The Waves in Swanage

I had to write a creative writing story that depicts a snapshot of my family. I decided to write about my experience with my family at Durdle Door in Swanage during August 2015. I thought that all the things that happened there provided a perfect depiction of my family and I wanted to share this experience not only with my first period English class, but with the people who read my blog.

When we were positive that our feet were going to cripple from touring on foot ten hours a day, my dad decided to plan a four-hour hiking trip to Durdle Door.

“Alright girls! We are leaving at eight,” he hollered while putting on his Parka, “Katie, you can talk to Hugh when you’re done getting ready.”

Before I knew it, we were driving to another part of England that wasn’t familiar to me. How could I have been born in this country and barely remember any part of my past in England, let alone Cambridge?

I had no idea what to expect from Durdle Door. I usually research the next place we’re going to the night before, but I was “busy” watching Harry Potter with Hugh. I thought it would just be another ordinary hiking trip, so I wasn’t that excited.

After driving for thirty minutes, we arrived to the sound of rain hitting the windowsill and my umbrella already turning inside out.

Walking through Dorset was nothing like Paris. No crowded street, patisseries, or lines for anything. There was only a souvenir shop and a pub that promoted its fish and chips.

The path through Dorset was soon taken over by the eroded stones of Lulworth Cove. The water was a perfect shade of cerulean; it was as if Panama had also decided to take a vacation. Sailboats anchored in the cove and the families that resided in them had already put beach chairs out, trying their best to skip rocks.

The windward draft led us from the muddy Fossil Forest to what we actually came for.  

The trail at Durdle Door was adjacent to the seaside cliffs. The waves were continuously crashing onto the cliffs and withdrew. I couldn’t help but notice that we share more similarities with waves than we think. We are like the waves because during the week we wake up, work, eat, sleep, and the cycle continues. The aspiration of the waves to erode the cliffs is a representation of our efforts to stand out. Awed at the thought, I sat down and watched the waves.

I only noticed that my mind had gone into oblivion when my mom sat beside me.

“Do you really like watching the waves that much?”

“Anything over East.”

My mom laughed. “Well, you know what’s great? Soon, you’ll be leaving to somewhere better, where you’ll actually like being at school. No more seven point grading scales, snobby IVY League kids, or midnight study sessions.”

“True that!”

As we walked back to the car, my mom kept complaining about how my dad shouldn’t have picked such a dreary day to go on a hike. She was also mad about her pants getting dirty and Rebecca gladly chimed in.

“Well!” I only noticed then that hollered that, “I thought the hike was great.”

“Thank you Katie,” my dad looked at me, “I needed to hear that from someone.”