Cliffs of Dover, Canterbury, and a surprising taste of home...

From the fellow that gave us hope to continue, to the little old lady that sent us through the woods, to the teenage boys eager to share their phones and ask about Five Guys, we were reminded to trust others and our own inner compasses on the White Cliffs of Dover. (Skip to end if you hate stories and just want the Dover tips.)

Today we took an hour or so long train out of the city to the Dover Priory station in Dover. After trying bangers and mash for the first time in what I later discovered was an English chain, J P Weatherspoon, we set out to follow the signs to the Cliffs of Dover.

About a hundred yards up an endless hill, we asked a local woman how much further was from Dover Castle. Heeding the warning on her face, we slugged 100 yards back down and caught a cab. Our cabbie advised us that the castle is so big we really should have a full day to see it. At 20 pounds per person per entry, it would be a shame to only have an hour or so there because we also wanted to see the Cliffs and make it to Canterbury. We realize now how ambitious it all was to do all three in a day with a late start and decided to skip the Castle and walk the Cliffs. We choose nature over history any day.

Upon arrival the parking lot and large wooden posted map reminded me of the trails of my childhood hiking with my family at Pine Mountain, Georgia. Unlike national park maps in the US, this one only gave the estimated walk time, not the actual distance to the destination. I wanted to see the lighthouse I’d only just discovered existed, but I knew after walking 10 miles a day for the last 3 days, Raven was not going to want to trudge that far. Thankfully the sign said it would take about 50 minutes. Raven quickly pointed out the lighthouse was closed anyway, and I let her have her moment of not thinking she was in for a huge hike.

Realizing we were indeed on top of the cliffs, with no idea how we’d get to the beach to look up at them, I wandered how I was going to SEE the famously stark white sheer cliffs if I was standing ON top of them. After all, you wouldn’t inspect the side of your walls from the roof! We asked a passerby how to get to the beach. He said the beach path was also closed, but the walk to the lighthouse wasn’t as long as indicated, and we would see the cliffs along the way. Hope was restored! Off we go down the gray well-trodden dirt path.

Sure enough, we rounded the corner to our first glimpse of the sharp chalky sides as they plunged towards the English Channel. Raven became distracted from her aching feet as photo op after photo op presented itself. I suppose camera addictions are genetic? From the tiny snail to the vast expanse of the cliffs new postcards appeared over each hill.

There are horses, ornery ponies rather, grazing on the cliffs as well. Raven walked right up to them while other curious travelers nearly got kicked. She almost touched one cute brown face before he plotted away bored. They aren’t wild, but we have no idea who those lucky ponies belong to. Random thought, do they consider themselves lucky? Probably they don’t appreciate the views or people walking through their breakfast and lunch each day. I suppose life is all about perspective.

The man’s voice from earlier encouraging us that the lighthouse wasn’t that far kept us going. That and the knowledge that a tearoom was somewhere nearby. After hiking and picture taking for what we later learned really was several miles, the bright white lighthouse peeked at us over an emerald green hill with a raw wooden peg fence leading the way. When the stark white, round lighthouse with an almost Turkish style round top appeared to be far away, we heard the man’s voice in our heads and kept walking. At least we could recuperate with a drink and relax. Better than walking back, since it seemed longer and we foolishly brought no water. (We hadn’t planned a multi-mile hike nor for South England April weather to reach 80 with full sun.)

I may be the only American visiting in mid-April to leave London with a slight sunburn!

This was our last day in England and we’d yet to have a tea. We stopped by Fortnum & Mason to discover the proper tea on the top floor was 49 pounds (quid in slang) per person! No tea and fancy snacks on a whim are worth this. While this trip was a huge deal for us, I think F&M tea should be reserved for graduating, with honors, from Oxford with a 6 figure starting pay ahead, but that’s just me. We did however purchase tea from F&M to take home. (Hope our luggage isn’t over-weight for the next flight!)

The idea of a tearoom on the Cliffs was exceeded by the reality. The antique tearoom using real china, all with varying dainty floral patterns run by this sweet older lady turned out to feel like the most authentic tea experiences in England. Mind you this was our first, so don’t take offense if you know of a better place to have tea and scones with clotted cream and tiny bottles of jam. Raven ordered Earl Grey the true English tea while I was craving mint. (We learned at Fortnum & Mason that mint tea is indeed, just mint. But I listened to my body and ordered it anyway.)

Clotted cream sounds terrible if you’re American. Sounds too much like curdled cream. Trusting those that ensured us it was sweet, we couldn’t wait to try it. Mmm how to explain the beauty of clotted cream? It looks and spreads like soft, whipped butter. I can best describe it as thick light butter flavored whipped cream with no hint of greasiness or that slick feeling film left sliding on your tongue after eating butter or whipped cream. Its surprisingly clean and rich at the same time. I’m clearly not meant to be a food blogger, but I tried and you should not leave your visit to England without tasting some.

Our next adventure began when we noticed the time. The next train to Canterbury was 45 minutes and we weren’t going to make it. There would be another train in an hour for sure, but even if it was only half an hour, shops and the Cathedral close at 5. If we made the train, we’d arrive at 4:15. The really nice lady that took our picture and served our tea told us there was a little trail through the woods that would take us to St. Margaret’s which we assumed was a church and not a town. She claimed it was quite safe and we’d find a little flower filled blue boat in a round-a-bout to confirm we were in the right spot to call a cab or catch the bus to town. It was only a mile.

We wandered around the grounds behind the lighthouse until we came to a literal trail through the woods. She insisted we go on the less travelled path to save time. So, off we go, traipsing through the Dover countryside on a single file sized path. Rather than being afraid of being alone in the middle of the woods in a foreign country, the cows on one side and woods on the other made us feel right at home.

The path dumped us out on a road with private property to our left and a little road to our right. I now regret we didn’t take pictures of the rolling hills and sparse cottages sprinkled in the distance, but we were on a mission without a map. After a few hundred yards we found ourselves in a nice neighborhood and with no little boat full of flowers, no St Margaret’s’ steeple on the skyline. Not yet discouraged and mustering up our faith, we continued towards civilization, because frankly what choice did we have? Finally, another road appeared forming a "T" with ours, an occasional passing car fifty yards away. We turned the corner to discover a tiny little baby blue fishing boat (big enough for maybe three men to sit in) resting in a roundabout filled with lively yellow and red flowers. We cheered our inner compasses and the bright little boat where three nice teenage boys sat waiting for the bus.

We discovered St Margaret’s is a town, not a church. The boys explained the next bus wouldn’t arrive for another 15 minutes and allowed us to use their phones to call the taxi that had dropped us earlier at the Cliffs from town. While we waited the boys laughed in amazement that we’d never heard of Nandos. (Apparently, we should have eaten there for excellent Portuguese chicken.) They wanted to know if Five Guys was indeed the best place for a burger. (Of course, we told them it was only a step up from the fast food chains and a real American burger should be three times as thick and pink in the middle). We were disappointed when our taxi arrived even though we were in a hurry. It was the first time we’d discussed the cultural assumptions and differences and wanted to ask more questions. Lesson learned to do this more in the next countries.

The eager taxi driver offered to escort us all the way to Canterbury for a reasonable price so we just went with it. Screw the train’s schedule and our pre-paid tickets. They would have been the same price either way and we’d rather just pay our 15 extra pounds and not miss the shops and Cathedral of Canterbury. This lead us to our first English interstate experience while jamming to American top 40s.

Did you know they have stop lights on the interstate at each exit? They don’t risk life and limb merging into traffic at 70mph like we do.

We were so exhausted from the week and the hike that after seeing the impressive

Cathedral which, like Big Ben and many other landmarks we visited, was under renovation. We took some pics and headed towards the little pedestrian area to peak into the shops.

After tasting some lovely chocolate and taffy like candies, we decided to head for the train. The homes and random ancient smaller churches and buildings were so freaking adorable I could have taken pictures all day, but again, we did not want to wait another hour for the next train. We weaved through town in search of the West station, but not before hearing a song from home drifting down the alley. We turned back and enjoyed these Englishmen singing Wagon Wheel by Darius Rucker a song about the South specifically Raleigh, NC (our hometown). #ZackVanLives What a cool taste of home in the middle of Canterbury, England! Thanks guys!

The directions were so complicated (if not from there) that each new person happily gave us the next leg of our journey and encouraged us to ask as we went. Many times we had no idea how to interpret their instructions, stay on this road even though it curves almost as a turn or bear to the right to stay straight? Does this count as a bridge? She’s rushing with a suitcase but did she come to or is she headed for the train? We asked a lot, even those sitting in the little 2 lane road of traffic with their windows down. All were so smiley and helpful.

After what Raven refers to as the "March of the Penguins", we gratefully found the station and watched as the train began to pull in. Knowing the doors do not wait or stay open for long, we ran. Of course our tickets did not scan us through but again a nice agent let us through anyway knowing they check your tickets on the train and charge you extra if you’re tickets are wrong. We leapt on the train like running hobos hitching to the next town. Falling into the closest seats we wished were a bed we sighed, relieved to be off our feet.

An hour train ride later we arrived at Kings Cross with only one underground stop from our temporary home. That thin blue line indicating our frequently used Victoria line had us cheering in our hearts, our bodies were too tired to do more than plod forward. I’d say at the very least twelve people guided us in some way on our ten hour not so self-guided day trip to the coast of England. And no, we couldn’t quite make out the coast of France from the Cliffs, but we waved at you anyway Faustine, Michelle and Jill!

TIPS!

1. Plan a whole day for the Cliffs of Dover and the Dover Castle.

2. The town of Dover is adorable, but pick a place to eat using TripAdvisor ahead of time if you don't want to end up in a chain.

3. You will want to take a cab or drive tot he park and the castle, can't walk up from town. Ok, so technically you can but you'll probably get hit by a car on the narrow roadway when you run out of sidewalk, if you survive the hike itself.

4. Walking the Cliffs for the tearoom IS so worth it! You cannot catch a cab back directly from the tearoom, but you can trust the lady that runs the tearoom to send you on a great adventure to find where a cab can be called.

5. Earl Grey tea and scones with clotted cream and jam - a must. Even if you arrive hot, get a bottle of cold water, sit in the air conditioned tea room and soon you'll happily enjoy your hot tea like an proper Englishman/lady.

6. Canterbury is also an adorable town but most shops and the Cathedral close at 5, so maybe don't try to do Dover and Canterbury all in one day.

7. "The west train is just at the other end of town," does not mean it is down "Main Street" and easy to find without either a map or ten strangers along the way graciously helping you at each new turn. A lovely walk if you have the time though.