Caught the Tilbury-Gravesend Ferry. My final steps on the Essex land. Only a 10 minute ride, no duty free shop I am afraid. On stepping on to Kent ground the first sight to see is a church, perhaps that’s how Gravesend got its name? We walked up through the town which is very quiet on Monday morning. We visit the local market (and the free toilet) which was housed in what appeared to be an old Victorian building. Only a few market stalls are open : the greengrocer’s, the used books stall, shoes and electrical spare parts, fluffy toys, holistic shop with burning incense, indian saris and embroidered textiles. The pretty lady selling toys has a strong Essex accent and we wonder how people ended up in Gravesend. We were ‘warned’ about the ‘state’ of the town beforehand but despite its shabby appearance, we find this place full of character. It’s a colourful mosaic of many different cultures all living under one roof.
Leaving the town it is up up and up the hill, really long hill, very tiring hill. It’s time to stop for some freshly baked pasties and have a chat with the ‘local folks’. Doreen Wass, the owner of the shop, tells us about her connection to Suffolk and indeed her son runs the pub in Dennington… It’s heart-warming how close we are to each other and how one can never truly get lost… And if you do, there is always the knowledgeable postman to help you out.
After some more climbing we finally pick up the North Downs way. Marie leaves me at this point as she had to head back to the ferry and back home. This was a painfully experience as the next time we will meet will be Friday night somewhere further down my path.
As I crossed the A2 I wondered how I was going to get on in the next few days with a full back pack. My next stop was the Conifers campsite and I arrived at the site within 3 hours of walking up and down dale. Pretty much exhausted. Was so pleased to finally arrive and set my load down. The lady greeted me and showed me the facilities. They were immaculate. Only problem was no electric point to charge my gps or phone. I bit the bullet and asked one of the residents in their caravan if they would charge them for me. Luckily, they were kind enough to allow me this privilege.
The fee for 1 man tent @ 1 night was a steep ¬£12. Anyway I was just happy to have the weight of my back for a few hours. After setting up I ate whatever I had and went to sleep. Did not sleep tast well as the mat I now had was not the special one I had bought specially for this trip. Somewhere I must have developed a hole which put an end to any good night’s sleep until Marie can get it repaired.
It was really difficult to leave Peter on the other side of Thames, me returning home on my own, knowing that he now has to rely on himself. It’s not easy to say good-bye.