When I arrived at Newhaven last night at 1945, in the dark with a defective front light and no front brakes, I wondered if I was completely mad to be trying to achieve my aim. Claudia, my host for the night had been trying to contact me to find out where  was but welcomed me and showed me what I needed to know. She also told me that there was an Italian restaurant and a pub within walking distance who would provide food. On my way I passed through Peacehaven which had more fast food restaurants than I had ever seen in the space of a mile, but I didn’t stop because I was intent on getting to my destination.  Unfortunately by the time I had washed and charged  and walked to the Haven pub in the start of a thunderstorm they had stopped serving.  I had a couple of pints of excellent Harvey’s best bitter and some crisps to keep me going before walking 5 minutes down the road to the Coop which stayed open until 2300 to buy some chicken drumsticks, bread rolls and cheese to keep me going.

Amazingly I slept quite well, but my kit, that I had washed, didn’t dry overnight.  I put some of it on damp but had some dry bib trousers. I’d bought a Soreen malt loaf in the Co-op so that was my breakfast, and I made my way to Seaford to renew my acquaintance with the coast.  On the way I took a picture of the ferry that had just docked from Dieppe.

I was making my way to Eastbourne over the seven sisters national park and the first section was a doddle along  a bike path to Seaford

A somewhat different story after that as I climbed over a significant lump making good use of the motor.  I by-passed Beachy Head and sped down into Eastbourne where I spent a bit of time finding my way to the front where I joined a bike-path that took me 3 miles along the prom, still quite a number of people enjoying the sea air. At the end of the prom is Sovereign Harbour a complex of housing and commercial property that has been developed since 1990 on an area of shingle.  I had to go inland to get around it and then stayed away from the sea until Bexhill

Where I joined another excellent tarmac bike path which took me along the sea wall and through Hastings, past the grand pier

and through to the end of the prom, with its quaint fisherman’s huts for the storage and drying of nets that have been turned into shops and restaurants for tourists.

Uphill once more because cliffs get in the way of a sea path, quite a substantial climb up to almost 600 feet above sea level and fast down again to Pett Level where the road was closed to motor traffic for about 3 miles as they resurfaced it.  I, therefore, had a traffic free run all the way to Winchelsea where I once again had to veer inland to get around Rye Harbour, through the town of Rye which had me singing “Sing a song of sixpence” in my head and across country through sheep pastures for a mile or two until I joined yet another off road cycle track to Lydd where a short sharp shower had me reaching for the rain jacket but not before I got a good soaking.

I was making my way around Romney Marsh, famous for sheep farming and Dungeness, famous for a couple of nuclear power stations, both now closed since 2021.  The billion or so cost of de-fuelling these stations falls on the tax payer and it is unlikely that another one will be built on this site.

At New Romney I followed the A259 along the coast, still on a cycle track until at Dymchurch I joined the grandest cycle track I had yet seen, along the sea wall

all the way to Hythe where I had to take to the highway for a short time.  My route took me alongside the Royal Military Canal and some unsurfaced tracks which caused an amusing incident as a very yappy dog chased the bike causing me to swerve and gently fall over as the tyres slipped on the grassy surface.  I immediately got up and carried on up the hill for half a mile or so until I realised that I only had one pannier.  Consternation.  I turned round and found the pannier where I had left it. Relief.

Now 68 miles into the journey the climbing started again in earnest.  I was heading inland to stay the night with some dear friends who, unfortunately for me, now getting fairly tired from all the pedalling I had done, live about 550 feet above sea level. I crossed the M20 at Frogholt just as it spurs off for Le Shuttle and continued on through Lyminge, eventually arriving in the deepening gloom of the evening at about 1820hrs.  It’s been a long day on the flat which has meant little rest from pedalling but helped by some excellent cycle paths.