Margate to Ramsgate – 19th July 2019
On completion of this section we will have traversed the whole of the coast between Brighton and Faversham. We cycled it a year or two ago, but in the opposite direction, so it should feel fresh, especially as we have opted to walk it this time.
As is now becoming commonplace whilst walking the East Kent coast, we need to drive to Faversham as this is the most direct route to Margate. On reaching Margate we park on a quiet suburban road and walk to our start point at the railway station.
Other than the lovely view across the harbour, the most obvious thing to catch our eye is an ugly great tower block. One of the tenants has covered the windows of his flat with the words ‘BLOCK BREXIT’ – one letter per window. Had he got a few more windows he might have added O, L and S to create BOLLOCKS BREXIT – who knows he might have been the inspiration for the Liberal Democrat slogan for the Euro Elections.
A Liberal Democrat tenant?
Turner once remarked to influential writer and art critic John Ruskin that “…the skies over Thanet are the loveliest in all Europe”. Today is no exception. In fact we are so inspired by both Turner and the Thanet skies, that we decide to head for the Turner Contemporary forthwith. However, on passing a building announcing itself as Old Kent Market, we cannot resist having a look round.
Margate – “The skies over Thanet are the loveliest in Europe”
The first thing you see on entering this cornucopia of odd-ball shops and eating houses is a bright red double-decker London Bus. Boris would have been proud of it I’m sure, although there is no mention of £350 million on the side of it. The intriguing thing about it is, that to get it into the building they must have dismantled it first, before rebuilding it – like some giant Airfix kit. The bus is now a cafe. It is not alone in this provision, there being several others competing for our patronage.
Old Kent Market, Margate
The London Bus café – How did they get it in?
Upstairs, on a mezzanine level are several weird and wonderful shops offering a range of bric-a-brac, a men’s hairdressers, a tattooist, a Doc Martin’s boot shop and some that offered for sale whatever they may have found in the local rubbish skips.
Our curiosity satisfied we make our way to the Turner, which refreshingly makes no charge for entry. I’m not sure if there are any Turners displayed at The Turner, but it is nonetheless an interesting and airy gallery to look around. One of the rooms is dedicated to art works done by local school children. This is most appropriate, since Turner’s style was probably thought childish by his contemporaries, until the Impressionist movement adopted his blurred painting style half a century later. Turner is even said to have used strange additions to his painting kit, such as yogurt. My 2 year old grandson often paints himself and anything within reach, using yogurt!
The Turner Contemporary contrasts with the more traditional buildings of Margate
The children’s art work was the more inspiring to me, since I had the pleasure of teaching a number of the schools in question, when I worked in Canterbury 20 years ago.
However, Betty is keen that we get a move on, so perhaps we’ll come again another day. As we depart I notice that we are invited to donate £3. Since we only spent 20 minutes in the gallery, I don’t feel too bad about donating only £1.20. Sorry – it was all the change I had!
Margate Wintergardens – looks more like a disused swimming pool than a theatre
Heading clockwise around the Thanet coast we next encounter what looks like a disused swimming pool. It turns out to be the Margate Winter Gardens, which still hosts a range of shows by national comedians, pop groups and of course panto. The adjacent Margate Lido, with its mock Mediterranean décor, must once have made this part of Margate the focal point of year-round entertainment. From the 1920s to the 1970s hundreds of thousands of children must have enjoyed paddling in the waters of the Lido. Now it is an area of abandoned concrete, awaiting its next incarnation.
Margate Lido with its mock-Mediterranean décor
Offshore a number of ships swing on their anchors, perhaps awaiting a berth to become vacant at one of the ports up the Thames Estuary. Beyond them, the 200-odd seaside windmills of the London Array pump electricity into the National Grid. What would Turner have made of all these changes I wonder?
The filled-in pool at Margate Lido (foreground) and ships anchored in the Thames
We move on to the Walpole Bay Hotel, which still offers the same architecture, decor and service that holiday-makers would have enjoyed back in 1914, when it was first opened. However, much of the surrounding area has suffered the same fate as the Lido, as British holiday-makers have opted for sunny Spain. One striking new building is the Thanet Indoor Bowls Centre, suggesting that the older generation still favour this forgotten corner of Kent.
We decide to descend to sea level at the exotically named Palm Bay and see what it has to offer. We appear to have the bay to ourselves, which is surprising – considering the warm weather and how many people must live within a mile of it. Today it is like a scene from Lawrence of Arabia, with wind-blown sand piled up against the 15-20 metre high chalk cliffs. We walk along the sand as the waves gently lap at our feet, the strand line choked with rotting seaweed and populated by sand flies looking for a ready meal.
At the far end of the bay we decide to return to the cliff top to investigate the miniature golf-course marked on my rather ancient OS map. There is very little sign of golf today, just a sea of wildflowers. This kind of golf course vegetation is the one I am most familiar with, since on the few occasions I have struck a golf ball, it has invariably ended up in the weeds. Just as well I gave up golf in favour of studying botany.
Miiature Golf Course or botanists paradise?
Foreness Point is where most of Margate’s sewage is treated at Southern Water’s multimillion pound pumping station, overlooking the Thames Estuary. Their web site tells us that each year they remove over 217 tonnes of non-biodegradable items, such as sanitary products – the equivalent of five and a half humpback whales. An interesting comparison. Hopefully they won’t get any real humpback whales flushed down Thanet’s toilets anytime soon.
Shit Central – Southern Water Treatment Plant, Foreness Point
Around the corner we come to yet another exotically named bay – Botany Bay. Not to be confused with the one in Sydney, from which it takes its name. It is said smugglers caught on these sands were soon bound for transportation to the Australian convict colony by that name. Thanet’s version is today a gorgeous Blue Flag beach, with white chalk cliffs and some interesting sea stacks. Had we the time, we might be tempted to go fossil hunting here.
As I pop down to the nearby toilets, Betty is accosted by a fundraiser for the RNLI. This gives her yet another chance to advise the organisation that they have benefitted enough from her past generosity. Down at the toilets I am impressed by the Victorian splendour of its porcelain urinals. I can’t resist taking a photograph, just in time to avoid having to explain myself to the Indian gentleman who enters a second later.
Botany Bay with sea stack
Access to Botany Bay takes you past this classic old urinal!
Beyond the imposing Neptune’s Tower, a fake, flint castle that stands guard over Botany Bay, we discover a deep cleft in the chalk cliffs which gives access to the sea at White Ness. It is unclear how much of this cleft is a natural geo, carved by the sea and how much is man-made. It appears to go nowhere in particular, but inevitably – if fancifully – suggests a smuggling past (had the tide been lower, we might have been able to walk around the headland and possibly through the natural arch that leads to Kingsgate Bay).
Neptune’s Tower at White Ness
Kingsgate Castle overlooks Kingsgate Bay
The slippery slope down to the sea sadly induces Betty to drop our last bit of malt loaf. A particularly sad loss, considering it is all we have left to eat!
At nearby Kingsgate the coast path is forced away from the cliff edge, dominated here by Kingsgate Castle built in 1760 for Lord Holland. It soon fell into disrepair and was mostly rebuilt a hundred or so years later. Today it has been converted into 31 luxuriously appointed flats. However, a greater discovery still is an ice-cream vendor at nearby Joss Bay, which restores our flagging morale and makes amends for Betty’s cavalier attitude towards Soreen (other malt loaves are also available).
The impressive white North Foreland Lighthouse dominates the skyline as we steel ourselves to the anticipated walk along the road. Much to our joy, it seems the coast path has been re-routed through a private housing development since my OS map was published and we are treated to a mile of cliff top walking through chalk meadows dominated by knapweed, wild carrot and mallow.
North Foreland Lighthouse
A chalk meadow rich in knapweed and wild carrot
We are briefly forced back to the road, passing the impressive knapped flint walls of Stone House, before discovering a narrow passage down steps to the beach. Ahead of us a line of gaily painted beach huts announces that we are approaching the classic Victorian seaside resort of Broadstairs.
Stone Bay (left) – 6th formers enjoy the start of their holidays
Viking Bay, Broadstairs
Since we set off from Margate, the students from the local sixth form have had time to go home, change into their beachwear and throng down to the beach. Some of them even have the use of mummy and daddy’s beach hut. It is the first day of their holidays and I suspect they are intent upon enjoying it. Not one of them has checked the weather forecast as a sudden squall sends them all dashing for cover, whilst these two sensible old farts don waterproofs and continue into Broadstairs for a spot of lunch.
Arriving at 3.30pm we notice a number of the cafes have shut. We go into a bar that sells sticky buns at one end, but no-one seems to be working the food end. Non-plussed, we decide to walk along the cliff-top path. From this elevation we can look down upon Viking Bay, with its beach, the harbour wall and Bleak House – which are the essence of Broadstairs.
Bleak house is famous for being the place where Charles Dickens wrote his classic novel David Copperfield. It wasn’t actually called Bleak House at the time, but Fort House, having been built during the Napoleonic Wars as a coastal battery. One of his many other novels is called Bleak House, with some worthy in the early 20th Century suggesting that Fort House was the setting for it. Since then Fort House has always been known as Bleak House.
We decide to go into town a little and investigate York Street, only to find all the cafes there are in the process of closing down for the day. I wonder what has become of our fair country. In the words of the late, great Jack Buchanan “….when the clock strikes four, everything stops for tea”. Well not anymore it seems. The best we can do is to buy a bag of Crisps and a biscuit, which we eat disconsolately on a bench overlooking the bay.
With that tragic episode out of the way, we continue along the cliff-top and admire the formal gardens. Little has probably changed here in a hundred years, including the public toilets. This is turning into a day of toilet admiration, but these ones are very interesting. You have to descend 20 or so steps into the bowels of the chalk cliffs, to enjoy the spectacle of a resplendent row of gentlemen’s sanitary-ware (sorry no photo). It’s a little dingy, but well worth the climb – especially if needs-must.
Half a mile or so of walking alongside beautifully manicured grass we eventually reach the Memorial Gardens, which pretty well separate Broadstairs from Ramsgate. Here we sit on the grass for a short while as a party of school children herd past us. Their well-tanned faces and rapidly spoken ‘romantic’ language suggests they are either Spanish or Italian.
“Are they Italian or Spanish” Betty asks of the two teachers, bringing up the rear of the group of chattering youngsters.
“Italian.” They confirm, with a smile.
Doubtless they are smiling because their Euros are worth increasingly more to them in the UK, now that the value of the pound has dropped!
Beyond the Memorial Gardens we are able to return to sea level via a broad set of stone steps. As we descend it is evident that the geology has changed from chalk to something resembling a sandstone. Closer inspection suggests it is fake rock, since all the joints are very regular. Further, some very convenient erosion has led to the formation of regular cavities in the rock, which are exactly the right size to hold a pot plant. Some of the rock has been chipped off revealing a concrete core. What we are looking at is Pulhamite, the creation of James Pulham in the 1890s. Evidently the movers and shakers of Ramsgate didn’t think chalk was good enough for their town, preferring this faux geology instead.
Faux geology – ‘Pulhamite’ – made from concrete.
It is a fair old walk to the station, from the town centre, before we are able to board a train back to Margate. On balance, I would say that the Thanet Coast Path is best done by bicycle, rather than on foot. There are plenty of interesting places to see, but there is always this sense that you are on the edge of suburbia, rather than escaping to the countryside. We’ll stick to cycling the flat and urban sections of coast from now on, whilst preferring to walk where the coast is hilly and wild.
