The best walks and hikes around Studland

The "Why" Behind the Hill Burt didn't just put it there because it looked nice. He dedicated it to his uncle and mentor, John Mowlem (another massive figure in Swanage history). But there was a practical side, too: A Landmark: It served as a waypoint for ships navigating the tricky waters around Old Harry Rocks. The View: Burt was obsessed with showing off the beauty of his hometown. By placing it on the ridge, he essentially gave people a reason to climb the hill and look down at the town he was helping to build. The Great Disappearing Act (WWII) If you look closely at the obelisk today, it looks remarkably "clean." That’s because the one you see now is a reconstruction. During World War II, the original stone obelisk was considered a "navigational hazard." The British military was worried that German pilots would use the tall, white stone pillar as a landmark to help them find their bearings for bombing raids on nearby Bournemouth or Poole. So, in 1941, they knocked it down. For decades, it lay in pieces in the grass. It wasn't until 1973 that the Encombe Estate and local residents gathered the resources to rebuild it (using a mix of the original stone and some fresh Purbeck masonry) to celebrate "Plant a Tree in '73"—though ironic, as there isn't a tree in sight on that windy ridge!

If you’ve been hiking those ridges, that lone stone pillar standing guard over Swanage has likely caught your eye. It’s officially known as the Ballard Down Obelisk (or the Burt Memorial), and the story behind it is a classic tale of Victorian pride, a bit of eccentricity, and some very literal "re-gifting." The "Stolen" Monument The obelisk wasn't originally built for the Purbeck Hills. It actually started its life in London. In the mid-1800s, it served as a monument to a man named James Thompson, standing near the entrance to the Vauxhall Bridge. However, when the bridge was being rebuilt in the late 19th century, the obelisk became an "obstruction" and was destined for the scrap heap. Enter George Burt: The Man Who Moved London Swanage looks the way it does today largely because of George Burt, a local businessman who ran a massive masonry firm in London. He had a habit of taking "architectural leftovers" from London and shipping them back to Swanage as ballast on his empty stone boats. When he saw the obelisk was going to be demolished in 1892, he stepped in. He didn't just save it; he dismantled it, shipped it down the coast, and hauled it all the way to the top of Ballard Down.

The Bay: You’ll see the curve of Swanage Bay, dotted with colorful buoys and the occasional fishing boat or yacht making its way toward the pier. The Steam Train: If you time it right, you’ll see a literal plume of white steam puffing across the valley. The Swanage Railway runs right through the landscape below, looking like a high-end model railway set from this height. Peveril Point: To the far left of the town, the land juts out into the sea. You can often see the "white water" where the tides churn around the ledge—it’s a great reminder of how powerful the coast is, even when it looks peaceful from your perch. The Isle of Wight: On a crisp day, look straight out past the cliffs. You’ll see the Needles rising out of the water like jagged white teeth in the distance.

Formerly an "anvil" shape with a flat top, in 1970 it fell on one end and one side, leaving the top at an angle of about 45°.

also known as the "Devil's Anvil," is a large, distinctive sandstone block located on a conical hill on Godlingston Heath near the village of Studland in south Dorset, England. This impressive rock, weighing approximately 400 tonnes, is a popular landmark and a local curiosity. Local legends offer a more dramatic explanation for the rock's existence. The most famous myth says the Devil, standing on The Needles on the Isle of Wight, hurled the massive rock with the intention of hitting Corfe Castle, Bindon Abbey, or Salisbury Cathedral. However, his aim was poor, and the rock landed short of its target, where it now sits. Before it toppled over in 1970, the rock had a flat top and an anvil-like shape, which led to its nickname "the Devil's Anvil." Some folklore also suggests that the rock was a holy stone or a Druidical altar.

Don't stand too close to edge of cliff!

Yep, its a big rock, but worth the hike and views.

Impressively beautiful. I like this church.