Returning to Brownsea after more than a decade since my first visit with my preschool son; this time with more time to explore I found an island shaped by industry, war, wealth, wildlife and one experiment that helped create a worldwide movement.
The timing could hardly have worked out better. After arriving at the Quay Visitors Car Park, close to Old Orchard Street in Poole, I discovered that I had just enough time to buy a ticket for the 11am ferry and take a quick wander through the Old Town.
Around the Custom House, the narrow streets and historic buildings offer a glimpse of the Poole that grew rich through maritime trade. It would have been easy to keep exploring, but there was a boat to catch and an island to explore!
Soon I was leaving Poole Quay behind and heading across the harbour towards Brownsea Island. The crossing takes only about twenty minutes although it creates a definite sense of departure. Pleasure boats, yachts and working vessels moved across the water around us as the town gradually receded. Brownsea appeared ahead as a long, wooded strip sitting within the enormous natural harbour.
It had been about twelve years since my previous visit. I remembered the island well enough to recognise it, but not well enough for it to feel entirely familiar. It also seemed considerably more popular than I remembered and the campsite had certainly changed.
An interrupted journey to the café
As I stepped ashore, I was immediately greeted by a small gathering of Mediterranean gulls, their black heads and red bills making them stand out and it felt like a good omen.
I showed my National Trust membership card and began making my way towards the café. That was the plan, at least.
Before I knew it, my search for food had been interrupted by the opportunity to join a guided tour. The jacket potato would have to wait.
It proved to be a good decision because Brownsea is an island whose appearance conceals an extraordinary number of different lives. Today it feels like a peaceful wildlife refuge, but over the centuries it has been a religious possession, military stronghold, industrial settlement, country estate, playground for the wealthy, wartime installation and conservation battleground.
Human activity around Brownsea stretches back to at least the Iron Age. Sections of a log boat found near the island in 1964 were dated to almost 3,000 years ago. Brownsea later belonged to Cerne Abbey, and its early history includes stories of a hermit tending navigational beacons, medieval burials and an association with the future King Cnut during his campaign in Dorset.
The island’s military importance became clearer under Henry VIII, who ordered the construction of a blockhouse to protect the entrance to Poole Harbour from possible French attack. That defensive structure was later enlarged and transformed into Brownsea Castle.
We viewed the castle from outside. Today it is leased by the John Lewis Partnership and operated as a hotel and holiday centre for serving and retired Partners rather than as a conventional public hotel. It is an unusual modern chapter in the story of a building that has served as a fort, private residence and centre of island life.
From the castle, the tour took us towards the lagoon and across the field in front of St Mary’s Church. We then followed the wooded coast in the direction of the campsite.
The guide’s stories moved rapidly through the centuries. Brownsea had connections with piracy, was refortified during the English Civil War and was later reshaped into a landscaped country estate. Much of the woodland that feels timeless today was planted or influenced by successive owners. The island’s apparently natural landscape is therefore partly the product of centuries of human decisions.
From wealthy playground to worldwide movement
During the Edwardian period, Brownsea became a retreat for wealthy and well connected visitors.
Charles and Florence van Raalte entertained guests at the castle and created a world of yachts, music and leisure. Guglielmo Marconi visited as part of their social circle, although some of the stories associated with his pioneering wireless sports reporting actually happened elsewhere.
The most far reaching event on Brownsea took place in August 1907, when Robert Baden-Powell brought twenty boys to the island for an experimental camp.
He wanted to test ideas involving observation, tracking, outdoor skills, teamwork and responsibility. The boys came from different social backgrounds and were organised into small patrols. The experiment helped shape Scouting for Boys and the movement that followed. Brownsea can therefore properly claim to be the birthplace of Scouting and part of the wider origin story of Guiding, which developed soon afterwards.
Having spent much of my own life walking, camping and helping people experience the outdoors, there was something particularly meaningful about being there.
It really did feel as though I was walking in Baden-Powell’s footsteps.
The modern campsite is understandably very different. Today there is a mixture of conventional camping and more comfortable options, with upgraded facilities and an outdoor centre. It seemed a long way from that first experimental camp held more than a century ago, but the underlying appeal remains recognisable: an island, a tent, shared experiences and the freedom to explore outside.
A working island beneath the woodland
The tour also introduced the less romantic but equally important story of Brownsea as a working and industrial community.
In the 1850s, Colonel William Waugh and his wife Mary bought the island, then sometimes called Branksea, believing that its clay could be used to manufacture fine china.
They invested heavily in a pottery on the south shore, complete with machinery, tramways, clay pits and a purpose built settlement for workers and their families. The village was called Maryland, named after Mary Waugh.
The clay did not produce the fine porcelain they had hoped for. Instead, the works manufactured bricks, tiles, chimney pots, pipes and other practical products. The venture eventually failed financially, but for a time Brownsea supported a substantial working population. St Mary’s Church was built in 1854 to serve this growing community.
That industrial history became much more tangible later in my day. But first, food.
When the tour ended, I finally reached the café and ordered the promised jacket potato. It was a hot day, so I also drank as many glasses of water as I could manage, topped up my suncream and prepared to explore the island independently.
Boardwalks, woodland and the wildlife reserve
I headed along the boardwalk towards the area managed by Dorset Wildlife Trust.
The northern part of Brownsea includes woodland, wetland and the lagoon. The lagoon was originally the area of a bricked wall to create pasture for animals and now is especially important for birds, providing feeding and roosting habitat for species including avocets, black tailed godwits, terns and wintering wildfowl. Dorset Wildlife Trust manages around 100 hectares on the northern side of the island in partnership with the National Trust.
I would happily have spent hours sitting quietly in the hides and watching the lagoon. The recently improved wildlife facilities make that an appealing reason for another visit.
On this occasion, however, I had set myself an ambitious list. I wanted to reach the forest bathing bench in calming Cambridge Woods, see Pottery Pier, Scout Stone and look around the campsite before the final ferry.
At the main entrance to the reserve, I therefore continued along the main path towards the far western end of the island, flanked on the right side by quiet area for wildlife with no public access.
The contrast with the busy landing area was immediate. The further I walked, the more the day slowed down. Woodland paths replaced the bustle of the quay and glimpses through the trees reminded me that the sea was never far away.
History scattered across the beach
At Pottery Pier, I managed to get down onto one of the relatively small sections of accessible shoreline.
Here the history of the Victorian pottery was not confined to an information board or a museum display. It was lying beneath my feet.
Among the ordinary stones were fragments of fired clay: broken pipes, pieces of brick, pottery and discarded industrial material. In places it seemed as though every other object on the beach belonged to the former works.
These were not decorative pieces of fine Brownsea china. They were the remains of a failed industrial dream, damaged products, manufacturing waste and fragments released as the shoreline gradually eroded.
The abandoned ruins of Maryland lie close by. Once home to workers and their families, the village declined after the pottery closed. Most employment on the island ended after Mary Bonham-Christie purchased Brownsea in 1927, and the remaining settlement was further damaged during the Second World War.
Brownsea served briefly as a refuge for people displaced from continental Europe, but it was also used as a wartime bombing decoy. Fires and lights were intended to divert German aircraft away from Poole and Bournemouth. Bombing associated with that role helped complete the destruction of buildings around Maryland, leaving foundations, fragments and memories beneath the woodland.
Standing among the pottery pieces, it was possible to imagine a very different island: tramways carrying clay, kilns burning, workers moving between the pottery and their homes, and boats loading goods at the pier.
Brownsea was not always a quiet sanctuary. It was once a place where people lived, worked, worshipped and attempted to build an industrial future.
From the first Scout camp to today’s campers
From Pottery Pier, I continued initially along the shore and then close to the shore to the campsite.
The modern facilities include camping and glamping, and the area felt lively without being overcrowded. Nearby stands the memorial marking the 1907 experimental camp.
The contrast was striking. What began with twenty boys, a collection of tents and Baden-Powell’s ideas grew into a movement involving millions of young people around the world. The analogy that was made was that early scout camp was a acorn that has grown into a mighty oak tree.
Beyond the monument, I passed cottages and staff accommodation before finding another route down towards the shore. Close to the campsite, people were drying themselves after swimming.
It looked idyllic.
By this stage, the afternoon was moving on and the island had started to feel quieter. Many day visitors were already making their way back towards the quay, leaving campers, staff and a handful of walkers to enjoy the later sunshine.
I climbed back inland from the shore through a lovely little valley, eventually emerging near the place my earlier tour had concluded.
There was now only one thing left on my list.
Time to find a red squirrel
Brownsea is one of the most important remaining strongholds for red squirrels in southern England with 200 individuals on the island. Its mixture of coniferous and deciduous woodland provides food and shelter, while its separation from the mainland has helped protect the squirrels from the pressures associated with grey squirrels and squirrelpox. The woodland around the church is one of the recommended places to look for them.
I had approximately forty five minutes before boarding would begin for the last ferry, so I made my way towards the trees behind St Mary’s Church.
At first, it looked quiet.
Then I noticed a woman sitting patiently and watching the woodland. I asked whether I could join her. She told me that she had already seen some squirrels, so I settled down with renewed hope.
At first, there was only a glimpse: a sudden movement and two squirrels darting around on an old fallen down tree.
Then they came closer.
They chased each other around the trees, rushing across the ground and appearing remarkably unconcerned by our presence. After spending much of the afternoon hoping to see one red squirrel, I now had two playing almost in front of me.
It was a wonderful way to finish the day.
The experience was made better by having someone with whom to share it. As we talked, I discovered that my companion had just completed the South West Coast Path.
I still have plenty of long distance routes and adventures on my own list, and I always enjoy meeting people who belong to the same loose outdoor community; walkers, runners, campers and travellers who understand the attraction of setting off and seeing where a path leads.
The last boat home
With the ferry departure approaching, we walked back towards the quay together, talking about journeys and adventures.
The harbour was calm in the afternoon sunshine. We boarded the ferry, enjoyed the smooth crossing back to Poole and parted company on the quay.
Brownsea had given me far more than I had expected from a day trip.
I had crossed a harbour, wandered through woodland, walked along beaches, encountered the remains of an abandoned industry, stood near the birthplace of Scouting and watched red squirrels playing beneath the trees.
I had also encountered an island shaped by repeated attempts to control it.
Its owners fortified it, industrialised it, farmed it, landscaped it, populated it, emptied it and tried to preserve it. Mary Bonham-Christie’s decision to exclude people and allow nature greater freedom left an important legacy, but it also allowed invasive rhododendron and other species to spread. Modern conservation therefore cannot simply leave Brownsea alone. Habitats must be actively managed, invasive plants controlled and woodland maintained for species such as the red squirrel.
Since 1962, that work has been undertaken through a partnership involving the National Trust, Dorset Wildlife Trust and the John Lewis Partnership. It is a reminder that conservation is rarely about returning a landscape to one untouched moment in the past. Brownsea has no single “original” state to which it can be restored. What exists today is the result of natural processes combined with centuries of human choices.
Perhaps that is what makes the island so fascinating.
Brownsea is small enough to walk around in an afternoon, but its history is almost impossibly large. Every path seems to cross another period: medieval monks, Tudor soldiers, pirates, potters, estate workers, wealthy guests, Scouts, refugees, conservationists and today’s visitors.
All I could think as I stepped back onto Poole Quay was: what a day.
Perhaps next time I will stay overnight when my journey along the southwest coast path gets me back and experience the island after the final ferry has departed.
I only hope it will not be another twelve years.