Following heavy rainfall overnight, Durlston awakes as a damp landscape. In the woodland, water drops down through the canopy, from fresh Hazel buds and blossoming Willow catkins.
The ground squelches with every step. Earthworms have arisen through the sodden ground - an easy meal for the Wren hopping through the understorey, which has become increasingly tangled with Wild Madder.
Undiscouraged by the dreary damp cloud, Robin, Great Tit, and Blackbird can be heard singing loudly from the treetops. A couple of Magpies perch quietly amongst them.
We walk down through the Lighthouse Field, stopping to enjoy the sunny yellow Gorse flowers which contrast the drab brown slopes. Scrub grows taller as we descend the gully, with Bramble thickets turning to Blackthorn, and intertwined with Clematis.
On the far side of the gully, the white bum of a Roe Deer moves silently through the copse. It’s fur soon merges with that of the vegetation and disappears altogether, however a second Deer is then spotted traversing our side of the gully. Preceded by it’s three-point antlers, the buck emerges into the open, before hopping over the hill.
Ominous steel blue and grey waves batter the rocks at Tilly Whim. Whitewater crashes around in turmoil, and each set funnels into a great spout at the Blow Hole. The wind blows the spray on my face and I can taste the salty water on my lips.
A good 20 metres or so from the cliff edge, we enjoy feeling a rush of air penetrating up through cracks in the limestone.
Out to sea, a Peregrine passes by, whilst two Shags preen themselves on the water. Fulmars loop to and from the cliffs, with Greater Black-backed Gulls patrolling above. The Guillemot ledge is empty, though I spot one bird battling the winds above the waves.