27 May 2016 - Canterbury Club Site, Kent

The fine weather of yesterday afternoon had disappeared by this morning and although dry, the day was cold and windy. Our plan was to set off north and along the coast to the Isle of Thanet, a flat featureless plain now part of the mainland since the navigable Wantsum Channel began silting up around the time of the Roman’s first invasion.    

South Quay at Whitstable

Whitstable and Herne Bay lie to the west of the Isle; I was keen to visit the first of these spots having seen numerous paintings and sketches of the fishing harbour and the little town. 

Oyster beds at Whitstable

Signs along the shore suggested that Whitstable oysters were served  in Rome during the first century, which does make one wonder what state they arrived in after all those weeks en route. This may well be a case of “it being said’ rather than foregone fact. The boom years of the Victorian era, when dozens of oyster dredgers were based in Whitstable are well over although the oyster fishery has made a comeback in more recent years. These days it is Pacific Oysters that are grown and harvested rather than the native species. 

These days it is a quiet seaside resort and a yachtsman’s paradise, still tucked within the Thames Estuary, or at least on the north coast within sight of it. The shallow waters of the Thames Estuary have long been fertile territory for the fishing industry. The flow of brackish water from the streams and marshes of the north Kent coast makes for a fertile environment for oysters and other shellfish.

Local fishing boats catch sole, skate and bass, part of the catch landed in Whitstable supplies local restaurants and retailers. A greater part is sold in other markets in the south east and exported to northern France. Lobsters and crabs along with an assortment of other shellfish are for sale along the fishing wharf, a market place that has only very recently been upgraded and will be opening officially for business this Bank Holiday weekend.

Moored there in the harbour of the South Quay, today the tide out and the boats far beneath the wharf level, we found an impressive Thames Barge, the Greta, built in 1892 at Brightlingsea, Essex, a vessel eighty foot long, with a beam of twenty feet and a draft of three feet. When in service she carried grain, malt and building products, and later malt and beer. During World War II she carried ammunition to the naval vessels anchored in the Thames Estuary. She also took part in the evacuation of Dunkirk, and is the oldest active Dunkirk Little Ship.

The beach at Margate

We walked along past the little stalls, even this early, offering tea or coffee with a free donut, or a punnet of chips and cockles, the aroma drawing the occasional customer. But this morning Chris was not to be wooed and so I knew that he was still unwell; normally he tells me there is no wrong time to eat a punnet of hot chips. Instead we made our way back to the car, happy to be out of the cold wind.

Further on, we crossed the low marshy land that marks the division between mainland and Isle, and drove into Margate, a rather jaded seaside spot, once popular with thousands of Londoners who would descend upon the place on weekends or holidays. The nine miles of sandy beaches and the old amusement park, now revamped but still dated, will draw the smaller crowds this weekend, but the biggest draw card is the new modern art gallery, the Turner Contemporary gallery. Today we called in to check it out and like most exhibitions of modern work, found little to our taste. The star of the gallery was of course the token Turner, this a miniature scene of Stonehenge. It is apparently part of the deal; that at least one Turner be on show at any one time.   

The beach at Broadstairs; lift on the left

We walked along the beach front, the shabby buildings back across a fairly wide esplanade, the fine beach sand all groomed in readiness for the weekend, and a few life guards hanging out in their hut, with no sign of a swimmer, now or anytime soon. A couple of people walked across the sand upsetting the pristine smoothness, and a couple of children chased a seagull. This was the busy resort of Margate. 

Our parking ticket was due to expire, so we headed back and travelled just the few miles on to Broadstairs, a resort perched high on the cliffs over sandy  Viking Bay, and here the sea a little more ferocious; small waves washing toward the shore. Several coachloads of the French school children found in Canterbury yesterday were here to experience an English beach. Apart from them, there were few others. Here there is a lift to take beachgoers down to the beach, those who live or stay in the rather elegant houses along the cliff top.

Ramsgate harbour

Ramsgate was next on the list, tucked a little further around the coast. The harbour has evolved through the centuries, a combination of seawalls offering safe refuge for fishing boats, yachts, both resident and visiting. This weekend will see even more boats filling the busy harbour, when the remaining Dunkirk rescue boats will gather for yet another reunion; however it is not expected to be quite as spectacular as last year’s when they celebrated the 75^th anniversary. 

The road along the seafront climbs steeply away from the town and below, set back into the cliff below are numerous workshops, restaurants and the like. We had parked up in the town, and walked down to the shore via High Street, a mostly pedestrian way through the outdoor market place. Today it was busy with local folk more than anyone else, those out with their mobility scooters or tots in pushchairs or dogs on leashes. Again it was time that drove us away from this lovely spot; just not enough hours in the day.

There were two more destinations on our itinerary, Sandwich and Deal, the first one of the Cinque Ports. Time allowed us only to call here, this wonderful old village situated on the River Stour, that which flows through Canterbury, now miles inland, the river having silted up long ago. The Guildhall is one of the many impressive buildings to be seen on a walk about, as we did so late in the afternoon. Had we more time, we could have called into the Richborough Roman Fortress but not only was the day far on, but we had yet to shop for provisions on our return to Canterbury and refuel before our departure tomorrow. On top of that there is only so much pavement walking the old body will stand some days, and The Chauffeur was still not en forme. 

One of the many quaint buildings in Sandwich