Portland Bill Monday 8th May 2026

 I am supposed to be in Devon already according to the plan.  Ha ha - The Plan.  Which was to drive to Becky's yesterday, spend the night there and the two of us to drive to Portland this morning.  Yes Portland.  I am going to do it.  But maybe by myself.  Because I got a text yesterday:

"Hello - could you give me a ring? I'm unfortunately not feeling at all well (fluey) and I am not sure if I can walk tomorrow ... let's have a think about what to do."

What to do turns out to be me probably driving this morning to Portland.  I have booked and pre-paid an Airbnb in Dorchester so I am not postponing or cancelling.

Oh, and it is pissing with rain.

But off I go.  The drive is not fun.  Rain rain rain.  But by 10.00 I am parked up in the (free) car park on the Portland causeway. The rain is easing.  In fact, by the time I get my boots on, it has stopped.  

The hardest part of any walk is finding the trailhead.  I am immediately lost.  The idea is to walk clockwise, up the east side.  I find myself in Portland docks.

After a while I am on the path having retraced my steps.  I was expecting a tricky and steep climb up to the cliff.  In fact it is a quite gentle path.  But it soon leads to weirdness.  You clamber round and through an enormous 19th century gun battery and past Portland's two prisons.  Weird.  I will try not to use that word too often but Portland is, well, weird.  There's a field of kangaroos or wallabies.

I chat to a couple of guys at the battery.  "Is the weather going to hold?"  I enquire.  "I'm sure you've got a mac in your backpack" they reply.  That's when I realise - I haven't.  I left my anorak on the back seat of the car.

But the weather gods are smiling on me.  The sun comes out as I find myself outside the Portland Museum in Easton. It was founded by the birth control campaigner, Marie Stopes.  She lived in one of the lighthouses, obviously.  See what I mean?  I decide to go in.

There's lots of interest.  Portland had a unique social structure going back to early medieval times.  Very democratic, and women had a high status.  They didn't believe in primogeniture and property was divided equally among siblings.  There's a sculpture garden with some huge ammonites.  I decide to eat my sandwich there.

Before long the path finally hits the cliff top.  The stone for which Portland is famous is everywhere.  By teatime, I reach the lighthouse.  Portland Bill!  In my Sidmouth childhood, Portland Bill was always there on the far western horizon.  Mythical and unreachable.  And now, here I am.  There's a cafe, where I get a cuppa.  Lots of tourists. The lighthouse is surrounded by a vast array of beach huts.  There's no beach.

I cross the car park to begin the walk back to Easton and the nearest bus stop, when I spy an open-topped bus.  Is it a private tour coach?  No! It's a bus I can take. I sit on the top deck and feel the wind in what remains of my hair as the bus whisks me back to the causeway.  Meanwhile Becky has surfaced.  She is feeling better and coming to Dorchester tonight.

The  Airbnb is a delightful cottage, just off the High Street.  Becky arrives just as I do.  It's her birthday tomorrow, and I insist she opens her present.  It's hiking socks.  Later we head out for supper at The Trumpet Major.  It's actually quite a long walk.  It's a bit chavvy too.  But the food is good - sausage and mash - and it's quiet.