It’s funny when you go on a world cruise and your first stop is England, isn’t it? Well. If you’re originally from England, that is. Suffice to say, that my one day in Weymouth wasn’t quite the tourist extravaganza you might expect. (Especially not in the dead of winter.) And yet- I did love every second of it.
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I’ll cut straight to the chase, pals. Docking at the Isle of Portland cruise port on a November day probably isn’t the most picturesque introduction to English shores, despite it being located in arguably one of the most beautiful counties in England.
Perhaps that can’t be helped. ‘Pretty’ cruise terminals are few and far between; there’s nothing overly attractive about shipping containers and cranes, is there? Opting out of exploring the sights and sounds of Portland Bill and Henry VIII’s castle, I raced onto the first shuttle bus that would have me, with one day in Weymouth as my end goal.
(If you’re arriving at the Isle of Portland cruise port, here is its exact location on Google Maps. The shuttle bus to Weymouth is normally offered by the port itself. It drops you right in town and takes about 15-20 minutes depending on traffic.)
One Day in Weymouth: Checklist
- Head to Weymouth beach for a seaside stroll, and grab a coffee and a pastry to go from the Saltwater Shack.
- In the opposite direction, head for a walk along world-famous Chesil Beach.
- Stock up on Percy Pigs at Marks and Spencer. It’s an English institution, and Percy Pigs are truly beloved.
- Check out the Ship Inn on the harbour front; a very picturesque spot for a pint.
- Head further afield to Durdle Door or Lulworth Cove to see some stunning nature.
- Get fish and chips from Bennett’s Fish & Chips on the harbour front.
On Chesil Beach
There’s something barren but beautiful about England’s windswept shingle beaches, and the skinny causeway that connects the Isle of Portland to the mainland is one of the most famous of them all. Chesil Beach, which runs a grand total of eighteen miles, is the resting place for hundreds of wrecked ships and the setting for the Ian McEwan novel (and subsequent film, don’tcha know), On Chesil Beach. Unsurprisingly, the story is somewhat bleak but beautiful, so if you’re planning on watching just prepare yourself: it is not a comedy.
The shuttle bus trundled along this shingle strip and up into the narrow streets of Weymouth, past rows of tiny terraced houses and postboxes covered in hand-knitted cosies. Remembrance Sunday flags with silhouetted WWII soldiers hung in windows, interspersed with St George’s flags flapping in the breeze. The smallest roundabouts, white paint peeling on the tarmac, were graffiti-d with slapdash blood red crosses.
It’s a funny time to be in England, pals.
The sights and sounds of Weymouth in winter
Hopping off the bus, I headed towards the cry of seagulls in search of the harbour, and discovered something actually rather charming. (Thank goodness, as the roundabout crosses had really started to put me off the whole idea of Weymouth.)
Past the fishing boats and pastel coloured houses, pubs and fish and chip shops, past a window filled with tiny mice riding bicycles (true story), and on into the bunting-strewn lanes of the town. Past a fleet of at least twenty mobility scooters parked outside a shop covered with protective rain jackets. Past a butchers covered in neon cardboard signs declaring: FAGGOTS! In thick black felt tip pen. I can’t say I’ve ever seen anyone order faggots in real life, in fact my own knowledge of faggots (the offal meatball sort of faggot, not the highly offensive term sort), comes from Victorian novels.
It turns out, there was a lot to see in Weymouth after all. But I was on a mission. I’ll tell you what my actual goal of that one day in Weymouth was: to get to Marks and Spencers. And hopefully, Boots as well. Can’t miss out on those Boots points, can I!?
I needed to stock up on basics for the world cruise. Toiletries, vitamins, washing tablets, nuts, snacks, and obviously Percy Pigs; the aim really was to ensure that I won’t have to search for these things in other ports around the world, although I am a fan of using a supermarket run as an extra way to get to grips with a new country.
I don’t think I’ve ever spent so much money in Boots and M&S in my entire life.
The glory of the English seaside town
With my ginormous haul of basics nestled safely in a Percy Pig reusable bag, I headed onwards to the beach to make the most of the fresh air before we started our six day crossing to Canada.
The wind was whipping but the sun was shining, and I watched an extremely brave woman brave the waves in the distance, stepping into what were surely fairly frigid waters. From where I stood, a gangly boy in his late teens opened up an amusement arcade with flashing lights above the slot machines, and an old man in a mobility scooter rolled up outside, clutching a bag of coins to be swallowed up within.
Coming from a seaside town myself, I’m pretty familiar with the strange ebb and flow of activity that happens from summer to winter. Weymouth seafront was lined with a pastel patchwork of old Victorian hotels, some showing signs of life, and others with dirty windows and ‘Closed’ signs hanging crooked by the doors. In one murky B&B window, a family of large teddy bears sat around a table laid for breakfast. I wondered if they had any guests besides the bears at that time of year.
A couple of souvenir shops remained defiantly open, selling seagull magnets, fossils and boxes of fudge. Double decker buses trundled along the tarmac, with dinosaurs emblazoned on the back windows, declaring that the Jurassic Coast is best explored by bus.
I’m telling you now pals, despite the sunny bleakness of Weymouth in November, the Jurassic Coast really is a stunning place to see. It runs all the way from Devon to Dorset, encompassing natural arches and coves formed from sandstone and limestone, beaten by the sea and topped with green hills. And not only is this coastline beautifully rugged and wild, but it’s also filled to the brim with fossils. The more the cliffs crumble away over time, the more skeletons are revealed. I’d spent an extremely wet and windy afternoon at Lulworth Cove a few years before, and I wondered while gazing across the curved bay if the cove was just behind those cliffs in the distance.
(On a side note, if you’re docking at the Isle of Portland cruise port and fancy seeing more than just a sleepy seaside town, it’s definitely worth branching out along the coastline.)
A very English supper
With my hair suitably salty and blustered, I made my way back towards the little harbour and its fishing boats, for perhaps the most important part of the day: the ceremonious last fish and chips before I return to England in March. Aleks the Serbian pianist had come to meet me for a full immersion into English culture and cuisine, although I realised a little too late that he’s not much of a fan of deep fried food. Still, it was nice of him to humour me. If I’m honest with you, I’m not a big fried food gal either, but I’ll happily make an exception for a decent serving of fish and chips.
We headed to Bennett’s Fish and Chips and its very cheerful bright turquoise exterior, for a hearty meal of battered cod and chips with mushy peas and lashings of salt and vinegar. (Never scrimp on vinegar when it comes to fish and chips, pals.) I’d definitely recommend it to one and all.
Full of battered fish, we did one final length of the beach, saying hello to all the passing dogs and their owners. Aleks is the kind of person who gets excited about the little things in life, and I really enjoyed experiencing his extreme levels of enthusiasm at every other pebble he picked up. You might think I’m being sarcastic, but I’m really not. It was joyous.
Weymouth in the winter may not be the most glamorous of places, but as my last day on English soil goes, it was rather a lovely old time all around. The meaningless chit-chat of the people was glorious- I love the English skill of striking up trivial conversations with strangers, and was reminded of it with the three or four individual chats I had over the course of the day. For a winters day by the seaside- before six extremely rocky days crossing the Atlantic Ocean- it couldn’t have been more bloomin’ perfect.
More from this green and pleasant land:
Road-tripping in South England in Autumn
Beautiful Broadstairs, Kent’s Stunner of a Seaside Town