There is still enough righteousness in my tank for the sun to blaze one last day as I complete my circular tour around the coast of the Isle of Wight. The beach up to Cowes hinges at Gurnard. This small village has a line of tall, rather grand beach huts set along the esplanade. There are few people about even though the weather is ideal for time on the beach. Maybe this is due to the fact that the tide is coming in below the promenade, leaving a reducing amount of sand & pebbles to set the beach furniture on; will its a bit coarse to edit on. Only when school ends do the youngsters come down to mess about on surf boards and inflatables.

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The pebbly beach, full of creams & tans & lattes like a caramel cream, chocolate chip ice cream, runs up to Cowes with the wide promenade keeping it company all the way. You know you’re in the town when you are welcomed by the Yacht Club with its crescent of small canon that signal the start of races.

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Next to the club a crescent provides parking for cars and a dropping off point for coaches, overlooked by some classy houses and hotels.

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As the coaches spill their loads onto the pavements, fragile lines of slow-moving visitors move off into the narrow passages of the old town, all pedestrianised to facilitate the payment of dosh in the many cafes and tat shops.

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Around the edge of the old centre, lining the waters edge, are numerous boat yards hosting stands of pretty impressive luxury boats and racing yachts – Cowes’ main preoccupation & industry. Chandlers and boat suppliers display traditional goods and services amongst the tourist glitz.

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The chain ferry links the affluence of Cowes with the industry of its poorer brother, East Cowes, on the other side of the estuary. Smaller and less glamourous than big brother, East Cowes has been a centre for industry and ship building for centuries. In 1696 Nye’s Yard built a 32-gun battleship. During WWI 33 destroyers and at least 2 submarines were built in the town’s yards. The coastline here is way less impressive & glitzy than over the water. The open area behind the high tide beach is for family fun and recreation. Maybe this working town has done its bit in building up an industrial past. The propeller of HMS Cavalier stands close to the site of the Rope Works, in front of old workers’ houses..

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Thank you sun and thanks to IoW. Has been a great few days.

Well, I must have done something right sometime in the past cause the sun shone and shone and shone today. And when the sun shines every image looks amazing although I have to say that I visited some pretty attractive places and beaches.

I started at Ventnor. I’d forgotten what a nice place Ventnor is, especially in that early morning light. I used to bring parties of children here in my early days as a teacher. The pier was still there then, before it was demolished in the 1990s following a fire. The site is still marked. But it is a lovely, calm resort with an air of respectability and prosperity.

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I then drove through the Overcliff. This stretches all the way along the coast. For a while it is wooded on its upper slopes sprinkling shadow and shade below. The lower road is closed due to cliff slip, the process of land slumping down into the sea forming clumps of rocks in front of a receding coast line.

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Emerging from the shade of the woods the road runs parallel to the coast with open country and farmland on both sides. Cow parsley conducts the swaying fields of young barley and wheat. Marked footpaths set off to the cliffs and chines, steep gullies, cut down to the rough beaches. Brook Cline is one such.

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Freshwater is a quiet resort where the road and coastal path sink down to the sea and then rise up again. It must have been popular with the Victorians judging from the age of the housing.

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Alum Bay provides the most spectacular view of the beach and the Needles Lighthouse. Of course I went down in the chair lift, and up!

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Totland and Colway are very similar, clutched on the coast in a narrow stretch of land, especially at high tide but connected by a sleepy, wild esplanade.

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My favourite place of the day was Victoria Fort at Norton. Away from the visitors it is an old deserted battery that was originally built in the time of Henry VII, facing Hurst Castle on the opposite side of the Solent, to protect us from the French. It was further developed at the start of the Napoleonic Wars for the same purpose. It’s even got a slowly disintegrating military pier. It is a peaceful place, calm and settled with a little cafe providing snacks & drinks from one of the battery houses.

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I’ll leave you with some images of the charming port of Yarmouth, the site of another of Henry VII’s forts facing out to sea. It has a pleasure pier for unloading visitors from the mainland and next door a terminal for their vehicles as well.

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The sun is due to shine floor a few days, so to celebrate I’m going to foreign climes to add the Isle of Wight to my coastal adventures. Still its goodbye to Portsmouth and a photogenic passage down The Solent.

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And it’s hi to Fishbourne, looking a bit llike a Constable painting.

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Ryde is just along the coast. Like so many British seaside towns it basks in a former glory. The pier welcomed holiday-makers from the mainland and transferred them to the flesh pots of the town (or the lobster & crab pots). Rusting rails and tracks must have carried several trains at the same time. Today it acts as a terminal for the passenger ferry from the mainland and the end of the pier acts as a car park. It is a novel feeling to drive along the wooden planks to the tatty space at the end.

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I rather lliked Seaview. A quaint Edwardian resort town facing over the Solent. It has a calm atmosphere set off by a front with well maintained houses and bars around the Yacht Club. With the tide in, the rocks are prominent providing coral-like sculptures before the smoother saves are exposed with the receding water.

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St Helen’s is in a prime location at the end of a popular beach for water sports.

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Then we are into the Blackpools of the south coast. First is Sandown.

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Then there is Shanklin, with Sandown’s pier in the background, a bit like an older, bigger brother looking over it.

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