So the time had come to start, after period of organising and going for rides I was ready for off.
The weather forecast was good , no rain ,westerly wind .
I had strapped my paired down belongings to my bike frame and managed to get all the basics in without having to wear a rucksack.That can be a really blessing after a few sweaty miles.
I congratulated myself that I had balanced the various bags well, with bulking clothes in the back and heavier things like locks and tools in the front.The bike handled pretty well until I got to the first minor hill up to the station.
Oh dear,the combined weight of me and my belongings had me rapidly going down the gears to keep any kind of momentum.To be blunt -the combined weight of me and the bike was leg breaking.This was going to be a struggle on the hills.
The train was on time so off we went.
I had decided to start from Rye rather than Brighton,where I live.The reason was I wanted to see some of Kent,rather than Sussex.
All seemed to be fine until I had to change train in Hastings.The Hastings Rye train was cancelled and the next one not for 90 minutes.
After a sharp intake of breath and a curse at British Rail, plan B swung into action.Ill start from Hastings,why not? I got out my large folded map and struggled to fold it to the right page. My last minute preparation, the night before, had been to selotape the relevant pages of a road atlas together to form a long concertina map which I then folded into plastic ziploc bag. It ended up being 15 feet long but at least I would have a detailed map of my route.
“What is that? my daughter had asked as I was taping the map together.
“Its a map and a collage.” I had explained proudly.
“Your mad, Dad” she said.
Having finally decided a route,I folded the map back into its plastic case.I chose a more or less direct route out of the town and onto b roads and off I set off.
I ended up pushing the bike up the last section of a monstrous hill out of Hastings.
To the North of Hastings there is the Kent Weald plateau .After finally reaching the plateau the road went up and down in an alarming way.At each hill I shuttled down the gears to a crawling rate.By accident I rode past Bodium Castle and popped in .A classic moat and castle and very pretty too.
The difficulty of the terrain was partly offset by the prettiness of the country side.I passed an oast house and took a picture.Then several more oast houses.There are a lot of oast houses in rural Kent,they are not just in the tourist brochures.Most seem to have been converted to rural desirable residences judging by the four wheel drives and expensive cars parked outside.After a few more miles I was pleased to be overtaken by a succession of tractors and trailers all loaded up with hops.Presumably going to an oast house that isn’t a “des res”,or perhaps they just dry them in a factory these days. The road continued for a good twenty miles until I arrived at Sissinghurst, my first destination.
Sissinghurst Manor is owned by the National Trust.I has a beautiful garden,numerous oast houses and a tower.It also serves Victoria Sponge as only the National Trust can.There weren’t many people there- mostly grannies being taken out for the day by their daughters or sons . The White Garden, which I had wanted to see, wasn’t very white- wrong time of year .The whole place was delightfully English with only a scattering of tourists.After an hour or so of recovery ,tea and cake ,I was off again hoping that the going would be easier.
The main road from Sissinghurst towards Maidstone looked straight on a map so off I went.To my delight it was also downhill for about 10 miles.The traffic was a bit heavy with some lorries but I was going at a decent speed was great.My strategy when trailed by a lorry with hissing air-brakes was to pull over and let them past.There was inevitably a long queue of cars behind them then the road would be quiet for a few miles.
The traffic got heavier and on reaching Stapleford I turned off towards Marden and Yelding. The road was lovely with little traffic and I was still making progress.
After a while the road started to be lined with placards protesting about new houses.”2,000 new homes to many”.”This road cant take 10,000 extra cars”. “Leave us alone” seemed to be the gist of the messages.There were a surprising number of them and feelings were clearly running high. Marden itself was a nice enough place until I crossed the railway line.It abruptly became a huge industrial warehouse park with lorries and new building everywhere for about a mile, then country side again until the pretty vilage of Yalding by a little river.I stopped at the ancient post office on a one way bridge over the river .The man at the post office eventually served me ,after a long chat with an elderly lady.The pace of life seemed slow and I could see why an industrial estate and 2000 houses weren’t going down well. The river was very prety for another mile then the scenery changed completley. The white sign posts for the next village disappeared and the only signs were for Maidstone and the M20.Not much use if you are on a bike.I repeatedly looked at the my oversized map, not an easy feat in gusty traffic, but misunderstood that the name of East Malling applied to the town at the end of the word rather than the beginning. In short I got hopelessly lost.
An hour later,and still hopelessly lost, I decided to follow the only consistent signs- to the M20.I had hoped to avoid the traffic in Maidstone and now found myself on the commuter belt of the M20 at rush hour.When finally I found the M20 I had to walk across 3 islands, two dual carriage ways and the motor way bridge to finally arrive in Snodland.
Snodland didnt look to promising.My foul mood was worsened by a sign saying “ROAD CLOSED”.
“Now what?” I cursed.
A quick constultatation of the big map was a bit hampered by the buffeting blasts of wind from passing lorries.I took shelter in a bus shelter and revised my plans.By pass Snodland and go to a village called Birling then to Meopham and Gravesend.So much time had passed I had to completely abandon the idea of a visit to Chatam Dockyard by way of a gentle roll down the Medway cycle route.I would probably have got lost again anyway.
I headed off toward Birling down a lovely country road,then had to double back having left my helmet in the bus shelter.
The loveliness of Birling ended abruptly as the road curved ever up ward.There was a large hill not far away but surely the road didn’t go up there.It did.I later discovered Birling Hill is one of best known in Kent as the views are great.It is 2.9 km long, average gradient 5.6 percent , with a maximum of 12.5 percent. That is steep on a laden bike.I walked the 12.5 percent bit.
When I finally arrived at Meopham ,I joined the main road and had to turn on my bike lights as the light had started to go.Panic set in as the light went down and I shot down the gradually downhill A227. Then, all of a sudden, I was at the A2, round a roundabout and arrived at the Gravesend Travelodge ,my destination for the night.
I had a quick shower and then went to get food.Armed with a Subway foot long sandwich and a few cans of beer,both from the garage next door,I then collapsed on the bed, put on the telly and took stock.
Some thing had definitely gone wrong.50 miles-my phone had measured 75.No big hills? HAHAHA.Good food?-Subway.
Name of the day-Snodland.
Food of the day-Victoria sponge.
Sight of the day-Kent countryside(not near the M20).
I went to sleep almost immediately and woke at 2 am, in my clothes, with sore legs and took some paracetamol.I hoped to recover by the morning.
Wandering North 