A Quintessential Seaside Holiday on England’s Southern Coast

Day 19, 2023 North Atlantic Adventure

Tuesday, May 30, 2023; Portland/Weymouth, England.

One of the beauties of travel is that once you are exposed to a new place or event, it pops up again and again. Perhaps it is because of familiarity, like when you buy a new car, you seem to see that model everywhere. Or it may be that you seek out new facts or observations that you can now connect to something else you have learned.

That was the case for me today in Weymouth, England. This charming seaside resort town is in the southwest of the country on the English Channel. Families favor it for summer holidays (as the British call their vacations).

It also was the departure point for many troops heading for Omaha Beach on D-Day during World War II. And during World War I it is where more than a hundred thousand Australians and New Zealanders recovered from injuries suffered at Gallipoli and other war theaters.

Followers of this blog might recall that it was last fall in Wellington, New Zealand, that I first heard of Gallipoli, a tragic battle site in Turkey where many lost their lives. I revisited the Wellington museum exhibit in February. The battle led to the emergence of Australia and New Zealand as independent states with national identities.

So when I wove my way through the throngs of children, parents, seniors and dogs on leashes playing along the long sandy beach, I also thought of those soldiers long ago who perhaps enjoyed an early summer day while recovering from the horrors of war. Travel just provides those dots for us to connect.

When the Zuiderdam was here in April, I was stuck on the ship recovering from my knee injury. In fact, it was on the pier in Portland (the ship port next to Weymouth) that I was stopped from taking my ship-issued wheelchair on the shuttle to Weymouth. No issues today. There were plenty of shuttles for the 15-minute drive to the edge of the quay alongside the mouth of the Wey river, where Weymouth gets its name.

Before we could leave the ship, we had to see the British immigration authorities, passing through the inspection line in the main dining room. We keep bouncing back and forth between England, France, the Netherlands and even Ireland, and never know what the procedure will be.

The main activity along the river side, or quay as it is called here, for children was fishing for crabs. It’s a simple matter of putting some bait into a wire or plastic basket, lowering it over the stone wall lining the river and waiting for a crab to take the bait, as they say. The captured crabs we saw were small. But the young children were fascinated by the activity, and selling the kits with baskets, twine and bait was a popular money-making venture for the nearby merchants.

We walked across the drawbridge to the sunny side of the river, where restaurants and pubs lined the sidewalk.

It was a bit early for lunch, but not too early for a pint of the locally brewed lager.

Next, I headed away from the river down some narrow streets and stumbled across the beach. A carousel and midway rides designed for younger children crowded the near end of the beach. Quaint hotels lined the street for blocks, as the beach stretched on and on with very few empty spots.

The scene seemed a little too busy for me to sketch, so I returned to the riverfront to capture the boats tied up in front of the busy walkway.

Our incredible luck with the weather continued, bringing out the sailing clubs.

Capt. Friso warned us late today that our luck might not hold. While no rain is predicted for tomorrow in St. Peter Port, Guernsey in the Channel Islands, strong winds from the wrong direction might prevent us from tendering ashore. We’ll see in the morning.