Escaping the stifling city heat last Sunday, we traded the concrete of London for the raw, sun-bleached limestone of the Jurassic Coast. Truthfully, the area was a blank canvas to me until my friends tasked me with the all-important lunch reservation. Armed only with the knowledge of an 8:35 am train from Waterloo and a connecting bus from Wool station, I began my research.

Realising we’d roll into Wool by 11:00 am, my mind immediately wandered to brunch and foraging for trail snacks. A quick search of Wool, however, yielded a sparse culinary landscape: three pubs and a solitary Chinese takeaway. Lulworth Cove wasn’t brimming with options either, offering just a couple of hotel restaurants, a cafe, and a kiosk. Craving a proper, grounding meal after the long journey, I secured a 12:30 pm reservation at the highest-rated option, The Lodge at Lulworth.

The transit down was seamless—the modern blessing of contactless payments making the Route 31 bus a breeze. We were deposited near the visitor’s center, taking a moment to freshen up and absorb a bit of the local geography before the main event.

A short stroll led us to The Lodge. Though the midday sun was beating down at its peak, tempting us with al fresco dining, we opted for the cool, temperate sanctuary indoors. Apparently, 12:30 pm is dawn in Lulworth time; the dining room was entirely ours, a quiet space waiting to be filled.

Being on a rare excursion to the coast, seafood was non-negotiable. We plotted a communal spread of starters to share alongside our individual mains. One friend, brimming with coastal enthusiasm, boldly claimed the lobster—only to be swiftly met with the ultimate restaurant anti-climax: “We have everything, except for the lobster.”

Deflated but undeterred, I pivoted to the Beer Battered Haddock and Chips. A truly excellent fish and chips is surprisingly elusive; the batter is often a heavy, oily cage, the fish devoid of moisture, or the chips tragically limp. And don’t get me started on bland tartar sauce. For me, tartar is the linchpin—it needs to cut through the richness, brightening the white fish with a creamy, sharp, briny crunch of finely chopped pickles and capers, lifted by fresh lemon juice and dill.

Our table ultimately divided into two camps for mains: the Haddock, and the Pan Seared Chalkstream Trout with Poole Bay Clams, swimming in a vibrant red Thai bisque with jasmine rice and a fragrant herb salad. We went all out on the starters: a Dorset Crab Tostada, Southwest Mussels, Tiger Prawns, Creamy Burrata, and a Jackfruit Tostada. Rounding out the spread were sides of Roasted Broccoli with agrodolce and anchovies, plus double orders of vibrant, garlicky sautéed samphire.

I am thrilled to report that the haddock was a triumph—flaky and moist within a greaseless shell, accompanied by a generous, punchy tartar sauce that hit all the right notes. The mushy peas held their own, but the Southwest Mussels were the undeniable standout of the spread. The Tiger Prawns, glistening with apricot and garlic harissa, were a touch dry for my liking and cried out for a fiercer hit of chili heat, but the trout received unanimous praise.

Fueled by a quick coffee, we stepped out to explore. Lulworth Cove was a mere stone’s throw away, a picturesque inlet dotted with sun-baked bathers and canoeists jostling for a slice of the water. Lacking my swim shorts, I contented myself with pulling out my Sony A7CR instead to capture the stark, brilliant clarity of the sea—a far cry from the murky charms of Brighton, our usual seaside escape. We lingered, letting the view wash over us before tackling the ascent toward Durdle Door.

The trek up is forgiving enough, though the initial incline demands respect—steep and a little loose underfoot. But if you take it slow and breathe in the salty air, the cinematic reveal at the end makes every step entirely worth it.

Despite the steady stream of sightseers trying to frame their perfect shot, the sheer, ancient scale of the arch is undeniably breathtaking. With the afternoon still stretching out ahead of us, we navigated the steep timber steps down to Man O’War Bay.

Carving out a modest patch on the crescent of smooth pebbles, we shed our shoes and waded into the shock of the crystal-clear, turquoise water. Cooling off under the late summer sun, it was one of those rare, grounding moments where you catch yourself thinking: I could easily leave the city behind and move here.

But the coastal illusion eventually had to break. By 4:30 pm, the reality of the long journey back to London began to set in. Gratefully, a conveniently placed bus stop spared us another long trek, pointing us away from the coast and back toward the familiar, sprawling hum of London.

Leaving the ocean behind is always a little bittersweet, but the promise of sizzling okonomiyaki waiting for us back in the city is a pretty flawless consolation prize.

The Essentials

If you are tempted to orchestrate your own escape from the city, here is the practical breakdown for a day down south:

  • The Landscape: The Jurassic Coast is a designated World Heritage Site, stretching across the dramatic shorelines of Dorset and the East Devon Coast.
  • The Trains: A return ticket from London Waterloo will set you back about £40. If you are heading for Durdle Door, the nearest stop to aim for is Wool Station.
  • The Connection: Buses run frequently from Wool Station directly to Lulworth Cove. The fare is a flat £3, but keep in mind that they are strictly contactless.
  • The Walk: The coastal path from Lulworth Cove up to Durdle Door takes roughly 30 minutes—just remember to pace yourself on that first steep incline.

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