We had a great day on Sunday! Deb was breaking in some new boots – before and after shots below.  For those of you familiar with her tendency to blisters, the new boots seemed to be pretty good – only three compeeds by the end of the day.

The outskirts of Sittingbourne are not remarkable, but we were soon out of the industrial zone, and back on the badly waymarked Saxon Shore Way.  We passed a property that had the air of a footballer’s retirement home – complete with silver cups in the window, trophy wife jumping into Range Rover and exceptionally noisy Dobermans, but set in the middle of what seemed to be a scrap yard.  Perhaps he had gone up in the world from Gravesend….

The path hugged the shore all the way, but began to seem much more rural.  Saw the first lambs on the route, and a very neat cherry orchard.   We stopped for lunch in Conyer (see pub review.)  Conyer is an attractive harbour a long way inland on the Swale Estuary, with quite a few yachts and houseboats lined up.  The tide must be extreme as most of them were beached when we arrived – passing another National Cycle Way marker, showing Dover now only 45 miles away (and Inverness 1,151  miles!)  I am glad that RBS is spending its (our?) money on the National Cycle Way – almost as glad as I am that it spends our money sponsoring the Six Nations Rugby.  Incidentally, did you see the fabulous Welsh victory?  Tee hee!

Back to the walk….

Arriving in Conyer, it was raining lightly, and it poured whilst we were lunching, however the rest of the day we were very lucky with dull but dry conditions, and the odd shaft of sunlight in the late afternoon.  It was shining delightfully on Whitstable, (which I assured Deb was Faversham, much to her horror – “Isn’t that rather far away?” she asked.  “No, no, only 5 miles.  The light is deceptive.”)  In reality, she was quite right – Whitstable is another 15 miles along the coast.

As we walked down the Oare Creek, we passed a field of what appeared to be Highland Shorthorn cattle – like the ponies of Gravesend, they must be used to wet feet, as some of them were up to their stomachs in water.

Finding the station in Faversham was a bit tricky.  We made several wrong turns – all my fault, as Deb has an exceptionally good sense of direction and I definitely haven’t.  We made the train by a few minutes.

Next updates will be from the Easter trip, which will take me to Littlehaven.