Sheerness to Chatham

I suddenly awoke in the night, seriously overheating, having put on every item of warm clothing.   Maybe it was my cold out-heating the cold of the night, but I had to quickly remove a few layers and unzip a few more.   Gradually I returned to a snotty form of normal (sorry, too much information), but I couldn't get back to sleep.  I had questions. 

For a start, why is it that when one nostril is completely blocked, you can usually breathe through the other one?  Are colds always left-handed or right handed - two different types of virus that affect different nostrils?  Perhaps it's necessary for survival, so you can eat with your mouth shut.

And what would happen if you were unfortunate enough to get both types at the same time, and you were having tea with the King or Queen with both nostrils fully blocked?  How would you eat?  What is the etiquette?  i must consult Debrett's when I return home.  I feel sure King Charles would be very understanding, but I'm not sure about Queen Elizabeth, for example.  There's so much I don't know.

Also, I wondered about those people at the private hamlet at Shellness.  What was their life like?  I thought I saw an electricity cable going down the track to them, but I guess they had no gas, no piped water.  Living adjacent to a swamp, they could produce their own water.  What about other services?  Rubbish? Sewage? Did they have Internet?  Did they have jobs, pay council tax, have kids in education?  Perhaps I will investigate when I get home, or ask the BBC to do a fly on the wall series..

And another thing.  I'm trying to get my head round the whole point of the isle of Sheppey.  Yes, it's a quiet out-of-the-way island on the doorstep of Kent, but Kent's Holiday Island?  Really?  Apart from Leysdown-on-Sea, which, let's face it, is hardly Las Vegas, there's a nice area of marshy grassland to the south, and some private housing and several holiday parks to the north, with very little public access to the sea.  What do people actually do when they come on holiday here?  And why those massive roads connecting it to the mainland?  I have high expectations of the west side of  the island.

Somewhere nearby, a cockerel crowed, about twenty times.  It was 3.26 am, and still very dark.   A few minutes later, it was 6.30am,  all the birds were singing, the sun was up and it was 13 degrees inside the tent.  It only ever went down to 7 degrees after all.

I'd been unable to find a nearby place to eat last night (in Kent's Holiday Island, the nearest place was four miles away), so I ordered a pizza to be delivered, and ate it in the washing-up area, which didn't really have the suave ambience of last night's meal, but it did the trick at roughly the same price.  (I'm sure I was undercharged last night in Faversham, but I queried it and they said it was fine.)

This morning I continued along the north of the island, heading towards Sheerness-on-Sea.  Inexplicably, the roads along the north of the island are unpaved and in a terrible state.  Most of the houses are perfectly nice with well tended gardens, but it would be an adventure to drive to your house.

Roads on the north of the Isle of Sheppey 

Sheerness itself is on the north-west corner of the island, opposite Southend-on-Sea.  It has an OK esplanade with a cyclable sea wall for a mile or two, and a bit of a green area for dog walkers and so on.  Turning into the town for breakfast was a disappointment for the capital of Sheppey.  I did find a cafe with a giant plate of beans on toast, but once again I couldn't see the tourist attractions. 

Sheerness's award winning beach

Award-winning beans on toast
(Full size mug and cutlery for scale)

On the east of Sheppey, there's a sizeable port, so perhaps that's where all the traffic is going.

There was a pretty little village, Queenborough,  a few miles further on, but it only took two minutes to see the sights.  Then I was heading for the giant bridges over The Swale again, and off the island. 

Queenborough creek

Back on mainland Kent life went on much as before.  Quiet lanes, orchards everywhere, mostly sheltered from the wind by tall hedges.  I wiggled around near the coast, and eventually found a path that was actually on the coast.  Pretty but windy.  I also realised that I was now riding along the River Medway.  On the other side is the Isle of Grain, where I hoped to go that afternoon. 

Along the river bank

You are here

The route took me all the way to Gillingham,  which merged into Chatham, and a detour onto St Mary's Island, full of nice new houses.   I was worn out again and found respite in a Chatham Wetherspoons (there are several) before cycling the last mile into Rochester and crossing the Medway.  Strangely, I couldn't face a Wetherspoons meal after a giant pizza last night and giant beans on toast for breakfast, so I had a dessert instead, which seemed to hit the spot.

St Mary's Island

View across the Medway

Chatham

How far can I get in an afternoon?

I had a problem.  The last campsite between Chatham and London was at Grain, on the tip of the isle of Grain, leaving 70+ miles to do the following day, or maybe two days.  I wasn't confident in the wind or my legs to go further today.  In the end, the decision was taken for me, as I rang the camp site but they never got back to me.  I decided to see how far I could get.

There's a nice, new riverside cycle path from Chatham to Rochester and over the Medway bridge.  Nice views of the river but you miss the town of Rochester, which is lovely and historic.  Just after Rochester I felt the need to get supplies for a possibly long afternoon, so I found a bakers in Hoo and following my instincts, bought a doughnut, a cookie and a bottle of Lucozade, all sinfully sweet, to power my legs.  It worked.

On the other side it became rather hilly as I rode back eastwards almost to Sheerness, but on the Isle of Grain, which is not an island.  As I got nearer to Grain, at the point of the not-island, it was flatter and more sparsely populated.  Grain itself has oil terminals and liquid natural gas terminals, so it's got a lot going on.  Also a power station I think.  The village of Grain itself is quite nice with great views of Sheerness and its docks, and also north across the Thames to Southend.  The wind seemed to have moderated and was blowing from the north, so it wasn't really a problem after lunch.

Grain (with actual grain in foreground)

Oil & gas terminals

Grain seaside, looking across to Southend

Apologies for the grainy photos... Grain ticked off, I turned back east, on easy roads, ticking off the miles and swigging Lucozade every five miles.  The countryside was initially nice but nothing worth stopping for pictures.   When I got to Cooling it became very pretty.  There's an old castle there - if I lived there I would call it Cooling Towers.  Ha ha - I bet nobody else has ever thought of that.  By now I'd decided to aim for Gravesend, and the last seven or so miles were alongside a disused canal, very flat and scenic.  Strangely,  none of this ride was alongside the river(s).

Cooling Towers

Cooling Towers - west wing

Tilbury docks, across the Thames 

Church at Cliffe

Random house

Canal

It went on for miles!

Finally, I arrived in Gravesend, and celebrated with a rehydration stop before booking into the Premier Inn for a well earned shower and, I hope, sleep.  It will be nice not to have to wear my beanie hat to keep warm, as it always makes me look like a scarecrow the next day.

Gravesend

Unless I ride into the river, or my bike (or I) fall apart, its the last day tomorrow! 

Are we nearly there yet?

It's only a (longish) day's ride from Whitstable to home, so the end is definitely in sight.  However, as I've said before, it's about the journey, not getting somwhere.  And I'm not taking the direct route.  As I left Margate, a lump of land appeared across the sea in front of me.  Could it be the other bank of the Thames?  Well, no.  It was the Isle of Sheppey, about which I've just told you all I know.  And then later there's the Isle of Grain, which is not really an island.  Maybe it was once.

The hotel was a real treat.  I dined well, but I didn't sleep that well.  Somehow I've developed a streaming cold so I was continually blowing my nose in the night, and I had to sleep on my back to stop getting all blocked up.  Added to that, I've got a painful crack on the dry skin on my heel, so I smothered it either E45 and then had to dangle my foot out of the bed while it dried.  I'm not saying this to get sympathy,  it's just how it is.  But you might be forgiven for thinking I'm trying to make it look hard - well, it does seem to be hard this year. Just look at previous years to see how 'easy' it normally is.

However, it's amazing what an 18 course unlimited breakfast can do for your spirits.  The weather forecast for today is cold, rainy, but less windy than yesterday,  down from 17mph to 10mph, AND it's gone round to the north. I will be going north to get to the Isle of Sheppey, but never mind. 

I left Faversham along a track down the creek - at least that was the plan.  By the way, why are there so many creeks in North Kent?  Faversham,  Dartford, Deptford,  and many others that I encountered today.   Is it because they are very short?  The Medway is a river, but I can't think of any others between Sandwich and London.

Back to the Faversham creek.  Or not in fact.  The cyclepath had a horrid bike-unfriendly kissing gate.   Just after I'd unpacked everything and lifted my bike over the gate, a nice French lady walked past and told me there are another five of them.  She suggested an alternative path, marked as a cycle route on my map, bur nobody had told the farmer.   It went across a wheat field, through long grass, a few nettles, a couple of kissing gates, a field of cows, and two very narrow bridges.   It was fun, in an annoying sort of way.   

First attempt

Bad track

Bad bridge

The rest of the morning was half more tracks with a few unfriendly gates, and half along the real back lanes of Kent, very beautiful,  a bit undulating and with lots of water.  I came within a couple of miles of Sittingbourne but turned north towards Sheppey, through a very industrial area around the M2 before stopping for 11s at Iwade, not yet on the island.  I also got some Lem-sip capsules which seem to have tamed my cold.

Another creek

NCN 1, with a bike gate - but it's locked

Garden of England

First impressions of Sheppey are bad.  The approach is on a busy road, with lifting bridge and parallel railway and cycle path, overpassed by an even busier A249 on a huge high bridge.  Once on the island, the two roads continue through a couple of miles of swampy nothingness, with a few cows grazing. A line of low hills to the north is where it all happens.  And by all, I mean, not much.

Approaching Sheppey

Marshlands

Castellated church at Eastchurch 

I looped up the hill and then back down south again to Harty Ferry, which has nothing but a church and a pub, which was shut for a wedding.   Then up and round again to Leydown-on-sea at the far east of the island, where the fun starts.  It has a few caravan parks, a pie and mash shop, chip shops several amusement arcades and a mobility scooter showroom, in addition to a big sandy beach with beach huts.  A rough road carried on several miles south to Shellness, a private hamlet of perhaps a dozen houses overlooking Whitstable opposite .  At my tea stop the lady serving me referred to Shellness as "the Wicker Man people" which matches my impression.

Leydown-on-Sea

Shellness

View to Whitstable,  from Shellness

It was idyllic in a little sun trap as I idly had my tea and cake, then booked a campsite in the middle of the island.  Despite the forecast, I'd had no rain save a few spots early on, and quite a bit of sunshine.   But as I rode north, dark clouds were gathering over Essex, and the rain started just before I reached the campsite.  Just a shower.

Bliss

Teatime visitor

Dark clouds over Essex

The lady at the campsite was concerned about me because it's going to be cold tonight (4 degrees), and she offered me an electric hookup and heater at no extra charge.  But my tent is so small I can't see how I could safely have it in the tent, so I said no.  I hope I won't regret that.  It was quite cold in the rain, but I waited maybe half an hour, and the rain stopped, the wind dropped, and I set my tent up in the warm sun.

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