On Chesil Beach


Trudging along the shingle of Chesil Beach during last weekend’s run, I had a flash of recognition when I saw this pillbox, sinking into the pebbles. In 1997, when my wife and I first paddled the length of the Dorset coast, we slept a night in this pillbox. It was one of the few times in my life where I had no idea where I was; we’d paddled in pea soup fog all day (Chesil Beach is a dull paddle at the best of times…) and when we landed, couldn’t find any landmarks or buildings to fix our position on the map. One bit of Chesil Beach looks pretty much like any other…

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