studland and swanage

A place called Studland exists; I had to go. Because surely it could only be a village of shirtless English Premier League players, right?

I walked for a very, very long time. But all I found in Studland was a lot of fog.

And these cake-shaped formations known as Old Harry Rocks, which I really, really wanted to call "Old Harry's Rocks" and then laugh hysterically. (But this information probably doesn't surprise you since I'm the type of person who takes a bus all the way out to a remote village just because it's called Studland and then hikes around in mud and mist for hours, trying to figure out where all the studs went.)

Despite the false advertising, Studland was beautiful.

So I kept walking ... 

... uphill and downhill and through a bunch of sheep pastures ...

Clearly not studs.

... until the town of Swanage appeared.

And then I kept walking until I actually got to the town of Swanage.

See those cliffs? That's where I started.

And then I walked through Swanage ...

... and stopped at the cemetery, of course. (There are so many cemeteries in England. Squee!)

And when I got tired of walking, I took the bus back to Corfe Castle and finished the day with a meat tower bunless burger and a side of chips.

I may or may not has requested brown sauce.

It's my last night here in English countryside. Tomorrow I take the train back to London.

Unless another unplanned twist occurs and I end up on, I don't know, the Isle of Wight or something. Because with me, you never know.