The Saxon Shoreway
leg 7: Deal to Dover 11 miles
12 February 2005

Beyond South Foreland

Woke at 0545, convinced that I'd overslept: but lots of time to rustle up some hard boiled eggs, sarnies and coffee. It was raining as I left home. Arrived at Charing Cross to discover that it would be a bus from Dover to Deal. Wonderful. I finally picked up the route at 1040, at Deal Pier.

Statue at the shore end of the pier

There were storm clouds overhead, but with pure blue showing through. I'd packed over trousers just in case, and set off along the clear path in waterproof jacket. The front was busy: here, there's a cycle path next to the pedestrian walkway, and lots of people were out on their bikes or dog walking. 

Along the shore at Deal

I do like Deal: I'll try and get back here in the summer, and find out when they do boat trips out to Goodwin Sands.

Watch the ball

I was soon at the Time Ball Tower. This was built as a semaphore station in 1812, but later converted so that ships anchored in the Downs could get Greenwich Mean Time according to whether the ball was raised or not. Strange but true. 

Further along, there was a clutch of day boats, and one fisherman selling bags of fresh sprats for £1. I was very tempted, but didn't think the sprats would thank me for several hours in a rucksack. Good to see people queuing up to buy.

Day boat on the shingle

Just before Deal morphs into Walmer, I went passed Deal castle, sitting squat next to the sea. It was built by Henry VIII in the 1530s to keep Catholic Europe at bay. It's one of three 'castles of the Downs' - the downs in this case being the anchorage between the shore and Goodwin Sands. It only really saw action in the Civil War, when some Flemings turned up. 

Deal castle

Deal now melts in Walmer. A helpful information board told me that this is where Caesar first landed, in 55BC. He'd tried to land at Dover, but there were hordes of angry natives on the cliffs, so he nipped round the coast. I stared out to see and tried to imagine what he might have seen. 

A bit further along is the next of the castles of the Downs: Walmer, which looks like it was moated. It's home to Warden of the Cinque Ports. 

Another castle

The path was still really good: a difference from the last leg. I was entranced by the sky, and the shifting colours of the sea. There was still no rain, but huge cumulonimbus clouds overhead, and occasionally, glorious sunshine.

Marvellous colours

The sea briefly disappeared as the path ran between high bushes and a row of houses. Then the shore reappeared at Zetland, once home to smugglers running alcohol over from France. There was once a lifeboat stationed here, but according to the information board, the Goodwin Sands keep moving (how thoughtless) so it was moved in 1927.

At Zetland

From the shore, there was a fantastic view over to the cliffs. It was high tide, and the sea was lashing the shore.

Stormy seas

There were steps up from the road, and I climbed up towards the cliff top. The path was a bit sticky, but nothing too bad. From the top, I could see all the way back to Ramsgate on the isle of Thanet. Lots of ships about: I counted nine. It was a fine view.

You can just see Ramsgate on the horizon

The wind was now really picking up. Rounding the corner of Old Parker's Cap, I looked down on what seemed to be Napoleonic fortifications. Then I came across this leg's cheering sign...

Oh goody

It was steadily uphill for the next mile or so, and the track was clear. I was hot by now, so I looked for a suitable stopping place.

Looking back from Hope Point

After a few minutes, I came across a bench dedicated to the memory of Joyce Morton. I stopped for coffee and stripped of my fleece. Thanks, Joyce. 

Downhill with stormy sky

The weather was still doing extraordinary things, but it seemed as if I was walking towards good weather rather than bad. This leg's golfcourse was on my right, and after a mile or so I came to Bockhill Farm, owned by the National Trust. Ahead, high up, was what my map told me was a war memorial.

Memorial to the Dover Patrol

Reaching the top of the crest, I discovered that it was a memorial to the Dover Patrol. They were based around here during the first and second world wars, and had the job of keeping the German fleet away and protecting Allied shipping. The memorial was built in 1921, and now commorates the Patrol members from both wars.

Poppies by the memorial

Just round Conney Burrow Point I got first glance of St Margarets' Bay.

Dramatic cliffs

I followed the road, then walked down a steep set of steps into the bay. 

Down to the sea again

St Margaret's is mainly built away from the bay, reaching high up above the sea. The bay itself is beautifully protected by the shoulders of cliff. Pausing by the sea, I watched a ship heading towards Dover. It seemed to be moving at quite a lick.

St Margaret's under dark skies

Another switchback: now I headed up out of the bay and along a track until I was pointed up a steep path back to the cliff tops. More dog walkers: one lovely setter stopped to inspect me. Finding me friendly, he made muddly paw prints on my waterproof. The owner was very apologetic: but that's what waterproofs are for.

Looking back to the memorial

The views were wonderful: and the wind was really picking up. I pulled up my hood and dug my radio out. Earphones in and I stomped off into a strong headwind, listening to Any Questions?, although every so often a French radio station would cut in, reminding me how close I was to 'the continent' (as in 'fog in the channel. Continent cut off.')

South Foreland lighthouse

Standing proud on the cliff top is South Foreland lighthouse. There's been a light here since 1367, when some poor guy used to light a bonfire in a nearby cave. This one was built in 1843, and it was here that Marconi made the first ever ship to shore transmission. But the light is now out of commission.

I'd got so wrapped up looking at the lighthouse that I now made a stupid mistake: I took the wrong path. I didn't look at the map, and headed off in completely the wrong direction.

No, not this way

After about half a mile, I knew something was wrong. So I checked the map, found exactly where I was and worked out if there was a sneaky way of rejoining the path. Nope. So back over the fields.

Back on track

Finally where I should be, and the wind was now gale force and hard walking. A few other walkers were out, and we grinned rather smugly at each other. Quite soon, the arms of Dover harbour came into view.

Ship entering the harbour

This was one of the joys of this walk: despite the wind, I loved being so high up and able to look down over the sea. The views just got better and better.

White cliffs, no bluebirds

The path threaded its way a little inland, and I wanted a protected spot for lunch. This was nice walking over the chalk downland, with little dips and rises.

The path to lunch

I found a good spot just before the rise out of Langdon Hole, and nestled down in the tall grass before rummaging in my sack. Lunch with a perfect view.

My lunch stop

The sun had finally decided to come out, and the skies were clearing. Perfect. I looked over to France, and thought I could see it. Not sure thought.

Once over the rise, the path got quite scary. As it was near a parking point, there were lots of families scrabbling along the track, which passes heartstoppingly close to the cliff edge.

Yikes

But the kids seemed to be loving it. It was a one-way system though: not enough room to pass on the path.

Young rambler enjoying his walk

Soon, I was right above the harbour, and could hear announcements guiding lorries onto ships. I stood and watched for a while as another ship sailed away.

Busy traffic

Now the path moves away from the cliff side and there was a fine view of Dover castle, perched high above the town.

The castle ahead

Suddenly it was time to descend: the path leads under a main road then down steps into town. 

Looking up from where I'd come - tiny figure on the horizon shows where the path is

It felt strange to be back at sea level and in town. Beside me where bright white cliffs rearing up.

Chalk face

I still hadn't decided whether to carry on to Folkestone, but I was feeling windbeaten, and it was good to be in slightly more shelter. I stopped to take a look at the remains of a church.

St James

Stepping inside, I discovered that this was St James church, built on a Saxon site. These remains look good and Norman to me - lovely Romanesque arches. The church was bombed during the second world war; not by plane but by the bombs sent over from giant guns in France. It's been kept as a memorial.

From Castle Street

I ambled down Castle Street and into the Market Square. Spotting that the museum was open, I decided to spend an hour here rather than continue. When the bus had arrived in the morning, I'd seen a couple of intriguing signs about the Bronze age Dover boat, and it was on the third floor of the museum.

The boat in its temperature-controlled box

In its own darkened gallery is the boat: an extraordinary object. It doesn't look much like a boat: more like a wooden jigsaw, tied together with what looked like rope. It's made of oak planks, fastened with yew withies then waterproofed with moss. Amazing. It was found during roadworks in the centre of town, and it's incredibly rare. And 3500 years old. You can find out more about it here, including a brilliant reconstruction that was done a few years ago. 

This was a brilliant end to the day. And there was a train back to Victoria a few minutes after I got to the station. This was a wonderful walk, and I'd love to do it again in the summer on a hot, windless day.

On to leg 8