Tyneham and Worbarrow Bay

What great weather for early February! It seemed too good an opportunity to miss, spring sunshine predicted to last for two days meant one thing - roadtrip! Janis and myself had been talking about Tyneham village during the week and it was a case of what's stopping us doing it today.

Tyneham is about twenty five miles west of where we live, it's a straightforward journey via the Sandbanks Ferry and then through the village of Corfe Castle and along the coastal road. However given the exceptional weather every man, woman, child and dog had decided to take the ferry to Studland and when we arrived the queue was already beyond the two hour waiting point. That meant turning around to make the longer journey via Poole and Wareham, however given the weather, the company and the mp3 player on random it wasn't a big issue.

Tyneham lies in its own valley about twelve miles west of south west of Wareham. For those with some knowledge of the geography of the Dorset coast it is between Kimmeridge to the east and the world famous Lulworth Cove to the west. A short walk, about a mile or so, through a woodland walk followed by a fairly basic track you come to Worbarrow Bay. Worbarrow Bay is one of Dorset's best kept secrets and is possibly one of the most beautiful bays anywhere in England. The reason why it hasn't become as popular as its more famous neighbour to the west is because of the lack of car park facilities, you have to park at Tyneham and walk. Tyneham itself operates a donation based car park charge and for two pounds you can stay all day from 6 a.m to 10 p.m when the gates on the C road that link the valley to the outside of the world are shut and locked.

Worbarrow Bay from the footpath

From the beach at Worbarrow you can see the headland that separates the bay from Lulworth Cove (top left of my photo), standing on the beach you can see to the Isle of Portland.

The beach was showing the impact of the two container ships that have run a ground during the past fourteen months or so, some pieces of wood, a couple of plastic containers and a new, but water damaged, Sony television. On the grass overlooking the beach are reminders of what this area is still famous for - there is a machine gun post which, despite its close proximity to the beach and therefore members of the public, still contains the mounting that once had a Thompson Sub-Machine gun on it.

Tyneham village is really only famous for one reason. It's the village where time stopped in 1943. It is not like Oradour Sur Glane which has been left as it was after the Nazi's killed all but a handful of its residents during World War Two. Tyneham has been described as a ghost village by some people and to be honest there is a slightly surreal feeling about the half a dozen or so houses that are grouped around the village church - there is also a sense of unease felt that you are somehow intruding on private grief - grief for a lost world almost. Before the events took place which led to the village being in its current state the village did actually achieve a small piece of history, it was here that in 1942 the first German prisoners of war to be captured on British soil were found when their aircraft was shot down.

In 1943 the War Office decided that the village and the surrounding 7,000 acres of hills, valleys and woodland would make excellent training grounds for troops, the area would become used by the Americans as part of the training for D-Day. Churchill had told the 200 villagers who were told to move out that the village and surrounding land would be returned to them once the war was over, he lied although given the fact that the complusory purchase order wasn't made until 1948 it's a bit harsh on him! So from 1943 until now, and it will continue for the forseeable future, the area is still within the Lulworth Firing Ranges.

A campaign was launched in 1967 by the local writer Rodney Legg, a man I had the pleasure of meeting about fifteen years ago, and another writer who was once a client of mine, to allow members of the public access to the village and through to the bay when the army were not firing their guns or driving their tanks across the huge expanse of Dorset that was at their disposal. The campaign rumbled on and on until finally in 1975 the MOD agreed that access could be granted. The local information site here gives details of the days when access is available. The site also gives a little more detail and also has a photograph of the rather poignant notice that was left on the door of the church by the villagers when they left.

One thing that did impress me walking between the village and Worbarrow was the accuracy of the British Army (sorry about this Span!). You have signs like the one above every fifty yards or so on either side of the pathway, telling you not to walk in the fields, and yet the path itself is deemed perfectly safe. Now I know that the army like to keep a record of where its shells land but to be that accurate in an area of more than 7,000 acres is bloody impressive!

More moves have been made recently to have the whole of the Lulworth firing range area closed and eventually turned back over to the public. Unfortunately, not withstanding the enormous amount of ordnance that is out there on the heathland, in the woodlands etc, the people living near the prospective replacement site in Wales objected as did the Germans who also use the area for training. In one of life's great ironies the German equivalent of the MOD said that they would prefer to continue using the area around Tyneham for testing their army and its hardware than moving to Wales.

The old rectory is being rebuilt again, if you click on the local information site link you can see how it was in 1926.

Tyneham isn't the only village in England that was taken over by the MOD with the promise of being returned, you can visit world of Stuarts own personal take on Imber in Wiltshire here.

There is however a sense of great sadness, of an isolated village, that had already given up a disproportionate number of young men to the 1914-18 war, that disappeared forever simply because it was in the right place at the wrong time.