Sunday 13th July Swanage to Poole

 So this is it.  Our very last day walking the Southwest Coast Path.

We have chosen a scorchingly hot day.  We are not the only people heading for Studland.  First evidence of this comes when we arrive at the NT car park at Shell Bay where we are meeting our taxi.  It is already full. I begin to panic.  There's no way we can just park on the road.  It is lined with parked cars for miles back.  In the end I squeeze next to some refuse bins.  They are overflowing and stink - but I reason that they are unlikely to be emptied on a Sunday.

Our driver says he has never seen anything like the crowds.  (Shout out for Swanage Taxis, they have been great).  He drops us at the exact entrance to the path in the Ballard estate at Swanage and we are off.

It's a bit of a climb up Ballard Down, but there's a cool breeze.  Soon we are coasting down the grassy slope to Old Harry Rocks.  I say to Chris:

"This is how I want to remember it all - easy walking on dry grass, a cool breeze, bright sunshine and the sapphire sea always to our right".

We stop for an early lunch at the Bankes Arms - cheese ploughman's - and are on our way down to the beach.  It's only just after one o'clock.  We have invited Becky and John to celebrate with us at The Haven Hotel in Sandbanks - about which more later.  We  wanted them to meet us with bunting and a brass band, but it's obvious we are going to be much too early. Our average walking speed is one mile an hour including rest stops.  That would put us at the South Haven Point marker about six o'clock. But today we are going at a fast clip.  We will be there before three.

But first the beaches.  For the last two miles we have to actually walk on the sand. There are thousands of people on this enormously long beach.  When we went to the seaside in the old days, we just took our bathers and a towel with a basket containing a picnic and a thermos of tea.  The paraphernalia families need now is unbelievable. Parasols, folding chairs, inflatable chairs, wind breaks, canoes, and inflatable paddle boards  

We had hardly stopped marvelling at all of this when something much worse hove into view.  We have entered England's longest established nudist beach.  We try to avert our gaze, but there's no avoiding the willies.  Dozens of them, all dangling below the gross bellies of old men.

Chris:  "I don't think I am a prude, but this is offensive on what is a public footpath".

We are now pretty fed up with trudging through the sand in the intense heat.  Suddenly, there it is - the blue metal end marker. A kind motorist takes our picture, and we are back at the car park.

 The car has not been clamped or ticketed.  The smell from the bins is horrible, and Chris says the toilets are disgusting.  National Trust - come on you need to raise your game.

The queue for the chain ferry is ridiculous, so we opt to drive round - it takes us an hour and a half.

OAIAB.  Yesterday morning I rang the Haven Hotel to check our reservation, not having got the usual "we are looking forward to welcoming you" email.

"Morris? No sorry, we don't seem to have a reservation under that name"

Panic.

"Well, can you book us in now, please".

"Yes we do have a vacancy. Oh wait.  We do reservations for the Sandbanks Hotel as well.  There's a Mike Morris booked in there.  Could that be you?"

When booking, I got confused and booked into the wrong effing hotel.  Fortunately the two hotels are quite close, and we definitely have a booking at the Haven for dinner with Becky and John.