I'm struggling to believe that only a month ago Levi and I were headed to the Isle of Wight for a speedy three day break. It sounds irresponsible now, amongst all that is going on, but even four weeks ago, it wasn't something you would think twice about doing. It was whilst we were there that everything changed, to the point at which my plan to return to university at the end of the weekend never materialised.
The Isle of Wight is situated on the South coast of England, about a 45 minute ferry ride from Southampton. I have the good fortune of a holiday home over there, belonging to my Grandad, so I know the Island well, having visited at least annually for my entire life. There's a fairly quiet little town called Yarmouth, with one cafe, a couple of pubs and a characterful little grocery store. Walk twenty minutes up the hill and along the beach from there, and you'll find the unassuming Fort Victoria, and a row of houses overlooking the sea. Perhaps if you're particularly interested you'll type in 'House by the Shore' and find that the end house is an ideal place for a holiday, and you'll book yourself a week there and, in doing so, inadvertently pay my family some money towards my tuition fees (I couldn't not write this post and give a plug!)
Either way, you can perhaps picture a quiet, coastal road with a wood behind it and the sea in front, and you can imagine how idyllic it feels as an escape, particularly for a city girl. Three days is hardly a holiday, but I've always found there to be something about the island which is timeless: whether you're there for a day or a month, you feel somehow immortal.
Although I recently passed my driving test (fourth attempt lucky), a car is well and truly out of the budget, and so Levi and I were on foot for our mini-break. Although we could have used the buses, we didn't want to waste our limited time on public transport, and with the woods, the beach and charismatic little Yarmouth, there was plenty to fill up the three days.
We started our Friday morning with a brunch at Gossips: if you ever do make it to Yarmouth, Gossips is a must. It sits at the beginning of the pier, and sells endless ice cream in the summer, or a mean mac-and-cheese for the colder days. Anyone who knows me personally can vouch that I do love a good mac-and-cheese, and there's no better way to eat it than watching the waves and listening to the boats as they dock.
A trip to Harveys (the local grocery store) had dinner sorted and the rest of the day was spent scrambling through the woods. The woods are beautifully kept, with various wooden sculptures punctuating the trail. If I were to search through the archives, I could find chronological photos of my sister and I sitting next to a certain wooden soldier who greets you about halfway through. He's a staple of our visits, and - regardless of your age - you find yourself sitting down next to him on his funny wooden bench, and perhaps shaking his little wooden hand in greeting: frankly, it would be rude not to.
Once we had looped back around to the beach, we met my personal favourite of the wooden family: the dolphin. There are many happy memories (although I imagine tedious for whichever adult was on entertainment duty) of riding said dolphin to Australia and back 'to see Auntie Debbie'. (I've always been a cheap traveller ;)). I've got to admit that I'm grateful to Levi for dutifully riding the dolphin with me, even at the old age of nineteen.
I don't reckon he looks too hard done by though:
The three days essentially consisted of the same walk through the woods on the way to Colwell Bay, about an hour from the house. I should emphasise that there is plenty to do in the Isle of Wight, for anyone considering visiting: there's the Abbey, the Garlic Farm, Robin Hill and the Owl and Monkey Haven, to name but a few; however a short trip and no car meant that we preferred gentle dawdles, and bottles of wine on the beach.
There is an old pier on the beach opposite the house (the same pier as on the cover picture, which I took from the house's balcony). When we were on the beach, Levi I were able to look back over the sea, towards the pier as we shared a bottle of wine, drinking from eggcups, so as not to risk breaking any glass on the beach. We must have looked quite a sight, sitting amongst seaweed near a dilapidated wooden structure sipping from eggcups and giggling the afternoon away, but I can't imagine a much better way of spending an afternoon. I would say that that is the island's magic: there are no pressures; time doesn't matter, and your only responsibility is to relax and watch the waves.
The Island was not particularly the type of travelling I had envisioned when I started this blog: it's not far-fetched, expensive and life-changing, but it is remarkable. I feel strongly that it's a treasure of the UK, particularly if you find the opportunity to go outside of the school holidays, when it is quiet but friendly, and you can find a piece of beach to have entirely for yourself. Wherever in the world it is, the sea will always hold an appeal for me (although we didn't manage any swimming in March!) and so any travelling with a bit of sea will always be a win.
With all the fear and tragedy surrounding the coronavirus, my Easter trip to Budapest has been cancelled, and my summer trip to Fiji is under serious threat, as is my trip to Crete and my Boomtown 2020 plans. Reflecting on my trip to the Isle of Wight gives me some comfort, particularly now that we are all in lockdown, and the same four walls are beginning to drive me stir crazy. Perhaps the 2020 exploring will be limited to this one speedy trip but, if so, there are far worse places I could have found myself.