Tag Archives: coast

47. Dungeness to Lydd

Buffeted by wind, and fighting for a foothold on the shingle, I continue onwards – disoriented and uneasy. I have the dangerous firing range on one side. A nuclear power plant on the other. A howling gale blowing behind me. And ahead is a protected nature reserve. Continue reading →

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Stage 46. Hythe to Lydd-on-Sea

I come across a warning sign.

“Caution non-ionising radiation. Do not loiter within 2 metres of any antenna.” I look back at the mast where I have just spent 10 minutes of ‘loitering’. A bit late to tell me now!
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Stage 45 Dover to Folkestone to Hythe

This is the best day of walking, ever. I start from Dover seafront. Looking out, across the little beach, through the mouth of the harbour, I can see the outline of France. It is clear and close. You could sail across and be there is a few minutes, or so it seems.
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Stage 44. St Margaret’s to Dover

The ‘path’ turns out to consist of footholds in a grassy bank. There is nowhere to rest. The slope is too steep to sit down. I am scrambling on all fours – looking for footholds and hand holds. The steep drop below, and the glimpses of bright sea even further below, add to a vertiginous sense of anxiety. I am reminded of skiing and that black slope moment of terror when you realise that you don’t want to go on, but you know you can’t stop.

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Stage 43. Sandwich to Deal to St Margaret’s at Cliffe

This morning is warm and the sky clear, with a low haze. I leave Sandwich and head through a pleasant park, crossing the river and walking along the bank towards Sandwich Marina. Joggers pass me. A couple are out walking … Continue reading →

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Stage 41. Birchington to Margate to North Foreland

Margate on a sizzling hot Good Friday. I am intrigued by the Royal Sea Bathing Hospital and pay a visit the Turner Contemporary. Hamish Fulton says ‘Walking is an art form in its own right, it does not have to be a lesser form of land art.’ Now, that is my kind of artist!
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Stage 40. Whitstable to Herne Bay to Birchington

Perhaps it is hunger, but I begin to have paranoid fancies. I imagine the pub full and no space to sit down. I imagine it has stopped serving food (it is now nearly 3pm). I imagine there are signs saying ‘no boots allowed’.

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Stage 39. Faversham to Whitstable

I meet a man who is walking along the narrrow top of the wall, hands outstrectched for balance.
“I think you are forty years too old for that,” I say, smiling.
“I am letting my inner child out,” he replies.
And why not?

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Stage 38. Teynham to Faversham

The light, the water, the mist, the stillness, the clarity of the near distance, the obscurity of the far horizon – so magical. I have never experienced anything like this before. Then I notice a strange sound. It is gun fire. Continue reading →

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Stage 37. Sittingbourne to Teynham

When I reach the sea wall, before me stretches a lovely vista of gleaming mud flats and an expanse of blue water beyond. Although I am still in the shelter of the Isle of Sheppy, I am nearing the open sea again. I feel a surge of blissful happiness. Progress at last and the sea is ahead of me.
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