At Dover Cliffs
Scarce hear the surge that has for ages beat,
Sure many a lonely wanderer has stood;
And whilst the lifted murmur met his ear,
And o’er the distant billows the still eve
Sailed slow, has thought of all his heart must leave
― William Lisle Bowles¹
Take a walk at the White Cliffs of Dover (Map from the National Trust)
Note: My Flickr album is organized sequentially.
Dover as a tourist destination is a little like the Poconos circa 1980 something. It’s heyday has long past and there are placards everywhere promising redevelopment. It doesn’t have the shopping of Brighton or the history and dining of Bristol. It’s a port city you pass through. Who knows though what places like Dover (and the Poconos) will like be post-pandemic as the cost/inconvenience of international travel changes domestic tourism.
As a gateway to the Cliffs of Dover the city is fine (even IF the relationship seemed badly neglected). My first afternoon was spent ambling around the town centre (getting my bearings) and probing the approach to the infamous cliffs. I’m not a typical traveler and don’t depend on guide books or countless hours of research on the internet. My trips are usually centered around an event (e.g. football match) or a place and the rest is just freeform exploration and discovery. The absence of an agenda makes it very easy to whittle the hours away at a coffee shop.
Ambition
The eastern approach to the cliffs via the Athol Terrace/Coast Path was kind-of-maybe-sort-of-closed because of falling rocks (chalk in this case) so I found an alternative route via Castle Hill Road. The site of Dover Castle from any vista is impressive but dominates the horizon as you make the climb up Castle Hill Road. My adventure for the day unfortunately ended at Upper Road due to overambition². On my way back to the hotel I took a picture of St. Martin’s Guesthouse because of its promise of ‘tea and coffee making facilities’ (plus it’s the surname of the pastor at my church).
Miracle of the Feet
It was a fast start on Sunday morning after my feet (and legs) had a couple of hours to rest. My approach to the park (national trust) was via Upper Road. There’s a church on the route that was damaged in WWII and is now preserved as a Grade II listed building. I stopped for a photograph on the top of Connaught Road and a sign post for Burgoyne Fort (for Bear). There was NO sidewalk/trail/path on Upper Road but it was SO early that cars only passed sporadically.
I finally made it to the visitor centre and my first vista of the White Cliffs of Dover! I had NO idea HOW big the park was so my decision to “call it quits” the day before was just lucky. On Saturday night, whilst subjecting my feet to a recovery regimen that was some Mr. Miyagi style stuff, studied a map of the park. The walk to the lighthouse is about 50 minutes, BUT I stopped to explore every nook and cranny SO it was well north of that number. My return trip included a descent into Fan Bay (feets of strength™) before climbing down to sea level to explore the ribs of a wreck on Langdon Beach.
I left the park via the aforementioned eastern approach (the one with the signs about falling chalk). This route gives you a nice birds eye view of the port and takes you under the A2. I’m not a very good writer because this post omits the absolute majesty of this amazing space but if you’ve ever wanted to live in a Turner painting visit the White Cliffs of Dover. I think English skies are so beautiful because all that chalk acts like a filter when it’s picked up by the breeze.
IMPORTANT: There are few times when my feet and legs have been so tired/sore so IF you plan on traversing from sea level to lighthouse to bays and holes (the latter is inappropriate) wear something more durable than Vans (and bring sunscreen).
¹Sonnet: At Dover Cliffs, July 20th 1787 by William Lisle Bowles (poetry.com)
²Overamition in my case is a combination of NO food, a very early start, and poor footwear
Category Archives: Nature
Weekend 389.0 (Cosmos ‘Versailles Tetra’)
“Envision the extraordinary brilliance and effects of the light in sun and moon and stars, in the dark shades of a glade, in the colors and scents of flowers. Then there is the grandeur of the spectacle of the sea as it slips on and off its many colors like robes. All these are mere consolations for us, not the rewards of the blessed. What can such rewards be like, then, if such things here are so many, so great, and of such quality?” – St. Augustine
2013 Christmas Poem (by Mum)
I watched a gyre of leaves…caught up in a rustling spin
When admidst the whirl…a bird broke free
Minding me to look within.
I long embraced the sun…stirred by the pleasure of time
‘Til its piercing gaze…blazed a goodbye
Scolding to sip the sublime.
Cloaks of snow buttoned down…I hardly could bear the guise
Frosted lace on pine…whitewashed the Spring
Warming new growth to its rise.
My eyes are drawn above…T’ward the sky’s clouded caprice
Sheer veil…fast in place where angels sing
Sheathing my heart in clear Peace.
I relished fire’s crackle…fervid flames rekindled zeal
Puffs of hickory…kissing my nose
Igniting the Joy I feel.
I saw mist flash its bow…I skated the glass of lake
Mused myriad moods of the ocean…
Reigning o’er turns my life takes.
I GREET THE HOST OF DAYS…REMARKING OF NATURE’S ROLE
REVEALING GOD’S WORK…HIS CONSTANT QUEST
SHAPING THE LIFE OF MY SOUL.
©SCL
Weekend 276.0
Nice weekend in the northeast (weather-wise). Was able to bike a bit and noticed that the abandoned Free Spirit at the train station has been robbed of its tyres.
My home office is in shambles but slowly being reconfigured/reassembled. One of the most amazing things about moving is uncovering and re-discovering “stuff” packed and forgotten in bins and boxes. There is NOW a serious backlog of ephemera waiting to be scanned and posted.
(1) Rose Pogonias by Robert Frost
“For though the grass was scattered,
Yet every second spear
Seemed tipped with wings of color,
That tinged the atmosphere.
We raised a simple prayer
Before we left the spot,
That in the general mowing
That place might be forgot;
Or if not all so favored,
Obtain such grace of hours,
That none should mow the grass there
While so confused with flowers.
(2) Office-Friendly Bike Clothing: Don’t Sweat the Commute (WSJ)
(2a) Bike Pron: Bianchi Metropoli
(3) Rethink Chrysanthemums (WSJ)
(3a) Detailed Digital Flowers Radiate with a Magical Glow
(4) All Lift, No Weight (WSJ)
(5) Explore Britain…From Post to Post (WSJ)
Quality Watercolors
“Superior gardens are composed of Glooms and Solitudes and not of plants and trees.”
— Ian Hamilton Finlay
“I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between Me and the earth.”
— Genesis 9:13
Alternative Photo from the Limestone Archives
Weekend 165.0
The Holiday Train Show at the New York Botanical Garden
I tried to select a photograph from this adventure with a (1) train, (2) flower(s), and (3) one of the 140 landmark buildings constructed entirely of natural materials.
How accurate? You decide.
Here is a picture of the TWA “Bird Terminal” at JFK created by botanical artists and here is the NYC Landmark designed by Eero Saarinen.
Limestone Flashback
Bird Terminal at JFK
AirTrain, JetBlue and Bird Terminal
Related
JetBlue – Taylor Swift Live from T5 – Back to December
Weekend Retreat
I spent the weekend at St. Joseph’s Abbey in Spencer, MA. and took this photo on our way to the Abbey Church on Sunday morning at 6:40. I’m not really sure how the other retreatant(s) spent their weekend; I spent hours of it reading and was fortunate enough to discover this verse in a book of poetry by Caryll Houselander. Suppose I’m a nutter.
Low Mass on Sunday
Our fears are not, after all,
something to push out of sight,
madmen behind the bars:
in the lifted hands of Christ
our wounds are solitary stars,
answering, out of the night,
to the Light of God.