Small detours

A short drive from home to go for some shopping turned into a trip to Lulworth Cove today.
These are the best days out, the unplanned ones and for the sake of sitting in air conditioning for most of the time, a good choice.
As we crossed from Poole to Studland, I could see literally hundreds of people on the beach, sunbathing and paddling, most sensible enough not to bother risking an almost certain Norman embarkation by getting caught in the tide if swimming.
Lulworth is a pretty place. It's full of little cottages (I spotted Rose Cottage on the way out Rob) and is a typical example of Dorset's fabulous Jurassic Coast. It was also full of plebs today, notably a couple of blokes that decided to use their mobile phone cameras to take some snaps of me, whilst I was busy taking pics of my own of the scenery. I learned this as I heard Fur mutter something about 'not doing stupid things to annoy people when standing on the edge of a cliff'. Erk.
Behind the serene and picturesque view of the cove lurks a different monster, however.
It's only ever prudent to anchor or pick up a mooring there when the wind is forecast to stay out of the south. I've heard many a woeful tale of late night panic stricken efforts to get out of Lulworth when the wind has decided to come round and puff straight in through the narrow entrance. These nightmare scenarios have kept us out, as we can almost always rely on the wind doing exactly what we don't want it to do, if on a passage.
Another reason to read the pilot book, is the army firing range that often blasts tin cans and stuff out to sea. Remember to keep an ear on the VHF methinks.
On the way out, whilst driving past the range, I did a double take when I spotted a signpost for a 'Cat Firing Point'. This raised a bit more than a smirk....a dream job perhaps for someone?!