We're not done with England yet!
Of hungry Seagulls, destroyed Sandcastles and sheepish Sheep
Tuesday, 10th of May
Today is supposed to be a relaxed day for us. Joel is still a bit hungover after an intense stag, so we don’t want to overdo it today. It is actually quite difficult for us to part with the velvety soft and extraordinarily comfortable bed… by the time we finally pack and go its 2 pm.
On we go!
Today we are just doing 20 miles to Ferry Meadows in Peterborough, where Joel’s mum and Andy work: we can stay in their currently empty caravan.
For the first few miles we follow the busy main road on a tiny hard shoulder (cycle path) while lorries steadily roar past us. After we reach a quieter country road, we are again surprised by England’s beautiful countryside: It is 20°C and sunshine. Surrounded by fields and farms, green hedges and colourful blooming roses we ride through scenic villages with traditional stone houses. Here and there an old english telephone box – today they are being used to store defibrillators (AEDs) as a treatment for cardiac arrest. What a useful idea!
After a good two hours we arrive at Ferry Meadows. We are having a barbecue and everyone is happy!
Take me to the Beach
Where do we go from here? Our ferry from Dover back to France is already leaving in four days, so impossible to cycle all the way from here. We have another plan: Joel buys us two train tickets to Hastings in the south of England for the next morning. We will be cycling along the coastline for the next three days!
When it starts to rain in the middle of the night, we watch the drops on the glass roof window of the caravan and are happy that we and all our things stay dry.
Back on the Trains
Lucky Again!
The next morning it is still raining. Luckily we don’t have to take down a tent now! We have a hearty breakfest of bacon rolls and strawberries before throwing on our rain gear and saying our farewells.
Joel knows the way to the trainstation, so he says. Shortly after however, it turns out that this is not quite true. We have to stop constantly while he frantically types on his mobile phone and tries to locate the right path on Google Maps. Finally he gives up and starts asking passers-by for directions. Only 10 minutes until the departure of our train and the station is still not in sight! An attendant in the car park of a larger supermarket explains to us at length: “Oh my, it’s not far! You just have to follow the road for about a mile and then take the third exit at the big roundabout, then go straight on for about half a mile and you’ll be able to see the station!” The longer the man talks, the more I see our chances of catching this train dwindling. Nevertheless, we thank him, get back on our bikes, almost knock down a few unsuspecting passers-by (don’t worry – we just managed to avoid them) and race towards the station.
2 minutes until our train leaves. Our online tickets still have to be printed at the ticket office. I take care of the bikes, completely out of breath, while Joel talks to the young man behind the counter. “Jana,” he calls out, “we’re in luck! The train was being cancelled and we’ll get a new ticket for the next train!”. How lucky can you get? (Secretly, I think it must be because of St. Christopher. Before we set off, nurse Beate from the hospital gave us a small silver coin with an engraving of this protector of travellers on it, and now it’s stuck to the handlebars of my bike).
The Struggle with the Bikes
The bike compartment on this train (East Midlands Railways again) measures about 120×120 cm and is designed to hold two bikes.
Wait a minute. Two bikes? How is that supposed to work?
You would have to store the bikes vertically, with the front wheel to be lifted into the holding device at about 2 metres high. Even without luggage, I would never manage to lift my bike up there! We find the whole thing absurd and just get comfortable in the aisle. After a few minutes, an announcement sounds through the train – we are asked to stow our bikes safely in the designated compartment! For the 40-minute ride, it’s hardly worth taking all the bags off the bikes, but we do it and Joel lifts my front wheel into the anchorage. As it turns out, his bike doesn’t fit next to it even without luggage. A passing passenger accurately observes: “These compartments are simply not made for bicycles”. He is probably right. There is no further announcement from the driver – he must have realised that we had tried our best. We sit down in the narrow aisle for 5 minutes, then start packing the bikes again.
At Kings Cross we have about 40 minutes to change trains – enough to get “over” to St. Pancras, but unfortunately not enough time for a “Harry Potter” photo at platform 9 3/4!
We like the trains of SouthEastern and Southern Railways much better, because there is room for 2 bikes next to each other and you don’t have to lift them up.
Seabreeze in Hastings
Eventually we arrive in Hastings, a small, coastal town. Joel can’t wait to take me out for fish and chips by the sea. A childhood memory! If it wasn’t for his fish allergy… so he opts for a Battered Sausage while I get a huge portion of the “Codfather’s” F&C.
We find a nice spot on some big rocks on the beach. I unwrap the fish and chips from the paper wrapper. “Careful,” Joel shouts, “you always have to cover your food! Otherwise the greedy little seagulls will steal your fish!” And indeed – while we had made ourselves comfortable on the rocks, about 50 seagulls had inconspicuously approached and reared their little heads. Some very brave specimens occupied the rocks around us and stared unabashedly at our food.
I look around. Seagulls everywhere. Behind us, on our bikes. And if you look away for one moment, suddenly they are sitting a just little closer…cheeky little seagulls indeed. The only thing that helps is a jet of water from Joel’s water bottle.
Farm Stay
The area around Hastings is rocky with a lot of cliffs and so, after our lunch break, another steep climb follows. This time we manage to ride the whole way up without stopping. Yes, I actually feel like we are slowly getting fitter when thinking back to Dover a couple of weeks ago. After what feels like an endless climb, we are being rewarded with a magnificent view over Hastings and behind it – the sea!
We spend the night on a farm in Pett, that also offers camping. Apart from us, there is only one other couple crazy enough to camp in England at this time of year. We have the free choice of where to pitch our tent on the extensive grassy area. After a gloomy day, the sun has just pushed a little through the cloud cover and dries the wet grass. We enjoy the last rays of sunshine before it slowly gets dark. With the absence of the sun, the cold creeps into our limbs and it becomes very uncomfortable. We are glad there is a hot shower – and then we snuggle into our fluffy sleeping bags.
Sandcastles for Cinemas
Finally we get on our packed bikes and leave Pett. Before we had spent half an eternity packing up our belongings, over an hour in total. Making coffee, stowing sleeping bags and sleeping pads away, packing bike bags, washing and brushing teeth, stowing the tent and assembling the bike bags – all this takes longer than we had imagined before we started our journey.
The first stretch goes downhill until we eventually reach a narrow sandy path between bushes and sheep pastures not far from the coast. In the small picturesque town of Rye we buy a few small things for lunch and I try to find a lemonade without sweetener. That turns out to be quite difficult. Finally, in the aisle of soft drinks, I find the single kind with no added sweeteners: good old Coca Cola.
The small path turns into a brand new cycle path that winds along the coast of England behind large dunes of glistening white sand. An elderly couple on similarly packed bikes (a rarity!) come towards us: They have ridden about 30 miles and are completely exhausted: the stretch ahead is apparently really beautiful, but oh my, the wind! – Wind? Until now, fortunately, it has only ever been at our backs.
It is soon 14:00 and we are (as so often) quite hungry. What could be better than a lunch break on the beach? Near the coastal town of Camber, we pull into a car park near the dunes – a kind of green plastic grid is laid out, over which we can push our bikes across the dune without too much trouble! Luck was on our side yet again: The green grid carpet is not a permanent footpath to the beach, but was set up by a film crew filming a scene on Camber Beach – 3 days on set for 2 minutes in the finished film, as a security guard tells us.
What they are filming there, however, is a secret (in the meantime we know through Google that it is a scene in the film Empire of Light, which is due to be released in 2023). We set up our camping chairs in the middle of the dune and watch the crew filming. The scene seems to be all about destroying a little sand castle. Funnily enough, the crew has built several sand castles along the beach, as the scene probably has to be shot multiple times. It’s unbelievable what kind of effort goes into a production like this! The sand is warm and I can bury my feet in it. We are ravenously hungry and eat a six-pack of breadrolls with hummus, butter and chilli tortillas.
Wild Camping with Sheep
We haven’t chosen a campsite for tonight, because we want to camp wild. As this is technically illegal in England, it is best to ask permission from a farmer if we can spend the night on one of their fields. At 5 pm we slowly start looking around for a place to sleep. On our left, on the outskirts of the small village of Hythe, we see a sheep pasture on a slope with a few trees – a perfect camp spot for the night!
A neighbour is just emerging from the house with his dog; Joel approaches him and asks for the owner of the field. “Oh,” the man replies, “the field is owned by the MOD.” “Oh, I see,” Joel sighs, “well, I don’t suppose you have their number, do you?” “Uhm, I do actually have a number,” the neighbour laughs, “but it’s no use, they’d say no anyway.” I wonder who or what the MOD could be. A company? An NGO? I have never heard the term before, so I ask.
For a brief moment, the two look at me in bewilderment.
Then Joel laughs and tells the man that I am German. The MOD is the Ministry of Defense. Oh. So probably not too good an idea to camp there without permission.
We cycle on and take a look at the map. Not far from us, on the Google satellite view, we see an area with lots of fields. On a mountain. But what we are willing to do for a good camp spot, ey? So we cycle with the last of our strength up a rather steep slope, Google had unfortunately not informed us that it was a busy road with a minimalist verge for pedestrians, partly overgrown by hedges. We have to dismount and push to avoid being run over. Eventually we arrive (alive but breathless) in a small village with a farm to the left and right of the main road. In the house on our right no one responds to our knocking, on the left a young farmer’s wife opens and we ask if we can spend the night in one of her fields. She says yes, of course, that would be no problem and shows Joel on the map which field we can pitch our tent. There might be some sheep there, she says.
The field (with a huge flock of sheep on it) is next to a small chapel. In the distance you can even see the sea! We choose a nice area at the edge of the field and first remove lots of sheep droppings before pitching our tent. For dinner today it’s Spanish Lentils (a ready meal from Joel’s mum, perfect for our camping cooker!) with fresh onions and tomatoes we made it into a soup (yep, it’s bloody cold again).
As I cut the tomatoes for dinner, the sheep around us suddenly start to take an interest in us. I wonder if it’s the colour of the tomatoes? In any case, about 30 ewes with lambs suddenly approach us, gather around and start bleating. When so many animals suddenly stand in front of you, it can be a bit intimidating (I was especially worried about our dinner being eaten!) . But every time Joel gets up from his camping chair, half of the sheep gallop away fearfully. Their fear seems to be greater than their curiosity. After a while the sheep get bored and turn their attention back to other things (grass). We enjoy our wonderfully hot meal, clean up our cooking utensils and slip into the tent. I fall asleep with blocks of ice on my feet and am woken up at 4 am by a ewe and a lamb bleating away (at least now with warm feet). Before I can think about why the animals are making such a racket at 4 a.m., I am already asleep again.
Stella Dorothea
The alarm clock rings at 07:30 am – we have decided (once again) to get going quickly today. After about an hour (…) we say goodbye to the sheep and set off towards Folkestone. In the town of Sandgate we stop at a small café, charge our mobile phones and use the wifi. Joel googles the place and finds out that this very café was given a lousy hygiene status by the health department some time ago – but only after we had already eaten a massive piece of cake. Anyway, it was delicious and cheap – and no, there were no negative late side-effects…!
We are no longer on small paths but on a wide, stone-paved beach promenade. It doesn’t take long before we pass the first beach huts, rows and rows of wooden huts where the English keep their deck chairs and towels or set up a little living room. While I take photos of the cute little houses, Joel strikes up a conversation with an elderly lady and her (also elderly) dog. The two look out to sea for a while. The sky is slightly cloudy, but the sun is shining while the waves are crashing on the beach of small beige-grey pebbles. Stella Dorothea, the lady’s name, says that this is exactly how she imagines heaven to be and that she is looking forward to arriving in this idyll one day. She wants to include us in her prayers, but I have to promise her that I won’t put a picture of her on “the internet”.
A Gift from Heaven
In Folkstone we reach the point where we have to climb the cliffs again. Deep breath in and off we go, always along the main road! Completely out of breath, we have to stop every now and then when our thighs burn too much, but eventually we master the 170 metres of altitude. At the top, we catch our breath when a van driver rolls down his window in the never ending line of traffic and calls out to us: “Well done guys! Did you cycle up here?”
We reach the next campsite in Little Satmour early and finally have time to plan the rest of the route, as well as for a long shower! Happy and refreshed, I stroll back to the tent, only to find that a flying creature has left us a “gift”: A large, white, still semi-liquid chunk of bird droppings stuck to our beautiful tent! What a mess. Luckily it’s still damp, I think to myself, and look for a handkerchief to remove the stain. So I walk around the tent just to discover a much bigger pile of bird droppings stuck here! Where did that come from? The surrounding trees are all some distance away from the tent. I squint against the sunlight straight up: A power line. We hadn’t noticed it when we pitched the tent…
Half a roll of toilet paper later, the tent looks OK again. A few minutes later Joel returns to the tent, freshly showered.
Bye Bye England
Saturday – today it is time to say goodbye to England. We had a great time and even better weather! Today is no exception. The sun is shining as we set off from the campsite towards Dover. Fortunately, today it’s all downhill and we get another insanely beautiful view over the cliffs. On the beach, a few crazy people do their laps in the English Channel while we roll towards the ferry. But this time without a flat tyre!
While we wait in the bike queue for the ship to enter, we strike up a conversation with a couple of motorcyclists on their way to Antwerp. The man is very interested in our gear, so Joel demonstrates almost all our equipment to him. The man is particularly impressed by the small compression bag containing my clothes. The ferry ride is unspectacular – while others eat fish and chips, we eat the sandwiches we brought with us – well, we just have save money a bit now.
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