Hovercraft, now that’s the way to go! As it roars in from across the sea, there’s a worrying moment when it looks certain to crash, but that’s probably because our brains are conditioned to think water craft should stop before they run out of water.
The hovercraft, however, rides gently up onto the sand, stops, and then quietly nestles down into her skirts. Two doors open like upward-flaring nostrils, enabling her passengers to alight.
The Isle of Wight: boats galore, amazing views, and a fabulous place to visit. It isn’t a place I associated with garlic, but given that they hold a garlic festival every August, clearly it’s a ‘thing.’
As is naming a park ‘Kerry Fields’ after the pony who grazed that paddock for twenty five years. Where else does an area honour a deceased animal inhabitant as this community honours Kerry? Though maybe the ‘s’ is in the wrong place?
Taking a bus the long way round an island, as opposed to straight through to the main centre, let’s you get a feel for an area. As long as the timetable is correct, skipping off and on makes exploring villages and coastline easy.
Vetnor is a village both perching on cliff edges, and nestling in plataued shelving. It appears to be unsure of the time, with a public clock running a quarter of an hour fast, causing panic in would-be appointment keepers.
Someone with a warped sense of humour maybe? Perhaps that’s why there’s some unusual shop window decor?
Looking for a cup of tea with a view, I stumbled upon the winter gardens. In it’s heyday this place would have been a veritable hub, but hard times have fallen on the old lady, and she, like her owners, is suffering. A couple of years ago an unusually fierce storm (how common those words are becoming) blew the roof off the building. The owners were devastated, but knew it was a temporary calamity as they had full insurance.
The rest of this sad story is not hard to guess. Why do insurance companies take away customers dreams? In this case, tarpaulins cannot protect the building from everything a roof would. Her decline is mirrored in the despair etched in her owners faces and shoulders.
Ironically, the food was absolutely first class, the coastal views amazing and the tea smooth.
Navigating the main township is made easier by a central bus station, and interesting shortcuts:
No visit to the Isle of Wight would be complete without a hike out to the Needles. Not the ghastly theme-parked commercial activity by the bus stop, but a steady walk along the cliff road to the coast guard site, which is home to the batteries from the world wars. On blustery days walk close to the uphill side; two young Indian physiotherapists were playing chicken with the wind, walking on the coastal path edge, until a moment of staggering panic.
In summer the needles bus takes tourists almost to the top, but why spoil the chance to let the view unfold?
The mainland appears surprisingly close, but the channel is not an easy crossing; white caps hint at treacherous reefs lurking to snare the unwary sailor.
Hence the Coast Guard perched above.
The Needles reveal themselves properly only to those who bother to walk that little bit further. Chalk cliffs show startling white in promotional material, but I was not expecting the same in a blustery grey late afternoon.
Carved deep into the cliffs, the world war batteries form a labyrinth of squared-off caverns and tunnels, designed to protect Portsmouth and the English coast.
Seeing the men’s cottages trying to snuggle into the tree-less hillsides is a sobering reminder of the hardiness required of men charged with such responsibility.
Today the island attracts a hardiness of a differant kind. Sailors from around the world gather for racing and challenges beyond the realms of the wannabes like me. Marinas are a forest of masts, and the channel busy beyond belief.
Leaving the island by catamaran is supposed to firstly involve a train ride from shore to berth, along a half-mile pier. The weather was foul, so naturally the train was out for maintainence.
The sea lashed the pier, rocking the moored boat alarmingly, inciting nervous giggles from non-locals. Yet the twentytwo-minute catamaran ride passed smoothly, delivering passengers safely to the combined railway and bus complex at Portsmouth harbour.
Just as we unloaded, a navy vessel drew near.
Portsmouth is so much more than the touristy historic ships and amusement arcades.
It’s vibrant seafaring community covers a myriad of activities, including servicing treasures like the must-visit Isle of Wight.
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