Julie Thompson takes us to one of the most beautiful UNESCO heritage sites in the world, while experiencing one of the rarest celestial events.

There’s a rare breed of globetrotters who will cross oceans to see the eclipse. For these enthusiasts, it’s an event as anticipated with as much excitement as the World Cup is for football fans. I don’t make that cut.

Hardly an eclipse chaser, or a football fan for that matter, I wouldn’t travel internationally for the thirty-or-so-odd-minute experience of watching the sun, moon and earth align. Add in stunning coastal views and a group of chatty nature lovers, and that’s a different story.

My aunt, who lives in one of the UK’s most iconic walking destinations, keeps an ear to the ground for outdoor social events. She reserved our spots for a 3.5 mile circular walk leaving from Houns Tout Car Park on the night of the once-in-a-generation eclipse.

I was game for anything that allowed me to discover more of the Jurassic Coast, a designated UNESCO World Heritage site famed for its fossil-rich coasts and harrowing sea cliffs. An eclipse watch party only added to the intrigue and wonder of the majestic landscape. 

Anticipation and history of the Eclipse

Before catching a ferry to the Isle of Purebeck where we were scheduled to meet others for the hike, I read myths from around the world learning that ancient people believed the eclipse was the result of  a monster eating the sun, divine punishment, or as folktales in eastern Bolivia had it, an attack of celestial serpents.

In 1999, NASA astronomer Michelle Thaller added his own dramatics when he described his own total eclipse experience: “There’s this deep basic panic that sets in as the whole world changes in a way it’s not supposed to. All of a sudden it feels like you’re standing on another planet.”

Not quite that intense, the once-in-a-generation partial eclipse I witnessed on the evening of August 12th was worth writing home about. Seated on Hounstout cliff overlooking dramatic sea-battered cliffs alongside close to fifty hikers spread out on picnic blankets, I had been let in on a local secret, having front-row access to some of the United Kingdom’s iconic landscapes on the evening of the most significant solar eclipse since 1999.

Setting off for the eclipse walk and meeting a ‘ranger’

On the night of the eclipse, we departed from a car park just before six p.m. and joined a group of 49 fellow walkers for a hike to Houns Tout Cliff, a secluded headland with unobscured visage of the western horizon, making it an ideal location for the celestial spectacle that reminded me of nature’s majesty and wonder. 

By the time we arrived at Hounstout Cliff a little after 6:00 p.m., one hiker had propped his telescope; others were already placing blankets for picnics. From our sea-facing vantage point, we could see the English Channel.

Between bites of a strawberry he’d packed for his picnic, Andy, a volunteer ranger at Durlston Country Park, explained that the seaside cliff was the lookout (Tout) of a Norman landowner (Houns). A lover of ancient stories, I listened intently as Andy shared his encyclopedic knowledge of the area, naming historic landmarks in every cardinal direction.

St. Aldham’s Chapel

“And then that’s St. Aldhelm’s Head over there,” Andy said pointing towards a cliff in the distance, another a cherished walking spot leading to an oddly-shaped 12th century Chapel built over the timber skeleton of a pre-Christian structure. This unusual edifice continues to draw speculation for its strange square shape and unorthodox orientation. Unlike most religious buildings, it’s not built with an east-west orientation and is situated near a mysterious engraved marble tomb which inspired artist Brian Graham to create a series of artworks entitled “Nine Progressions on the Life and Death of an Unknown Woman.” 

Later, I remembered this seaside history lesson as I read lines from-read Yeats poem, “The Tower” in which he paces back and forth on a battlement. From the overlook, my own imagination was spinning silent films of shipwrecks and days spent scouting danger. Like Yeats who imaginatively calls on ruins and ancient trees to share their secrets, I would gladly pry secrets from these jagged cliffs if given the chance.

Swyre Head – The highest peak on the isle of Purbeck

Andy continued with his history lesson and pointed out Swyrehead, the highest peak on Isle of Purbeck, which is classified as a Marilyn, a hill with a drop on all sides exceeding 150, Sywre Head’s peak is 682 feet. “So that’s probably the highest point there,” the volunteer ranger explained. Behind us was Chapman’s Pool, a hidden fossil-rich cove with a slate bed. The site of several deadly shipwrecks, Champman’s Pool is sometimes called “Deadman’s Fingers”, a name attributed to smugglers who learned the hard way that treacherous rocks and ledges lurked below the surface. Amongst locals, it’s a popular spot for snorkeling and swimming, but due to the slippery terrain, Chapman’s Pool is not recommended for novice swimmers. 

Our circular walk, however, was easy enough. My aunt and I completed it in sandals, although we noticed more serious walkers wore boots. Still, Claire had chosen an ideal  spot for fitness enthusiasts like my aunt or history and literature nerds like myself. The majestic landscapes anchored us in a refreshing outdoor experience.

And finally…the eclipse

“Thirteen more minutes,” someone called. Glasses on. Everything went dark as I wore the protective lens. Then, a scorching crescent appeared on the black solar filters. Two hikers had brought colanders, while others used eclipse phone filters like monocles. A music teacher from Wimborne Minister made a contraption from a shoe-box.  “All I can see is a little white dot,” she said, pressing an eye to the cardboard cut-out. 

They happen somewhere in the world about every eighteen months, but most people are lucky if they ever witness a total eclipse. By a quarter past seven, we watched as the moon shrouded about ninety-five percent of the sun’s light. Warped shadows crept over the ledge, and the sea shone silver in the eerie light. 

Corfe Castle and Scott Arms

Before heading home, our group met at Scott Arms, a quaint English pub with old wooden eaves, stone walls and piano that someone played badly as I ordered a pint of sparkling cider, pressed and fermented right there in Dorset. Apples fell from a tree in the back, and a young man from our group jumped to a low branch, harvesting a few. On patio tables we bantered and enjoyed a view of Corfe Castle which was built by William the Conqueror and which lies in a gap of the Purbeck Hills and imbibed quiet views loud with history and lore. 

A wandering pedestrian fond of hidden gems and off-the-beaten-path experiences, I’ll remember this day as I read Yeats’ poetry. “O may the moon and sunlight seem/ One inextricable beam/ For if I triumph I must make men mad,”  he writes, describing the passage of time marked by rare celestial events. In my opinion, that is the most profound aspect of this experience.

By the time Dorset sees another eclipse of this magnitude in 2081 or a total eclipse in 2090, my Spanish adventure will be long over, and all stories told about this day will belong to the Great Memory of places and collective experience.