Whilst I was writing a comment on somebody else's blog on this website, my memory went back to 1996. Oh yes, that year. Having been on a trip to the USA a year previously, which included a hike down into the Grand Canyon, and then back up again on the following day, this time, I was at it again, hiking the West Coast Path from Bournemouth to Exeter via the Poole Harbour ferry, and taking in six overnight stops.
The toughest part of the hike was between Swanage and Lulworth Cove, completed on Day 2. It was the most interesting leg of the hike and indeed, the most physically demanding. As such, I shall let my thoughts wander a little - the kind of thinking I might have indulged in whilst walking such a route.
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| The Foreland and Old Harry Rocks, Swanage. |
As my feet trumped along the path, the ground so unyielding, the rock so hard under my feet, to fall could cause an injury, yea, even fracturing a bone upon contact with the solid rock. How could the surface be so unyielding, with not the slightest dent in the ground caused by the impact between my feet and solid hard rock? And yet, who would anyone realise that if our planet was the size of a golf ball - just over 4 cm across, the Earth would have the same constituency as toothpaste.
Or as I look at a lifesize mirror, or even down my own legs as I take one step after another as I headed west towards the Cove, I can't help thinking that like everything else in our Universe, both animate and inanimate, we are all made of atoms. Yea, those tiny particles, rather like miniature solar systems, the nucleus in the middle of each atom, with electrons whizzing in their orbits around the nucleus in a similar way that a planet orbits a star, or even the Moon orbiting the Earth. However, if I had a golf ball in my hand, which has a standard size of 4.268 cm, and assuming that this represents the nucleus of a hydrogen atom, then an electron would be represented as a slightly smaller ball, just over 25,804 metres, or nearly 26 km, 16 miles away!
This rather fascinating fact brings home the reality that everything in the Universe consists mainly of empty space. In other words, by using the hydrogen atom as a model, if every atom that makes up my physical height - all 1.80 metres of it - were to implode, so every electron is touching its nucleus, then I would be hardly any taller than a grain of salt in the kitchen. And if the same were to happen to our planet, the diameter of the Earth would be just a little more than 2.1 km, 1.3 miles, across.
I wonder whether if all this was to happen - every atom in the Universe - were to implode in such a manner - I would ask whether everything around me would look exactly the same, except that I'm a human the size of a grain of salt walking on a sphere just 1.3 miles in size, or would everything be vastly different, especially in the relationship between the rate of density, and gravity? And what would the condition of our atmosphere be like? And our oceans?
And so, such thoughts circulate in my mind as I pause to take in the scenery, especially passing Durlston Head, with its quaint restaurant housed in a small castle, and arriving at Anvil Point Lighthouse, which is on the other side of a small but deep ravine, known locally as a chine, with a steep descent followed by a steep climb to get to the lighthouse. As the chine has every resemblance of a dried river bed leading directly to the sea, I guess it wasn't hard to imagine water from an inland flood flowing through this chasm, cutting through the Purbeck Beds and then cascading over the hard Portland Stone cliff as a spectacular waterfall.
Oh, how I long to have gone back in time to when this chine was draining away fast-moving waters, at the same time, cutting out the ravine as the water flowed into the sea. I carried on walking along the reasonably level coastline, the trail forming an endless streak along the clifftop, and unlike with chalk that is prone to crumble into the sea, this is, in a geological sense, almost permanent, as Portland Stone making up the cliffs is so hard, that coastal erosion is minimal. A rather unusual geological phenomenon to my right, as I headed west towards the Dancing Ledge and St Alban's Head. That is the landscape slopes between ten to twenty degrees off the horizontal as it faces towards the sea, with the trail running along the lower edge of the sloping strip. A raised beach? Quite a point, that.
I can imagine this part of the coastline slowly rising from the sea as the Flood receded, with the waves lapping at the sloping beach, and where the trail is now, that particular zone still underwater, especially during high tide. Now it's well above sea level, the ancient beach having frozen in time, grass replacing bare sand, cows now grazing where jellyfish might have been left stranded by the receding tide, the vertical cliffs beneath the fossilised beach exposed whilst taking the full force of the waves crashing onto them on a windy day. Ah! That particular day was warm and sunny, being in the height of Summer.
And so, the trail rounds a bend which marks the tip of St Alban's Head, and the path leads to a spectacular sight: Chapman's Pool, although not knowing who this Chapman fellow could ever be, I'm reminded of our short-tempered Deputy Head during my schooldays. Bearing the same name as this natural inlet, Mr Chapman was reputed by all the students for wielding his cane too willingly. To continue on the trail, I had to descend the steep slope of the ravine where its mouth is directly above the cove. Having crossed the dried river bed, the rest of the hike all the way to Lulworth Cove will be strength-sapping, starting with a steep climb out of the ravine.
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| Chapman's Pool, Dorset. |
After Chapman's Pool, it's up and down, up and down. Some of these slopes were very steep, and with a heavy rucksack weighing me down, it had almost got to the point of crawling on all fours. There was hardly anyone around, the trail was deserted. Yet, I continued with this challenging hike. Although I felt tired, I couldn't help but admire the beautiful seascape, and how land meets sea through vertical cliffs of varying heights - especially after pushing myself up those slopes.
For me, the hike symbolises the Christian life, more so than the Grand Canyon hike. Here in Dorset, the general height of the cliffs from sea level remains at an average level. But this section of the trail crosses some hills, many of them quite steep, but, as I always like saying, what goes up must come down - a true fact when considering that this particular hike will terminate (for the night) at Lulworth Cove beach - after starting that morning at Swanage beach.
The Christian life isn't easy. Jesus himself has once said,
In the world, you will have tribulation, but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world - John 16:33.
Climbing those hills, one after another, with a heavy backpack strung across my shoulders wasn't easy. But after reaching the summit, I was rewarded with magnificent views, vistas of the fields and trees inland, a dramatic view of the neighbouring hills, the cliffs, and the sea. Furthermore, there is that sense of satisfaction in accomplishment, that feeling of exuberance in a quiet a peaceful setting, far from the road busy with traffic lights, crawling car queues, exhaust fumes, lorries, bad driving and foul tempers. Indeed, by car, you can get to your destination very quick and easy, such as on the Bournemouth-Exeter route. But you would also miss out on the sense of adventure, the pure air, lovely views to enjoy, the sea, good exercise, sleeping at different venues, meeting people, sharing your experiences...
I wonder how Paul the apostle took it all? Apparently, he too lived a fulfilled life in Christ, so much so that he compared his new way of living with his old, religious life as a Pharisee. Comparing one with the other, his new life in Christ has made his old life as a Pharisee seem like human defecation! Yet, according to a couple of his letters, he was suffering a physical ailment. He even called upon the Lord to have "the thorn in his flesh" removed, but the Lord refused to heed his request. Instead, God answered that his grace was sufficient for him (2 Corinthians 12:7.)
It does look as if Paul had an ailment with his eyes, according to Galatians 4:12-16, 6:11, which affected his eyesight. I personally believe that he suffered from conjunctivitis, a viral or bacterial eye infection that causes a mucus discharge and difficulty in opening the eyelids. Accompanied by soreness, the disease can be highly infectious. To the believers in Galatia, Paul must have looked a sorrowful, even a disgusting sight.
Yet, according to his letter to the Philippian church, he was running the race with joy, encouraging them to shine like stars and demonstrating how life with Christ is so much more fulfilling than his past life as a Pharisee, even if, as a Pharisee, he enjoyed better health. Yet, even after his conversion, God refused his request for healing. And that's not too difficult to understand why.
With so many visions he had, along with various revelations from God, his heart would have been good soil to sow the seeds of pride. His illness had not only kept the apostle humble but quite likely had generated a greater show of love and compassion from his followers. The Galatian believers were proof of this. This sense of greater compassion added further credit to his message, along with encouraging stronger faith among his listeners, and quite likely added a greater number of converts to the church. Furthermore, rather than seeing his pride and feeling put off, they were encouraged by the humility his illness had brought.
Both Alex, my wife and I have health problems. She suffered from cancer, still suffers from pain, is reliant on medicine and attend regular healthcare appointments. In turn, I'm living with heart failure, hence my need for blood thinners and a plethora of other medicines. But, as I can see, these struggles have kept us close to God, and no matter how serious or threatening our crisis can get, we both refuse to turn away from God, his love and saving power. Furthermore, we are both hoping that our weak health will strengthen our testimony about our faith in Jesus Christ and, like Paul, can edify others and, in turn, receive compassion and encouragement.
Hence why I had made a comparison between walking in Christ and hiking a tough trail. I can see the parallelism. Can you? Climbing those hills and then easing down the other side, one hill following another, some with rather steep sides - all that is hard work, tiring, even frustrating and with a temptation to give up. How I longed to see the end, the welcoming end of the hike, and an even warmer welcome of my bed awaiting me at the Lulworth Cove backpacker's hostel. Yet rewards of magnificent views and good photography, along with a sense of fulfilment accompanies the hike.
After passing Kimmeridge Bay, a beauty spot with a car park and a stopping point for hikers, the trail enters a restricted area, owned by the Ministry of Defence. The MoD opens the trail for public use only during school holidays. At all other times, the area is closed to the public and it's used as a shooting range. When I completed the hike, it was accomplished during the Summer school holidays, hence, I had no trouble with access. The restrictions cover the trail between Kimmeridge Bay and Lulworth Cove itself.
At a point between Kimmeridge Bay and Lulworth Cove, the Portland Stone cliffs give way to Chalk cliffs, hence a change in character. This section of Chalk is actually the far end of a chalk ridge, known as the Purbeck Hills, with Ballard Down, just north of Swanage town, and famed for its stacks - the Foreland and Old Harry Rocks, along with Corfe Castle further inland. The ridge arches inland until it meets the sea further west at the Cove itself, but the coast does cut into the chalk ridge for some distance east of the Cove.
After arriving at Lulworth Cove, it was early evening. After a 24-mile slog, 39km, (including the bit from the Cove to the hostel) the sight of the bed was so welcoming! Packed away in my rucksack was the ingredients needed to cook a meal before relaxation and then, much later into the night, off to the welcoming bed. Ah! Heaven!
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| Lulworth Cove, with Stair Hole in the foreground, terminates the day's hike |
A terrifyingly-loud electric storm greeted me as I prepared breakfast the next morning. By then, I had made friends with an Australian backpacker on the previous evening. This was one of the inspirations that led me to book a flight to Australia for the following year.
The thunderstorm was intense. Maybe being by the coast and surrounded by hills had intensified the booms and rumbles. But as long as it lasted, I stayed at the hostel until the storm had passed. But I needn't wait long. The storm soon cleared up and I was able to resume the hike, a much short stint from Lulworth Cove to Weymouth town, where I managed to find a hotel.
Hence, when I finally boarded the train at Exeter St David for the return journey home a few days later, the hike proved to be an adventure I won't easily forget - with a spiritual ring to it.
