Around Britain

My Day Return to Gillingham cost me £6.25. My travel expenses are progressively less as I close in on London.

This was a most unsatisfactory day. Within 30 minutes of leaving the station I had been insulted three times. A youth called me “a stupid idiot” as I stepped back quickly to avoid a van turning into the road I was crossing. It was, I believe, my right of way. Shortly afterwards I caught the attention of a small group of workmen on the opposite side of the road. Perhaps they thought it incongruous that a man of my advanced age should be running. “Keep it going son” was followed by some inaudible, perhaps less pleasant, remark and much cackling. Then my jogging was brought to an abrupt halt by another youth in a van driving straight over the pavement in front of me. Indeed, for all the notice he took of me, I might have been invisible. For a while I dwelt on fantasies involving wholly disproportionate retaliatory strikes resulting in the annihilation of all these irritants.

My intention was to follow the southern bank of the Medway but I was barred at the entry to the docks. In an attempt to find a way round I turned back east along the B2004 to reach the Strand but this was just a recreational area on the coast with a path along the shore still heading eastwards. There appeared to be no way round the docks on the riverside. I turned round and kept to the road which eventually led me to Chatham Maritime. Now I had views of Rochester Castle and the Medway. There was a short stretch along the river where 18th century cannons pointed offshore. Just before reaching Rochester station I walked down a street of old buildings given over to cheap shops and Takeaways. The better days appeared to be long ago.

I took 1 hour 55 minutes today and had precious little to show for it.

I bought an off peak return to Rochester (not a day return) since I did not expect to be able to get back to London that same day. As I approached the Medway I passed a shop claiming to be the biggest second hand bookshop in Britain. The view from the bridge made the Medway look like an important river. The Cathedral and castle demonstrated Rochester's historical significance.

Shortly after passing Strood station I began to climb steeply past a quarry and a church at Frindsbury. I descended to Upper Upnor which had its own castle near the water's edge. There followed a section along the beach. I tried to find a good path in the woods which bordered the shore but the paths I found twisted and turned, climbed and descended so I abandoned them. When I approached Kingsnorth Power Station I headed inland on a path across fields coming close to Hoo St Werburgh and its church with a spire. Before North Street I turned onto a path through a rundown industrial area. Towards the far end of this dilapidated buildings and equipment appeared to have been abandoned near a three track overgrown railway. These tracks connected to a line which was well maintained and obviously in use although there were no passenger services. My O.S. map indicated a path across the railway in the vicinity of a stream. The whole area seemed overgrown by thistles and nettles which I didn't want to penetrate with my bare legs. I noticed the land underfoot was soggy although I couldn't see the stream. I looked up and there did seem to be a way through the vegetation after all. It led me to a break in the fence along the railway where I crossed onto a path through nettles on the other side.

At Tudor Farm after North Street I started along a track which led me to Stoke also known as Upper Stoke. There was one bus a day during the week but not on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Another path over fields took me to Middle Stoke which sat uneasily next to the A228 with its large lorry traffic serving Thamesport. I headed away from this to an embankment dividing strips of water from a salt water marsh. I met three boys of about 12. One of them hailed me from a distance and approached with his silent friends. The youth asked me a series of stupid questions in a mock Italian accent whilst his friends looked on approvingly. After answering two or three of these questions I started to move on but the youth said he was talking to me and carried on doing so as I walked away. When I was about 100 feet away he shouted out “Goodbye” loudly and insistently to which I responded. He then said “Fuck off” slightly more quietly. I think he may well have been mentally retarded. When he is older he might become threatening.

Later on whilst still on the embankment I espied a fox sunning itself on top of the embankment a short distance ahead. It immediately slinked down the far side of the embankment out of my sight. When I got to the spot I saw the fox running unhurriedly away beside the A228 before turning inland. There was little cover so I could follow its progress for 75 yards or so. On the other side of Colemouth Creek there were a large number of oil storage tanks.

I now had no option but to join the main road. As I did so I saw a long freight train travelling inland. No doubt it serves Thamesport where I saw heaped piles of brightly coloured containers. To my right there was the high tower of Grain Power Station which appeared not to be in use.

As I entered Grain an empty bus was leaving heading for Gillingham. It stopped just by me at a T-junction and I made a sign intending to indicate that I wanted to catch the bus. Either the driver did not want to pick me up or he misunderstood me. A bus timetable in the High Street opposite the Alldays store said there was another bus (the last) at 7.25 pm. I had a telephone number for a B & B at Grain given me some months ago by Barry, the Editor of the Trailrunner magazine. I walked round the town but there was no B & B sign. It looked a poor place with no decent houses and lots of children playing in the streets. I passed the Hogarth Inn. The pub sign had a picture of Hogarth who apparently visited Grain and painted the sign in 1732. The sign had a map on it which showed that the Isle of Grain was truly an island at that time which now it is not.

The bus transported me in solitary state to the Pentagon Bus Station near Chatham Railway Station. A single ticket took me to Rochester and then on to London. The walk (I hardly ran at all) from Rochester to Grain took me 5 hours 35 minutes.

My friend Steve Partridge picked me up in his Merc and we drove to Chatham. After some difficulty we found a car park which permitted us to collect the car late at night. At the Pentagon Centre we caught the 194 to Grain. The route was hardly direct – we even called at Allhallows-on-Sea. It was 11.50 am before we got going.

We'd lost so much time I decided to cut out the loop which included Cockleshell Beach. Instead we made for the crossing over Yantlet Creek via Rose Court Farm. We then ran on an embankment between the Creek and a drainage channel. As we approached the estuary we saw a memorial a short way off the path. It commemorated a young Naturalist who drowned there in 1975. Allhallows consisted of wooden shacks, mobile homes and caravans on closely mown grass. There were a number of holidaymakers lolling about seemingly less energetic than ourselves. Immediately after Allhallows we went wrong. A path inland looked as if it corresponded to one on the OS map but it didn't. We had to correct via a wheat field. The edge of this field was heavily overgrown and we struggled to get back to the shore. Our socks were covered with thorns and burrs which took some time to remove.

We now traversed miles of seemingly abandoned landscape. After Allhallows we met only two people. One had walked from Cliffe Fort. He expressed alarm at an encounter with a snake. The other walked on top of the embankment wall and ignored us. We went through St. Mary's Bay and Egypt Bay and gazed across Blythe Sands to the oil storage tanks and refineries at Canvey Island and Coryton. We passed a number of curious roofless brick buildings which might have been stalls for animals. By the time we reached Cliffe Fort we were in sight of Gravesend. Cliffe itself was inland but there were a number of jetties. Water ran low and Steve jarred his leg so we stopped running. A pint in the first pub we came to was as good as the beer in the film “Ice cold in Alex”. We made the station and took the train back to Chatham to retrieve the car. The total time (excluding the pub) was about 6 and a half hours.

I bought a Day Return to Gravesend. Engineering works forced me off the train at Dartford where a bus was ready to take the passengers on to Gravesend. Once there I passed through an industrial area culminating at a cement works at Northfleet. A misleading sign led me to believe that there was a public footpath between the Works and the river. I didn't want to retrace so I walked through the Works to the main road (A2260). I left this almost at once for a promontory containing Swanscombe Marshes. Industrial sprawl blocked my way but eventually I escaped onto open land crossed by a line of pylons. These jumped the River to Essex by means of two exceptionally high pylons on either side of the stream.

Ahead I could see Dartford Road Bridge. Huge lorries crawled over it as if precariously balanced on a tightrope. As a structure it looked unviable from this distance although later the cables fanning out from the box girders became visible and it then looked more secure. I reached Greenhithe where the station was closed. A coach took me back to Dartford.

I was out for 2 hours 10 minutes and hardly ran at all.

A Day Return Greenhithe brought me to this modest station after changing at Dartford. Modest it may not remain as a nearby development site will shortly spawn a huge Asda Superstore. Boldly the notices proclaim the opening of the store in 7 weeks. Inside there was feverish activity as legions of workers struggled to meet this target date. All this concerned me as the footpath I would have taken was closed off and I had to take a diversion before I reached the river bank.

Now Dartford Bridge dominated the scene. I noticed the traffic was one way only, north to south. Later it was explained to me that the tunnel almost directly underneath the bridge took traffic in the opposite direction so the two together formed a dual carriageway. I could see no provision for pedestrians and I could see none walking over the bridge. I know from my own past experience that pedestrians cannot walk through the tunnel.

Immediately after the bridge I passed another power station. Following the river bank I eventually reached the River Darwent. There was no bridge so I accompanied the river inland along an embankment and it took me almost to Dartford Station.

I was out for 2 hours 7 minutes today.

Today I bought a single ticket to Dartford. As part of my training for the Desert Cup in Jordan I wanted a long run so I decided to run home (Westminster) from Dartford. Long stretches of the Thames appeared to be inaccessible so I thought it not unreasonable that I should run along roads more or less parallel to the river. It might have been difficult to run on the riverside and I would not have been able to get home in one session.

At Dartford a cycle route sign indicated that Greenwich was 17 miles. I passed a 16 mile sign about 10 minutes later but that was the last cycle sign I saw indicating distance. It may be that the cycle route branched off but I didn't spot it. It's just as likely that the signage is deficient. This was a disappointment as I'm encouraged when I see the distance reducing.

I took the A206 to Erith, then Plumstead and Woolwich. There I joined the London Marathon route. This took me through Greenwich but I left the A206 at Bermondsey and cut across via St George the Martyr Church to Lambeth Bridge. My time was 4 hours 16 and a half minutes with which I was quite satisfied.