Days 3-6 : Embracing One's Inner Pack Animal Part One

90 miles on foot so far...

The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with eager feet,

Until it joins some larger way

Where many paths and errands meet.

And whither then? I cannot say.

JRR Tolkien.

After 6 days on the road, we have made it to Dover in time to catch a dawn ferry to France tomorrow morning. The path so far has included suburbs, villages, woodlands, fields filled with different crops being harvested, ready to harvest or fallow. It has included pavements, tarmac, cobbles, rocky, sandy, flooded, caked dry, field and undergrowth.

The very slowed pace of walking gives the impression that the landscape hides any drama because changes take place so unobtrusively that shoe- or cloud-gazing means you miss nothing. But after a few hours on the road, subtle differences become more striking. The change in the colour of the soil. From dusty white chalk to solid impacted clay. The fields : hay, wheat, black beans, wild flowers, fallow, unknown, stubbly. The smells : fresh wheat, dank undergrowth, pig flop (especially overpowering and covers a fair part of the North Downs Way), and occasionally the sweet breath of a meadow.

From Otford on Day 3 we headed due East with Cuxton as our destination for the day. The going was very hard and after 17 miles of ups and downs, towards late afternoon in the driving rain - but having made the official Cuxton border - we downed tools and flagged a local to take us into town. Over a restorative pint we realised we would be unable to cover the 30 plus miles during our 'training' week before hitting Canterbury and then joining the official Via Francigena down to Dover to catch our ferry. 

So logic compounded agony and we caught a train from Rochester to Canterbury in order to put us back on track. 

                                                         Bunch of jokers.

                                                         Bunch of fishers.

After a visit to the Crypt beneath the Cathedral and a blessing with other pilgrims (an Italian couple and a girl from Bath) we camped outside the city and the following afternoon (after laundry and resolving technical issues with computers, cameras etc) we set off with a view to reaching Shepherds Well. In the event after 16 miles we spied a campsite in the unusually named Womenswold. 

The camp owner Jackie helped us out and pointed us to Woolage Green for supper at a fantastic little boozer called the Two Sawyers.

                                 Guac-a-Mole on the Post Box at Womenswold.

                                                      James in Womenswold.