Ramsgate, Broadstairs, Margate and Whitstable

Ramsgate is a classy place.  You approach along a sort of grand balcony with Edwardian terraces overlooking the cosy harbour.  Sailings to exotic places in Europe.  And now, Britain's biggest Wetherspoons, the Royal Victoria Pavilion, a cross between the Temperate House at Kew and Wembley Arena, right on the sandy sea front.  It's vast, with a grand staircase leading to the upstairs seating.  And toilets, of course.  You could imagine having a wedding there. 

Ramsgate

Harbour

Wetherspoons 

Terrace

I had a disturbed night, woken a few times by foxes who sounded quite close to the tent.  What if the were nosing round inside my flysheet, aiming to steal my shoes, or my gloves?  I imagined walking barefoot into Ramsgate to buy replacements.  Nothing was missing in the morning,  but there was a very strong smell of foxes.  It was grey, breezy, and cold.  Again.  It was only a couple of miles to Ramsgate, along the low ochre-coloured cliffs.

I was following NCN (that's National Cycle Network, Ruth) route 15, subtitled the Viking Way, around the Isle of Thanet.  Staying low profile - I decided that putting horns on my helmet might stand out too much.  After Ramsgate, a couple of miles along a clifftop drive lined with large houses, and I came to Broadstairs.  It feels like a Cornish village, nestling in a little cove with twisty narrow back streets.  In two ticks I was out the other side, passing more cliff-side mansions.

Ramsgate 

Next to the Curiosity Shoppe.
The next house along was called
Dickens Cottage!

Clifftop riding

A mile or three later and I turned the north east corner of Thanet and Kent,  which might be called Foreness Point.  It was now westward all the way back to London, more or less.  And the dream of a wind was now a headwind, still 15mph.

Foreness Point

Margate in the distance 

There was a nice path along the low cliff all the way (a few miles) to Margate.  Margate is big, not as big a deal as Deal maybe but perhaps more famous.  It is, or was, a proper seaside holiday town with lashings of candy floss and ices, an expanse of sand and a fairly deserted harbour.  But despite the Turner contemporary art gallery, it's obviously seen better days.  I couldn't  find anywhere to stop, so I struggled on a few miles to Westgate for an early elevenses.  Some silly person in Margate has decided that the promenade is closed to cycles between May and September, despite it being the Viking Way, with the only alternative being up a few flights of steps.

Margate

I was now leaving the Isle of Thanet, and I cycled past several miles of low-lying fen type land on the sea wall, before arriving at Reculver, site of an old castle with impressive remains, two towers visible for miles across the flat landscape.   The Vikings stopped at Margate, and NCN 15 was now The Oyster Bay Trail.

Black clouds over Reculver

Reculver

Black clouds had been gathering ahead for a while, and I was hit by a strong squally gust of wind.  The wind strengthened considerably,  and the rain was coming!   I dashed into the café,  after only six miles, but I doubted whether I could ride into that wind.  

I was getting a bit fed up of riding on the sea wall, where you are exposed to the full force of the wind, so it was a nice surprise to go on a grassy track over a hill to Herne Bay, where I rejoined the sea wall.  Consequently I didn't see most of it as it was up the cliff.   There was a bit of it by the coast, more ices and seaside attractions, and then I pushed on to Whitstable, famous for oysters.  

Herne bay

More sea wall

Unfortunately I didn't see much of the Whitstable seaside because I dashed into town to avoid another squall, had lunch, and when I came out, the route never went back to the sea front.  I think Whitstable is missing a tourist opportunity there - I would have ridden along the coast if I could, but it leads to a dead end.

Over my late lunch I pondered my options.  A campsite in 30 miles was too far, a campsite in 20 miles was not yet open for the season , and a hostel in 20 miles was £79 for an eight person room.  And 90% rain was forecast into the evening.  I decided to ride to Faversham and investigate B&B options.  It was a nice ride, inland and much more sheltered.

Looking back to Whitstable 

Faversham is a lovely old place, lots of interesting buildings to see.  It's not on the coast, but you have to go there to cross Faversham Creek.  Anyway, I ended up in a hotel just a mile up the A2 (eek!), and got warm, dry, clean, fed, recharged and rested.

There's been a huge amount to see in not many miles, but my! What a lot of weather!

Wharf by Faversham Creek 

Detail of doorway

Faversham

Thanet

Dover.  The end of NCN route 2 is also the start of NCN route 1, which broadly goes up the east of the country ending at the north of Unst, the northernmost of the Shetland Islands.  I wasn't going that far, but I set off along route 1, up the big hill out of Dover, curling round the castle.

Dover Castle

I was on top of the Kentish world, but I had to go and spoil it.  There's a small place called St Margarets at Cliffe just round the corner from Dover, and I felt the need to explore it.  It went all the way back down to beach level.  But on the plus side, there was a kiosk serving toasties on the beach.

St Margarets at Cliffe

Surprisingly soon after the climb out of Cliffe, the road went down (another long traffic-free descent) to the seaside, the coastline turned north and became flat!  I soon came to Deal, which should not be dismissed lightly.  It's a big deal - it's big (and it's Deal, obvs), maybe as big as Folkestone or even Dover based on my one-dimensional ride through them.  I didn't  stop though as I was hoping to get a deal at Sandwich for tea.

Descent

Kingsdown 

Deal pier

Deal

Deal Castle

The ride to Sandwich was across country on an alleged "no cars" road but there were several cars.  When I got there I was nearly defeated by the fiendish one-way system in my quest for a tea stop, but a local showed me a secret route through the churchyard. I found a rather strange cafe with no sandwiches and only one type of cake, a very small morsel for £3.50, so I had porridge instead, which seemed to be almost free.  Sandwich is worth a look round, lots of picturesque old buildings, but take a ball of string in case you get lost.

Sandwich

Holy Ghost Alley

Leaving Sandwich 

I was now entering the Isle of Thanet, which is no longer an island, at the eastern extremity of Kent.  Ramsgate, Broadstairs and Margate are the main towns.  According to a local memorial stone, Thanet is where English history started, when the Vikings invaded in AD 453. 

 

I could have done a long stint after tea and gone round the end to a campsite along the top, but I wimped out of facing the headwind,  and stopped just short of Ramsgate, in a campsite on the site of an old stately home, Nethercourt Touring Park.  It currently has just one campervan and me, and a number of foxes which are apt to steal shoes.  Tent pitched in a sheltered spot, shoes still on  my feet, and evening meal in a coastal pub.  All good so far.

To Dover

Dungeness is classed as a desert, which may explain why the rain stopped as I arrived there.  The roads were suspiciously wet though.  The whole area seems to be a huge bank of shingle, on which houses, lighthouses and a nuclear power station have been built.  It has the air of a faraway, slightly unkempt place with old boats looking abandoned here and there on the acres of shingle, and gardens struggling to grow.  It is charming but cold and windswept.

Yesterday was the first day I've worn long trousers all day - in the whole trip since 2013!  Either I'm getting old, or it's very unseasonal weather.  Possibly both.

My tent was in a nice sheltered spot near a bee refuge.  I slept well to a faint sound of buzzing, but never saw any bees.  The next morning started cold, but the sun was out and it soon warmed up.  By the time I'd dried the dew off the tent and packed up it was very pleasant and there was even a decent tail wind as I zipped along the sea front.  Where were white cliffs in the distance across the sparkling blue sea, but I don't know if it was Dover.  You never hear of the white cliffs of Folkestone. 

Leaving New Romney

The main road turned off and I continued on a rough road which gradually became a dreadful rutted roller coaster of a track.  Annoyingly, there was  a smooth concrete pathway to my right, but it was separated by a three foot high concrete sea wall.  Eventually there was a gap and I got onto the concrete,  making good progress past Dymchurch, all but hidden behind the sea defences.  The land behind the sea wall was roughly at sea level, so they would not have been able to see the sea even from a first floor window.

Dymchurch 

A bit of road and then I entered Hythe along the Royal Military Canal.  Hythe has quite a bit of traffic but there's a nice town hidden away from  the main road.   Breakfast time after nearly ten miles.  Then it was back on the lovely sea wall, living the dream and zooming along to Sandgate, which looked quite nice as I zipped past.  I couldn't see any sand except a small rectangular patch about the size of a cricket ... crease? (you know; 22 yards long by a few yards wide), among the vast mass of pebbles.

Royal Military Canal,  Hythe

HG Wells' sea front house, Sandend

One of many Martello towers

All of a sudden, I was in Folkestone, which had a lovely relaxed feel to it around the harbour area, with lots to look at.

Folkestone

I found out that the white cliffs I saw earlier start at Folkestone, with a socking great hill out of town.  At the top there were some great views, and also the Battle of Britain memorial to all who gave so much, with France in view across the channel.  I could have spent a lot more time there. It does somehow manage to convey a bit of the human aspect of war.

Looking back over Folkestone 

The route into Dover followed NCN route 2, a beautiful rolling tarmac path along the aforesaid white cliffs, eventually a lovely long descent down a valley before rejoining the roads in Dover, always on separate cycle paths but noisy and very different to the earlier route.  I had a look round the docks and rode along the rather attractive seafront, which ferry passengers never get to see.  This is the end of NCN route 2 which started at Lands End I think, so a milestone for me.

Dover in sight!

The battle of Hastings - the sequel

Riding back from the pub was pure bliss, with the wind behind me.  For several years, I've been anticipating riding along the south coast, blown along by the prevailing south westerly wind, but it mostly didn't happen.

Despite retiring to my tent at 7pm, I didn't wake until 7am, although I did have to put more clothes on during the night to keep warm.   Amazingly, the wind had dropped a bit and the sun was out.  It was still cold but much more enjoyable than yesterday.

Leaving Norman's Bay

I rode eastwards towards Hastings with a big smile on my face.  The wind had gone round a bit to the side, the sun was shining, and it was flat.  Norman's Bay is in a rare un-built gap after Eastbourne on the almost continuous built-up south east coast.  It got its name from the Norman landing in 1066, when it was a much bigger bay before the sea level dropped, stranding some of the Cinque ports like Rye.

Soon I reached Bexhill-on-sea, which is clearly a place to live (or perhaps to retire to) with mostly houses along the sea front.  Then St Leonards which morphed into Hastings, where I had a delicious breakfast.  Hastings has an interesting old town to the east, with many seaside fishermen's shacks and an interesting-looking High Street.  It also has a cliff railway up the cliff  which I was about to climb.  The climb was mostly on a traffic-free road which was very steep, unsurfaced in parts, and went on for ever.

Bexhill, looking back towards Eastbourne 

Hastings

Eventually I was on the top, with enticing views over the flat plain to the north, but I wasn't going that way.  I descended to Petts Level which is cut off from the sea by a huge banked sea defence - I guess it's at risk of flooding.  Then at Winchelsea Beach I found a track along the coast through Rye Nature Reserve, a few pleasant traffic free miles leading to Rye Harbour.  Both Winchelsea beach and Rye Harbour have been moved since the sea level dropped.  Rye appeared across the fields, up on a hill, and I did a bit of a tour of its cobbled streets, and found an appropriate place for lunch.

Rye

The clouds had been gathering and it rained lightly in the afternoon.   I rode a nice cycle path to Camber Sands, which had similar sea defences and acres of sand.   I was near Dungeness and it seemed a good idea to ride a few miles to nearby Denge Marsh, but it wasn't.   There was nothing to see except an awful track at the end of the road.  The real Dungeness was a bit of a let down too.  The Romney Hythe & Dymchurch railway wasn't working, and its cafe was shut, so no tea stop.

Dungeness - new lighthouse

Then it was directly north into the wind, on a very exposed road.  I flaked out at New Romney, a small "Caravan Park" which has OK facilities, pitched up and went for a curry.