When I was young – around eight or nine, I’d say – we’d look forward to the summer holidays like nothing else on Earth. We’d wait anxiously for the end of the school year and then we knew it wouldn’t be long before we were on the road to Dorset. Caravanning, simple as it was, was made so exciting by my mum whizzing about before we left, packing towels and buckets and spades and all the other necessities we’d need.
Heading back to Durdle Door this week was a complete and utter nostalgia trip for me.
We’d always head down to Dorset with family friends and they joined mum and I for half of the week. After picking up the keys for our caravan in Lulworth Camp on Monday (and let me tell you, caravan design and aesthetics have improved considerably in the past decade – we had a two toilets, an enormous fridge/freezer and power shower) we took the little coastal walk from the campsite down to Durdle Door.
A few things had changed when we were gone. I’m pretty sure Durdle Door’s arch has widened a tad and the steps down stop halfway down the cliff because of a landslide. It made getting down to the shingle beach a little more difficult than expected. It must’ve been a sight to see us all scrambling down the hill.
On the beach I reminisced with my friend about when we had come here as kids and hidden in caves with our brothers. We threw pebbles into the sea, enjoying their tinkling sound as they hit the water and the sun on our skin, and laughed at the different things we could remember about past trips. Charades and the awkward 90s clothes we used to wear and little inside jokes.
Jurassic Coast 2013