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Selected articles and posts from Club members

3577
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Editor added 4 photos to Stream Photos album in Featured page 4 years ago

Posted July 18th.

(Club membership starts at £10pa - beachpeople.club/index.php/about/membership).

The onshore wind hitting Kite Beach Sandbanks was enough to turn the water into a Dacron and carbon fibre mincing machine so that was capital Nope from me.

The obvious solution would have been to... Show more

Posted July 18th. (Club membership starts at £10pa - https://beachpeople.club/index.php/about/membership). The onshore wind hitting Kite Beach Sandbanks was enough to turn the water into a Dacron and carbon fibre mincing machine so that was capital Nope from me. The obvious solution would have been to head to the ocean-facing beach which would be in the lee and provide a calm if boring swim. Instead I thought I’d hop on the Studland ferry and report back on what taking a bike over on that is like post The Event. Lots of plastic barriers (enforcers love those – I dread to think what the inside of their houses look like – hi viz sofas?) and you have to wear a ‘face covering’ but even my Snood was sufficient – the guy in front tied a jacket around his head and he was waved on board. The non-local couple (no tans) with the pristine surgical masks got turned back at the ramp as they hadn’t bought a ticket at the shed.. nobody told them. And joy of joy they are still taking cash so there is one company left in the UK that isn’t tracking us. There's a guy with a drywipe clipboard (I so want one) who allocates you to Port, Starboard, Upper or Lower deck based on class although if your father was a professional they look kindly on that. I got given bay 11 lower deck, facing out to sea but then I did fail my A levels so I shouldn’t expect anything more. Mask up for the epic voyage (a three minute swim in slack water) then do the ‘locals secret special trick of fannying about until all the cars have gone’ – its not a race and its much nicer to have the road to yourself for 30 minutes until the next disgorgement (.. feristalsis?). I spent that time staring wisely out across the bay (in my head) to see how safe the fin across to Brownsea would be from there (Bramble Bush Bay… the place where Peter Rabbit retired to. Not Hazel. She dead). It was low tide and there are two clearly obvious sandy mounds on the far side of a deep channel marked by two large red .. markers (first photo). It’s not the distance dear - the traffic will be murder. I gave that a hmm. There was a strong onshore wind there too so off to the Bankes Arms on clear roads then took the left down to South Beach - the one you go down a riverside path and end up at that shack? Joe's? You got it. (Second photo - the Chalky headlands in the background were my target). Flat warm clear water and HOW MANY BOATS?? It was like the Southampton Boatshow broke its moorings, collided with a flooded Pontin's and then beached at Studland. That kind of boating is caravanning essentially, but instead of the fat kids on bikes you get fat kids hooning around in potentially lethal ribs and Jet bikes with not a kill cord in sight. I got past all that and finned along the chalky cliffs through so much underwater flora it was like a forest in places. The fun bit was finding deep gulleys to weave through and swimming over the warm sandy bottomed patches with the sunlight streaming down through the water. The decidedly unfun part was ending up thrashing around like a frog in a washing machine at a clinging mass of surfaced vegetation that catches at your legs, fins and tow buoy. The trick there is to stay calm, lay flat – lift your weight onto the tow buoy to spot the clear water and power your way out with long kicks. Half an hour along the cliffs and the water was cooling so I stopped for a photo (third image - its a panoramic so you may need to click to see it all) and then flipped & headed back – there was a slight tide and wind against me; nothing serious but I’m glad I turned when I did. Equally I needed to see what’s what the map/satellite image before I go any further – swimming around Old Harry’s stack and back may be in the play book (fourth screenshot - its about a mile each way). I changed on the beach (there’s a freshwater tap there), snarfled two emergency sausages then enjoyed a full-tilt bike back until I broke a spoke (I blame the National Trust – that’s what you get when you let 80+ year olds maintain the roads) so I had to finish with the brakes fussing at a buckled wheel. For the first time *ever* as a foot passenger I had to wait for two ferries as there were so many people but it was sunny so; so what ay? Four hours end to end – non-stop bar the ferry trips and sausages – never cold and never bored - you can see why people live so long down here. .. Posted July 18th. (Club membership starts at £10pa - https://beachpeople.club/index.php/about/membership). The onshore wind hitting Kite Beach Sandbanks was enough to turn the water into a Dacron and carbon fibre mincing machine so that was capital Nope from me. The obvious solution would have been to head to the ocean-facing beach which would be in the lee and provide a calm if boring swim. Instead I thought I’d hop on the Studland ferry and report back on what taking a bike over on that is like post The Event. Lots of plastic barriers (enforcers love those – I dread to think what the inside of their houses look like – hi viz sofas?) and you have to wear a ‘face covering’ but even my Snood was sufficient – the guy in front tied a jacket around his head and he was waved on board. The non-local couple (no tans) with the pristine surgical masks got turned back at the ramp as they hadn’t bought a ticket at the shed.. nobody told them. And joy of joy they are still taking cash so there is one company left in the UK that isn’t tracking us. There's a guy with a drywipe clipboard (I so want one) who allocates you to Port, Starboard, Upper or Lower deck based on class although if your father was a professional they look kindly on that. I got given bay 11 lower deck, facing out to sea but then I did fail my A levels so I shouldn’t expect anything more. Mask up for the epic voyage (a three minute swim in slack water) then do the ‘locals secret special trick of fannying about until all the cars have gone’ – its not a race and its much nicer to have the road to yourself for 30 minutes until the next disgorgement (.. feristalsis?). I spent that time staring wisely out across the bay (in my head) to see how safe the fin across to Brownsea would be from there (Bramble Bush Bay… the place where Peter Rabbit retired to. Not Hazel. She dead). It was low tide and there are two clearly obvious sandy mounds on the far side of a deep channel marked by two large red .. markers (first photo). It’s not the distance dear - the traffic will be murder. I gave that a hmm. There was a strong onshore wind there too so off to the Bankes Arms on clear roads then took the left down to South Beach - the one you go down a riverside path and end up at that shack? Joe's? You got it. (Second photo - the Chalky headlands in the background were my target). Flat warm clear water and HOW MANY BOATS?? It was like the Southampton Boatshow broke its moorings, collided with a flooded Pontin's and then beached at Studland. That kind of boating is caravanning essentially, but instead of the fat kids on bikes you get fat kids hooning around in potentially lethal ribs and Jet bikes with not a kill cord in sight. I got past all that and finned along the chalky cliffs through so much underwater flora it was like a forest in places. The fun bit was finding deep gulleys to weave through and swimming over the warm sandy bottomed patches with the sunlight streaming down through the water. The decidedly unfun part was ending up thrashing around like a frog in a washing machine at a clinging mass of surfaced vegetation that catches at your legs, fins and tow buoy. The trick there is to stay calm, lay flat – lift your weight onto the tow buoy to spot the clear water and power your way out with long kicks. Half an hour along the cliffs and the water was cooling so I stopped for a photo (third image - its a panoramic so you may need to click to see it all) and then flipped & headed back – there was a slight tide and wind against me; nothing serious but I’m glad I turned when I did. Equally I needed to see what’s what the map/satellite image before I go any further – swimming around Old Harry’s stack and back may be in the play book (fourth screenshot - its about a mile each way). I changed on the beach (there’s a freshwater tap there), snarfled two emergency sausages then enjoyed a full-tilt bike back until I broke a spoke (I blame the National Trust – that’s what you get when you let 80+ year olds maintain the roads) so I had to finish with the brakes fussing at a buckled wheel. For the first time *ever* as a foot passenger I had to wait for two ferries as there were so many people but it was sunny so; so what ay? Four hours end to end – non-stop bar the ferry trips and sausages – never cold and never bored - you can see why people live so long down here. .. Posted July 18th. (Club membership starts at £10pa - https://beachpeople.club/index.php/about/membership). The onshore wind hitting Kite Beach Sandbanks was enough to turn the water into a Dacron and carbon fibre mincing machine so that was capital Nope from me. The obvious solution would have been to head to the ocean-facing beach which would be in the lee and provide a calm if boring swim. Instead I thought I’d hop on the Studland ferry and report back on what taking a bike over on that is like post The Event. Lots of plastic barriers (enforcers love those – I dread to think what the inside of their houses look like – hi viz sofas?) and you have to wear a ‘face covering’ but even my Snood was sufficient – the guy in front tied a jacket around his head and he was waved on board. The non-local couple (no tans) with the pristine surgical masks got turned back at the ramp as they hadn’t bought a ticket at the shed.. nobody told them. And joy of joy they are still taking cash so there is one company left in the UK that isn’t tracking us. There's a guy with a drywipe clipboard (I so want one) who allocates you to Port, Starboard, Upper or Lower deck based on class although if your father was a professional they look kindly on that. I got given bay 11 lower deck, facing out to sea but then I did fail my A levels so I shouldn’t expect anything more. Mask up for the epic voyage (a three minute swim in slack water) then do the ‘locals secret special trick of fannying about until all the cars have gone’ – its not a race and its much nicer to have the road to yourself for 30 minutes until the next disgorgement (.. feristalsis?). I spent that time staring wisely out across the bay (in my head) to see how safe the fin across to Brownsea would be from there (Bramble Bush Bay… the place where Peter Rabbit retired to. Not Hazel. She dead). It was low tide and there are two clearly obvious sandy mounds on the far side of a deep channel marked by two large red .. markers (first photo). It’s not the distance dear - the traffic will be murder. I gave that a hmm. There was a strong onshore wind there too so off to the Bankes Arms on clear roads then took the left down to South Beach - the one you go down a riverside path and end up at that shack? Joe's? You got it. (Second photo - the Chalky headlands in the background were my target). Flat warm clear water and HOW MANY BOATS?? It was like the Southampton Boatshow broke its moorings, collided with a flooded Pontin's and then beached at Studland. That kind of boating is caravanning essentially, but instead of the fat kids on bikes you get fat kids hooning around in potentially lethal ribs and Jet bikes with not a kill cord in sight. I got past all that and finned along the chalky cliffs through so much underwater flora it was like a forest in places. The fun bit was finding deep gulleys to weave through and swimming over the warm sandy bottomed patches with the sunlight streaming down through the water. The decidedly unfun part was ending up thrashing around like a frog in a washing machine at a clinging mass of surfaced vegetation that catches at your legs, fins and tow buoy. The trick there is to stay calm, lay flat – lift your weight onto the tow buoy to spot the clear water and power your way out with long kicks. Half an hour along the cliffs and the water was cooling so I stopped for a photo (third image - its a panoramic so you may need to click to see it all) and then flipped & headed back – there was a slight tide and wind against me; nothing serious but I’m glad I turned when I did. Equally I needed to see what’s what the map/satellite image before I go any further – swimming around Old Harry’s stack and back may be in the play book (fourth screenshot - its about a mile each way). I changed on the beach (there’s a freshwater tap there), snarfled two emergency sausages then enjoyed a full-tilt bike back until I broke a spoke (I blame the National Trust – that’s what you get when you let 80+ year olds maintain the roads) so I had to finish with the brakes fussing at a buckled wheel. For the first time *ever* as a foot passenger I had to wait for two ferries as there were so many people but it was sunny so; so what ay? Four hours end to end – non-stop bar the ferry trips and sausages – never cold and never bored - you can see why people live so long down here. .. Posted July 18th. (Club membership starts at £10pa - https://beachpeople.club/index.php/about/membership). The onshore wind hitting Kite Beach Sandbanks was enough to turn the water into a Dacron and carbon fibre mincing machine so that was capital Nope from me. The obvious solution would have been to head to the ocean-facing beach which would be in the lee and provide a calm if boring swim. Instead I thought I’d hop on the Studland ferry and report back on what taking a bike over on that is like post The Event. Lots of plastic barriers (enforcers love those – I dread to think what the inside of their houses look like – hi viz sofas?) and you have to wear a ‘face covering’ but even my Snood was sufficient – the guy in front tied a jacket around his head and he was waved on board. The non-local couple (no tans) with the pristine surgical masks got turned back at the ramp as they hadn’t bought a ticket at the shed.. nobody told them. And joy of joy they are still taking cash so there is one company left in the UK that isn’t tracking us. There's a guy with a drywipe clipboard (I so want one) who allocates you to Port, Starboard, Upper or Lower deck based on class although if your father was a professional they look kindly on that. I got given bay 11 lower deck, facing out to sea but then I did fail my A levels so I shouldn’t expect anything more. Mask up for the epic voyage (a three minute swim in slack water) then do the ‘locals secret special trick of fannying about until all the cars have gone’ – its not a race and its much nicer to have the road to yourself for 30 minutes until the next disgorgement (.. feristalsis?). I spent that time staring wisely out across the bay (in my head) to see how safe the fin across to Brownsea would be from there (Bramble Bush Bay… the place where Peter Rabbit retired to. Not Hazel. She dead). It was low tide and there are two clearly obvious sandy mounds on the far side of a deep channel marked by two large red .. markers (first photo). It’s not the distance dear - the traffic will be murder. I gave that a hmm. There was a strong onshore wind there too so off to the Bankes Arms on clear roads then took the left down to South Beach - the one you go down a riverside path and end up at that shack? Joe's? You got it. (Second photo - the Chalky headlands in the background were my target). Flat warm clear water and HOW MANY BOATS?? It was like the Southampton Boatshow broke its moorings, collided with a flooded Pontin's and then beached at Studland. That kind of boating is caravanning essentially, but instead of the fat kids on bikes you get fat kids hooning around in potentially lethal ribs and Jet bikes with not a kill cord in sight. I got past all that and finned along the chalky cliffs through so much underwater flora it was like a forest in places. The fun bit was finding deep gulleys to weave through and swimming over the warm sandy bottomed patches with the sunlight streaming down through the water. The decidedly unfun part was ending up thrashing around like a frog in a washing machine at a clinging mass of surfaced vegetation that catches at your legs, fins and tow buoy. The trick there is to stay calm, lay flat – lift your weight onto the tow buoy to spot the clear water and power your way out with long kicks. Half an hour along the cliffs and the water was cooling so I stopped for a photo (third image - its a panoramic so you may need to click to see it all) and then flipped & headed back – there was a slight tide and wind against me; nothing serious but I’m glad I turned when I did. Equally I needed to see what’s what the map/satellite image before I go any further – swimming around Old Harry’s stack and back may be in the play book (fourth screenshot - its about a mile each way). I changed on the beach (there’s a freshwater tap there), snarfled two emergency sausages then enjoyed a full-tilt bike back until I broke a spoke (I blame the National Trust – that’s what you get when you let 80+ year olds maintain the roads) so I had to finish with the brakes fussing at a buckled wheel. For the first time *ever* as a foot passenger I had to wait for two ferries as there were so many people but it was sunny so; so what ay? Four hours end to end – non-stop bar the ferry trips and sausages – never cold and never bored - you can see why people live so long down here. ..
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