I found her out there
On a slope few see
That falls westwardly
To the salt-edged air,
Where the ocean breaks
On the purple strand,
And the hurricane shakes
The solid land.
Thomas Hardy
The theme is not tourism. It is more a matter of celebration and discovery. When you enter the county of Dorset you encounter a landscape of varied yet consistently breathtaking intensity. Very little has changed since Thomas Hardy discovered happiness on the rugged coastline of this most dramatic county; known to his multitude of readers as Wessex.
Dorset dreams of itself as the maritime capital of the south coast. It is little known and locked in; to the east by Hampshire, north by Somerset, west by Devon and, to the south by the often storm-ridden English Channel. Poole harbour is the largest natural harbour in the world, outranking even Sydney in Australia. Every kind of water sport from powerboat racing to paragliding can be seen and experienced by the keen camper or caravanner.
Away from the coast of the topography of Dorset is remarkably varied. Low lying extensive heathland, chalk downs and rivers give way to the hills and pleasant woodlands and streams in the west. The county is frequently described as having the best of both worlds, the coastline submits to a landscape rich in history and replete with magical village names like Toller, Porcorun, Plush, Piddlehinton, Nettlecombe, Cerne Abbas with its famously erect giant and Tolpuddle, forever remembered for its martyrs.
Dorchester (’Casterbridge’ to readers of Hardy) is the ancient county town of Dorset. To this day it has the street plan that was laid out by the Romans. In the centre can still be seen the remains of a Roman villa. As you walk the old high street, don’t be surprised if you encounter the ghost of the great writer himself for his spectral presence fills the town.
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