Walk 38 -- Sittingbourne to the Kingsferry Bridge

Ages: Colin was 59 years and 176 days. Rosemary was 56 years and 318 days.

Weather: Mostly sunny, but a biting wind in exposed places.

Location: Sittingbourne to the Kingsferry Bridge.

Distance: 5½ miles.

Total distance: 230½ miles.

Terrain: Grassy banks, occasionally topped with gravel. A short section of road where we had to play ‘dodge-the-lorries’!

Tide: Going out.

Rivers to cross: None.

Ferries: None.

Piers: None.

Kissing gates: None.

Pubs: The ‘Old Oak’ in Sittingbourne where we enjoyed Hampshire Brewery’s ‘Gold Reserve’.

‘English Heritage’ properties: None.

Ferris wheels: None.

Diversions: None.

How we got there and back: We drove from Medway Youth Hostel to the Kingsferry Bridge where we parked almost underneath it in a lorry lay-by. We donned our walking gear, then cycled in a freezing wind to the ASDA supermarket car park in Sittingbourne. We chained our bikes to their bike stand as if we were going to use the store. (Actually, we did buy a few oddments in there, both yesterday and today, if only to justify using their loo several times!)
At the end, we drove back to ASDA before partaking of tea from our flasks because it was too cold to stop by the Kingsferry Bridge. We picked up the bikes, and drove all the way home to Bognor in the dark. I hate these early nights – I watched the sun set as we drove back to ASDA, and it was only 4.25pm!

Medway Youth Hostel is wonderful! We couldn’t believe the difference between it and Canterbury. Medway is a pair of oast houses which were converted into a hostel only five years ago. We felt comfortable, safe, it was really quiet, and all our fellow-guests were bona-fide holidaymakers. As a result, we both slept well and were in much better moods for our walk today.
As we left the Kingsferry Bridge on our bikes, we wondered what we were in for because the wind we were riding against was bitter! However, as we approached the shelter of the town, we found it much easier and less cold to cycle. We rode past ASDA and into Sittingbourne, parking our bikes next to the public conveniences; then we walked down the High Street and bought our lunch. There were two ‘real ale’ pubs to choose from, both due to open at eleven o’clock according to the ‘beer bible’. At a few minutes after eleven, we tried to enter the ‘Red Lion’ (the favoured one because it usually has more beers on) only to find the door was locked – not again! A notice informed us that, just for today, they weren’t going to open until midday because of a rewiring job. Is there a conspiracy to stop us getting at our beer? So we had to walk half a mile down the road to the ‘Old Oak’ where they had just one ale which was to our liking – but at least they were open! Then we had to walk the half mile back to retrieve our bikes, before cycling back to ASDA car park. Having deposited the wheels, we ‘dodged-the-lorries’ on the narrow lane to get to the stile on the Saxon Shore Way and start the Walk ‘proper’.
Today could be classed as the smelliest walk so far! We had to pass a sewage works, which was vile, and a number of industrial complexes. It was not exactly a country walk, and did not feel much like a coastal one either. It is on days like this that we have to ask ourselves, “Why are we doing this?” It’s a good thing we weren’t in yesterday’s foul mood, or the ‘Round-Britain-Walk’ may have ended there and then!
The path was quite muddy for the first half mile, though we couldn’t blame cattle today. Colin went shooting ahead, but I found it difficult to walk safely on the slime and was lagging behind. The reason for his rush was the noise of go-karts on the opposite bank of Milton Creek. We couldn’t see them because the circuit was over a bank, and he was haring on hoping to get to a rise before they stopped. Eventually, he climbed a steep bank on our side in order to watch them. He said he would love to do go-kart racing again, but I think it is tedious to drive round and round the same track – I like to get somewhere.
We stopped there to sit and consume our lunch. We were hungry, and didn’t want a repeat of yesterday’s fiasco when we didn’t get to eat until the middle of the afternoon. Also, we knew the sewage works was coming up next – and the least said about that, the better! Suffice it to say that we both put on a pace for the next mile or so, but now the track was no longer narrow or muddy so walking was easier. In fact, the whole of today’s hike was a lot greener than we had expected after looking at the map. It might skirt several industrial ‘works’, but it is The Saxon Shore Way and is well signposted and maintained. We tried to concentrate on the birds over the river. We saw a lot of my favourite oyster-catchers, and a huge curlew quite close with its very long beak. We also saw a beautiful bird with a white collar and a rusty red breast perched on a post very near us. We couldn’t identify it, and when Colin started to get his camera out it flew away.
We passed the end station on the Sittingbourne & Kemsley Light Railway (the track is only a mile and a half long) and found the gate was open leading into the station yard. We went through to look at one of the steam engines on display there, and Colin then wandered further in to look at some more of them. An elderly gentleman wearing an enthusiasts T-shirt approached me, so I greeted him and explained that we were just passing on the river bank and had come in out of curiosity. He seemed a bit vague, so I asked him when the railway opened again next season. He wandered off to a bungalow-type mobile home, then a younger man came out with a bunch of leaflets about it all. He was very talkative and friendly, and told us we were free to look around.
By that time Colin had rejoined us, and started talking to the older man about some of the engines. I didn’t find it all that fascinating, but listened politely to the old gent as he bumbled on rather hesitantly. He was very courteous, but I couldn’t help feeling that he viewed us with suspicion – two eccentrics with a highly implausible story about walking along a stinky river bank on a weekday at this time of year. Likely story! What are they really up to? I was also very conscious of the time because I did not want to be walking in the dark, and eventually I managed to hassle Colin away. One piece of interesting information we did glean from this gentleman was that the railway originally led up to Ridham Dock, almost the extent of today’s walk. It was constructed to accommodate the paper mill – that same mill which blocked our access to the footpath yesterday causing us to change plans and lose time.
We regained the river bank, and soon walked over an overgrown concrete platform which was originally a wharf for the station, so we had just been told. Next we reached the mouth of Milton Creek, and turned along The Swale again. It didn’t look any different because the channel is as narrow as a river at this point. Up ahead we could see a long jetty with a ship at the far end being loaded with containers. The jetty was plastered with DANGER notices, so we decided it was not a safe path and kept to the river bank.
We were passing a number of industrial complexes, some smellier than others! One which fascinated me consisted of an enormous pool of water which was being aerated in small fountains. Whether it was a cooling plant or a sewage works I don’t know, but it looked pretty! Far ahead we could see thick black smoke billowing across our green path and the channel.
We could have turned off before the smoke if we were to follow the Saxon Shore Way, but there was a path up to Ridham Dock which was a public footpath – so we went up there.
We were walking on top of an attractive green bank, but when we got to the smoke it filled our lungs with acrid ash and got in our eyes too. It was most unpleasant, but fortunately short-lived. We soon got to the very end at Ridham Dock. We couldn’t see anything as there was a building and a hedge in the way, so we walked back along the bottom of the green bank to keep out of the smoke.
We rejoined the Saxon Shore Way which led us across some green fields to the entrance to Ridham Dock. This was very busy, mostly with ‘Eddie Stobart’ lorries rushing hither and thither. I’m not sure what kind of shipping uses the dock, but I think the lorries pick up and drop off containers there. Unfortunately, the next part of the Way was along a road which had no pavements, so it was a game of ‘dodge-the-Eddie-Stobarts’ for the next couple of hundred yards – not much fun!
As we turned the corner, the footpath went over a stile and led between two hedges adjacent to the road. That was infinitely better! When we reached The Swale once more, on the other side of Ridham Dock, we climbed up on to the bank and immediately we were in the cold wind which we had left at the bridge earlier that morning. It made us shiver, yet all day we had been almost too hot in the brilliant sunshine.
Whether it is always windy and cold along that part of the channel, or it was just because it was near the end of the day I don’t know. I took a photo of the Kingsferry Bridge in the fading sunlight, and then put my camera away. We walked the last stretch quickly to the Bridge and regained our car because it was not the kind of weather to hang about!
That ended Walk no.38, we shall pick up Walk no.39 next time at the Kingsferry Bridge and walk on to the Isle of Sheppey. It was so cold and breezy by the bridge that we drove swiftly to the ASDA car park in Sittingbourne before we had our cups of tea from the flasks. We picked up the bikes, and drove home to Bognor in the dark.

Walk 37 -- Conyer to Sittingbourne

Ages: Colin was 59 years and 175 days. Rosemary was 56 years and 317 days.

Weather: Even sunnier and warmer than yesterday, but a very sharp wind in the open.

Location: Conyer to Sittingbourne.

Distance: 7 miles.

Total distance: 225 miles.

Terrain: Grass banks, between marshes and mudflats. The last bit was through an industrial estate, along hard pavements with lorries thundering past – it was dreadful!

Tide: Going out.

Rivers to cross: None, though we did have to walk round the ends of Conyer Creek and Milton Creek.

Ferries: None, though we passed another disused one to the Isle of Sheppey which would have saved us 12 miles!

Piers: None.

Kissing gates: None. (What a let down after yesterday!)

Pubs: None, because we didn’t get to Sittingbourne until they had all closed.

‘English Heritage’ properties: None.

Ferris wheels: None.

Diversions: None.

How we got there and back: We drove from the Youth Hostel in Canterbury to Sittingbourne with our bikes as yesterday. We had planned to leave the car somewhere near the paper mill at Kemsley Down, but (a) there was nowhere to park, and (b) we couldn’t see any way we could get across to the Saxon Shore Way from the road. We drove back about a mile and a half to an ASDA supermarket because I wanted to go to the loo. We realised that parking was going to be a real headache, so we made the decision to discreetly use the superstore car park where we were! We backed the car into a space at the nether end by a tall hedge and quietly removed the bikes. Then we donned our walking gear and cycled to Conyer where we chained our bikes to a tree next to an electricity sub-station.
At the end, we had couple of very welcome cups of tea from our flasks in the car before driving back to Conyer to pick up the bikes. We then drove to the outskirts of Gillingham where we were booked in at the Medway Youth Hostel for the night.

Despite getting up at half past six we did not make a very good start this morning, nor were either of us in a relaxed mood. There were two reasons for this. One was Canterbury Youth Hostel which seemed to have a number of guests who were out of work and very vague about their permanent addresses. Both of us were mildly uncomfortable at sharing dormitories with such people who are inevitably depressed, have a chip on their shoulder, and two of them were ill with chest complaints. Some of our fellow guests from abroad (Fiji) were definitely not tourists, were noisy, and ‘took over’ the Members’ Kitchen which was far too small anyway. On top of that, the power tripped out in the night and was not fixed until the warden came in at half past seven. We were really rather glad to leave this morning, and relieved to be going somewhere else tonight.
The other reason was that we were unable to park our car anywhere near the point on the coastal path where we had intended to finish today’s walk, and we had to concoct ‘Plan B’. That meant shortening the distance – we couldn’t lengthen it because it would have meant too much walking – and the whole fiasco made us very late. Time is of the essence when it gets dark so early!
We found a tree in a pebbled courtyard in front of an electricity substation in Conyer which looked an ideal place to chain our bikes for the day. The trouble was, it was about fifty yards further down the road from where we parked our car, and hence finished our Walk, yesterday. We couldn’t leave that fifty yards out because, so far, we have walked every inch of the way from Bognor. I cycled to the spot where we parked yesterday, then walked back to the tree pushing my bike – Colin chained up the bikes, then marched up the road and marched back again. That bit of nonsense over, we started our Walk!
We took the footpath round the back of the boatyard where one of the masts was emitting a loud shrieking noise due to the wind blowing through it. We were amazed that a natural sound could be so ear-splitting! We viewed the half-built houses from the other side of the creek. They looked very pleasant there in the sun with the creek still full of water; but what about the view when the tide is out? and how much are they selling for?
Further down the creek, out of sight from the houses and the boatyard, was a small boat with a single cabin. It was stationary in the middle of the water, and as we got nearer we could see a light flashing on deck and a man standing there waving his arm from side to side. Our path was well back from the riverside because of the marshes, and we were a long way out of earshot. We didn’t know if he was signalling to us or not – it looked like semaphore and morse all rolled into one. It is too long since our Scouting/Guiding days – we can’t remember either code! He looked as if he had got himself stuck in the mud as the tide receded.
We had no intention of wading through the sludge to find out if he wanted to communicate with us. What could we do anyway? No way were we going to turn round and walk a mile back to tell anyone in Conyer (who?) that he was there. We surmised that if he really was stuck with a packed up engine, no outboard motor, no radio and no mobile phone then he must be an idiot and deserved all he got! It wasn’t as if he was in any danger, stuck in the mud in the sunshine. He could always swim to shore – it wasn’t far! Or he could wait for the tide to come in again. So we waved cheerily and walked on. Two helicopters then appeared from inland, looped over him and flew off again. Perhaps it was some sort of exercise, but we can’t think what.
Colin said it reminded him of the Scout camp at Burridge in 1978 (was it really twenty-three years ago?) when the boys pushed him over the mud in his kayak – it was thigh deep – so that he didn’t have to get himself dirty; and Jack sat in his canoe in the middle of the River Hamble for an hour smoking his pipe whilst waiting for the incoming tide to float him off again! Happy days! Poor old Jack’s been dead for ten and a half years now, but those Scout camps seem like only yesterday.
Then all was forgotten in the excitement – Colin saw a seal!! We were nearing the entrance to the creek and, frustratingly, had not yet got out our telescope/binoculars because we hadn’t seen any birds worth viewing. It dived. Had he imagined it? But no! It resurfaced a long way further out, it must be an animal swimming. It dived and came up once more – it certainly was alive and definitely wasn’t a bird, so we concluded it was a seal because that is what it looked like. Then it dived again with its nose pointing out to sea, and we didn’t see it again.
We came to the Point where Conyer Creek came out into The Swale – which isn’t a river, but a channel between the Isle of Sheppey and the mainland. Looking east we could see all the way back to Whitstable, and the end of Herne Bay Pier stuck out in the sea. We turned west, but the Isle of Sheppey is so near to the shore at this point it seemed as if we were still walking along a river bank. We had the ‘river’ to our right and marshes to our left all the way to Sittingbourne. The wind was quite sharp and we didn’t fancy stopping to eat our lunch because it was too cold. There was nowhere to shelter from it, so after looking at the map and seeing ‘Church: remains of’ I suggested that we might find a stone or two there to hide behind out of the wind. Trouble was, that was two and a half miles ahead and we were already hungry because we were running so late. This did not enhance our mood in any way!
We tried to look at the birds through our telescope/binoculars as we did yesterday, but even my lovely oyster-catchers did not hold the same magic when I was cross and hungry. We saw a big curlew walking on the mud with its very long beak – a beautiful sight! Groups of small birds were flying around in formation, and I followed them with my telescope as they twisted and turned in the sunshine. In fact, we saw a bigger variety of birds today than ever, many we couldn’t identify, and we did begin to feel a lot better.
Marching along in the wind we did not feel so cold, but knew that we would do so as soon as we stopped to eat. I was also very conscious that if we didn’t get to either of the two ‘real ale’ pubs in Sittingbourne before they closed at three o’clock, then Colin would be in such a foul mood I wouldn’t be able to cope. Eventually I voiced this concern, and he replied, “Oh, I’d given up ages ago thinking we would get there in time because it’s impossible now with us being so late!” If only he had said! If only people would communicate more, it would save so many misunderstandings! I slowed down a little then, was less tense and was able to enjoy the birds more.
We passed a number of burnt-out cars each side of the bank. How the vandals got them up there in the first place is a mystery because we were nowhere near any road. I expect they were all stolen vehicles which had been driven round at speed for a few hours before being dumped and torched. It seems to be what young people do for fun these days – what a sad reflection on present-day society! One was half submerged in the mud next to the remains of a jetty which used to be part of a ferry to the Isle of Sheppey. If it was still in operation, it would have saved us twelve miles walking – I wonder how long ago that one closed!
As we neared Milton Creek the marsh to the left turned into ponds, so it seemed we were ‘walking on water’, or at least a grassy bank through the middle of a lake. The map described them as disused oyster ponds, but we found out the next day that they were more recently used to make bricks which used to be a big industry in the area. Ahead of us, on the other side of the creek, tall chimneys and other marks of heavy industry loomed – it all seemed vaguely depressing. We haven’t passed through a ‘real’ seaside town for yonks – nor are we going to for a good many Walks yet.
As we turned south to walk down Milton Creek, the wind dropped making us suddenly a lot warmer. I suggested we stopped to eat our lunch sitting on the river bank before we got too near all the ‘works’ which we knew were ahead of us, but Colin marched on determined to get to ‘Church: remains of’ because I had said so a couple of hours back! (Like most men, the concept of changing your mind to suit the circumstances is completely alien to him.) Even as we approached a very noisy factory, lined with poplar trees on our side, he still carried on. We passed loads of suitable places to sit on the river bank, and even when it became patently obvious that ‘Church: remains of’ no longer existed because it had been buried by tons of rusty cars (a scrapyard was on the spot) he was still looking round for it! (He gets his bloodymindedness from his father who was just the same – once he had got an idea into his head, you could not shift it!) It was half past two and I was ravenous! I told him I was going back to the river bank because I did not want to eat my lunch in the middle of an industrial estate, and he could do what he liked. I stomped back about two hundred yards, sorted out my waterproof overtrousers to sit on and got out my filled baguette which we had bought that morning – Colin appeared and sat down quietly beside me. I’m afraid that when a morning starts badly, as today did, it puts us both out for the rest of the day.
The sun was already low in the sky, but we both felt a lot better for a short rest and something to eat. I reapplied my ‘Powergel’ (which relieves the pain in my arthritic toe like magic!) and we got going on the horrid part of today’s walk – through an industrial estate. We looked along the river bank where an unofficial path seemed to go the way we wanted, but we couldn’t make out, either from squinting along there or from the map, whether we would be able to get out the other end. We were too tired to take the risk, so we took the official path along the side of a road. We were surprised to see a notice in four languages reminding us to drive on the left! I suppose they get a lot of foreign lorries visiting the factories – it’s crazy how British industry is folding up everywhere and we live on cheap imports. We were passed by a number of lorries travelling at breakneck speed (‘time is money’) and several times by a street cleaner driven at about forty miles an hour by two young lads in what sounded like first gear! The vehicle was so new it still had trade plates on it, and we did wonder if they were so-called ‘joy riders’.
We turned on to one of the main roads through Sittingbourne, and had to put up with constant traffic by the side of us. We decided to turn into the industrial estate there to follow a footpath which was clearly marked on the map leading to ‘Crown Quay’, but like the ‘Church: remains of’ it had been completely obliterated. Crown Quay turned out to be some very ordinary warehouses, and we could not see any way out of the estate except the route we had come in, so we had to retrace our steps. We were both very cross!
We followed the cycle track we had ridden that morning which took us past MacDonald’s, skirted the first station on the Sittingbourne & Kemsley Light Railway (closed for the season) and turned round the end of Milton Creek which seemed to disappear under buildings at that point never to be seen again. It wasn’t very exciting. Some schoolchildren cycled across the main road at a crossing and disappeared in front of us through a bridge under the light railway. We followed, and found it to be a much quieter road. Further up, the Saxon Shore Way turned sharp right over a stile to lead back to the western bank of Milton Creek.

That ended Walk no.37, we shall pick up Walk no.38 next time at the stile. We continued about a hundred yards along the road which turned out not to be quite so quiet as we thought – it was fairly narrow and led into an industrial complex, so several times we had to leap into the hedge to let lorries pass! Eventually we turned into a footpath which took us over the railway by a tiny Halt, and down into the ASDA car park almost next to our car. It was already getting dark, and it was only 4pm!
We had a couple of cups of tea – and some cakes and biscuits which we had stashed away there – then we drove back to Conyer to pick up our bikes. After that, we drove to the outskirts of Gillingham (which took ages because the traffic was awful) and I successfully navigated us to Medway Youth Hostel which is a couple of converted oast houses in a quiet rural retreat. Suddenly we both felt very calm.

Our experience at Canterbury Youth Hostel which put us both in such a foul mood for this Walk, and a similar experience at Dover Youth Hostel a few weeks later (which we were using to hop over the Channel for a day-trip) put us off hostelling for life! We let our membership lapse. We do not expect to share a dormitory with people who are homeless and cough all night, suffer from various kinds of mental illness, cadge food in the member's kitchen or spend the evening blaming the local job centre staff for all their misfortunes. We do not expect to socialise with people who are depressed, looking for work, have no permanent address, whose immigrant status is doubtful, and who wake us up at 5am by playing a radio until they stand outside (noisily) to await their transport to a local farm.
We were on holiday for goodness sake, and we thought the hostelling association was budget accommodation for people who are taking a break. On both occasions we felt as if we had ended up in a hostel for the homeless!

Walk 36 -- Oare to Conyer

Ages: Colin was 59 years and 174 days. Rosemary was 56 years and 316 days.

Weather: Sunny and warm with a light breeze, then it got very dull, but no rain.

Location: Oare to Conyer.

Distance: 6 miles.

Total distance: 218 miles.

Terrain: Grass banks, occasionally topped with gravel. Muddy in places.

Tide: Out.

Rivers to cross: None.

Ferries: None, though we passed a disused one to the Isle of Sheppey which would have saved us 29 miles!!

Piers: None.

Kissing gates: Nos. 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37 and 38 along Oare Creek and around the Nature Reserve. (This is the record so far for kissing gates in one day – smoo-ooch!)

Pubs: None.

‘English Heritage’ properties: No.11, a ‘Maison Dieu’ at Ospringe. No.12, a stone chapel in a ploughed field about half a mile further west.

Ferris wheels: None.

Diversions: None.

How we got there and back: We drove from home to the hamlet of Conyer with our bikes on the back of the car. We donned our walking gear, then cycled to Oare where we chained our bikes to a fence by the bridge. (It did feel funny cycling in walking boots – but we coped.)
At the end, we had a cup of tea from our flasks in the car, then we drove back to Oare to pick up the bikes. We had a quick look at the two ‘English Heritage’ properties before driving to Canterbury where we were booked in at the Youth Hostel for the night.

Today’s Walk started very well – with a kissing gate, one of eight! The first half mile or so of river bank was quite muddy because there were cows in the field and a lot of rain fell in this area a week ago – in fact a whole month’s-worth fell in one day causing localised flooding. Good job we hadn’t planned to walk last week! After the second kissing gate, conditions improved because the cattle hadn’t been allowed along there to mess up the path and turn it into a quagmire. I am terrified of slipping over because I know how easy it is to break a leg.

While we were cycling along to get to the beginning of today’s walk, Colin had seen no less than three woodpeckers. He was sure that two of them were Green and the third a Lesser Spotted. I have to look where I am going when I am cycling (I don’t know how he manages to see all this wildlife without running into things when he is driving or cycling) and by the time I had stopped and looked around, they had all gone.
The same went for a kingfisher which he was convinced he saw as we cycled over a little stream. After the second kissing gate, we had to cross a small drainage ditch. Colin was first, and saw the blue streak of another kingfisher as it flew away from under the little bridge. I just saw the back of it as it disappeared behind some bushes. Excitement! Excitement! But we didn’t see any more even though we approached all further ditches cautiously and quietly. We did see a pair of swans with cygnets, and no less than five herons standing on the far side of a field where we think there must have been a drainage ditch.

We had walked about half a mile when I realised that I had left the map in the saddle-bag of my bike! We reasoned that we couldn’t possibly go wrong – we follow the river bank until we hit the sea, then we follow the shore until we get to Conyer where our car (with flasks of hot tea and chocolate biscuits!) awaits us. We decided it wasn’t worth going back for it, so this was the first of our Walks we did without a map! (Even on the first Walk which we knew so well, from Bognor to Littlehampton, we took the map along although we didn’t need to refer to it.) So we carried on mapless!

All the human activity seemed to be on the other side of the river – loads of yachts and boats. Then we saw the pub where they refused to serve us on our last Walk, so we blew a raspberry across the water! We passed under the buzzing electricity wires, and tried to make out the tree where Colin had ‘scrumped’ all those delicious apples two Walks ago. We couldn’t see it, we think it was too far down the other side of the bank. We entered the Nature Reserve (through another kissing gate) and walked right to the point. We could see all the way back to Whitstable and the end of Herne Bay’s pier. At last we were walking along the seashore again, although the Isle of Sheppey was so near it looked like yet another river bank.

The bird life was amazing! Colin had his binoculars and I had my little telescope which has opened up a whole new world to me. Instead of just seeing blurry blobs, I can now bring the birds into sharp focus and they are fantastic! We saw ducks of all sorts, curlews, peewits, skylarks, kestrels, an egret, but my favourite was the oyster-catchers. These beautiful black and white birds were walking along the mudflats on their stumpy legs poking into the sand every so often with their long beaks – I could have watched them for hours. We could hear them as well, which really was wonderful. We were so far away from civilisation (only the occasional hoot from a train in the distance spoilt it) that we could actually listen to natural sounds. The pee-ee-wit was the most musical – magic!

We reached the visitor centre where there was a small car park with one car in it, but no one about at all. The building was locked and shuttered, but by the entrance was a bench out of the wind. That is where we sat to eat our lunch. Then, arm in arm because I didn’t want to slip, we walked carefully down to the end of the disused jetty which was there. Once upon a time there was a ferry across to the island at this point, which would have saved us no less than twenty-nine miles of walking had it still been in operation! I wonder how long ago it closed.

So we carried on westwards towards the bridge, which we won’t reach until the day after tomorrow! We met just ONE person on the whole walk – a girl out with her dog. We continually stopped to look at the birds which was the main interest today. As we got more tired, it seemed an really long way to Conyer – but we had no map to glance at and see how far we had progressed. We kept thinking, ‘It must be the next dent in the bank – No! Then it is definitely the next one!’ and so on. Well, we had been up since five o’clock in order to get there and complete the walk before dark, and we were beginning to feel it. At last! we reached Conyer Creek, but then it seemed to be an awful long way down it to the hamlet. We had just forgotten how far it was on the map.

We couldn’t make out whether the ‘shooting’ noises we kept hearing were bird-scarers or a clay pigeon shoot, it just didn’t sound right for either. As we approached the village, the noise stopped and some youths emerged from the bushes walking ahead of us. We don’t know what they were shooting at, but reckoned they must have run out of ammunition. We passed a row of pukka houses which were only half built. They overlook the creek (pure mud, except at high tide) and there is a boatyard a few yards further down. We wondered how much they were selling these ‘waterfront residences’ for. We passed the pub and the door was open, but Colin wouldn’t even look in to see what ales they sold because it wasn’t in his ‘Good Beer Guide’! There was our car, parked by the side of the road we were walking down, actually on ‘the nearest safe path to the coast’.

That ended Walk no.36, we shall pick up Walk no.37 next time about fifty yards south of the pub in Conyer. We had some tea from our flasks, then drove back to Oare to pick up our bikes. Next we drove down to the A2 to look at two ‘English Heritage’ properties which we had passed within a mile of on our walk (rule no.10).

The first is described as ‘the remains of a small medieval church incorporating part of a 4^th-century Romano-British pagan mausoleum’. What they didn’t tell us was that it was in the middle of a ploughed field! We stopped the car in the field gateway, looked across the mud at a few bits of stone sticking up under a tree, shook our heads and drove on!
The second is described as ‘part of a medieval complex of royal lodge, almshouses and hospital, this is much as it was 400 years ago’. We parked a little down the road and walked back to look at it. Certainly a very old building, but it closed yesterday for the 2001 season! It won’t open again until next Easter. We tried to look in the windows, but couldn’t see much.

It was getting quite dark by then – how I hate this time of year when the sun sets in the middle of the afternoon! We drove on to Canterbury Youth Hostel in the gathering gloom.

Walk 35 -- Faversham to Oare

Ages: Colin was 59 years and 157 days. Rosemary was 56 years and 299 days.
Weather: Sunny and really warm – it was like summer again!
Location: Faversham to Oare.
Distance: 3½ miles.
Total distance: 212 miles.
Terrain: All grass river banks – we didn’t get near the sea!
Tide: Out.
Rivers to cross: No.10, Oare Creek.
Ferries: None.
Piers: None.
Kissing gates: None.
Pubs: We were turned away from the ‘Shipwright’s Arms’ at Hollowshore where they refused to serve us! We eventually found the ‘Elephant’ in Faversham, but they were out of mild and only had ‘Tetley Bitter’ and ‘Marston’s Pedigree’ which wasn’t very exciting. I had a shandy again.
‘English Heritage’ properties: None.
Ferris wheels: None.
Diversions: None.
How we got there and back: We drove from the Youth Hostel in Broadstairs to Faversham where we parked the car in the same street as yesterday because it seemed as good a place as any. We walked through the town centre to the bridge over Faversham Creek.
At the end, we walked the mile back to Faversham where we sought out the ‘Elephant’ pub. We were hot, tired, angry and very thirsty after having been refused a drink at the pub half way round the walk. Feeling better after a rest and a drink, we visited the church. Then we returned to the car where we dived into tea and cakes! After that, we drove home to Bognor, making very good time and we arrived just before it got dark.

We had a look round Faversham before we started our walk today. There was a market in full swing in the pedestrianised centre of the town, underneath and around the pillared Guildhall which dates from the 16^th century. The parish church is large, and is topped by a distinctive spire with flying buttresses. The continuation of the creek through the town has been turned into a pleasant park, and marks the spot where a gunpowder factory used to be. Faversham provided gunpowder from the time of the Armada to the First World War; in fact at the beginning of the 20^th century the town was of enormous importance, being the nation’s main source of explosives. By the creek stands a 400 year old building called TS Hazard – it was a warehouse, named after the ship which Faversham supplied to fight the Spanish Armada, and is now used by the sea cadets.
We crossed the bridge and started walking down the other side of Faversham Creek which was quite an important little harbour in past centuries. Now only pleasure craft use it. We trudged round an industrial complex, then we walked the same meander of the river that we had followed yesterday but in the opposite direction. However, today was very different! We were rested after our night’s sleep, we were on the inside of the bend so the distance was less, and the day was sunny and warm.
Perhaps it was the pleasant weather which brought the birds out, because there seemed to be a lot more to look at than yesterday; and I had remembered to bring my little telescope so I could actually see them. Our best sighting was of a heron which caught a fish, tossed it up in the air several times to turn it round, then swallowed it. It was pure magic to watch this in the hot sunshine!We had bought pasties in the town, and I suggested we ate them before we got to the pub so we could wash them down with real ale. We sat on the bank with our backs to the sun (because it was too bright for comfort being fairly low in the sky at this time of year) and discussed the beauty of today’s walk which is almost circular with the pub in the middle. Colin had looked it all up in his ‘Good Beer Guide’; it sold the beers he likes, it opens at lunchtimes on weekdays, and it nestles in the fork of the two creeks slap-bang in the middle of today’s walk.
So we arrived, hot and thirsty. The doors were open, but as we tried to enter the landlady rushed towards us shouting, “We’re closed! We’re closed!” Before we had time to say anything, the landlord came up and quite aggressively yelled, “She told you we’re closed! We’ve got the painters in! We put a notice at the end of the drive!” We tried to explain that we had approached along the river bank, and that we wouldn’t mind at all sipping our drinks outside on such a lovely day, but they didn't even attempt to listen and the door was shut firmly in our faces with the words, “We’re open this evening!” They were so RUDE! I opened the door again and asked, “Can I at least use the toilet?” (I was quite ‘desperate’ by then, and there were no bushes on the open river bank.) “There’s one out there!” was the shouted reply, so I used it and we left, very upset. I mean, are these people trying to run a business or are they not? They certainly won’t get our custom again, we were furious! I suggested Colin put in a strong complaint to CAMRA, because it is one of their recommended pubs.
We stomped off down the path towards Oare. The way became quite narrow with brambles pulling at our clothes, and a hedge had been grubbed up in an effort to widen it. I caught my foot on a root which was stuck up about six inches out of the ground. There was nothing to grab hold of so I tried to bring my other foot forward – but not quick enough and I crashed down full length on the ground! Colin’s face was a picture – I could almost see his thoughts – ‘She’s gone and broken her leg again! Hospitals! Operations! Plaster! Crutches!’ But no, fortunately I was only winded and lay there on the ground saying, “It’s all right, I haven’t broken anything! Just give me a moment and I’ll get up!” A man appeared round the end of the hedge, mobile phone in hand. “Do you want me to call an ambulance? Shall I dial 999?” and he seemed quite disappointed when I declined his offer, thanked him for his concern but I was OK and would get up when had I got my breath back – which I did. My worst ‘injury’ was that I had landed in nettles and the whole of my arm stung; so I rolled up my sleeve and poured water down the offending skin. That did the trick!
We carried on past a wharf where lots of yachts were moored, in fact it is the picture on the front of my ‘Explorer’ OS map! To our left were gravel lakes with whole flocks of birds flying round and landing momentarily. The path turned into a track, then into a road. Eventually we came out by the bridge over Oare Creek which is quite a busy thoroughfare.

That ended Walk no.35, we shall pick up Walk no.36 next time on the bridge across Oare Creek, just outside Faversham. We were very thirsty, having been deprived of our beer and used a lot of our drinking water to soothe my arm. It took us a long time to march back into Faversham and find the other ‘real ale’ pub Colin had earmarked, and then they had sold out of the beer he likes! It just wasn’t our day, but at least we got a drink there, and a rest out of the sun. We felt a bit better then, and it was early enough to get all the way home in daylight.

Walk 34 -- Whitstable to Faversham

Ages: Colin was 59 years and 156 days. Rosemary was 56 years and 298 days.
Weather: Black clouds with a brisk wind, but the rain just about held off. Warmer than yesterday.
Location: Whitstable to Faversham.
Distance: 9 miles.
Total distance: 208½ miles.
Terrain: Some roads and tarmacked paths, a little beach-walking, but mostly grass banks.
Tide: Way out.
Rivers to cross: No.9, Faversham Creek.
Ferries: None.
Piers: None.
Kissing gates: No.30 at Seasalter. (We didn’t actually go through it because we couldn’t be bothered to jump down off the sea wall, but we had a kiss anyway!)
Pubs: The ‘Ship Centurion’ in Whitstable again, where this time I enjoyed Erdinger Weissbraü – I tried some of Colin’s yesterday and it was deelish! Colin had Bateman’s ‘Blackbeerd’ and then Elgood’s ‘Black Dog’ mild.
‘English Heritage’ properties: None.
Ferris wheels: None.
Diversions: None.
How we got there and back: We drove from the Youth Hostel at Broadstairs to Faversham where we parked the car fairly near the station. We caught a train to Whitstable, and called in at the same pub as yesterday on our way down to the seafront.
At the end, we walked through Faversham town centre and returned to our car where flasks of hot tea awaited us! Then we returned to Broadstairs Youth Hostel for the night.

We started with the pub today – got to get your priorities right! Then we bought some pies and cakes on our way to the seafront, so that by the time we began our Walk ‘proper’ it was almost lunchtime. We returned to Reeve’s Beach, and how much more pleasant! The sheltered bench, where the yobs were being so gross yesterday, was occupied by a group of elderly people; and we didn’t feel threatened or vulnerable as we had last night. We were able to read the information board, and found out that the area behind us – which is now a car park – was donated to the local populace for use as a roller skating rink in the days before motor cars. I am sure people had more fun at the seaside in those days, now that we have everything we are always ‘bored’.
Half a mile into today's Walk, we passed the two hundred mile mark!
We walked a little along the hard-packed shingle at the top of the beach, and came to a concrete walkway where a group of young children were sitting to eat their packed lunches. They were very well-behaved because there was about one adult for every three youngsters, and they were kept in check with high expectations of their conduct alongside an interest taken in their doings and sayings. As a result, they were all enjoying themselves enormously, and we didn’t mind sitting near them on an empty bench to consume our freshly cooked meat pies. If only all school parties could be so well disciplined!
We continued westward, and when the concrete walkway ran out we carried on along the top of the beach. The official path crosses the railway and goes along a road before crossing back to the beach, but you know what we think about walking along roads! The shingle got looser and more leg-shattering, so we tried several times to walk on the sand which had been revealed by the low tide. However, that was just gooey mud and even more difficult to negotiate, so we returned to the stones.
Then we came to the point where the official path returns to the top of the beach. There a private estate begins, consisting of houses along the top of a grass slope (no hogweed this time) with a tarmac path conveniently placed along the bottom. A notice at each end of the path warned us that it was for maintenance purposes only, that it was private, that it belonged to the people living on the estate, and that they maintained it at their own expense so ‘clear orf’ and don’t walk on it – or something to that effect! In other words, “Continue to shatter your legs on the shingle or sink without trace into the mud, but don’t walk on our nice smooth tarmac path ’cos it’s ours and you might wear it out – so there!”
Maintaining our knees and our calf muscles beautifully, we walked the whole length of it (“What notice? Did you see a notice? Never could get the hang of that reading lark in school!”) and at the end we had to swing out over the edge of the sea wall in order to get round a high fence which had been constructed in an attempt to bar our way. On my new ‘Explorer’ OS map and on the internet maps we have been using, that path is marked as a public right of way, in fact it is part of the long-distance footpath, the ‘Saxon Shore Way’; so how they have the nerve to claim it is private and attempt to block it with a fence, I don’t know.
The blocked path continued for a very short way across the corner of a caravan site, but since we were already on the sea wall we continued walking up there. When we saw the kissing gate which lets you out of the corner of the caravan site, we couldn’t be bothered to jump down to it, so we had a kiss up on the wall for good measure! Then we walked down a slope in order to look at an information board.
This told us all about the local oysters. During the 19^th century, the best oysters in the world were gathered from the tidal flats around Whitstable and Seasalter – it was a huge industry and they were world-famous. In fact, oysters have been gathered all round the Kent coast since Roman times. There is still the remains of a storage ship which can be seen at low tide; and as it was low tide when we were there, this vessel was clearly visible. (We could also see two more Second World War platforms in the distance.) Two factors were responsible for the demise of the oysters around the time of the First World War – one was over-fishing and the other was pollution. By the 1920s, Whitstable’s oyster-fishing industry was no more. Will we ever learn to be tidier and less greedy?
While we were pondering on this, I had noted that a painter’s ladder was blocking the ‘Ladies’ entrance to the public conveniences there, but the chap seemed to be finished and was packing up. I was waiting for him to move when I heard him lock the door, so I swung round and asked if I could use the loo. He unlocked it again and said I could so long as I didn’t touch any doorframes or close any doors, so I was OK. Phew! There was nowhere to go otherwise, the whole area was wide open with not a bush in sight!
Unfortunately, we did have to walk along a road for the next half mile or so – a narrow road with no pavements, and traffic which was oblivious of any speed limits. It was hairy! There was a string of ‘houses’ between us and the beach, but some of them were little more than shacks. They may be lovely in the summer, but they are exposed to all the winds and tides along that godforsaken coast and have only shingle for a garden. I would hate to live in such a place! When the houses stopped, we noticed a strip of grass along the top of the beach which was infinitely better than dodging white vans on the road, so we climbed over the sea wall. A little further on the grass ran out, but the path continued on a grassy bank which had appeared between the sea wall and the road, so we didn’t have to play ‘dodgems’ any more.
We watched two people go down on to the mud pushing their bicycles – with difficulty I might add, although there seemed to be a few well defined ‘paths’ across the flats. They each looped about six well-filled sacks across the handlebars and then started back. I asked a passing couple if they knew what was in the sacks, and they answered, “Cockles!” They must have an outlet where they sell them, but it looked very hard work to me!
The road turned inland at an area of deserted holiday shacks and lots of notices declaring PRIVATE BEACH, KEEP OFF, etc. They were welcome to it, the holiday complex looked quite horrible! We only had to make a small detour to go behind it, then we regained the sea wall and walked along next to it for miles getting further and further from civilisation. We had mudflats to our right and marshes to our left – unsurprisingly, we didn’t meet anyone at all until we were nearly in Faversham.
We walked on for two and a half miles, occasionally passing through clever little metal stiles where you just push the centre poles apart and they spring back on their chains – there was nothing to climb over. The tide was out, and we looked for wildlife on the mudflats and marshes. There wasn’t much, the most exciting thing we saw was a heron but it wouldn’t let us get near and eventually flew off towards the Isle of Sheppey which was only a mile away to the north of us. We found some interesting caterpillars and fungi, and saw an unusual type of seagrass which grows below high water level. We seemed to be walking an awful long way. I couldn’t believe how slowly we were progressing, perhaps it was because there was nothing much to see.
Eventually we climbed over a real stile and turned quite abruptly left on to the river bank. There, amongst the hawthorn bushes on the marshes side of the path, was a fully laden apple tree! It was in the middle of nowhere, and we can only think that – a long time ago – a passing rambler threw his or her apple core into the grass by the footpath. We each tried an apple, and they were delicious – sweet but not quite a Cox. Colin then ‘scrumped’ about a dozen into his rucksack for consumption later!
Shortly after, the river divided. Nestled into the neck of the fork, over Faversham Creek from where we were, we could see tomorrow’s pub. We passed under the buzzing overhead electric lines and turned abruptly left again which meant that we were once more walking east. We could smell fermenting hops, which was rather spooky because we were in the middle of nowhere and the sky was getting darker and darker. We seemed to be walking away from Faversham which was doubly frustrating because we were very tired and it was trying to rain, but we had to follow the meanders of the creek. Slowly the river turned southwards – we skirted a farm and then turned sharply south-westwards directly towards the spire of Faversham church. The next couple of hundred yards of path were tarmacked, as if done for wheelchair access, so it was easier walking and the rain just about held off.
The paved path turned sharply left to go behind the sewage works, but we carried on the river bank past a notice which was so rusty we couldn’t read it – we could just about make out the word WARNING at the top. There we met the first person we had seen since leaving Seasalter a couple of hours previously. A man cycled past us, then a woman following him got off her bike when she met us because the path was so narrow. We asked her if she knew what the rusty notice said, and she replied that she had no idea but the path was a bit dodgy further on so it might refer to that. She was right – about the path, I mean – it got extremely narrow, slippery and was full of potholes. Despite passing very close to the sewage works, we didn’t experience any unpleasant odours.
We crossed a footbridge, and were followed by two boys in their early teens. One was carrying a fishing box and the other a cloth bag. As they passed us, one of them asked if we would like to buy a rabbit! He did not specify if it was for a pet or the pot, but we declined on both counts! They went on to ask a passing commuter on his bike if he would like to buy it, and was answered with a puzzled shake of the head. We suspected it was in the cloth bag and wondered if it was alive or dead. We were by a wharf with Thames barges moored in the creek, and a 16^th century warehouse which is one of the oldest surviving in Britain.
It was very picturesque there, but the light was fading fast and not much good for photography. With our heads full of pictures of pet rabbits in stewpots, we walked down Abbey Street which claims to be the longest preserved medieval street in the country. It’s lovely old houses were saved from demolition as recently as the 1960s when the land was earmarked to build council houses! The Abbey itself was knocked down by Henry VIII’s mob, and there is very little of it left. The stone – which originally came from Caen – was taken back to France to strengthen the defences of Pas de Calais which was still in English possession at the time. However, it was nearing six o’clock, the light was fading fast and we were both too tired to appreciate it properly. We decided to have a better and more refreshed look at Faversham tomorrow.
The smell of fermenting hops grew stronger as we made our way through the streets to the bridge across Faversham Creek. As we turned the last corner, there was the cause – the Shepherd Neame Brewery in full production with steam coming out of its vents! It claims to be Britain’s oldest brewery, founded in 1698, though ale has been brewed here for hundreds of years before that. It claims to owe its continuing success to the use of local hops, and pure water drawn from its own well after being naturally filtered through the underlying chalk – but neither Colin nor I like Shepherd Neame ales as we find them rather sour! Opposite the brewery, we walked on to the bridge.

That ended Walk no.34, we shall pick up Walk no.35 next time on the bridge across Faversham Creek near the Shepherd Neame brewery. We found our way back through the town to where we had parked our car, downed a couple of cups of tea from our flask and then drove back to the hostel in Broadstairs.