When I woke up it was at first hard to imagine that I was going to do this all over again. But sleep is the great restorer and after a few minutes I decided I would not work first (as planned) but would get moving instead. The idea of being out in the country in the dark again was not appealing.
After a chat with my host, I set out a little before 9 on a gray morning. I was able to quickly rejoin the path along the north downs way from the detour to my overnight stay in the small housing tract. Fields and small forests and stiles to cross and more fields, punctuated by the occasional small church and then a couple of miles (and couple of hours) on, I came to Waldershare House, a rather grand brick construction from the early 18th century that is a historic landmark but now divided into flats.
A large farm with sheep was nearby and I noted with interest that the black sheep had a white face, so exact opposite of its siblings.
Going was slow but pretty, and there were more small farms, a dairy and homes and churches to distract me from my pack, for which I stopped frequently, as the day before, just to rest. My heart rate increased as I took a small path near some houses which led out towards a field and I got several distinct whiffs of something familiar to every driver in northern California – skunk! I had to stop and google to see if it was true, and yes indeed, there are skunks in England, too. This caused me to increase my focus considerably, and I started to tap the ground and talk a bit so that if any were lurking in the hedges on either side they might be forewarned and scuttle off.
Once I considered myself to be in the clear, skunk-wise, I took a 15 minute break on the path, which was now on a slight ridge. I was considering using the end of the hedge as a slight privacy screen to “use the facilities,” as they say, but decided against it, and a good thing it was, too, as just a few minutes later a couple came hiking up behind me, followed by the whine of numerous hanggliding contraptions (that apparently were motorized) crossing the sky above me. I am glad I didn’t provide them an anecdote to recount later with their friends over a beer.
And then I soldiered on, checking the altitude on the app whenever a rise appeared, to see whether it might be the last. I was standing in a wide, recently plowed field, watching a fire burning at one end and thinking about carbon emissions, when I heard the sound of gulls – the sea!! However, a couple of ridges later, I saw them in another freshly turned field, along with crows and other birds, eating whatever the tractor had turned up. I still had a way to go. On about three in the afternoon, when according to the navigator I had completed all the hills and was only an hour from the dock, I was gleeful as I descended a final quiet road, before reaching a busy intersection in Dover.
At that point, I realized that the tracks ended not at the dock but in the middle of town… I spent a fair moment in grief, and another ten minutes or so figuring out the best way to get to the docks, and moved onward, slowly, with many pauses and drinks of water.
The sea – finally! – was a welcome sight, along with the infamous white cliffs, and one foot in front of the other following black and white tracks amid the trucks and cranes of modern ports finally brought me to the ticket office and waiting room. I thought I would get the next boat, which was in 20 minutes, but I was informed that one had to be there about an hour ahead of time to go through all the processes, so I would get the next one, which at least would bring me to Calais about sunset. I removed my pack and had the interesting sensation of a river running out of the thin goosedown vest I had been wearing. I sat on the end of the plastic chair and felt immensely grateful for a Dr Pepper. Sugar rehydration.
A crowd from the Balkans was waiting outside to take a bus to London, and finally my transfer arrived. I was the only foot passenger, most people crossing with their cars. The bus dropped me at the ferry after a passport control, and I took an elevator and then a long bridge onto the boat, which was laid out with duty free shops and bars and lounge type seating. Mineral water and potato chips (to continue balancing my electrolytes, of course). The crossing only took an hour but the landing and disembarkation took almost another. I got a taxi to my little inexpensive hotel in the center of town. With my long walking skirt and scarf on my head, I got very nice service from the North African receptionist, who kindly pointed the way to the nearest couscous, which was excellent and restorative, full of spicy broth and vegetables. I was very happy.
The same kind person brought me a large bottle of water, as there was none in the room and no shops open, when I returned from dinner. The promised wifi was non-existent so I was not able to do any work, and collapsed in sleep.
Here are the pics of the day – you can click on one to start the slideshow:
