Wed. 24 August 1988 – 9.40am.
Rain and low cloud in the night. The morning dawned bright but cloudy, the brisk wind scudding the clouds Eastward. After an interesting day yesterday, when I made for Weymouth via Tolpuddle, stopping at Osmington and Ringstead by the coast, I eventually arrived at Weymouth. Having never been there before, the Victorian esplanade and clocktower etc. overwhelmed me. I wasn’t expecting the exploitation and hurly-burly, but the beach seemed clean. I resolved to return after exploring the Isle of Portland. Chesil Beach towered above the road, brown and impressive like some immense earth sculpture, and then into Fortuneswell. Extraordinary: like stepping back 30 years and visiting Aberdare or Milford Haven. The endless rows of quarry cottages, Edwardian back streets dilapidated and slummy; then the estates! And in the middle of it all, old and new quarries for the Portland stone. A messy landscape, but homely in a Cornish tin village sort of way. And then Portland Bill – lighthouses and cafes, not picturesque, full of MOD and Navy fences.
Came back to Weymouth via a stop to walk over Chesil Beach and marvel at the amount of pebbles there must be in the world (most of them on Chesil!) Through Dorchester to Cerne Abbas and the amazing giant. Looked for a place to camp for the night, and found a down road over towards Sydling, running alongside a stubble field of immense size. Walked along to a UHF mast and happened to see two roe deer emerging from the wood beneath me. I thought – ah, here is a place for the night, and in the early morning I can watch for more deer.
Dropped down to the New Inn in Cerne Abbas for some Dorchester ale and then back up to the hill for the night. The rain off the hedge leaves plonked on the car roof for a while, then I fell into a comfortable sleep, not waking until 7.00am the following morning.
Walked down to the UHF mast, hoping to see deer at the same place, but nothing. Scanned the wood edge and found one animal feeding over behind a stand of beet. It moved into the wood corner and I followed. A well-established path led me into a cartroad, and I explored a hilltop village which the map told me was an ancient field system. The banks and ramparts were all flint chips, but an interesting corral or pit in one area caught my imagination. It was obviously very important for the ancient hill dwellers.
Back to the wood, bounded by blacktorn and scrub oak the place appeared well-nigh impenetrable. But once in, the middle was mostly coppice hazel and hawthorn, with a few large firs in the centre. The wood encircled the coombe, midway down, and I followed a deer path to the wood-edge.
Just as I had finally concluded that any animals had retreated to the inner recesses of the deeper woods, I broke through into a grassy downland sward surrounded by the wood. Not expecting to see anything I walked towards the fence, when I caught sight of a doe and fawn feeding uncocernedly 25 yards to my right. I watched them for half an hour, very close. Th wind streamed up the hill so they couldn’t scent me, and although aware of something different, they went on feeding. They looked in good condition, the doe quite red and her black backridge changing colour. Eventually the fawn bounded towards me, until he saw I was definitely not a rock and skittered away, taking his mum into the wood. I followed and observed them through the trees. They skirted round above me and the doe attempted to walk towards me down the deerpath, but bolted when she was about 10 yards away. They moved round again, still to the right, until they were only 6 yards away, partly obscured by undergrowth, but I watched the doe licking the fawn’s ears and generally cleaning up its face, then a bit of mutual grooming before they moved away through the wood to sanctuary. A hare sat just inside the trees looking like a smooth log, then as I walked back to the car I saw another deer, this time a young male, break cover and head for the beet crop. It began to feed until I walked by, then it saw me, and making a wide arc danced back to the wood corner. How silent they are! Like owls in the wood.
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