To a Long Steep Hill

 We make the most of our room at The Sandbanks Hotel.  It has a balcony overlooking Poole Harbour and a bathroom with an actual bath and a heated towel rail which actually works. I have a 'full Dorset' breakfast which makes a welcome change from the Durdle Door continental breakfasts. We stop for petrol and coffee at Winchester. It is raining.

 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...

 We did intend to do the path through the ranges today. I cannot tell a lie - unlike some coast path Walkers.  It is just too bloody hot. But we do intend to  come back and fill in this gap and er.. one or two others. We began  our rest day with a delightful swim in the  Cove.  Very crowded, but as we literally jumped in the water and came away, the throngs didn't bother us.  After a nice coffee we drove to The Smugglers for a long lunch. Then we visited a  church which Chris wanted to see. Then it was on to the deserted village of Tyneham. The people were heaved out by the army in 1943. There will be pictures.  A lovely restful day. We don't feel guilty at missing the ranges at all, do we?

 Oaiab 4 going down steps from Worth Matravers Chris is behind me and calls out "Mike, glasses" They have fallen out of my pocket.  If she had been ahead, the specs would have been lost.  I go off on one about old age. Chris is having none of it. "You just need to take more care. It's nothing to do with your age". It's another scorching day, Temperature soon hits 28, We are saved by a cooling breeze from the sea. Up country, as we West Country folk say, the thermometer is hitting 34. It is easy walking. There will be a picture.  But wait. It isn't is it?  It can't be.  After 600 miles - it is.  I have my first blister.  I carry a minimal first aid kit - a bandage, elastoplast and antiseptic cream.  The tiny blister is soon covered up. Raynor Winn has published a rebuttal. It is quite convincing.  Becky texts that she is confused.  The story has a way to go.  There is no shade. We eat our lunch in the blazing sun. There is a mom...

 I know. Out of sequence. The reason is we can't walk through the Lulworth range on a weekday.  We will come back on Saturday.  Old men don't fall over. No, they 'have falls'.  I had one yesterday. On one of the steep descents I lost my balance on  a gravelly bit and went down on my arse. No harm done.  I do need to watch every step though. OAIAB 3. Transferring from our car to the taxi at Renscombe Farm  car park I left my day bag in the car.  How could I? At my bloody age, easily.  Luckily everything important was in a carrier bag. Only thing missing was the path guide book and map. We made it by following the signs and using Google maps. It would have been an easy day but it was 27 degrees and bright sun. Exhausting. We were back in Lulworth by 16.00. Chris went swimming, 

 My daughter Becky and dog Luna joined us for this sector.  She is a former Daily Mail journalist.  Her red top take on the Salt Path story: "Octogenarian walker misled into doing Southwest Coast Path hike by writer Raynor Winn".  It's another sparkling day.  But the six miles to Lulworth are tough, with some very steep climbs. Altogether we climb 2,600 feet. As Becky points out to her skeptical husband John, it's nearly the same as climbing Snowdon bearing in mind that the Snowdon climb doesn't start anywhere near sea level. It's still a wonderful day. We are all exhausted as we take Becky back to her car at Osmington Mills.  She has a long drive home.  We falls into the Smugglers.  Ice cold larger for me.  White wine spritzer for Chris,