Will Walk for Cheese
I have plans for a Long Walk, or rather a Long Walk Split into Chunks, so I need to start getting into condition. I suspect it'll be ten mile sections, so the five miles (actually closer to six) to Whitstable seems a good start. I catch the bus up to UoK, as I figured so early in the regime the hill would wind me. I pause to find two stones - one to mark this journey, the other to further fetishise along walking routes. I set off across campus to where the Crab and Winkle Way starts proper, a timer set for the first stop at an hour. First right is the snail sculpture, but I continue on, on the level, through various outbuildings and at the back of a college, to the visitor's car park.
There is a slope down, past a circular tarmac platform, and then the trail raises again towards St Cosmos. We've had the first indicator of distance here - although as always it's not clear where the five mile mark will be - and that matters more when walking to order. We're still in civilisation, in patches of farmland and back gardens to mansions, with the path even tarmac at points.
There are some orchards and the occassional road to cross, and a burnt off field before some polytunnels. There are no cyclists, no other walkers, just one tent spotted in passing. The first pair come at a point of what always feels like despair - there are a couple of right tunrs which feel like you are heading back into town, which are the diversions that take you to the old railway track itself. Woods are either side of the route, but not right up against it; this has been cleared at some stage. There is a sharp left turn when the railway line is found, which coincides with the winding pool, but I've fifteen minutes to go until the hour mark and lunch.
This section is the densest in terms of woods, but still the sense of being cleared. There's a section where the pylons bridge the path, and it's like a valley burnt through the forest. The road slopes gently up, then gently down, and there the first part where conceivably things can go wrong - and the barest the path is as a cross roads is traversed and the path cuts down into woodland and the one bit of coverage. My alarm goes off, but I'm not spotting a place to sit as I descend. The logs have been cleared. The path bursts into a field and ahead is the bridge over Thanet Way.
People pass on either way, cycling and walking, as I sit and take a breather. I take too long, close to twenty minutes, but no problem. Ahead of me is the sea, glimpsed for the first time, and the array of wind turbines, curiously looking larger from here than at the shore. The field on this side of the road have been ploughed and gulls hover in homage to Hitchcock. From now on the rural is left behind: the path joins the road at South Street, and there's a huge Tescos I may visit later, as well as another sculpture, this time of a penny farthing. There's a path cutting off from the road, which runs behind gardens on either side and is punctuated by the odd suburban drive and of course a nicely deco bridge. At some point I can leave the path for a housing estate, but there's a sign pointing to the town centre and I climb along a bank, from tarmac to bare earth. I guess wrong at a v-junction and descend rather hesitantly to a road which is at the surviving station.
Instead of crossing to this and a further point of what I take to be old railway I bear left to meet the railway viaduct as it hits the end of Oxford Street. It must be five miles - about two hours since I left UoK. OK, allow for 2.5 miles an hour on the flat - but I think my Long Walk is going to have large sections of flat. I browse charity shops and note comedy posters, as I head for the beach and a 99. I watch the worst frisbie catchers in the world before heading to the shore and throwing one of the stones into the sea.
I head back to the shops and panic for a second - there is an empty shop at what I take to be the bookshop. I've already found the other (rarely used) bookshop closed; is this the other gone too? Then I spot what I spotted from the bus the other week: a cheese shop - and yes it specialises in the Good Shit. The wrong stilton, but raw milk cheddars, Wenesledales, Lancs and so forth. They don't take plastic, which may be as well. I do taste tests and get ten quid's worth. Yum. Must come back.
To my relief the bookshop is there, but I've trouble with the credit card - which has broken down completely in Somersfield. Fortunately I'd used a cashpoint before this. Julian Graves is shut, dammit - closes at five. Mental note made. All that is left is a walk to the bus stop, and a ride home to a hot bath.