It’s going to be another hot day and for the umpteenth time I scold myself for not rising above my aversion to shopping, to go and buy some lighter walking boots…….next week maybe. Following directions I head for the small bright pink building on the shoreline which is the shelter for the Hamble ferry.
Continue readingAn early morning bus takes me back to Tollesbury where I push an envelope containing £10 through the door of the closed teashop. On the other side of a gate is a board with information about Tollesbury Wick Marshes, the first part of today’s walk.
Continue readingReturning to the Peldon Rose, I find myself alone in the breakfast room. Heading out into narrow lanes that take me through the Wigboroughs, dodging traffic and finding nowhere for a late morning cup of tea.
Continue readingComing out of the station a bright green flag with the words “Freshly Ground Coffee” calls to me from the bustling boot sale but I am late starting so I walk on. Twenty minutes later, after sighting a beautiful German gundog and the ruins of a castle on the hill to the right, I discover I have forgotten my camera – I will have to use the iPhone.
Continue readingThe track beside the river from Wivenhoe to the Quays at Colchester is an old friend, from the two summers I spent working at Essex University; the track on the other side of the Colne is not. Coming off the roadbridge I walk through an area of deserted warehouses but walking out of a bend I find myself facing a clutch of soldiers in desert fatigues.
Continue readingTrying to shake off the indigestible breakfast at the guest house I walk quickly away from the dubious pleasures of Clacton Pier, past the ubiquitous acres of caravans and bouncy castles, to the neglected house fronts of Jaywick.
Continue readingThe plan is to take advantage of a new bridge bypassing Sittingbourne and its arid industrial landscapes.
Continue readingFrom Teynham station past fields of fruit trees laden with fruit and on to the sailing boats of Conyer.
Continue readingAn early start in Faversham, down to the Creek in sunshine already hot. The path is easy to find through a boat yard strung with drying washing and out on to marshes and mud.
Continue readingI have a companion today, Sharon, a friend I’ve known from primary school in Wales. Out of touch for 20 years and now together again in London. Out of the station we hit the sea front earlier than I remembered from my walk to Birchington and before us are high chalky cliffs sweeping down to the familiar concrete promenade meandering into the distance.
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Joining the Dots 