The Spice of Uncertainty
Dorset, England
“A very pleasant day, made all the more enjoyable by the Spice of Uncertainty.”�
That’s what Colin said as we climbed aboard the yellow minibus after our day’s outing with the group from the Dorset Coast Study Center. � I agreed. � Today after morning coffee in Shaftsbury, with its incredible view of Gold Hill, and lunch in Sherborne, perhaps England’s most beautiful ancient town, we had explored the perimeter of both of Sherborne’s remarkable castles – one erected in the 12th century stands in ruins on a romantic windswept site; the other, the “new castle” begun by Sir Walter Raleigh in 1594, stands in a park landscaped by Capability Brown.
I say perimeter, because that’s just what I mean. � Ordinary tourists would have taken one of the guided tours offered inside the grounds. � We considered ourselves more advanced. � We had followed the footpath near the entrance of the new castle that leads to Haydon Gate about a mile and a half away, and then followed the track through Haydon Hollow. � This led over a small bridge to St. Peter’s Goathill about two miles from Haydon Gate. � Never mind that it started raining at this point, a little moisture shouldn’t have bothered seasoned troupers.
We investigated the church in its attractive setting and then took the footpath through the farmyard and across the next field to Pinfold Farm. � We had fun watching a gaggle of geese drift by and then followed the track into Crackmore Wood where several grazing roe deer may have had fun watching us drift by. � There were eight in our group – seven “students” and one fearless leader: Buck Buckhurst.� Buck is well qualified to lead; he graduated in botany at Southampton University and then worked for the conservation department of the Ministry of Agriculture. � He has been warden of Leeson Field Studies Center, which serves Dorset Schools.
He and his wife Julie run the Dorset Coast Study Center in Worth Matravers, just a mile and a half from the coast and right in the center of the Isle of Purbeck, an ideal area for walking and exploring. � The six other students were English; I was the only American – an ideal situation as far as I was concerned. � After all if I’m going to travel 5000 miles to enjoy England doesn’t it make sense to enjoy it with the English? � When Americans travel together they tend to stick together and ignore opportunities to make contact with England’s greatest asset – her people.
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Jack Russell terrier |
I found all of the members of our group interesting: there were two district nurses from a London suburb, a civil servant from Suffolk, a Banker from Surrey, a teacher from Linconshire, and Colin, a retired artillery officer who lives just a few miles from the center in the town of Swanage on the Dorset coast. � Colin wasn’t a “resident” with the group; he would join us each morning and wave a cheery salute when he left us each evening to return to his home. � He became my particular favorite. � I knew he was someone special the day he sat down at an ancient organ in a tiny village church and coaxed beautiful melodies from its venerable pipes. � Now that he had time, he was returning to the study of Greek, an early love, and he could still mimic a convincing Shylock, a holdover from his association with Amateur Theater. � He cut a striking figure as he gracefully swung his erect 6′2″ figure over cumbersome styles and fences that gave the rest of us difficulty. � He could easily out-distance us all, but was often at the tail end of our group to encourage those who seemed to be tiring. � Colin was seventy-two.
He was teasing Buck when he mentioned the spice of uncertainty. � He suspected, as we all did, that Buck had been temporarily lost after leaving Crackmore Wood.� Up until that point the footpath had been clearly marked, but after a while we noticed there were no more stiles.� We were climbing over fences, some with barbed wire and ploughing through fields.� Once we squeezed under a wire barrier equipped to give grazing sheep a gentle shock if they strayed.� Of course Buck wasn’t lost, it’s just that the landowners don’t always recognize rambler’s rights.
These slight inconveniences did nothing to dampen our spirits, if anything they made us feel more triumphant when we reached our goal.� We even took the heavy mist and light rain in our stride.� I told myself it made the lovely countryside look even more romantic.� The view as we looked back over the lake to Raleigh’s castle was magnificent.
Nevertheless, the yellow minibus with Julie at the wheel was a welcome sight.� We would be back at the center, which consists of two old Purbeck stone cottages converted into a building comfortably modernized with central heating and excellent bathrooms, shortly after 5 o’clock.� Julie would serve dinner at 6:00 PM and after the evening meal Buck would entertain us with an illustrated talk on Dorset.
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Our mini bus became an island as 500 sheep strolled by |
There are three double bedrooms and four singles, a dining room and a comfortable communal room with a screen and a projector, which Buck uses for his talks.� The courses are carefully planned and structured around specific themes but there are never more than ten people on each course so there can be flexibility.� They are not really designed for keen fifteen or twenty miles a day walkers, they are much too relaxed.� However, for those who enjoy the spice of uncertainty the setup is ideal.� I was never sure what the next day would bring.� “Ambling rambling” or a vigorous trek through the Dorset Gap as we followed the old drover trails of the ancient shepherds.� It was near the Dorset Gap as our minibus was gingerly negotiating a narrow track, never intended for modern traffic, that we came upon a lone shepherd with his flock.� Because of the bend in the track we couldn’t see how many sheep his one earnestly working dog was keeping track of.� We asked and were told 500!� For nearly ten minutes our bus became a little yellow island in a sea of loudly baa-ing sheep.
Some days Buck’s two Jack Russell terriers accompanied us.� They are bright, lively little animals with active personalities that couldn’t stand to see any of us rest, especially Buck.� They never tired and ran rings around us as they urged us ever onward.� Buttons could run up and down a hill three times in the time it took us to negotiate it once.� They shared a front seat in the minibus and helped Buck drive.� It was Pansy who was first to see a buzzard sitting in a horse-chestnut tree.� She barked merrily and when it took flight Buck called it to our attention.� I didn’t look anything like the buzzards we have here in the US.� That evening everyone had a good laugh at my expense when I excitedly told Julie we had seen a vulture – well, here in the US buzzards are very similar to vultures.
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Yorkie on wheels |
It was soon after seeing the buzzard that we noticed another party of walkers coming towards us.� The they too had two little dogs with them.� They were both Yorkshire Terriers.� None of us realized until they were passing us that the Yorkie in the lead had his paralyzed hind legs and hips in a two-wheeled contraption that allowed him to outdistance his companions.� He was carrying a stick in his mouth that was almost as big as he was.� He was way out in front of his group and the other Yorkie.� Nothing was going to slow him down.
I first learned about Buck and Julie from an article by Reginald Francis in Dorset Life magazine.� (My Dorset addiction demands a subscription to this worthy magazine as well as the Dorset Echo newspaper.)� I wrote to the center from California and received a brochure.� One glance convinced me I had found what I was looking for.� With course titles like: Midsummer Meanderings, Wandering After Wild Flowers, Purbeck Perambulations, and Ambling Rambling, how could I go wrong?� Maybe I was uncertain about the species in Dorset’s bird kingdom but there was one thing I was always certain of during my stay at the center – convivial company and the warmth and charm of Buck and Julie’s personalities to ensure the complete enjoyment of Britain’s most popular outdoor activity.
I finished my six-day course more convinced than ever that for those who enjoy “the spice of uncertainty,” my way of traveling is the best.
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