A Walk From Dover To Folkestone

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Dover Castle

In Dover’s Market Sq, a plaque informs the visitor that ‘while searching for his aunt Betsey Trotwood, David Copperfield rested on this doorstep and ate a loaf of bread he had just bought.’ He set out to walk east from here, as I did previously when I walked over the white cliffs to Deal, but this time I turned right on Dover Beach and walked west to Folkestone.

It was no simple matter to find the way and I found myself negotiating works for the rebuilding of the west harbour before I could ascend a thundering motorway to commence the coastal path. The urge to escape the hubbub is a powerful motivation to walk, striding upwards along the cliff until the drama of the sea and the sky fills your consciousness. I am always delighted how – even in our small country – it is remarkably easy to discover solitude in the landscape. The intense physical experience of walking along the cliff top combined with the spectacle of a vast sparkling expanse of ocean quickly induces a vertiginous euphoric reverie.

Before long, you encounter sobering reminders that this was formerly a site of conflict. The turf undulates where earthworks were once constructed to defend against any potential invasion and the cliff edge is punctuated by concrete defence posts. Most surreal was to come upon a tall concave disc of concrete pointed towards the sea at Abbott’s Cliff, as ethereal and mysterious as a sculpture by Ben Nicholson or Barbara Hepworth. This was a sound mirror from the First World War which permitted an operator to sit with an ear trumpet and hear the sound of enemy aircraft before they became visible. Within twenty-five years it became obsolete once aircraft speeds increased and radar was invented.

Yet on a warm afternoon in late summer the history of conflict feels mercifully remote as you walk determinedly onward along the narrow path bordered by wild thyme and scabious. Lone birds of prey hover overhead, escorting you on your way. Only a few miles after Dover Harbour has retreated into the distance, Folkestone comes into view – a town spilling out from the coast into a golden sea in the late afternoon sun. Your feet have grown weary by then and you discover your destination is further away than it looks and a brief refreshment at the Lighthouse Inn at Capel-Le-Ferne is necessary before you commence your descent into Folkestone.

Much of this last section of the path is overarched by sea-blown hedges where shafts of bright sunlight descend into the cool shadow, until finally you emerge into the open with Folkestone spread out beneath you. A vista of cliffs to the east testifies to your eight mile walk, as you tread the soft municipal grass of the golf course and then follow a line of suburban villas to arrive at the harbour where a well-earned supper of fish and chips awaits you.

A serenade at Dover

Dover Harbour Board 1606

The ascent from Dover

Looking back towards Dover

A sound mirror from World War One at Abbott’s Cliff

Statue of an airman commemorating the Battle of Britain

Spitfire at the Battle of Britain memorial

Birdwatchers at the Clifftop Cafe

Looking down towards Folkestone

Travellers’ joy

Folkestone seen from the cliff path

Bowls at Folkestone in the shadow of the Martello Tower

Bell installed on the beach by Norwegian artist A.K Dolven

Children fishing for crabs at Folkestone Harbour