Maps 178 and 179 – Down to Margate

There are days on this adventure when I truly venture into unchartered territory, and today was one of those days. With the exception of one trip to Rochester as a child, everywhere was brand new to me. In truth, this was a day of 2 halves. I was not terribly enamoured with north Kent until I reached Faversham. Everywhere leading up to that along the A2 corridor is yours to keep. I don’t particularly care if I never come back – again with the exception of Rochester. But from Faversham onwards, I have to say my opinion changed and my mood lifted considerably.

The sun shone brightly, so we can’t say places weren’t looking their best. I think I gave everywhere a decent chance to surprise me. There were promising moments, especially in Gravesend, which at least had some history and character. Overall, though, I was ready for a lift when I got to Rochester just before the cathedral clock struck noon. It duly provided. As a castle-cathedral combo, it would be hard to beat. Neither on in its own would necessarily rank in my top ten; but the imposing, square castle keep stands almost within spitting distance of the Norman cathedral, both together dominating the view from the bridge across the tidal River Medway.
The castle stands in a prominent raised position overlooking the water, and is today surrounded by a green public park, which makes it feel very accessible. Young kids were riding their bikes, or learning how to, and it was a place where families had gathered. The cathedral also felt very welcoming. Unusually, you entered through the main west doors, right across from the castle keep. So you got the full splendour of the Norman nave as your first impression.

Rochester has an interesting high street full of old buildings and it was not hard to imagine Charles Dickens writing about it. But after that, things got subsumed in the larger and less pretty streets of Chatham, and then Rainham, a few miles along the arrow straight A2 Roman road. I couldn’t see a better way to cycle to Sittingbourne (which I had to do to cross a river) without significant deviation, and I didn’t have time for that. So I battled my way through the slow moving vehicles in traffic choked towns and villages. I escaped into helpful country lanes after Sittingbourne and things got much better; but the best part kicked in when I reached the town of Faversham. What a gem! And what a contrast from what came before. It was the picture of a quaint English country town, wonderfully well preserved and a genuine delight. The main roads were kept at a safe distance, allowing the town to be enjoyed without noise or danger. What a revelation!

And from here, a quiet lane led directly to the coast and Whitstable, a very traditional harbour town and colourful seaside resort with much to like. Even better, I discovered that I could ride along the concrete promenade from Whitstable all the way to the resort of Herne Bay, past countless beach huts lining the way several deep in a rainbow of cheerful colours. The whole experience was heart lifting on this sunny day. There were good numbers of people out and about, and everyone seemed happy like me.

Looking east from Herne Bay, up on the cliffs, you could clearly make out a pair of towers shining in the sun, some miles away. These I knew to be the towers of the ruined church at Reculver. It was a place I had always wanted to go ever since seeing a hand drawing of them in a wonderful old AA illustrated guide to Britain, printed I imagine in the 1950s, and owned by my Great Auntie Lilian. When we went to visit her in Abergele in North Wales, when I was a child, it could be quite boring while the adults all talked. But I would take this large book out of her glass fronted cabinet and turn the pages in fascination. I knew about most of the places inside; but the twin towers at Reculver were a place of mystery to me and it took until today to see it with my own eyes. I now own – and treasure – the book. And I would recommend a visit to Reculver, also the site of the Roman fort of Regulbium, occupied for about 200 years from about 200AD to 400AD. The coastline has been eroded since then and some of the area enclosed by the fort has been lost to the sea. Monks built a church within the ruined walls of the fort. It fell out of use during the Viking invasions; but was reused from the time of the Norman Conquest. The towers can be seen for miles along the coast to the east as well, almost right into Margate, and they act as a navigational aid to sailors. For that reason, the towers were retained when the rest of the church was abandoned and demolished around 1800.

The next section of my route contained an element of risk. Reculver is where the sealed road runs out and the cycle route to Margate follows the coastal path for about 3 miles after that before the roads start. It could have been anything; but it turned out to be a wide concrete topped flood embankment that made for excellent riding. In fact I can recommend the whole of this Kent coastal ride, which continued toimpress all the way along the promenades and Royal Esplanade all the way into Margate, a distance of several miles. On the way I passed some extravagant early 20th century brick mansions adorned with turrets and balconies, and it was quite a shock how suddenly and emphatically things took a turn for the worse as I entered Margate itself. I didn’t have time to perform a detailed analysis; but it might have been more of a post mortem. The buildings I did see near the golden beach were mostly run down or empty, and at some point a quite out of place high rise building had been built in the town centre. But the station was handily placed for a speedy exit and ninety minutes later I was cruising into London St Pancras International for the exciting dash across London to Paddington and the train to Exeter. All in a day’s work for the long distance adventure cyclist!