A lovely smooth hovercraft crossing on a warm, sunny day brought us to Ryde by early afternoon, and the start of our four-night break in the Isle of Wight, an island I have never visited before. Be aware this is quite a long blog, with more than a hundred photos: we packed in quite a lot!
As with so many seaside towns, Ryde is a place of faded glories. Around the town there are many fine buildings, signs of former wealth, though many have seen better days. Take the former Royal York Hotel…an art deco marvel when it was built no doubt, still intact but now wasting away…
The pier and seafront had the usual facilities, including our comfortable Ryde Castle hotel, and a restaurant, Fumo33, where we had the best meal of our holiday.
And of course the views, across the Solent to Portsmouth and the ever-present interest of vessels moving along and across the channel, and weather approaching.
In terms of wildlife, there were lichens everywhere, on unpolluted bark, salt-splashed timbers and gull perching posts…
Around the town, Swifts screamed overhead, Holly Blues and Red Admirals were active in the sunlight and the walls were clothed in Red Valerian, Mexican Fleabane, Wall-rue and both Adria and Trailing Bellflowers, with figworts habouring Figwort Weevils.
After overnight rain, we headed by train for a day in Shanklin. The forecast of heavy rain proved pessimistic, but the sun was largely missing as we explored, again a run-down town but this one with a chocolate box thatched old village tacked unconformably on one side.
From here we walked around Shanklin Chine, although only skirting the gorge…on such a gloomy day it would have been doubly gloomy in the depths of the abyss.
Rylstone Gardens gave us the chance to find a few soggy insects, galls and flowers, and views along the coast from the cliff-edge. The Zigzag Elm Sawfly is interesting as the National Biodiversity Network Atlas shows it at only 3 locations on the island, all at the diametrically opposite side from Shanklin.
And then after taking refuge from a heavy shower in the Village Inn, we headed down to the shore. Beyond the promenade, the cliff slopes had Great Horsetail, Hemlock Water-dropwort and Sea Radish, the latter being demolished by Large White caterpillars.
And then back along the prom, looking towards the chalk cliffs of Culver Down, with Fulmars flying by, a pristine pair of Mediterranean Gulls on the beach and a Painted Lady on the Seaside Daisy flowers.
Next day, the sun returned and we were off to Ventnor for the second half of our stay, this time using the island’s remarkably efficient bus service. Our destination was Ventnor, which certainly felt a more appealing place than anywhere else we had been. That impression grew immeasurably while sitting in the tiny Spring Hill Garden: a Glanville Fritillary flitted around us, and sunned itself on the paths. We had hoped to see this speciality of the southern slopes of the Isle of Wight, but never expected to in the middle of town!
Ventnor Park was the next stop, for lunch and a wander along the stream, with Azure and Large Red Damselflies, Water Crickets and plants telling us we were in a climatically favoured part of the world.
Then at last the final stroll to our main reason for visiting the island (conceived when we visited the Hillier Garden in Romsey last July, another garden created and bequeathed by Sir Harold Hillier): Ventnor Botanic Garden, set in the most privileged of places, at the foot of a steep slope, facing south in the southernmost part of the island, billed as Britain’s Hottest Garden.
The plants were magnificent, from forests of Giant Viper’s Bugloss buzzing with bees to Cabbage Palms, their flowers scenting the air extravagantly.
There were amazing floral and foliar sights and scents at every turn:
But not just plants from afar – there were Ivy Broomrapes in Ivy-filled borders and Yellow Flags around the ponds, to name just two:
The environmental ethos of the garden feels exemplary, plants to match the conditions, not overly concerned with tidiness, and with many demonstrations of a holistic approach to garden sustainability.
The wildlife seemed to love it too, with all manner of bees and other insects visiting the flowers, oblivious to the far distant origins of most.
Galls always fascinate us and included Aculops fuchsiae (mite gall on Fuchsia), Plagiotrochus quercusilicis(wasp gall on Evergreen Oak) and Taphrina caerulescens (fungus gall on Red Oak). We first saw the latter in Dulwich a couple of weeks ago; according to the NBN Atlas it is not known from the Isle of Wight.
A Grey Heron was a regular visitor to the ornamental pond, where it fished alongside the resident Red-eared Slider terrapins.
And two of the specialities: Red Squirrels on their island refuge away from the threat of Greys, and Common Wall Lizards, not native to Britain but reputedly washed ashore from a shipwreck and now well established.
And we had the pleasure of two nights staying in Smugglers’ Lodge, within the garden, one of the buildings remaining from the garden’s previous incarnation as a hospital.
Even around the lodge there were Wall Lizards along with Ivy Broomrapes and vast lines of ants. But not just any ant: apparently these are Tapinoma ibericum, native to southern Spain and Portugal. First found around a decade ago, it is assumed they were accidentally brought into the garden, transported on the root balls of plants. This represents the only known established population outside its native range. And interestingly, the species is used there as a biological control of unwanted agricultural ‘pests’ – perhaps it plays a similar role here?
Staying in the garden gave us the opportunity to experience the surroundings, solitude, scentscape and birdsong, at times when there was virtually no-one else there. That’s what we went hoping for. Sadly, ’twas not to be. On our single full day there, after a glorious hour savoring the scents and the silence (save for birdsong) a groundsman with a leaf-blower started up at 07.45 and continued unabated until lunchtime, until we were forced off site by the aural intrusion. Was this really necessary? And was a petrol-driven blower really the only answer, given the gardens’ otherwise exemplary environmental ethos?
So it was not perfect, although we really wanted it to be. And while being picky, I should also say that as a botanical professional, I think the name ‘Botanic Garden’ is a misnomer. A real botanic garden, for me, should have an overtly educational mission, and this should include comprehensive and accurate labelling of the undeniably exciting forms. Sadly this was not the case, and it felt more like a municipal park with special plants than a real botanic garden.
Anyway, as always we made the most of adversity, and when forced out of the garden by the racket, we walked down to the neighbouring Steephill Cove. One of the highlights of our holiday, it had sea views and soundtrack, interesting insects including more Glanville Fritillaries, Common Blues and Iris Weevils (on Ox-eye Daisy!).
And from the Crab Shed, absolutely delicious crab pasty, salmon pasty and mackerel baguette. This was a perfect lunch in a perfect place, away from the annoyances of that which should have been perfect.
From there it was a short walk back along the coast path, the more natural vegetation of the cliff top (apart from the Hop plantation) a contrast to the garden. I was briefly stopped in my tracks by a broomrape that I hoped might prove to be a new site for the exceedingly rare Oxtongue Broomrape, found in a couple of spots elsewhere on the island. But eventually it proved to be a somewhat anomalous form of Ivy Broomrape, albeit a couple of metres away from any aerial Ivy. The roots do travel!
Our final morning dawned damp, dull and breezy so after a lovely breakfast in the botanic garden cafe, we headed straight out by bus to Newport. The county town of the island, one thing that distinguishes this from the other towns we visited was it has a bypass, and so the interior is not plagued by cars. Indeed, it also had a vibrant, arts feel, with the Quay Arts Gallery, a fine Minster and lots of interesting buildings. Plus the Bargeman’s Rest pub where we had an excellent lunch and a pint. So taken were we that if we ever return to explore the western half of the island, we will make Newport our base and travel out each day by bus.
All to soon it was time to head back to Ryde for the return hovercraft crossing. And here another word of warning: if you book rail and crossing together through a third party, like Trainline as we did, a booking doesn’t constitute a booking. To ensure your place on a specific crossing you need to book it additionally with Hovertravel. At no time in the booking process, nor on the outward journey were we told this. Indeed they shouldn’t have taken our money without a firm booking: that is simply deceitful, taking money under false pretences.
Of course we complained, but predictably the parties who replied blamed each other. Hovertravel blamed Trainline, Trainline blamed everyone else, and South Western Railways haven’t yet replied. In reality of course, all are to blame for failing to be grown up and talk to each other and develop a fully integrated booking system, or at least to communicate effectively. In this day and age, that is unforgiveable, especially as we had onward, timed rail bookings; not to have made the connections could have cost us a lot of money. But fortunately the helpful check-in man from Hovertravel just managed to get us on the intended sailing, but only due to a couple of last minute no shows.
