Lydd-on-Sea to Folkestone – 27th March 2019
We arrive at Lydd-on-sea and park up near the Pilot Inn, where we finished the previous leg of our epic journey.
Betty, ever the practical person, sees a sign advertising eggs and dives into the shop to purchase 3 dozen. These are packed into the boot of the car, awaiting our anticipated return several hours hence. I am relieved that she didn’t buy fish as well.
Booted and suited we head off seaward along a grassy path through the sea of pebbles so typical of this area. The path is bordered by daffodils and the intense blue of grape hyacinth in full bloom. Doubtless the path has an ancient history, being one of the many trackways from shore to sea taken by fishermen launching their boats off the beach.
Fisherman’s trackway through the pebbles – lined with Grape Hyacinth
Sea cabbage shoots are forcing up through the pebbles, ready to combat the extremes of wind, rain, sea spray and the rocky substrate beneath.
As I descend the steep seaward edge of the pebble storm beach, I notice that it comes to an abrupt end where it meets the kilometre or so of soft wet sand exposed at low tide. The sand stretches way out towards the distant breaking surf. This abrupt margin is the boundary between where gentler, constructive waves build up the level sandy beach and the powerful, destructive waves that have removed all but the biggest pebbles on the upper shore.
The walking is much better than we had expected, with the firm sand comfortable under- foot. A cold breeze from the north makes me thankful that I am wearing my feather jacket, although I wish I’d checked the pockets of my recently washed cagoule before we set out. Had I done so, then I would have noticed that Betty had taken my hat out of my pocket, when she put it in the washing machine. My ears and baldy head are a bit chilly now!
However, it doesn’t take long to warm up. Betty always sets a good pace on the flat, as we cruise along close to 4mph. Within the hour we have made it to Littlestone and notice strange looking jelly fingers scattered across the beach. I’ve never seen one before and wary of them being stinging things, I poke one with my boot. No reaction. I assume it is no longer living. A little further along Betty and I look closely at another one. The fingers look like a collection of large cells. I later find out that they are the egg cases of squid.
Squid egg-cases washed up on the beach at Littlestone
All is peaceful on the beach, away from roads and with very few people, but the one irritation is a light aircraft which keeps circling overhead. I am reminded of a similar walk around the Lizard peninsular where an RAF helicopter spent a whole day hovering around us as we walked the coast path. We assumed he was using us for search and rescue practice. Whatever his reasons, we wished he would go away. Fortunately the pilot of our plane is less persistent. Perhaps his student pilot only paid for half an hour’s lesson. Whatever, we are glad to see him go.
Soon the pebbles occurring at the top of the beach, give way to the low sand dunes of Littlestone-on-Sea. Like Camber Sands on our previous leg, the juxtaposition of sand dunes and sandy beach combine to make the perfect beach holiday destination. Doubtless this was the geographical reason for the settlement establishing in the first place.
Once at Littlestone, we climb the ramp up to the lifeboat station intent on having a cuppa and discover that the RNLI have not missed a trick regarding fund-raising. Three tables and 12 chairs offer the appropriate respite for these 2 walkers. A small group of local ladies are equipped for a litter-picking adventure and are in the process of departing as we roll up. A cup of tea and a capuccino ensure that we are ready for our next bout of walking, once we have made full and much appreciated use of the RNLIs toilet facilities. In grateful recognition of this generosity, Betty purchases a small souvenir.
I ask the volunteer shopkeeper if the inshore lifeboat kept here is largely for the benefit of visitors, whereupon she divulges that it is actually the local fishing industry which calls upon the RNLI the most. I ask her about the strange ‘septic tank’ that appears to be anchored a few hundred metres offshore, suggesting that perhaps it might be one of the Arramanche mulberry harbours from D-Day. She confirms my suspicions, but I am corrected in that it is one which never actually made it across. I suspect this mass of metal might account for some of the RNLIs business, with vessels inadvertently running into its concealed bulk at high water.
Gaily painted beach huts at Littlestone
We opt to look around and see what Littlestone has to offer, before returning to the beach. A number of large houses of Georgian or Victorian vintage line the sea-front road. We wonder if they were once sea-side boarding houses, or perhaps were holiday homes for wealthy city gents of this era. Perhaps both? Perched upon the grassy area that lines the sea front are some gaily painted beach huts. Their bright colours appear to have attracted the attentions of a serious photographer, complete with single lens reflex camera and tripod. I jokingly offer to adorn one of the huts, but she takes me a little too seriously saying “I don’t do that sort of photography”
“He’s only joking!” declares Betty in my defence, obviously exasperated with the ladies lack of humour.
Ironically someone of her profession would probably have made a good living snapping tourists back in the 1920s and 30s – although I doubt that a small, exclusive seaside town like Littlestone would have generated sufficient business, even during its heyday. I have several such snaps of my mother when she holidayed at Skegness as a child.
Beach-based fishing vessels at Littlestone
Henry Tubbs’ water tower, Littlestone
Adjacent to the beach huts are a collection of fishing boats, which have to launch off the beach. Coupled with the beach huts, the scene is idyllic. Back in the 1890s the charm of Littlestone attracted the attention of Henry Tubbs, an entrepreneur keen on developing the town’s potential for seaside holidays. His scheme never took off, but his lasting legacy is the water tower he built to supply the town. Alas the water proved too salty, but the imposing red brick structure can still be seen today, converted into a rather unusual dwelling to the north east of the town. The tower is distinctly asymmetrical, with a Second World War observation platform built on top of the left-hand turret.
What few dwellings do exist at this end of the town were probably very opulent at one time. Big rambling mansion-like residences, many of which are now past their prime. We stop and chat to a young couple, labouring in the sunken front garden of one which appears to be close to, or even below sea level.
“Isn’t your soil a little salty?” I shout to them in the cheery way you do to total strangers. “I would have thought it might restrict what you are able to grow.”
Both cease their labours and smile.
The man ripostes “You can try and lick it if you like!”
It is always fun to banter with the locals (with the exception of our photographer lady of course). We wave them goodbye and walk on.
Soon we are passing the inevitable golf course on the outskirts of St Mary’s Bay, a larger settlement of 60s bungalows, which have been joined by more recent housing. You get the impression that this part of Romney Marsh has been earmarked for development. The sea wall was in the process of being elevated back in 2004 when I came to stay at my former mother-in-law’s for Christmas. With the increased flood risk presented by rising sea levels, such work would have been essential prior to any expansion of the settlement. Hopefully the sea wall will last a little longer than my marriage did.
Out on the beach, older sea defences can be seen. These are groynes dating back to the early 20th Century. These substantial wooden structures look like rows of planks running down the beach – their purpose being to encourage the 20th Century seaside tourist industry by preventing the loss of beach sand. The process of longshore drift carries sand along the south coast from west to east. The groynes would have ensured that St Mary’s Bay didn’t lose this vital commodity for the tourist industry. In fact a stabilised beach acts as a natural barrier to wave erosion, playing its part as sea levels rise..
Impressive sea defences at St Mary Bay, with the 20th Century wooden groynes on the beach
One of the drawbacks visible here is that the low lying nature of Romney Marsh means that rainwater falling on the land cannot easily drain into the sea. Instead it has to be carried off by a network of drains, with the biggest of these being filled by all the others. This massive drain can be seen adjacent to the main coast road here. The accumulating water looks as though it is a defensive moat for the whole of Romney Marsh. The water in this ‘moat’ is pumped out into the sea at low tide, accumulating for the rest of the tidal cycle. One drawback on a pleasant warm spring day like today is that the stagnant water is a breeding ground for countless small flies and midges, which fill the air (and my mouth) as we walk by.
I am intrigued by human greed, especially when it comes to the appropriation of neighbours’ land. I know of a number of examples where residential landowners have surreptitiously stolen bits of land from a neighbouring larger landowner, like parasites on a host. St Mary’s Bay appears to be no different, with numerous gardens extending their acreage, by building terraces or even stilt supported platforms, on the edge of the drainage ditch. A local bye-law states “No person without the previous consent of the Board shall erect any building or structure….” Of course the board may well have given their permission, although I suspect most have been erected in total ignorance of this bye-law.
Residential ‘creep’, with several dwellings (yellow circles) appropriating land from the drainage authority
At Dymchurch we come across one of those magnificent structures built during the Napoleonic Wars – a Martello Tower. This particular one (Martello Tower No. 25) is currently disused and sits as a feature in the middle of a local car park, next to the rather swanky looking Marshland Outfall of the Marshland Sewer.
Martello Tower No. 25, Dymchurch
Marshland Outfall complex at Dymchurch
The edifice of the Martello Tower, with its 13 foot thick walls designed to keep out Napoleon’s army and the modernised Marshland Outfall structure designed to remove drainage water from Romney Marsh, have now been joined by another vital security structure: sea defence gates on top of the newly elevated sea wall.
Sea defence gate on the sea wall at Dymchurch
Dymchurch Amusements Park
Dymchurch is a focal point for the budget tourist market. It provides all the appropriate ‘tat’ shops necessary for the beach holiday-maker, cafes, pubs, chippy and the Dymchurch Amusements Park. This should be of no surprise, since it is surrounded by a dozen or so large caravan parks, as well as being a key stop for users of the Romney, Hythe and Dymchurch Light Railway. At this time of year the town is relatively quiet, supporting a population of about 3,000 souls. However, come the main tourist season, the streets, shops and beaches will be heaving with families of holiday-makers and swelling the number of residents to 12,000!
A little further along the A259, which rumbles through the town, we come across Martello Tower No 24. This one has thankfully been rescued by English Heritage, allowing visitors to discover more about these strange defensive structures and actually go into one. It is not currently open, so we are not in a position to investigate it. This is a pity, since it is one of those rare commodities – a free entry attraction. In fact it is only open on weekends, between Easter and September and only between the hours of 2pm and 4pm. This is a pity, since I suspect serious viewers would prefer to visit outside of these peak times. I shudder to think how they might cope with 12,000 visitors in just 2 hours, in a building designed to garrison 15-25 men.
Eschewing the local food providers, we take our lunch al-fresco on the sea wall, watching two Merganser surface diving into the sea for theirs, whilst Herring Gulls comb the beach for the odd scraps left by tourists. The whole ‘nature-dining-on-the-beach’ scene is fascinating to watch, especially a number of Herring Gulls sitting on groynes, pecking muscles. Whenever a big wave comes they have to quickly jump out of the way – like children playing ‘dare’. Although some actually appear to be washing their feathers in the salt water.
Fishy alfresco diners on the beach – Herring Gulls: moules mariniere.
Lunch finished we continue our walk, choosing to reacquaint ourselves with the sea, by examining the strand line for whatever the sea may have thrown up. Enormous boulders known as rip-rap have been dumped in front of the sea wall here in an attempt to reduce the power of the sea, as it breaks on the concrete of the wall. The further east we walk, the worse the blackfly problem becomes and all discussion ceases!
Rip-rap protects the concrete of the sea wall
Static caravans dominate the holiday scene
Eventually we reach Dymchurch Redoubt and the Hythe Ranges, where a red flag and assorted signs next to the Napoleonic fort advise us that we should no longer continue along the coast. The unmistakable sound of gun reinforces their argument. Deprived of safe walking along the coast, we decide to follow the official England Coast Path route, which takes us along the A259 as far as Palmarsh.
Dymchurch Redoubt – built to repel the French in 1804
Dymchurch redoubt forbids our intended coastal walk.
We are glad to turn off the A259, a busy and noisy road and hardly a place for a quiet country stroll, where the England Coast Path leads us past more of the residential development that is becoming so commonplace in the area. In this instance the former gravel quarry works has been transformed into Martello Lakes. This development’s web site offers 3 and 4 bedroom houses at between £269,995 and £414,995. I don’t know what happened to the supposed affordable housing on the site, but am disturbed that the development is described as “perfect for first time buyers or those looking for a reasonably priced coastal retreat for a second home.” I wonder how many of these homes will be empty most of the year, in an area where affordable housing is in short supply. That said, it is an attractive development on a brownfield site.
The new Martello Lakes housing development at Palmarsh
RHD Light Railway
The rough track we are following gives us views across the lake created by the extraction of gravel, which is in the process of being converted into a fishing and sailing lake.
Our route takes us alongside and then across the Romney, Hythe and Dymchurch Light Railway into a rather dull 1970’s housing estate, before bringing us out onto the tow-path of the Royal Military Canal. This pleasant waterside walk takes us through the busy town of Hythe, which is suffering from a major traffic jam to its one-way road system. Unworried by the pressures experienced by road-users, we continue our pleasant walk attended by flocks of greedy mallards and farmyard ducks, to where the canal reaches the sea near Sandgate. The canal was built at about the same time as the Martello towers encountered earlier (1804), to act as a protective moat against the forces of Napoleon. It never saw service, although it was manned again in World War Two in case of a German Invasion.
Having reached our original destination of Sandgate, we decide to push ourselves a little further despite the diminishing light. The walk along the couple of extra miles of coast path to Folkestone is very pleasant, especially once we reach the Lower Leas Coastal Park. The formal gardens arranged below the cliffs at Folkestone and the impressive collection of public art works give an excellent ambience.
However, we come unstuck whilst trying to find a short-cut to the bus station in Folkestone and end up walking miles before finding a suitable path up the cliff side. The day is fortunately rescued when we stumble across The Chambers bar and lovely public bar buried below street level, where we are able to purchase a much needed baked potato and a pint of cider each, before catching the last bus back to Lydd-on-Sea.