A heavy haze hangs on the horizon, the greys blending together from the sea into the gloomy sky. Old Harry Rocks can just be made out beyond the outstretched arm of Peveril Point. It’s submerged ledges whipping up the waves into a flurry of white as the swells roll in from the south. Durlston Castle sits strong upon it’s headland, with Jackdaws cackling above the Belvedere. Ivy creeps up the side of the lower turret, it rattles in the wind and shimmers like a wave.
Along the Coastpath the hedge is lined with pompoms of Ivy, wispy bearded flowers of Travellers Joy, and the brown leafless spikes of Blackthorn. Somewhere amongst the scrub a Wren churrs it’s quick rapid-fire call. A slimy brown Slug stretches a good five inches across the path, slowly sliding it’s way towards the grass, where dead heads of Teasel sway and dance to the tune of the wind.
Plenty of Herring Gulls, and a Greater Black-backed Gull patrol the coastline, undeterred by the continuous rain and occasional heavy downpours. Two juveniles sit on the water, riding over the waves as they come. A Rock Pipit hops along the path in front of me, before taking flight and disappearing over the wall to my left. With my eyes drawn back towards the sea, I catch glimpse of a Peregrine Falcon soaring westward along the cliffs.
Alongside a multitude of scurrying Squirrels, a walk through the woods revealed some lovely fungi on display; Hen of the Woods on a Holm Oak stump, Velvet Shanks growing on a dying branch of Sycamore, and a few Parasol Mushroom still ‘closed’ and yet to open up like an umbrella where it gets it’s name.