20250914, 15, 16 Dover, Margate and Canterbury

Progress to September 16 – Canterbury

Our little guest house in Dover, the Churchill House, was just a short walk to the pathway heading up the hill to Dover Castle. And what a hill! We rediscovered our climbing vs. cycling muscles, but it was worth it. Dover Castle is the largest property managed by the English Heritage organization, and includes the castle with its tower overlooking the channel as well as two tunnel museums dug into the chalk cliffs that overlook the English Channel and Calais, on the French side.

The tower is a sturdy climb, and the views from the top are fantastic. The coast of France is surprisingly visible across the Straight of Dover, making Dover a very strategic location for Romans, Anglo-Saxons, Normans, and for both World Wars.

We toured the Secret Wartime Tunnels where the evacuation of Dunkirk was organized. The tunnel system is vast, originally dug into the chalk cliff face for defense during the Napoleonic Wars in the late 1700s. The tunnels fell into disuse, and only reopened when war appeared likely in the 1930s. They became the communication hub for defending the strait. In May 1940, Admiral Sir Bertram Ramsey directed the biggest operation ever seen at the site from deep inside the White Cliffs – Operation Dynamo – also known as the evacuation of Dunkirk.

We recently re-watched the movie Dunkirk (better the second time, BTW), and think that it is unfortunate that the Dover Secret Tunnels weren’t mentioned in the film. Scenes in the tunnels of the map technicians coordinating all of the air and naval traffic would have added to the story. It was a really interesting visit.

Our 45 km cycle trip from Dover, in the southeast corner of England, due north along the eastern coast to Margate on the north shore of Kent was beautiful and flat (and, blessedly rain free!). This portion of coast was invaded by many, including Caesar around 55 BC, and the Vikings about 900 AD. The heathen Anglo-Saxons were converted to Christianity about 500 AD and the earliest Christian churches in England are found in this area. The North Sea is peppered with English Channel, European and Scandinavian freighter traffic.

Being a fairly quick train ride from London, Margate became one of the earliest seaside resort towns. The sandy beach is perfect, and one can imagine it was very busy during the Victorian-era summer days. Today the town feels a bit run-down, but still, that beach is perfect! Sadly, because it was a Monday, the Turner Contemporary was closed, but we appreciated being in Turner-country. We went for big walk on the beach in the dying sun before dinner and returned to the hotel wind-burnt and slightly sun-burnt. (In fact, it was so windy that the two castles we had planned on visiting on the ride from Dover to Margate were closed “due to high winds”!)

Patti, weighing in here: (1) a thought about cycling. Dutch and Belgian cycling attitudes and solutions are state of the art. Every provision is made for crossing busy streets, getting over highways, and accommodating pedestrians (except if you dare, as a pedestrian, to step into a bike lane. Then…. woe betide you. Cyclists have the right of way.) On one of our first days of cycling in Holland, just when I was feeling quasi-smug about our jumping out to conquer kilometres in the rain, around the bend came a pair of octogenarians in sensible rain-gear, followed not twenty minutes later by a class of nine-year-olds and their two teachers, all on bikes, all smiling through the persistent Dutch drizzle. Young and old, they cycle, regardless of the weather.

(2) Also, there was a marked and alarming difference in body types between people on the Dutch side vs. British side of the Channel. It’s obvious that cycling (Holland) vs. driving (UK) has an impact on health. Diet, and smoking. Big difference.

(3) Trash. The areas we were in in the Netherlands (and I know we didn’t see a lot but…) were pristine. NO TRASH. Once we hit northern France, the route into Dunkirk was really disgusting. Trash-lined bike paths. It was sad. I’m happy to report that now, (I’m writing this ten days later), the trash we noted was only temporary. It’s pretty clean, wherever we’ve been here in the UK. (But seriously, that trail into Dunkirk… a pigsty.)

(4) Memberships: I – we – can’t speak highly enough about the value in, and importance of, being members of the UK’s National Trust, and organizations like English Heritage. Their properties are lovingly maintained, and the volunteers staffing them are well-educated and passionate about the properties they represent. We visited two NT properties within a day or two of landing in the UK – Scotney Castle and Sissinghurst ( Vita Sackville-West’s famous gardens and writing tower) – and were, once again, incredibly impressed.

(Plus, the scones in the National Trust cafes are a treat and the gift stores always feature local products of high quality, none of which I can buy because, well, panniers don’t hold much.)

(5) We couldn’t be popping about over here without support back home. First and foremost: John’s sister Claire, who drops in regularly to support Marny, John’s mum. We can relax, knowing that if something comes up with this soon-to-be 95-year-old, Claire, and John’s brother Keith, are around to handle things. That means a lot. We are very, very lucky that she is/they are there. Our friends Janice and Brad and Johan are overseeing the house. That is also very reassuring.

(6) Back to travel observations: at our BandB in Dover, we chatted with a young man (38?) one morning at breakfast.

“What are you doing, where are you going?” (Standard BandB breakfast question…)

I AM WAITING TO SWIM THE CHANNEL. (Not so Standard BandB breakfast answer.)

A young, muscular, very on-his-physical-game French guy, he was waiting for the wind and waves to settle down so he and the Channel pilot he had booked with the Channel Crossing organization could start their crossing. At that point, it looked like he was going to have to wait until Friday. He swims in a Speed-o only, no wetsuit. There are very stringent rules for what qualifies as a “successful crossing”. He was suitably impressed when John told him that a distant cousin of his mum’s, Marilyn Bell, had swum the Channel in the mid 50s, as a 17-year-old. He Googled it right there on the spot and the look on his face when he read about MB’s accomplishments was wonderful to observe.

(7) While we’ve been here, so have Donald and Melania Trump. We were chatting with a wonderful National Trust volunteer about how the Brits are reconciling being, er, polite, with their, er, consciences. This gentleman put it perfectly: “our country is entertaining the president of the most powerful country on the planet, and his wife. We will do that in the interest of world peace. We are entertaining the OFFICE, not the man.“

(8) Everywhere we have been so far on this trip – Holland, Belgium, England – residents are very cautious and then relieved to realize that we are Canadian, not American. This happened on previous trips, but much more so, now. We sport Canadian patches on our coat sleeves and on our bike flags so it’s obvious. Still, it makes me sad.

(9) Speaking of flags, we lost one of our bike flags on a very windy day so now John is sporting a tattered, re-purposed white plastic bag on his bike. In truth, it looks like a pair of underpants, as our pal VR noted. We keep popping into various bike shops, and pound-stores, hoping to find something that will work. Nothing yet.

Our short 40 km cycle trip from Margate along the coast to Whitstable, and then due south to Canterbury, was uneventful but also windy! We cut south at Whitstable, and in a sunny meadow a few yards from a quiet cemetery, I sprinkled some of my mum’s ashes. She and my dad had been through this area on their epic UK/European road trip in the 50s.

We rode the “Crab and Winkle Way” through the University of Kent’s beautiful campus, and promptly pulled into the hubbub of Canterbury’s centre of town on what was obviously graduation day for one of the colleges. There were black gowns and proud parents and young graduates carrying bouquets everywhere! We found our hotel – the “Cathedral Gate Hotel” – and two strapping young men, family members, carried our folded bikes sideways through an impossibly small hallway into a storage room where they – the bikes – would spend the night. (Better them, than us: John’s back was still a mess from the injury in Gouda.)

The Cathedral Gate Hotel is very old, no floors or doors or corners are straight. It is family-run, and quirky as hell. We absolutely loved it. Our room was propitiously named “Evensong”. “Propitious” because we had Evensong plans for later. But first… we walked around town, visiting an ancient cemetery, the GreyFriars’ garden, Chaucer’s statue (“Canterbury Tales), and then people watched (lots of tourists and graduates) from the relative calm of a coffee shop.

Our pal in Toronto, Richard Harrop, had connected us with a gentleman that he had met years ago while he was on a trip to Canterbury, Ian Roberts, and we had made a date with Ian a few weeks ago to attend Evensong together. We were very excited to meet Ian not only because Richard was so fond of him, but because Ian is the cathedral’s coordinator for Visiting Choirs, i.e. choirs from around the world that apply to Canterbury to sing Evensong services for them. (SERIOUSLY!!!) Plus, he is a chorister, himself.

We were not disappointed.

Ian was excellent company, providing a lot of background information about the cathedral and Evensong and life in Canterbury. After the service was over (boys and men’s choirs), Ian treated us to beers (zero % for John, yay John) at the Old Butter Market pub, and then walked us to the restaurant we hoped to visit, The Parrot, the oldest pub in Canterbury, just past the famous crooked house. It’s a good thing he walked us to the pub, it was not easy to find!!! Fish and chips and mushy peas for dinner, and then early to bed for us. It was a rich day, and we had a new friend. Thank-you, Ian and Richard!

Next up… Sissinghurst, Tunbridge Wells, and then a sweet ride down to the south coast to check out Seaford.