Weekenders

I guess the weekend was a little longer than usual; Julie had the whole week off, and so once we got back from the north, we had to decide on what to do for the rest of the week.
One of the things that Julie was envious of, was when home from the sea me being able to go out walking whenever I wanted, normally when she was at work. Nothing deliberate on my part, it's just the way it was. So, we decided to have a day walking, although the full walk to Folkestone was ruled out, a Dover to Folkestone one we agreed would be perfect.

And so at nine on Thursday morning, we parked the car at Dover Priory Railway Station, tightened our belts, girded our loins and started the climb up the hill to Western Heights and back down the other side to join the coastal path.

Dover, it is said, is built on seven hills, and most steep as anything, and coming from Norfolk, anything bigger than the stairs at home is a shock to the system. But I console myself with the knowledge that the view once at the top is usually worth it.



Western Heights used to be a Napoleonic Fortress, and most of it still stands today; it just has other uses; like an immigration detention centre. Up there is a Knights Templar chapel; which in other towns would be a major tourist trap. But in historic Dover it does not warrant a sign to lead the visitor.

On a hot day, the walk, sorry climb, up Military Road causes much puffing, and the unfit can pretend they are looking at the view behind into the town centre when they are really getting their breath back. And once at the top you go all the way down again to join the coastal path.

Which goes back up again; if only they built a bridge.

The path goes up Shakespeare Cliff. I don't know if the Bard has any connection with the town or the cliff, but the cliff is like a breaking tsunami wave, and the coastal path is along the edge with views down onto the rocks hundreds of feet below.

But first you have to get to the top, a very steep climb, in winter slippery as anything, but in summer just sweat inducing. We paused many times for views down onto the beach and beyond to the harbour and cliffs heading north even further away. A wonderful sight, and not one ever to get bored with.



Once at the top of the cliff, the walk is very pleasant and quite easy. Walking along the edge through the summer blooms with clouds of moths flying around and settling on the blooms. We took many, many shots. At the top of the last steep climb, overlooking Samphire Hoe, we stop for lunch; pork pies, sausage rolls, fruit and lots of water. It is a glorious spot; the Dover to Folkestone railway enters the cliff tunnel right beneath us, and France can just be seen on the horizon through the haze.

We head off, seeing more moths, butterflies and another adder; this one very black, but the zig-zag pattern making it stand out as it raced into the long grass.

We get to Capel-le-Ferne and stop off in the Lighthouse Inn; not the cleverest thing to do; but it's the hottest part of the day, and a cool beer seems the right thing. We decide to walk to the bus stop and go back to Dover; we had almost made it to Folkestone; about a mile short and it's not very pretty walking through housing estates.

We are able to check bus times on their phoneline, and so were in time to get the next one back, and within 20 minutes we were back home; coffee pot on and the freshly home made Limoncello and Grappa tart cut. we thought we deserved it.

One thing that the digital age has changed, is how e meet our friends. On Saturday we went back to Folkestone to meet up with some fellow photographers from Flickr. Only one of them we had really met before, and so a group of strangers met up high on the Leas, cliffs where the town's grand Victorian hotels are, for a walk around the town, and a sociable amble as well as taking many, many pictures.



As luck would have it, the weather was great, bright and sunny with light clouds, and we wandered, talked and snapped away. We walked down the cliffs, past the Victorian water lift; which were not to know was to close just three days later. And on to the harbour and the abandoned Harbour Branch railway and station.



We walked around the harbour, marvelling once again at the boats marooned high and dry on mud. We stopped off for a refreshing drink, and whilst we were in the bar, the tide began to come in, and within a few minutes the boats were surrounded by swirling tidal water, and in half an hour, already floating.



Up the rejuvenated old High Street, now rebranded the artistic quarter, or something. And on to find something to eat. We find a small Italian place and we each order something cool and light to eat and drink.

And in time, it was time for us to part, and we head back home along coastal roads, a cool breeze blowing through our car's open windows, and back home in time to light the barbecue and in the cool of the evening, much our way through various carbon encrusted meaty delights.

Something happened on Sunday to the weather; the supposed unbroken sunshine was replaced with white cloud, and so our plan for a boat trip in the Thames estuary was binned, and instead we decided to drive and see where the care took us.



Not half an hour from our house we saw a wondrous sight; three fields full of nodding poppies. We found a place to park the car and took the the byways. A stunning sight, not a field of crops with some poppies, but fields with nothing but poppies in. The deepness of the reds and clouds of insects was breathtaking.



we took many pictures.

And on with the journey. With only a half idea to head to the Romney Marsh, we drove south-ish. Just after midday we came to a village, the name escapes me. A large country pub is advertising a carvery. We were both hungry. We pull in and enter the bar.

Is the carvery on?

Yes.

Now?

Yes.

We pay our money, get our drinks and take a table right in the open French windows with the breeze blowing through. We have roast beef, roast potatoes, Yorkshire puddings and a multitude of vegetables. It was great, we didn't have to wash up.

And then by a circuitous route we ended up at the hell on earth that is Tescos; only to find the rush over and every till manned. We get a weeks supplies and head back home. Our week together over; Julie having to go back to work on Monday, but ti was wonderful while it lasted.