Well after three days walking through the glorious Kent
countryside enjoying, at times, some spectacular scenery, and at others
unadorned rural tranquilly at its verry best, I returned last night a trifle weary and
certainly a little footsore.
I was following part of the long-distance footpath which
makes up the North Downs Way,
through an area of East Kent where I spent part of my
childhood, and somewhere I have only re-visited briefly in the intervening
years. I was also able to discover places I’d previously chosen to ignore, or
was unaware due either to the distractions, or just the indifference of my
early and teenage years.
Apart from some annoying light drizzle, and low cloud on the
second day, which unfortunately obscured what should have been some spectacular
views out to sea, over the English Channel, the weather was decidedly benign
and certainly showed that corner of south east England at its best.
It was hot and sunny on the first day, although thankfully a
welcome breeze did help to keep temperatures down little, whilst the final day
was mainly cloudy, but with a south-easterly wind blowing behind me, it did add
a certain spring to my step.
I enjoyed two relaxing and very peaceful nights in a couple
of strategically placed and pre-booked bed & breakfast establishments; both
of which were towards the top end of the spectrum, i.e. they would have
received a seal of approval from Mrs PBT’s.
To my mind they were worth every penny, as the last thing
you want after a long and tiring day’s walk, is somewhere you feel
uncomfortable in. (The B&B my friend and I stayed in at Winchester,
ten years ago, after completing the South
Downs Way, springs to mind).
I averaged just over twelve miles a day, not a vast distance
for some people, but for a relatively slow walker like me, not out to break any
records and certainly not a man in a hurry, this was just right. I have to say
though, that whoever routed the trail up one of the longest and steepest dry
valleys on the North Downs, must have been some sort of
a masochist.
Coming as it did, just two miles before the end of my
longest day’s walking (14 miles), meant me arriving at the first B&B a
couple of hours behind my estimated arrival time. I was that knackered that I
declined the landlady’s kind offer of a lift down to the local pub, as all I
wanted was to get those boots off my feet, a shower and then collapse into bed.
After a solid, and unbroken sleep of eight hours – something
quite rare for me, I awoke a new man and having missed out on an evening meal,
certainly made short work of devouring the full English breakfast the following
morning, with cereal preceding and toast following. The landlady too remarked
that I looked so much better than I’d done when I rang her door bell the
previous evening!
I reached my final destination of Canterbury,
shortly before 4pm on the final day.
I discounted any heroics I might have had for carrying on an additional four
miles, which would have meant me completing the entire Canterbury
loop of the NDW. That will have to wait until another day.
Instead, I sat down at a table outside the Old Buttermarket
pub, in the shadow of the gate to Canterbury Cathedral, enjoying one of the
best and certainly one of the most welcome pints I’ve had in a long time. I felt
like a pilgrim who has reached his destination, even though three days walking
would be rather lightweight for someone on a proper pilgrimage.
As for the name of that particular pint? Well, I’m afraid
you’ll just have to wait until one of the following posts to find out.
No comments:
Post a Comment