So, my first Monday morning on my holibobs, and I decide to walk to Dover. This meant messing around the house for a couple of hours, editing shots, writing blog posts, tending to the cats every whim: the usual stuff. I had planned to walk from Capel back into Dover, but the BBC said there would be rain first thing. As so often these days, the BBC got it wrong. Anyway, I have breakfast, a second cup of coffee, finally hang out the washing, and then I'm all set.
It was a bright and warm morning, and I put on my walking boots, tightened my belt, grabbed my camera and set off. Quite uneventful walking through the village. I take shots of the three pubs, including the sad sight of The Hope all boarded up. Lets hope, ahem, its open again soon. But once I reached the lighthouse and struck out along the cliffs to Dover, the views, as ever, were breathtaking. Something I never get bored with. It is that first sight of the cliffs, the land just dropping away to the beach below.
The sun was not bright enough to make photographing the cliffs impossible, and so taking regular breaks I neared Langdon Hole, and another water break. Now that the school holidays are over, there is hardly any other people walking along the cliffs, and seeing someone else was really quite noticeable. Ferries were coming and going, filling the air with the quiet thrumming of their engines.
As I neared Dover, the Eastern Docks were a hive of activity, with three ferries arriving within ten minutes or so of each other, the traffic soon stacked up. It is always great to see the end of the walk, even if it does involve walking down the impossible steep path from East Cliff. Under Jubilee Way and there I was in the town. A quick crossing of Townwall Street, along the promenade to New Bridge.
My plan was to head to the newest micropub in Dover, we now have three, and have a pint or two a bite to eat and maybe get a taxi back. What could go wrong?
It was closed that was what was wrong. Closed all day on Mondays. How could I have got it so wrong.
No worries, I walk round the corner to the Port of Call, order a pint of Ripple and a couple of tapas: fried Camembert and skewered lamb. All very nice. Even nicer was the second pint.
I surprise myself my deciding to walk back after all, and not get a taxi, so have a strong coffee before setting off back along the way I had just come. The worst part would be the climb up East Cliff, and that is how it turned out. The forecast had said it was going to be the warmest day since the beginning of August, and it felt hot. But I took a few rests climbing up, and was rewarded with fine views over the port, with the cliffs stretching away showing me the way home to the north.
Instead of walking along the cliffs, I follow the bed of the old railway up Langdon Hole, then take the old military road along the very tops of the cliffs to the lighthouse, then cross the fields to St Margaret's church, down Station Road and to home. The final climb was the worst, it was hot and my legs were screaming, but I made it. A walk I used to do without thinking had become a major hike, but, I did it.
Upon arriving home, I find the house covered in scaffold, ready for the work due to begin in a week. The drive is now out of bounds again, but it does mean the end is in sight.
Once home, I took off my boots while the cats told me it must be time for dinner.
Jools arrived home, I realise I had forgotten to get anything out for dinner, so we have burgers and beer, followed by raspberries and cream. Dinner of champions. The day ends with me listening to the Hull v West Ham game, which ends 2-2, just in time for bed.
Another day passes.
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