence lined with benches looking out over the water. Whether I’d be able to get through that or not was a mystery but I had to give it a try.
It wasn’t long before I could see why the path was closed. Costal erosion is always going to be a problem in places like Milford but the storms and high tides we suffered in the late winter and early spring have taken parts of the path, much like the path along Weston Shore near Netley. It made me wonder how safe I’d been walking along the earlier stretch with nothing but a thin line of grass and wild flowers between me and a tumble down into the water.
By this time the cliff, which was never high to start with, seemed to be getting lower and lower. At times larger waves were lapping up over the edges, no wonder the path collapsed. A little further on, in a gap between more beach huts, I realised the huts were built on a raised platform a little above the actual beach. Behind the huts a sign warned of the danger of falling and I wondered just how safe the pretty little beach huts were.
Soon I was almost on a level with the beach and the huge black boulders along the edge of the path. I stood for a while, watching the waves rushing to shore and crashing into these rocks. There was sea spray in my face and a feeling of exhilaration at the sheer power of the sea. In the background was the ever present view of the Needles and the lighthouse, tiny at this distance.
Now I was on a promenade with shallow steps to the beach and another car park behind. There certainly doesn’t seem to be a shortage of places to park here. People were coming towards me, mostly elderly, battling against the wind which was assisting me and hindering them. The walk back was going to be a slog unless the wind changed direction.
When I came to a gate the nice firm path ended. Before me there was nothing but shingle. Another cafe stood, looking lonely, on the other side of the expanse of pebbles, it looked familiar but I couldn’t think why, I’ve never been to Milford on Sea before after all. Walking on loose shingle is a struggle even with the wind at your back, and, by the time I’d reached the other side, I was thinking seriously about turning back. The narrow spit leading to the castle was not a path as I’d expected but a steep bank of shingle stretching ahead for the next two miles. I stood, looking at the massive granite boulders and the steep shingle bank wondering what to do…
When I came to a gate the nice firm path ended. Before me there was nothing but shingle. Another cafe stood, looking lonely, on the other side of the expanse of pebbles, it looked familiar but I couldn’t think why, I’ve never been to Milford on Sea before after all. Walking on loose shingle is a struggle even with the wind at your back, and, by the time I’d reached the other side, I was thinking seriously about turning back. The narrow spit leading to the castle was not a path as I’d expected but a steep bank of shingle stretching ahead for the next two miles. I stood, looking at the massive granite boulders and the steep shingle bank wondering what to do…
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