Friday, June 22, 2001

Walk 23 -- An historical day in Dover

Ages: Colin was 59 years and 45 days. Rosemary was 56 years and 187 days.
Weather: Hot and sunny, but with a little breeze in exposed places.
Location: Dover.
Distance: Nil.
Total distance: 142 miles.
Terrain: Climbing up, in and around ruins.
Tide: In.
Rivers to cross: None.
Ferries: None.
Piers: None.
Kissing gates: Nos. 14, 15, 16, 17 and 18 at ‘Western Heights’.
Pubs: None.
‘English Heritage’ properties: No.4 at ‘Western Heights’ and no.5 at Dover Castle.
Ferris wheels: None.
Diversions: None.
How we got there and back: We packed up our camp at Folkestone Warren and drove to ‘Western Heights’ in Dover. After looking round there, we drove to Dover Castle.
At the end, we drove home to Bognor.

Western Heights is a huge fort and barracks built more than two hundred years ago. Although in the care of ‘English Heritage’ it is open to all comers and seems fairly neglected. It was first built during the American Wars in the late 18th Century because most of Europe sided with the Americans against the British and therefore Dover was at risk. When Napoléon set his sights on crossing the Channel at the beginning of the 19th Century, the complex was enlarged and fortified. The trouble was, by the time it was completed, the Americans had been comfortable with their independence for nigh on fifty years, Napoléon had been defeated at Waterloo and so the whole place was obsolete!The fort is built underground in the chalk hill. There had been a large and ornate entrance gate just down the road from where we parked (with lovely views overlooking Dover) but it was completely blocked up. You can walk all over the grassy slopes on the top, but I don’t think anyone has been inside for years.
We crossed the road and went up a steep path to look for the redoubt we had seen marked on the map. There was a circular walk way-marked, so we set off straight ahead through the trees. It was quite dark in there, and we soon realised that this was because there was a high wall (at least 20 foot high) either side behind the undergrowth—in fact we were walking along a deep man-made brick-lined ditch! We came out in a grassy ‘moat’ that completely surrounded the redoubt which itself had been sunk into the hill so it was unobtrusive.
We walked all round, but there was no way in although someone had tried to prise off one of the doors. Again, I don’t think anyone has been inside for years. The grass had been mown, but it was all a bit spooky because the high walls on either side of us cut out most sounds and there was no one else about at all.
On the south side there is a steep gully overlooking the harbour. The path led us down this a bit, then up to the top of the wall surrounding the redoubt. From up there we could appreciate how big the whole structure is; they didn’t build things by halves in those days!
We walked back along the top to the car park, then drove a few yards down the road looking for the ‘Grand Shaft’. This, too, seems all hidden away. A road leads down to it, but we had to park by a barrier and walk. The barracks built there were reduced to their foundations as recently as the 1950s with a few steps left in to get to different levels, and amongst the weeds we found a lovely group of orchids! At last we came to the top of the ‘Grand Shaft’, but this was all fenced off and is only open on certain afternoons in July and August–we shall just have to come back!
The ‘Grand Shaft’ is a unique triple spiral staircase built inside the cliff. The idea was to get as many soldiers as possible down to the harbour from the barracks in the shortest possible time in the event of invasion, hence three staircases built into one hole.
But the soft chalk kept caving in on itself during construction, and in the end they had to line it expensively and time-consumingly with bricks. By the time it was properly finished (like everything else here) it was obsolete because the threat of invasion was past. So they used it as a convenient route to travel from the barracks into town, and, mindful of their social class, each staircase was decreed to be for a different set of people. One was for officers and their ladies, one for sergeants and their wives and the third was for soldiers and their women!
And so we drove across to Dover Castle on the eastern side of town. This is one of ‘English Heritage’s’ premier sites so all their energies (and money!) are concentrated here. It is very popular, but not too many people on a weekday during school-time. The school parties were mostly on the point of leaving by the time we arrived, so they didn’t bother us unduly. We ate our sandwiches while sitting on a platform overlooking the harbour. We could just make out France in the haze on the horizon, but when we left several hours later, the Continent was much more visible.
We visited the Roman lighthouse, one of the oldest in the country but not still in use! We explored the medieval passages which was quite fun. We were the only people down there, the floor was uneven and poorly lit, and every so often we would come across a high spy-hole letting in a stream of daylight – definitely spooky!
We had to go down spiral staircases, round corners and up little flights of stairs, and eventually we were in a set of underground rooms with locked doors to the ditch outside. We thought the final room would be the way out because it seemed better lit than the others, but when we got there we realised the light was coming through some wire netting which served as a high ceiling, and we could go no further. It was like being at the bottom of a well! We had no choice but to retrace our steps, up and down stairs and all.
We visited the castle proper which was originally Norman but had been altered and added on to in subsequent centuries. They had an audio-visual exhibition of a visit made by Henry VIII when he was worried about a Spanish invasion in the early 16th Century, shortly after he had broken with Rome and set himself up as Head of the Church in England. The Spanish were upset because he had done this in order to divorce his Spanish wife. It was an excellent exhibition and we found it very interesting–not at all like the boring museums of the ‘old days’!
We did not visit the tunnels because we have been on the guided tours twice before and we knew we would not have time today. They were dug out of the chalk cliff, one level being used as an emergency hospital during the Second World War and the other as a communications centre. Conditions of work in both were primitive, to put it mildly, but both were an essential part of the war effort. In particular, the evacuation of Dunkirk in 1940 was masterminded from here. There is a third level of tunnels which was dug in the 1960s and fitted out with enough supplies to last twenty years. This bunker was designed to house the Mayor and all the local bigwigs in the event of nuclear war, which Colin and I remember very clearly being a real threat in 1962.
The trouble was, they lined the tunnels liberally with asbestos in the days before anyone knew anything about asbestos poisoning. They are now considered so dangerous that no one is allowed to enter them without breathing apparatus, and although ‘English Heritage’ want to open them up to the public, they have no idea when they will be able to do this. It seems ironic that all the people who thought that they were important enough to be ‘saved’ would have died a long lingering death in the dark from asbestosis and illnesses caused by contaminated water, while the rest of us unimportant plebs would have been blasted to oblivion in a nanosecond!

It had been a very interesting day–why was History at school always so dull? We had a couple of cups of tea from our flasks in the car before leaving for home. We shall pick up Walk No.24 next time at the Dunkirk memorial on Dover Marina where we finished Walk No. 22.

- :: - :: - :: - :: - :: - :: - :: - :: - :: -

We returned to the Western heights two months later because we knew the ‘Grand Shaft’ would be open.
We entered from the top, I went down the ‘Officers and their Ladies’ staircase while Colin went down the ‘Sergeants and their Wives’ one. The only difference was that mine was the only one of the three staircases which came out directly into the access tunnel–the other two came out in the well in the middle involving three extra steps to walk across it!
It was not as deep as we had envisaged because we had to descend a straight staircase before we reached the entrance to the triple stairwell. We did wonder if the top had collapsed during the building of it because it is in quite a hollow. We descended 200 steps altogether.
We had a long chat with the custodian at the bottom. I asked him why such a unique place was open so infrequently, and he replied that we were only his third customer all afternoon! I said it should be advertised more widely. He then told us about the drop-redoubt which we had visited in June. He had been inside it, and he said it is almost perfectly preserved as it used to be in the 19th century!
It would make a fantastic museum, but ‘English Heritage’ don’t seem interested in investing any more money into it. It wouldn’t take much because almost everything is still there, but it would probably take custom away from Dover Castle which is one of their premier sites. Meanwhile, plants are making cracks in the brickwork, ornate facings are falling off and vandals are breaking inside to wreak havoc. He especially mentioned the beautiful sunken entrance to ‘Western Heights’ where all these things are happening, it is a crying shame.
We then returned up this unique stairwell–this time I chose ‘Soldiers and their Women’ while Colin ascended ‘Officers and their Ladies’. It was great fun!

Thursday, June 21, 2001

Walk 22 -- Folkestone Warren to Dover

Ages: Colin was 59 years and 44 days. Rosemary was 56 years and 186 days.
Weather: Hot and sunny, but with a little breeze in exposed places.
Location: From Folkestone Warren to Dover Marina.
Distance: 7½ miles.
Total distance: 142 miles.
Terrain: First along a Second World War concrete gun platform between the beach and the cliffs, then we crossed the railway via a footbridge and climbed the chalk cliffs using wooden-barred steps. We walked several miles along the grassy cliff tops before descending to beach level again via a tarmacked path, railway footbridge and concrete steps. The beach was sandy at first but soon turned to leg-shattering loose shingle. After that it was along roads, pavements and a concrete pier.
Tide: In.
Rivers to cross: None.
Ferries: None.
Piers: No.8 at Dover, but it was a concrete one!
Kissing gates: None.
Pubs: ‘The Mogul’ at Dover where we enjoyed Goacher’s Mild and Durham Prior’s Gold (at least, Colin did, I was so thirsty I had a pint of shandy!)
‘English Heritage’ properties: None, though we did try to get to the ‘Western Heights’.
Ferris wheels: None.
Diversions: No.11 up the cliffs and along the top because the tide was in. This meant we missed visiting Samphire Hoe, a new bit of Britain which consists of the rock brought up from digging out the Channel Tunnel!
How we got there and back: We were already camping at Folkestone Warren, so we started our walk directly from the campsite.
At the end, we walked to the bus station in the centre of Dover and caught a bus to eastern Folkestone. We then walked a mile back to the campsite.

We started our walk fairly early this morning in brilliant sunshine. We could see France quite clearly on the horizon, and could make out Cap-Blanc-Nez and Cap-Gris-Nez. On the beach directly below our campsite was a big rectangle of concrete; we can only assume it was a gun platform built to house artillery for our defence during those terrible years of the Second World War when Hitler’s troops were in sight across the narrow strip of water between us and France.
It was hot walking along the bottom of the cliffs towards Dover, very little breeze down there. We met a smattering of people walking their dogs. We came to another large concrete rectangle where one dogwalker stopped to talk, he didn’t seem very bright especially as he said he thought Butlins in Bognor Regis was a wonderful place! So when he advised us that he thought the tide was too far in for us to get along the bottom of the cliffs to Dover (embellishing his story with tales of helicopter rescues and ‘wouldn’t that be exciting though?’) we really did not know whether to believe him. We thanked him politely and said we would go a little further and take a look. About half a mile further on we were caught up by a man wearing just a pair of underpants(!) who advised us that we were about half an hour too late because the tide was now in far enough to lap the bottom of the cliffs this side of Samphire Hoe. He told us how to get up to the top of the cliff, and he did seem to know what he was talking about. We did wonder whether he just didn’t want us hiking past his nudist beach, but we took his advice and turned back.
We climbed a track which looked as if it went up the cliffs, but at the top was a locked gate behind which the railway ran into a tunnel. I could see the footbridge further along, so down we went again and retraced our steps to the place where we had met the first chap with the dog—teach us not to listen to the locals! We climbed a very similar track there, and then started climbing steps until we got to the railway, but this time we were at the footbridge over it. On the other side the path divided; it looked as if it went up if we turned left, but Colin looked at the map and declared we must turn right even though it looked as if it went down again that way. At first the path followed the railway, almost to the tunnel, but suddenly we started climbing 393 steps (we didn’t count them, someone at the top told us!) to the very top of the cliff.
It was a hot and thirsty climb, sweat was pouring off us in buckets! Just before we broke cover at the top, I decided I had better go to the loo because the clifftop would be too exposed. We hadn’t met anyone until then, but suddenly a man on his bike appeared and then about a dozen hikers!
We were feeling a bit dischuffed because we had been walking two hours by then, we were very hot and thirsty, yet we had only progressed one mile and we weren’t even out of Folkestone Warren! Colin was very proud of himself that he didn’t walk across the field to a ‘real ale’ pub which was just there! We continued along a path which came out into a track by a road, the track was the cycleway to Dover and we passed a couple of new sculptures which acted as mileposts on the National Cycle Network. The footpath soon diverted and went along nearer the cliff edge.
We were even allowed to walk through a field of cows, how refreshing not to find our way barred by red notices threatening £5000 fines! The path had obviously become very overgrown in recent months, probably because, like most footpaths in the country, it had been closed for three months due to the ‘foot & mouth’ fiasco. It had been recently mown, but occasionally they had tried to divert it away from the cliff edge because it was becoming dangerous due to erosion. Trouble is, mowing a new path is not enough, it needs ‘walking in’ to smooth out all the bumps. We ignored these ‘diversions, it was easier walking on the old smooth paths and we were never perilously close to the cliff edge.
We made good progress. We passed many derelict concrete constructions which we could only conclude were Second World War defences. This clifftop was the most vulnerable in Britain, and must have been teeming with artillery and all the trappings during those years. One place looked like a derelict barracks and rifle range, another was a huge vertical concrete square with a circular depression in the side facing the sea. We concluded that it once held a radar dish, but we didn’t know.(We later found out it was a ‘sound mirror’, invented after the First World War and a precursor to radar.) We sat on the roof of one of the dozens of ‘pill-boxes’ which are sunk into the clifftop to eat our lunch. From there we had a birds-eye view of Samphire Hoe.
The idea of digging a tunnel under the English Channel was first put forward nearly two hundred years ago. In 1802, a French engineer declared that it was possible to tunnel through the chalk syncline which is the geology of the Channel area. Napoléon was interested, but he was more interested in warmongering so nothing came of it. Again and again, throughout the 19th century, the proposal was put forward by the French, but rebuffed by the British for security reasons. In the 1860s, a Frenchman called Thomé de Gamond and an Englishman called Sir John Hawkshaw, produced practical plans. From these, private companies dedicated to the project were formed on both sides of the Channel. In the 1880s, digging actually started at Sangatte in France and at Folkestone in England. The media of the day, i.e. the newspapers, were dead set against the idea and brought pressure to bear on the Government. Only 2000 yards had been dug on the English side when the whole project was shut down in the interests of national security. The two tunnels were sealed off and became derelict.
It was not until the 1950s, after two World Wars in which the English Channel was of great strategic importance, that the idea was mooted again. By then, it was considered that, in this missile age, worries about security were obsolete. New companies were formed, a Study Group was established, and even the merits of a Channel Bridge were considered. But in 1964 they agreed to build a rail tunnel. The next problem was finance. It took another nine years before a treaty was finalised between the British and French Governments, and they took the decision to proceed. Digging commenced in 1974 at almost the same spots in Folkestone and Sangatte where it had ceased ninety years before. It was estimated that the tunnel would take five to six years to build and cost in the region of a billion pounds.
But they had hopelessly underestimated the whole project. Many people, and I must say I was among them, said that it could never be done, it was too ambitious by far. The estimated completion date was put back and back while the estimated costs rose by millions. In just under a year, when just 1½ miles had been dug out on each side of the Channel, the British Government cancelled the whole project because it said it simply couldn’t afford it any longer. Three years later the idea resurfaced, but again the British Government stipulated that no public money should be put into it. A further three years went by, and suddenly the British and French Governments jointly issued an invitation for privately funded companies to put forward their proposals. Four serious projects were considered, and finally, in 1987, the plan by Eurotunnel (twin rail tunnels for shuttle trains to carry road vehicles with a third service tunnel in between) was ratified. Digging could begin!
It took six years to build. The Tunnel was dug out from each end, and when they met in the middle on the 1st December 1990 they were only a couple of millimetres out! The tunnellers put their arms through the hole and shook hands—the English tunneller claimed he could ‘smell the garlic’! For the first time in twenty thousand years, Britain was joined to France! On the 1st June 1994, the first freight train sped through, and in the following months the high-speed trains were opened up to passengers, cars, lorries and coaches. There was a set-back in 1996 when a lorry caught fire halfway across, filling the train and the Tunnel with smoke. (The people escaped into the service tunnel from where they had to be rescued.) The Tunnel was closed for about six months while damage was repaired and better safety measures implemented. This incident was devastating financially because the Tunnel was losing money hand over fist and, although very popular in the twenty-first century, it has yet to run at a profit. Colin and I have used the Tunnel once, on a day-trip to Calais in 1998. We were very impressed with the speed (25 minutes only underground) and smoothness of the ride, but we never saw the sea and didn’t feel as if we had been abroad at all! We have used the cheaper ferry ever since, at least the view is better!
An awful lot of chalk was dug out in the building of the Channel Tunnel, and it had to go somewhere. That is what Samphire Hoe is all about, it is an extra bit of England that consists of all the chalk that was extracted from the English end. It was dumped at the bottom of the cliffs between Folkestone and Dover, and the idea is to turn it into a nature reserve. It did look a bit bare from our ‘crow’s-nest’ viewpoint, but several ponds have been created on it and the white chalk was beginning to turn green.
I expect it looks a lot better from down there, but the only way we could get on to it at high tide was by walking through the road tunnel which leads down through the cliffs, and then we would be going back on ourselves. We decided to save it up for a few years when it is more established. We were intrigued by a fenced off area at the eastern end that seemed to have a number of towers with fans in the top. Is it some kind of renewable energy plant?
According to our map, we crossed over the Channel Tunnel at the eastern end of Samphire Hoe. Our path became very ‘undulating’ but was quite spectacular, the land sloping backwards from the cliff edge. The only problem was that we were merging closer and closer to the main road taking the traffic to and from the world’s busiest port—lorries by the hundred, coaches full of elderly holidaymakers and cars - cars - cars - cars - cars! There was the constant drone of traffic which got louder and louder. Eventually we descended a tarmac path until we were right next to this dreadful road.
We decided to deviate under it and follow the North Downs Way through a housing estate and up to the Western Heights, an ‘English Heritage’ property we planned to visit. But all paths leading up the mound from the estate, including the North Downs Way, were blocked by padlocked gates! We asked a local if he knew why they were padlocked, and he said it was because of the ‘foot & mouth’ restrictions. At this I exploded with anger. This is an ancient monument we were talking about, not a livestock farm. There wasn’t a sign of a grazing animal anywhere, nor had there been for a very long time by the look of the height of the undergrowth. The only case of the disease in Kent had been miles away on the Isle of Sheppey, and that had been five months ago. I asked the man if anyone had complained to the authorities about this little piece of hypocrisy, and he replied that he found it a bit of a nuisance not being able to walk his dog up there anymore, but he wasn’t a protesting kind of person—so they get away with it because of such people’s apathy. (I did complain later that afternoon to the man in the Tourist Information Centre in Dover, but he was very non-committal in his replies.)
We made a new plan—to continue our coastal walk today to the middle of Dover and tomorrow we would come by car to visit all the ‘English Heritage’ properties in the area. So we retraced our steps to the tunnel under the road and continued downhill walking next to it. Not much fun, but then we found a footbridge over the railway which was still on our seaward side (it goes in and out of tunnels all along the cliffs we had walked over) and down a lot of steps to the beach. It was pleasant walking along the sand for a bit, but then it deteriorated into shingle and we were too tired to take it in good temper! There was a high fence behind which there was nothing, it used to be a marshalling yard according to the map. We were relieved to find there was an open gate at the end and we were able to get off the beach just before the high wall of the Western Docks.
The first pier at Western Docks, where the train ferry used to embark and where we once caught a ferry (in 1991, I think) to the ski train, was plastered with notices about fishing permits. We assumed it was the same set-up as Folkestone Pier which we had been asked to leave because we were not fishing, so we didn’t even try this one. We got a bit lost in a lorry park, but eventually realised that we would have to walk over a road bridge leading inland to get to the next pier. It was all very confusing, but we coped!
The second pier was much more user-friendly, and we walked along looking at the old Hoverport which is no longer in use—they use the area as a car park for the Sea-Cat now. In 1998 we booked a weekend in France going out on the Hovercraft. Noisy, smelly things—it may have been quick but neither of us enjoyed the journey. They are unsafe if the sea is at all rough, so we had to come back on a Sea-Cat. I am not easily seasick, but I spent the whole journey lying on the floor! The Hovercraft went out of business sometime last year, and we watched several Sea-Cats come in and out as we walked the length of the pier. They were bouncing up and down even in the harbour, I began to feel queasy just watching them! That is why we now always cross the Channel using the old-fashioned ferry; the ships are quite fast, very comfortable and they are also cheaper. There was a café at the far end of the pier, so we bought a much-needed mug of tea each.
We passed several groups of schoolchildren, both English and French, on our way back and along the marina until we were opposite the Tourist Information Centre. (I was relieved I was not in charge of all the little darlings!) We stopped to look at a sculpture which is a tribute to all the people involved in the rescue of the British Army from the beaches of Dunkirk in 1940.

That ended Walk No.22, we shall visit all the ‘English Heritage sites in Dover for Walk No.23 and pick up Walk No.24 next time at the Dunkirk memorial on Dover Marina. We called at the Tourist Information Centre for directions to the ‘real ale’ pub Colin had picked out of the Guide (and to complain about the padlocked gates on the North Downs Way!) Having refreshed ourselves at the ‘Mogul’, we caught a bus back to Folkestone and returned to our campsite.

Wednesday, June 20, 2001

Walk 21 -- Folkestone Harbour to Folkestone Warren

Ages: Colin was 59 years and 43 days. Rosemary was 56 years and 185 days.
Weather: Hot and sunny, but with quite a breeze which was very welcome!
Location: From Folkestone Harbour to Folkestone Warren.
Distance: 1½ miles.
Total distance: 134½ miles.
Terrain: Concrete esplanade and a bit of sandy beach, then grass, down steps and along a Second World War gun platform between the beach and the cliffs.
Tide: Out.
Rivers to cross: None.
Ferries: None.
Piers: None.
Kissing gates: None.
Pubs: None.
‘English Heritage’ properties: None.
Ferris wheels: None.
Diversions: No.10 round a Martello Tower because the cliff had collapsed in the recent heavy rains.
How we got there and back: We packed up our camping stuff and drove from Bognor to Folkestone. We looked at two camp sites and didn’t like either of them, so we parked near the harbour and decided to start our walk before too much of the day was gone.
At the end, we were walking past ‘the Warren’ and thought we would have a look at the campsite there. We liked what we saw, so we stopped our walk for the day and Colin went back for the car. We pitched our tent overlooking the beach within the sound of the sea and we relished in salubrious views in all directions!

Ten months! We never thought it would be that long before we would be able to resume our walk round poor beleaguered Britain when we finished Walk 20 last August; in fact, we had planned to get to Herne Bay by Christmas. At this rate, we’ll be lucky to get there by next Christmas! This is what has been happening…
In September we had the fuel crisis. We pay more for our fuel in Britain than anywhere else in the world, and this protest seemed to come from the heart of the people. It certainly took the Government by surprise! They said that the high prices were nothing to do with tax, but everyone knew that that was a blatant lie. We had watched the French successfully demonstrate by blocking all their main roads with tractors, a protest that Colin and I got caught up in—but that’s another story! People said we were too complacent, and that if the French could do it so could we. They began picketing fuel depots, and tanker drivers turned round refusing to drive out to petrol stations. It was all very civilised and non-aggressive, despite what the Government said, and from small beginnings it snowballed within hours. Long queues formed at petrol stations, and within a week the whole country had ground to a halt! The Government were furious, calling the demonstrators irresponsible and making out that people were dying because emergency services couldn’t get to them and operations were being cancelled and old people were being left stranded, etc etc. It was all lies, people were severely inconvenienced but 95% of them supported the protests and were therefore prepared to put up with it. Hence we had to cancel plans to drive to Folkestone to continue our Walk. We had a tank almost full of Diesel, but decided to only use the car if we really needed to because we didn’t know how long all this was going on. After a week, everyone decided that enough was enough, and fuel was delivered once more. It took about another week for things to return to normal. Did the Government listen to the people? NOT A BIT OF IT!
It had been a pretty wet year so far, we had been very lucky the days we had chosen for our Walks. But then the rain came down with a vengeance, hour after hour, day after day, week after week! Fields flooded, roads flooded, houses flooded, shops flooded, even a brewery flooded much to Colin’s dismay! Whole towns disappeared under water—Southsea, Ryde, Lewes, a man came out of a shop in Uckfield High Street and was washed hundreds of yards down a river he never even knew was there! Chichester was so determined not to flood that the fire brigade diverted the River Lavant through hose pipes which stretched across the city under little wooden bridges wherever they crossed a road—it was an amazing piece of ‘Heath-Robinson’ engineering which cost over a million pounds! I had great difficulty getting to the various schools where I was working because of the floods, and had some quite interesting journeys! Most of our favourite footpaths were under several feet of water. In October we went to India (saw tigers in the wild!) and while we were away a tornado ripped through Bognor tearing the whole roofs off a dozen or so houses! (Fortunately not ours.) November was declared the wettest November ever, then the year 2000 was declared the wettest year since records began. We all began reading up the construction of Noah’s Ark, and decided to wait for the Spring before continuing with our Round-Britain-Walk.
But what horrors the Spring had in store for us! Early in February we had treated ourselves to a week in the Yorkshire Dales, a ‘special offer’ that was almost cheaper than staying at home. We enjoyed a few Winter walks in the ice and snow, and looked forward to the Spring. Two weeks later we rented a cottage down in Cornwall (also very cheap at that time of year) and enjoyed some coastal walking though the wind was bitterly cold. It was right at the end of that week–we just completed our holiday in time–that we heard about the first case of ‘foot & mouth’ disease on a farm in Northumberland.
Well, the world went mad!
It was the first case of ‘foot & mouth’ in this country since 1967. Then they slaughtered all the affected animals, and in that way managed to contain and eradicate the illness within about six weeks. Farming has changed enormously in the past thirty years, animals are now transported all over the country as they change hands time and time again in their short lives. Animals travel hundreds of miles to be slaughtered because most small slaughter-houses have been closed down due to ‘health & safety’ regulations they cannot afford. The disease spread like wildfire—Essex, Cumbria, Devon, Dumfries, Yorkshire, Somerset—and it is still going on even as I write this four months later!
Now, a few facts about ‘foot & mouth’ disease. It only affects cloven-hoofed animals, humans cannot catch it or any form of illness from a diseased animal. The virus is extremely contagious and can be passed on through contact, walking on the same ground, on clothes and shoes/boots, in water and even short distances on the wind. It is a very uncomfortable condition for the animal that catches it, but it is not dangerous. Very few animals die of it, and if nurtured for about a week they will make a complete recovery. So what is all the panic about? PROFIT! That’s what! Animals which catch ‘foot & mouth’ waste away, and when they recover they take months of feeding up to get back to their huge, in many cases obese, weight. Then the meat cannot be sold because the animal has had the disease. That is the argument against vaccination, so no animal in this country has any resistance whatsoever to this particular virus.
Slaughter of every animal on a farm where the disease was suspected, and every animal on the neighbouring farms was ordered by the Government. Slaughter first and ask questions afterwards was the order of the day. (It turned out that one third of ‘cases’ were not ‘foot & mouth’ at all, but it was too late when all the animals were dead!) Farmers were devastated, their whole life’s work shot before their eyes. Some barricaded their healthy animals within their farms and pleaded with tears in their eyes. Many were suicidal. One eccentric woman who kept an exotic breed of goats as pets herded her eight healthy animals into her front room, but they broke down the door and shot them! Carcasses were piled up in farm gateways for days awaiting destruction, and probably the virus was blowing in the wind or spread by crows. They had to bring in the Army to make huge pyres to burn the dead animals. The countryside was filled with smoke, probably spreading the virus and increasing the risk of cancer in all those living nearby. The fires burned for weeks. Other animals were taken for burial, sometimes to ‘clean’ areas of the country which were unaffected by the virus. It was absolute madness!
Meanwhile, a complete ban was put on the movement of animals, even from one field to another on the same farm. Very soon the animals ran out of grass and were standing miserably in mud. Farmers ran out of supplementary food which they couldn’t afford anyway, so animals suffered and died in appalling circumstances. How did all this affect us? Every single footpath and cycleway in the country was closed! There is no scientific evidence whatsoever that ramblers spread the ‘foot & mouth’ virus, but red notices sprang up all over the countryside threatening a £5000 fine if we so much as put a foot over that stile! The countryside was closed, the only place we could go for a walk was through a town or along a beach.
Of course, the countryside these days does not just belong to farmers. Tourism is a far bigger industry, and nobody came! (Rumours spread across America that we were all dying of starvation, and walking around with disfiguring blisters on our mouths and feet!!) More jobs were lost and more businesses went bust in the tourist industry than there ever were on the farms. Hypocrisy was rife from the Government downwards. They postponed the General Election for a month after enormous pressure, but the disease was still widespread during their campaigning throughout May and not one candidate mentioned ‘foot & mouth’ ever. It was dropped from the News and completely swept under the carpet, yet every day still there are four or five new cases in the Yorkshire Dales or Somerset. It was left to local County Councils to each decide their footpath policy, the Government completely passed the buck.
There were no cases at all in West Sussex, nor in any of the neighbouring counties. Under pressure, they announced that on May 1st they were going to reopen 500 footpaths. I printed the list of these footpaths off the internet—it was the biggest fraud out! Nearly every single path was in a town, linking one street on an estate with another! One was the path linking Kenilworth Road with Hawthorn Road which I walk down on average three times a week to post a letter or hike to the beach! They even listed (and I quote) “from the boat pound behind the beach huts to the Waverley public house”! Well, isn’t that an extension of the esplanade, at least four miles from a field where livestock might graze? Their hypocrisy beggared belief, especially as there were a couple of countryside footpaths listed which just happened to cross golf courses! From feeling frustrated, and also rather depressed, at not being able to get out on the Downs, I began to feel very angry. From what I have read in wildlife and countryside magazines, I am by no means alone. By now we had missed the Spring, missed the snowdrops, the celandines, the wild daffodils and now we would be missing the bluebells. These ‘openings’ didn’t bring the tourists back, of course, so the next announcement was that from May 18th “three-quarters of the County’s footpaths will be open”, only those which pass through fields where livestock is actually grazing would remain closed.
May 18th dawned a beautiful sunny day. We got up early, turned down all offers of a day’s supply teaching, and drove to Harting Hill with the intention of walking along the South Downs Way to Hooksway for lunch. Several other cars with excited walkers drew into the car park at the same time. We all put on our boots, marched across to the first stile, and there was a new red notice telling us to keep out because of the foot & mouth restrictions!!! It was unbelievable! We never saw the other walkers again after they all drove away, so ‘The Royal Oak’ lost all their custom and probably lots of others as well. We drove to Hooksway and tried to walk from there—a couple of tracks leading from the pub were open and we were able to walk about a mile and a half in a small triangle. On that beautiful day our favourite watering hole, which should have been packed, had half a dozen customers for lunch.
Such was the disgust by walkers, country landlords etc that the Government finally intervened. They told the County Councils that if there had been no cases of ‘foot & mouth’ within the county, then they had no right to close any public right of way any longer, and they all must be opened immediately! At last! So West Sussex County Council, still full of arrogance at the way they had “successfully kept foot & mouth out of the County” announced that all public rights of way would be open as from June 8th. We were in Jersey on that date (and had been sprayed and scrubbed with disinfectant on arrival as if we were lepers, and our car searched for dairy products as if it was contraband!), but after we returned we tried to go walking on June 19th and had no problem whatsoever. How wonderful to hike once more along our beloved South Downs and drink in those wonderful views!
Kent had just one case of ‘foot & mouth’ at the very beginning of the crisis—it was in the Isle of Sheppey and probably blew over from Essex where the first diseased sheep had been taken to an abattoir (from Northumberland, would you believe!) There had been no further cases in the South-East, so we reckoned we were pretty safe by June 20th to continue our walk from Folkestone.
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Now for our walk! We did not make a very early start, and by 3pm we still had not found a suitable campsite nor started our hike for the day! We began at the eastern wall of Folkestone Harbour, in exactly the same spot where we had finished last August. The tide was out and the sand looked firm, so we went down on the beach for the first hundred yards or so. We clambered over a few stones (being very careful about the green slime, bearing in mind what happened on Brighton Marina 2½ years ago!), through a tunnel under the esplanade and up some steps on to it from the landward side. The esplanade was only short and finished at a wall, so it was a stiff climb up some steps to walk along the grass above.
We could see that the cliff was all crumbly and that there had been lots of falls, some very recent by the look of it. We have been constantly hearing on the news about cliffs collapsing, occasionally with loss of life, due to the heavy rains of last Autumn and Winter. Sure enough, our way was soon barred by red tape and a ‘KEEP OUT – DANGER’ notice. The continuing path looked very overgrown so it must have happened some months ago. We diverted to the other side of a Martello Tower and soon picked up the path again.Further on, our map informed us that there was a site of a Roman Villa (they certainly knew how to pick the most scenic spots!) but nothing is left there now. We walked across a pleasant grassy glade between the bushes, then down some steps to the beach again. A walker coming the other way told us that, now the tide was out, we could get through to Samphire Hoe. However, the hour was already late and there was no way we could walk that far today. Along the bottom of the cliff was a concrete road, not an esplanade at all but merely functional and rather time-worn. We reckoned it was something to do with Second World War defences, however we made good use of it to walk on.
We could see camper-vans further along part way up the cliff, and intended to investigate that campsite when we reached it. The chalk cliffs here have suffered falls for many hundreds of years leaving an overgrown undulating landscape which is now quite safe. It is called ‘the Warren’, hardly surprising since we could number rabbits in their hundreds! The Caravan & Camping Club have landscaped part of it and turned it into a beautiful campsite. When we reached the track leading up to it, we called a halt to our walking and went to investigate.

That ended Walk No.21, we shall pick up Walk No.22 next time at the end of the track leading down from ‘the Warren’ campsite. We walked up the track, had a look round the campsite and liked what we saw. So Colin went back for the car which was parked near the Martello Tower we had passed less than a mile back, and we pitched our huge new tent overlooking the sea.