The no bluebirds run
Another run to work this week from the white cliffs of Dover to the equally white cliffs of Folkestone. The temperature has risen nicely in the last week and the sun was up at 6:30 when I left the house.
The first mile into Dover was, as usual, a chore and a struggle even though it is all down hill. My mood wasn't helped by being pooed on by a seagull with, it has to be said, a fantastic aim.
It always seems to take at least a mile before my muscles are stretched out and my breathing settles down. At that same point the path begins to climb for the next two miles.
I followed the A20 past the harbour and up the A20 with large 16 wheelers speeding past before nipping through the subway onto the pedestrian footpath above the beach. This runs parallel to the train line carrying passengers in the same direction. The path then climbs steeply up over the tunnel entrance and onto the cliff top.
The ground had dried considerably compared to the squidgy mud fest of a few weeks ago. The bushes were now displaying fresh green buds and daisies, dandelions and celandines sprouted in patches across the grassy hillside.
Once at the top I tentatively walked over to the cliff edge and peered over at Samphire Hoe, the nature park built with the Chunnel clay extracted from the sea bed. At this point I was warned away by a jackdaw which repeatedly circled me while rasping and barking warnings. No doubt I was close to it's nest.
My mood lifted as I gazed out at the French coast and viewed the ports of Dover to the east and Folkestone to the west of me. Pushing on I continued along the cliff edge dodging the many snails that slimed along the path. A steep descent is followed by a steeper ascent which slowed me to a walk. Legs burning I made it to the top and followed the long straight path to the half way point.
By now my legs were ticking over smoothly and I was breathing gently while enjoying the sun on my back and the cool breeze on my face. I could now see Capel-Le-Ferne around the next bend in the coast. Passing the static caravans and Cliff Top Café I entered the village whose name derives from Chapel in the ferns.
Leaving there I have three options; to descend via the Battle of Britain Memorial into the easternmost part of Folkestone, continue to follow the road down Dover Hill and into town or take a right turn over the downs to Castle Hill and then make my way down into Cheriton. I chose the second option as it is longer than the first but has no more uphill sections.
At this point I had started to feel a pain in the top of my left foot which was soon joined by an ache on my left kneecap. It was exacerbated by going downhill and I was glad to be back on the flat before heading through the town centre to work. My aim had been to cool off in the sea but the tide was fully out and too shallow to enter. Still, 10 miles had flown by and niggles aside it was a wonderful way to start the day.
The first mile into Dover was, as usual, a chore and a struggle even though it is all down hill. My mood wasn't helped by being pooed on by a seagull with, it has to be said, a fantastic aim.
It always seems to take at least a mile before my muscles are stretched out and my breathing settles down. At that same point the path begins to climb for the next two miles.
I followed the A20 past the harbour and up the A20 with large 16 wheelers speeding past before nipping through the subway onto the pedestrian footpath above the beach. This runs parallel to the train line carrying passengers in the same direction. The path then climbs steeply up over the tunnel entrance and onto the cliff top.
The ground had dried considerably compared to the squidgy mud fest of a few weeks ago. The bushes were now displaying fresh green buds and daisies, dandelions and celandines sprouted in patches across the grassy hillside.
Once at the top I tentatively walked over to the cliff edge and peered over at Samphire Hoe, the nature park built with the Chunnel clay extracted from the sea bed. At this point I was warned away by a jackdaw which repeatedly circled me while rasping and barking warnings. No doubt I was close to it's nest.
My mood lifted as I gazed out at the French coast and viewed the ports of Dover to the east and Folkestone to the west of me. Pushing on I continued along the cliff edge dodging the many snails that slimed along the path. A steep descent is followed by a steeper ascent which slowed me to a walk. Legs burning I made it to the top and followed the long straight path to the half way point.
By now my legs were ticking over smoothly and I was breathing gently while enjoying the sun on my back and the cool breeze on my face. I could now see Capel-Le-Ferne around the next bend in the coast. Passing the static caravans and Cliff Top Café I entered the village whose name derives from Chapel in the ferns.
Leaving there I have three options; to descend via the Battle of Britain Memorial into the easternmost part of Folkestone, continue to follow the road down Dover Hill and into town or take a right turn over the downs to Castle Hill and then make my way down into Cheriton. I chose the second option as it is longer than the first but has no more uphill sections.
At this point I had started to feel a pain in the top of my left foot which was soon joined by an ache on my left kneecap. It was exacerbated by going downhill and I was glad to be back on the flat before heading through the town centre to work. My aim had been to cool off in the sea but the tide was fully out and too shallow to enter. Still, 10 miles had flown by and niggles aside it was a wonderful way to start the day.
