‘Glamping’ is all the rage in the UK. Its allure I’m sure, begins and ends with the music festivals: the likes of Glastonbury, that seem to pepper the English summer calendar from early June until late August. Being summer however, doesn’t guarantee sunny, dry and warm weather – wellies and ponchos are essential attire at these events. And so, glamping came into its own: a nice way of doing camping, if camping you must do! Yurts, bell tents and retro caravans are proving popular – some of these are fully decked out with fireplaces and chimneys, carpet and even electricity. Which kinda defeats the purpose of camping in Anthony’s eyes (but looks kinda appealing to me!)
I wanted to try a yurt. But glamping over a long weekend on a budget like ours (tight!) means no electricity and no heating. I found a yurt farm in Dorset which ticked all the boxes (and didn’t make me question why we weren’t just staying in a hotel for that price!) and we packed the thermals, beanies and gloves for a three night getaway in early May. Which technically is almost summer, but as we discovered, feels anything but summer-ish!
The yurt was awesome. It had a properly functioning heavy wooden door all built into a heavy duty, round, canvas sided, glorified tent! It had carpet which covered the whole floor, so you needn’t get cold tootsies AND kept out any cold draughts. It had a circular window in the roof peak so we could see the stars at night while laying in bed. It had a cooker (inside!), a camp cupboard, clothes airers (with enough room to have them up inside) and two futon lounges which pulled down to beds. We had an outside firepit, a communal kitchen if the weather turned sour, fresh farm eggs and a proper bathroom (I don’t function well if there isn’t a decent shower!) All surrounded by the beautiful Dorset countryside of rolling hills, farm animals, English pubs, quaint villages and the seaside just a stones throw away.
We arrived late on a Friday night in pouring rain, and cooked our dinner inside: alternatively wafting the front door to drive out the cooking fumes! That night we went to sleep with the aroma of fried bacon – which was supposed to be tomorrow morning’s breakfast, but needs must. We were all rugged up in our thermals and sleeping bags – the boys even sleeping in their beanies! It was cold, but we were warm and had the right gear. Another family arrived after us and I’d say froze all night. After surviving a long and cold night with crying kids, they packed up their Ikea highchairs and strollers the following morning (yet not a sleeping bag in sight?!), sacrificed the 2-night stay requirement and hightailed it home. Camping in England. It’s not for everyone!
So besides eating Tesco sausages and toasting marshmallows every night on our outside firepit, we discovered lots more that Dorset had to offer:
– Bluebell woods: Being autumn, we still had the opportunity to seek out those beautiful, fragile flowers adorning the floor of England’s most ancient woodlands. Bluebells grow in places sheltered from the sun, where it’s all a bit damp and off the beaten track. We found these bluebell woods and just marvelled at the purple carpet spreading amongst trees and rolling down hills. It really was a stunning sight to see, so vivid and gorgeous. We found a spot to picnic without crushing the flowers – they never will grow back in the same spot if they’re trodden on!
– Chalk carvings on the hillsides: We’ve seen quite a few of these on our travels, but I’m always impressed with the size of the carvings and the attention to detail – not to mention the maintenance required today to keep them from being grassed over! This was a funny one – Hamish’s comment ‘he has a big willy!’ Just a tad different to the horses we usually see carved into the hillsides!
– Swanage railway and heritage steam train: I don’t know what child doesn’t love a steam train – ours are no exception! Manned by passionate volunteers, it was like stepping back in time when buying tickets and jumping aboard an old puffin’ locomotive to travel through the picturesque valley of south east Dorset. The ten-mile branch line from Wareham to Corfe Castle that we were on was opened in 1885 when Queen Victoria was on the throne – it has since been lovingly restored and is a treasure to the area.
– Corfe Castle: We departed the Swanage train at Corfe station, and immediately fell in love with this gorgeous little village. Corfe Castle dominates the village and all cobble streets, lined with tea houses; bookshops; museums; beer gardens; tourist shops and decorated with bunting galore, lead back to the Castle’s drawbridge. This is also where our love of All Places National Trust, began. The Castle is a fortified ruin now, but back in the day was both a Saxon stronghold and a Norman fortress. The Castle is over 1,000 years old and has also been a Royal palace. Its medieval appearance is now a tumble down, romantic ruin as a result of the English civil war and Cromwell. Always Cromwell!
Luckily for us, the day we visited Corfe Castle heralded a re-enactment of a skirmish between the Saxons and Vikings at the Castle. There were a number of differently themed drama skits taking place around the castle that were really, very entertaining for kids and adults alike. Within the grounds of the castle a living history encampment was set up as being representative of a typical market day of the time. Billowing white calico tents were manned by people in traditional attire, demonstrating their crafts in leather tanning, herbs and grain trading, basket weaving, spinning and dyeing wool, dressmaking, cooking, weaponry creation and combat (scabbards and arrows and battles), wood carving and games and old fashioned entertainment. It was so cleverly done and a fantastic immersive experience. All the people who work to bring these ‘dark ages’ to life are members of a community known as Ordgar. It’s a family thing – there was a smattering of little children part of the re-enactment also, running around barefoot in little white scraps of material with crazy hair and dirty faces! Adorable.
While Anthony and I loved Corfe Castle, we did find it a difficult day with the boys. There were whingy and cold on the hill and didn’t fully appreciate the experience – at one point, I turned, and said to Anthony ”today is a really hard day’!’ and as it turned out, another dad heard me and commiserated – we all have those days! Shortly after though, the boys discovered the children’s activity trail and happily followed the clues, rubbed coins with lead and clambered around the ruins while Anthony and I marveled at the views in all directions and explored every nook and cranny of the castle and its surrounds with them. That motto plays out again: happy kids = happy parents!
– The resort town of Lyme Regis: We moved from the rolling hills of the Dorset countryside to the ‘Pearl of Dorset’ – Lyme Regis – a lovely seaside town on Lyme Bay on the English Channel coast at the Dorset-Devon border. Lyme Regis is at home on the Jurassic Coast, a World Heritage Site, and is well known for its many fossils embedded in the Blue Lias rock of the cliffs and on the beaches. The town was really busy that day (long weekend…fossil festival!) and we parked on the hill as we drove along the meandering road leading you into the town proper. A stop at the ice-cream shop was enough to encourage the boys to keep walking until we discovered the rocky beach and Cobb Harbour. We had a short stint attempting to fossil hunt before we realised the boys’ whining of the day before was a prelude to them generally feeling poorly with colds today! A photo opp doing doing our best ‘Broadchurch’ pose (TV series – check it out), a walk along the promenade and a scramble over the harbour walls; a quick poke around the shops and we were looking forward to getting back to the yurt farm for some R&R.
– Durdle Door & Lulworth Cove: this was spectacular. I was so excited to see the famous limestone arch. It was a bit of a drive to get there – the boys fell asleep along the way and were dead to the world when we arrived. We let them sleep and I dashed down the path with a promise to Anthony I would take heaps of pictures for him. How is this for natural beauty? The chalk cliffs…the scalloped coves…Durdle Door itself – utter gorgeousness. But while it was stunning it was also slightly terrifying – those cliffs were so steep and there were plenty of moments when I thought it best I didn’t have two little boys with me. Breathtaking in more ways than one! Stick to the paths people! Stick to the paths…
– Taking the scenic route home: we detoured slightly to come home via the New Forest. The New Forest is a national park and is one of the largest remaining tracts of unenclosed pasture land, heathland and forest in Southern England. Once a royal hunting ground for William the Conqueror, the Park covers parts of Wiltshire, Dorset and Hampshire. But truth be told, I just wanted to see the ponies! The New Forest pony roams freely and is a semi-wild breed of the British Isles. There are about 5,000 ponies in total in the New Forest and they’ve been around for about 2,000 years. It didn’t take us long to spot some! It wasn’t the best weather day and the ponies we did see were doing their best to huddle in groups and stay out of the rain. We tried to reimagine the dreary, drizzly and barren landscape as a wilderness of idyllic glades, ancient woodland, open moors and forest trails – but it was hard from the confines of our warm, dry car! Which is why the New Forest goes on the list of ‘places we must visit again’!
The Blairs
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