Calais to Canterbury

August 2, 2024

Farewell France, hello Blighty.

We breakfast over in the warmth of the kitchen area. It’s a foggy start to the day and we can hear ships booming out on the water. When we fold our tent it’s still damp but no matter. It doesn’t take long and we’re off on our final few kilometres on French soil. Calais is just waking up still and it’s foggy and not too busy, though travellers are visible.

Finding the ticket office isn’t hard, but the vast expanse of road and the large empty roundabouts make it feel a little uncanny cycling there. While Ann buys the tickets, I study the facsimile of Louis Blēriot’s monoplane that carried him across the Channel in 1909. I think I prefer the ferry. For starters, where’s the toilet? One has to admire his courage and self belief though. Must reread his story. Once we’ve paid for our tickets, we’re told we have ten minutes to get to the start line, so off we go.

Like a bike really, but it got him across. When his engine showed signs of overheating, he headed for rain clouds- it worked.

At the checkpoint, we’re not told exactly which line to join, so attach ourselves to a likely looking one. There are hundreds of vehicles of all sorts waiting, filled with a variety of nationalities- many Dutch. When, after 15 minutes or so, a ticketing officer arrives and checks our tickets, telling us we’re queuing for the wrong boat and we need to find line 1206, we’re off again, just in time to get waved aboard the neighbouring ferry.

We cycle up the ramp and leave our bikes as directed. We’re the only cycle passengers- quite a contrast to last year’s jovial peloton from Portsmouth. Once we’ve ascended the stairs, we find comfortable seats and plug in phones.

The foggy White Cliffs- no bluebirds in sight.

The arrival process is quite speedy, having done the passport control in Calais. We only have to wait for all the monstrous trucks to drive off before us. Once on the soil of mother England we are directed to follow a single, reasonably distinctive red line all the way through the disembarkation route until we are beyond the docks.

I have nothing to declare but my genius.

The day is hotting up as the fog burns off and there are swimmers in the water in front of the sea wall. It actually looks a deep blue and quite inviting.

As we leave town Dover Castle appears on the horizon. I can almost spot Mel Gibson’s sulky and angry Hamlet brooding over the battlements.

To head north towards Canterbury, our day’s destination, we follow the Dour River out of town. It’s an easy, well established path and the small river looks very clear. From publicity alongside the river there are exhortations to keep the river clean. We’re already noticing people are very easy to chat to and very friendly too. Then there’s the distances in miles. How I hate miles- they go on forever and are measured in halves and quarters. UK - embrace the kilometre!

Then it’s time to head upwards. There’s no way around this climb. It’s long, the day is hot and the gradient reduces us to a walk. Finally at the top, we start on the cross country route on Sustrans 1 and head for Whitfield. The route takes us through suburbs for a while, then out into small rural roads. The signage is generally pretty good and the traffic light. On some of the narrow lanes the odd wide SUV forces us to pull over. We remember that from Norfolk last year.

Make the call. A Dr Who episode was filmed somewhere around here- could this be his phone booth?

We’re making reasonable progress, though it’s a little painstaking at times. Aylesham is the largest town in the direction we’re taking, though the route will go around it. We stop in Barfreston and lunch, sitting on a small seat in the church grounds where there’s a little shade. As we chomp our way through our last French baguette, cheese and tomatoes, it hits us that La Belle France is now behind us and it’ll be a while before we’re back.

The church we are dining near is the simple but beautiful Norman church of St Nicholas. It has carvings of human and animal figures on both the exterior and interior of the church and beautifully arched windows.

At one point in the late afternoon a woman greets us at her gate and offers us two cold cans of lemonade. Such generosity! And fellow feeling. We have a brief chat and thank her for her kindness. She’s genuinely interested in what we’re doing and tells us that her husband is also a cyclist.

After this we continue the pattern of small roads, moderate to steep climbs and some good downhills. On one of these speedy downhills Ann has ā contretemps with a pothole that’s about 300mm long and 100mm deep. Fortunately she’s ok apart from a sore toe, but we take the rest of the journey carefully. There’s been lots of talk about potholes being bad for cars, but they aren’t great for bikes either.

We come into Canterbury by a green route that directs us north of the city to where we’re staying at an Airbnb on the Whitstable Road. Our host is very welcoming and has us and our bikes sorted quickly. I take a walk down to Sainsbury Local to see if I can find something for dinner. It’s slim pickings but I rustle up an eclectic mix with a proportion of healthy and an equal proportion of The opposite. Tonight we eat reasonably well and reflect on a big day- two countries and a lot of ups and downs.

Today's ride: 43 km (27 miles)
Total: 1,654 km (1,027 miles)

Rate this entry's writing	Heart	5
Comment on this entry	Comment	0