As ever I had been apprehensive about the tour and reserved this quotation. The events proceeding this tour suggested that the tour might not hapoen so a better quote would have been from Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities, you know the one, 'It was the worst of times, it was the best of times.' I will draw a line under that statement and get on with the business of cycle touring.
My preparation had been good, though the last elements were paused and then rushed so I commenced the ride with an unclean and unserviced bike and with no training with loaded panniers. As you will have guessed if you read the preamble my East Anglia tour starts with a warm up tour of Kent.
My own apprehension was outrun by reality when I paused just south of St Paul's cathedral while killing 10 minutes before entering Cannon Street station; the tour is upon us.
When taking bikes on trains it is tricky finding the bike spaces so starting at the train's start station and boarding early makes life easier and more relaxed. Specifically, you don't end up standing in everyone's way for two hours. Bike safely secured provides an opportunity for one more phone recharge and some administration.
Checking my plans I see the first day of the Cantii Way is 22km shorter than I thought as the official start is in Wye and I start in Canterbury. Great news though the fourth and last day of my Cantii Way is now 22km longer; that isn't long enough to condition my body so the last day will get tough. Heading out of Canterbury my satnav decides to take me anticlockwise on my clockwise circular tour and it is five miles (8km) before I realise I am going the wrong way. I can't blame technology here abd take full responsibility. Five miles later I am on track and pass one of the famous Nation Cycle Network posts erected by the charity Sustrans that maintains the network.
I am travelling along the Crab and Winkle Way which is all the persuasion I need to enjoy 'cockles and mussels' in Whitstable, and I feel 'alive, alive oh!'. Which is more than can be said of poor Molley Molone. If you don't get this reference look here.
Leaving Whitstable along the coast I encounter a stiff headwind and go down on the drops to get out of the wind. When you buy a bike you can get the right bike, have it adjusted for your personal dimensions, then it takes time for your body to adapt through training. Recently my body has reached the next level of adaptation where the saddle doesn't feel (circus skills) high and using the drops is natural and comfortable. The next stop is Herne Bay with its pier.
This is how I imagined the Cantii Way.
Whitstable is famous for its oysters so no surprise that there is a sign.
This is how I imagined Kent so the Cantii Way is living up to expectations.
Despite using the low gears for anything resembling an incline I fatigue towards the end of the day and suffer cramps in the evening; this is because I didn't train with loaded panniers and because I didn't take breaks every hour as I do with local cycle rides.
Onwards and the next stop is Sandwich where a substantial toll house protects the bridge across the river Stour which has travelled downhill from Canterbury.
The tolls aim to capture every form of transport though reassuringly bicycles are not covered. I recall a small toll bridge in the Cotswolds that was still collecting 50 pence from vehicles wishing to cross and Sandwich only stopped in 1977.
Stopping to support local businesses (coffee and cake) I am confused but this is just the old St Peter's Church transformed into an indoor market or bazaar and I just missed French weekend. I wish I could say the church had been transfigured but it is a pragmatic re-imagining of how a church building may be put to use to support its conservation.
A last view of Sandwich.
Leaving Sandwich I enter Sandwich Bay which does have a toll gate for the private road; bicycles go free.
Sometimes you need a zoom lense.
Deal pier has a long history. The second pier was demolished with Churchill's consent in 1940 to provide a clear line of (defensive) sight and this third pier was built of concrete in the 1950s. If you like this motorway bridge style of architecture then visit the United Reform Church in Bloomsbury London as its architect (Courtney Theobald) specialised in motorway bridges with 50 bridges to his name and this is strongly reflected in the church's design and construction.
On the approach to Dover I chat to a local cyclist who had just finished her 50-mile morning ride. I was warned of the hills to come though they were relatively gentle; the sea breeze is worse.
Dover Castle perched on the white cliffs.
Between Dover and Folkestone there is a World War II concrete structure which served as an early acoustic detection system.
Head winds aside today is close to the 80th anniversary of the D-Day landings in June 1944 and I stop at the 1940 Battle of Britain Memorial.
I am not generally a fan of art representations of war though who can deny the spectacle of Picasso's Guernica. Closer to home, this unsympathetic representation of the realities of the Battle of Britain strikes a cord.
I push on heroically as the route takes me on a circuit avoiding Folkestone then pushing into the headwind to Hythe. As mentioned earlier I had neglected the bike and had also failed to swap in the new tyres I had acquired. My judgement in buying new tyres was well grounded (though poorly executed as they are in the garage at home) when I puncture on this the third day. As it is dry and all the repair kit is out I decide to repair rather than swapping in a spare tube.
Coming in from the coast provides some respite but it is hard going and I feel like an overworked donkey.
Then it is back to the coast and the stiffening headwind is punishing. Dungeness is desolate. The bungalows that are scattered around look flimsy in the environment they find themselves in as if a puff of Kansas wind might blow them all to the land of Oz.
The exception is this black house with yellow door windows. It stirs a memory and I realise it is the house of Derek Jarman who died in 1994. This old fisherman's hut was built in the 1800s.
As if to underline the feeling of battling the elements I come across a watersport centre with a café called Hoolie, as in blowing a Hoolie.
I am trying not to discuss accommodation and food but today's campsite is well signed, the manager is with me within a minute, all the amenities are present and the grass is luxurious. The local pub doesn't do food today so that decision is made for me. Pasta.
My last day takes me from Rye to Canterbury.
Getting back to Rye it is beautiful.
I have tried to avoid puns on place names but couldn't resist this one.
I am inland now and enjoy a brisk 12mph ride out of Rye only to be halted 10km later in Appledore where I am assaulted by a cream tea. As they say, it's got to be done.
I enjoy a bit of coast as much as the next person but Dungeness took the deadly sea to another level. The expanse and desolation of Dungeness emphatically reveals how the sea reaches inland beyond its wet domain using its mists, sprays and breezes to cause rotting and decay to any metals, wood and other materials left by mankind. No wonder Derek Jarman protected his fisherman's hut with tar.
Back to the present.
As much as I like getting off tarmac I'll pay for it tonight as I clean the mud off my shoes.
I pause in Wye which I remember from walking the North Downs Way and with is the official start and finish for this tour. I see the logic as you would start with fresh legs to climb up onto the Kent Downs. I enjoyed too much pace this morning and the climb is hard work. After pitching the tent and cooking I walk into Canterbury to see the cathedral. The precinct is open and I enter through a fine gate, the cloister is also open but the cathedral is closed.
This four-day tour of Kent has flown by and I'm looking forward to the next leg. Why is it called the Cantii Way? It is named after the Cantii tribe who lived in the area now known as Kent before the Roman invasion.
