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Day 3 - From Canterbury to Dover, 32.4 miles.

We woke up at four AM again, our internal clocks had still not adjusted. I repacked my clothes using red rubber bands that I had bought while in Canterbury. I folded and then rolled each piece of clothing and then secured it with rubber bands. Now, when I unpacked I wouldn't have to re-roll everything I had taken out to get to what I needed. Next, I looked at our planned route for the day. We planned to follow the Lonely Planet cycling book route from Canterbury to Dover, one that would keep us on minor roads for most of the way.

   Seven thirty finally rolled around and we went down to breakfast. Joe had washed a few clothes for us and we picked them up and took them upstairs and added them to our panniers. There was nothing left to do but get the bikes from the back yard, load them up and be on our way. When I stepped outside I saw that the sky was overcast and the air felt damp but it wasn't raining. If we were lucky it would stay that way all day. The "adventure" was about to begin.

   We rode up to the first roundabout and used the underground walkway to cross under and into the old town of Canterbury. In a few minutes we were heading out of town, following the same route we had used on St. Bertha's walk the day before. The plan was to follow the A257 until we reached Wingham and from there, ride on less used minor roads through Staple and Ash and then re-join the A257 just before entering Sandwich. We wanted to ride through Sandwich because the village was touted as having more half timbered houses per block than any other village in England.

    The A257 was a two lane affair with no shoulder, a typical English road, but the traffic thinned when we were some distance from Canterbury so we didn't mind the ride. When we reached Wingham we turned off and entered the true, "garden of England". Many of the country houses had window boxes and wildflowers lined the roads while wheat grew dense in the fields. The riding was easy, the way was flat and the scenery was spectacular. I couldn't help thinking I had entered Middle Earth and kept expecting to see a hobbit hoeing his garden as I rode by.

   As we rode along we noticed bright red poppies lining the road. Their color was a deep but vibrant red and their delicate petals rippled as the wind blew through them. I stopped and took a picture and promised myself that I would learn their name. The overcast skies made the colors of the vegetation intense and the temperature was just cool enough to cycle without feeling the effort.

   A cyclist joined us as we rode through the little village of Staple. The tall, thin, forty year old recognized us as Americans as soon as we said, "Good morning." He rode along with us for a while, and told us that he had cycled the U.S. a few year back and ridden from coast to coast. He was commuting to work and soon left us to ourselves again.

    We rejoined the A257 just east of Sandwich and it started to rain as we did so. By the time we entered the village, it was raining hard. It looked like it might clear up so we decided to stop at a small coffee shop to wait it out for a few minutes. The Ukrainian girl working the shop was interesting to talk to as we waited on the rain. 

    The rain stopped and we continued on through the village. We were disappointed since, although we saw half timbered houses, they didn't seem to dominate the architecture as billed in the tourist propaganda. I saw a bicycle shop and went in to ask if they stocked helmet covers since the rain had been running down our faces from our helmets during the downpour. The elderly lady working the counter stated they didn't. I got the idea of using plastic bags and she provided some for us to try. I stuck my helmet inside the bag and then folded up the excess inside and put it on my head. It felt like it would work. My wife did the same and we were ready to ride again.

    As I was leaving the cycle shop I met another cyclist, this one an elderly gentleman from Ramsgate on an expensive looking machine. He was interested in our travels and asked where we were going and volunteered to lead us out of town. We took him up on the offer but he misunderstood where we were heading and took us out to the road to Deal. We were looking for a bike path that ran through a golf course as indicated in the Lonely Planet guide. I made what we wanted to find clearer and he reversed direction and lead us to the entrance of the private road running through the golf course.

        The road lead through what we later found was to be the home of the British Open three weeks later. As we rode through the course it was sprinkling but not enough to bother with. The rain stopped and we paused to have lunch, eating some things we had bought in Sandwich. I sat on a big wooden post while eating and discovered too late that it had been recently painted. I got a few very small patches of paint on the rear of my lycra pants, and knowing what I know now, can tell people that it's paint from the British Open.

    We left the private road and rode along the waterfront of the village of Deal. Almost every house was adorned with flower boxes, all in bloom. The rain had stopped and the riding was easy. It was turning into a nice day. We passed Deal Castle and then Walmer Castle, two forts built by Henry VIII to protect the coast from the French. The third and largest castle in the defense line, Dover, was still ahead of us.

    Rather than improve, the weather turned suddenly worse. It started raining and at the same time, we started encountering some hills. I was wondering if we would have to climb up since we were riding at sea level and were heading for Dover with it's white cliffs. You can't have cliffs without a climb. Jeanette couldn't climb the worst of the hills on the bike and we had to get off and walk up the steeper ones.

    The minor road system came to an end and we had to ride the A258 to get to Dover. It was raining hard. The A258 is another narrow two lane road with no shoulder but lots of traffic. We hugged the side of the road and plodded along. Many portions of the road had a tree canopy but that didn't help as far as the rain was concerned, the soaked trees dumped their water on us and just made the light levels low. Truck traffic was heavy on the road and they would come up in back of us and follow at our bike speed until they could pass. On occasions we had to stop and walk the bikes because Jeanette could not ride up the hills. We were in a fairly risky situation but didn't have much choice, we could either sit on the side of the road in the downpour or push on for the five miles we needed to cover to reach Dover Castle.

    The weather started to abate just as we reached the summit and Dover Castle came into view. We found a minor road leading to the castle and when we were within a quarter mile, the rain stopped, the sun came out and, best of all, we saw a roadside strawberry stand. Jeanette had been in a foul mood riding along the 258 in the rain, realizing how dangerous the situation was, but the sight of the strawberry stand changed her attitude immediately.

    The lady at the stand was bright and cheery and laughed with us about the weather. She said it was just another English summer day. Being that she was a farmer, I asked the name of the poppy I had seen all along the roadway. She said she had no idea, "We just call them poppies, dearie!"

    We ate up our supply of strawberries and then rode to Dover Castle. We took the tour, including the World War II secret tunnel guided tour and walked through an exhibit of what the castle might have been like preparing for a visit from King Henry VIII. We had left our loaded bikes locked together next to the admission booth and had to run back to reach the booth by six, when it was closing.

    We could see Dover downhill from the castle and were in town within a few minutes of leaving the castle gate. We were booked into the YHA hostel and found it easily. This was to be our first experience with a hostel and I had some real reservations when we pulled up in front. The building was in what was obviously a poorer part of town and looked unkempt on the outside. I left Jeanette with the bikes and stuck my head in the door. The lounge was full of teenagers and as soon as I entered, the lady at the reception desk said, "Sorry, we're full." I explained that we were booked and prepaid. 

    "Oh," she said, "You must be the Neuburgers, we've taken in a group of school children and have re-booked you at a very nice B&B at no extra cost to you. I hope you don't mind." Looking the situation over, I said I didn't mind at all. She gave directions to the B&B. As I left I glanced at the three teacher escorts sitting on a bench outside the noisy lounge. They looked very jealous of our good fortune.

    We rode the four blocks to the B&B. It was located in a totally different, upscale neighborhood. Martin, our host, showed us to our room. It was very, very nice. We felt very fortunate. When we unloaded our panniers we found that they had leaked and that the top layer of clothing was wet. We hung the various pieces around the room to dry.

    After showering and warming up, Martin recommended an Italian restaurant for dinner. We walked the four blocks to the restaurant only to find it full. We had passed an interesting looking pub, the Park Inn and decided we'd eat dinner there instead.

    The place was beautiful inside, all wood paneled and the staff was friendly. I ordered a pint and Jeanette a gin and tonic, needed after the day's ride. I had my first fish and chips dinner and Jeanette ordered the chicken curry. Both were perfect. I was beginning to think that all the hype about the poor quality of English cooking was far from the truth.

    We walked back to the B&B and up to our room, stripped and fell in bed, dead to the world.

Recommended
Bleriot's Belper House
47 Park Avenue, Dover, Kent, CT16 1HE
Phone: +44 (0)1304 21394 
Host: Martin, Single £25.00, Double £40.00