Echoes in a Hollow Space

And with his concurrence, I am posting some pictures I took in Lyme Regis in spring '04. I should warn you: they're a pretty pathetic collection. This was our first stop out of London, and I was just getting reacquainted with my SLR after a few years of taking no pictures whatsoever. I like to think the pictures got better as the trip progressed, but between jet lag, fatigue and technical malfeasance, these ain't much. Certainly Lyme Regis deserved better.

We drove from London (about 160 miles?) and stopped in Dorchester for lunch. A lovely little town! We booked our B&B at the Tourist Information center there, then decided to head a bit north to visit Cerne Abbas. For half my life I'd wanted to visit the giant etched into the chalk hillside there, the so-called Rude Man. You can read about him here. I had no idea that every picture I'd ever seen of him was an aerial shot. I had this vision in my brain, you see, that he was on a steep hillside and you could see him stretched out clearly, but alas, it was a crashing disappointment when I got there. Plus, I'd always had this idea that I'd walk up onto the hillside and traipse along up there with him. But it had rained heavily that morning and the hillside was sucking mud. Besides, after our lunch in Dorchester, my stomach was giving me fits so we cancelled the climb and got back on the road. I was depressed and cranky by the time I got to Lyme, hence I didn't do it justice.

We did book a lovely B&B high on a hillside overlooking the bay, but it was getting rather late in the day by the time we got there. Our hosts told us of a neaby river walk that would take us to the shore. It was quite lovely, a narrow footpath winding in and out amongst the buildings as the river itself does. Ducks everywhere riding the current, and charming buildings. But mostly too dark for decent pictures. When we reached the shore, the shops were much the same as you'd expect from any seaside town tourist destination. We also realized we were on the exact opposite side of town from the famous Cob, the landmark made famous by The French Lieutenant's Woman and other films. I'd wanted to see that half my life, too, and walk out there pretending to be Meryl Streep.

But we were tired, cranky, and quite hungry by that time. We turned around and headed back towards the river walk and a interesting restaurant we'd seen there. I felt quite dispirited at this point. Plus, at dinner there was this loud Australian woman at the next table talking about why she couldn't get any of her romances published in the United States (although she did quite well in the Commonwealth countries). "They're all so bloody ignorant and have no idea how to spell proper English. They wanted me to go through everything and change the spelling and the British English. I'd be damned if I would. They're just so ignorant!" Her friends kept trying to shush her because they'd realized we were Americans, but it did no good. I also wondered if they recognized us from earlier in the evening? They were staying at the same B&B. It made for quite and "interesting" breakfast the next morning.

I should say at this point that I've generally found Australians to be charming people. This woman was not one of them. And her reasons for not publishing in the US sounded like bloody feeble excuses to me. I'd bet good money she couldn't sell any of her books to American publishers, hence the vitriol.

The walk back to the B&B along the river walk at night revived my spirits, though. Water and night time have always been my friends. The water babbled beautifully, little ducks were talking in the water, and tiny bats swooped through the night, making a chirping sound. (Who knew echo location could be so lovely?) I'm not at all freaked by bats. I find them fascinating. And these were not even as large as my hand.

So we left Lyme Regis early the next morning for Bodmin, and I felt as if I cheated the place, I really did. What I saw of it was lovely, but we should have gotten there earlier in the day to do it justice. In the middle of the night, however, I had made some accommodation with my disappointment of the day. I woke up about 3 a.m., unable to go back to sleep due to the jet lag and decided to sit at the window and watch the sun rise over Lyme Bay. It was hushed, just me and the ghosts, and something inside me relaxed into the moment, letting go of expectations and letting this trip be what it was, not what I thought it should be. Gradually, the sky lightened, the gulls began to cry, the birds to chirp, and the dawn found me at peace. It turned out to be a really good trip.

Here's what I wrote while I watched the sunrise.

And here's the first postings of my new photo album. I had these posted at another site that went belly up and never got around to reposting them. I'll gradually be adding the pictures from the trip as time permits. As I said, I do believe the pictures got better as the trip progressed. These first ones are not that great, but I did get reacquainted with the SLR after awhile.

( And here's just the pix of Lyme Regis, such as they are. )