Poole, Dorset - Pali Gap...

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One of my most cherished memories is from the very early Seventies - "...a time of innocence, a time of consequen-ces". Our first road trip. The aim initially was to see Stonehenge, which we duly did and magnificent it was. We also took in Avebury and Silbury Hill. Druidic boxes ticked, we aimed for Cornwall.
There was the three of us: Clive Hill, the owner and driver of our conveyance; a certain Roger Deeks, madman and bon viveur, recently released from hospital and major intestinal surgery (his abdomen resembled a map of the railtracks at Crewe) and myself.
We didn't make Cornwall, at least not at this attempt, but we did make it to Poole in Dorset.
The sun setting, summer-low, the town glowing crimson and gold; cruising into the harbour, Hendrix the soundtrack to this youthful arrival into a new world: Pali Gap from Rainbow Bridge, playing on cassette tape in glorious mono - perfection itself.
That night we camped on a very high point overlooking the sea, only to have our tent practically destroyed by a particularly vicious wind that we really should have expected, but didn't. So we slept in the car. Roger got the entire back seat on account of his obvious medical needs. It was a very long and very uncomfortable night.
Many memorable people, things and places have I known, loved and experienced in the half-century since then, but that drive in that evening, with that glorious sunset and that music and those two good friends - was poetry itself.

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