Stuffed to the gills, the latter option wins the day. With an hourly train to catch, I am initially in two minds about whether to pick up the pace in the hope of making an earlier departure or to slow down and enjoy the scenery of the gently rolling countryside around me. Their lunch is rather more expansive than mine, with oysters and the catch of the day being washed down with sauvignon blanc and more pints of frothing Sheps ale.įood polished off, it dawns on me that perhaps a lighter lunch might have been wise, particularly as I strike out on the road up and out of Oare heading back towards Teynham. This being the heart of Shepherd Neame country, I plump for a pint of Master Brew to accompany a very decent cheeseburger and fries.Īll this walking means a hearty lunch can be well justified.ĭining alone leaves plenty of opportunity for eavesdropping and people-watching, and I enjoy listening in to the group of retirees behind me who seem to be having a wonderful day out. The Three Mariners has the kerb appeal to lure me in, and a cheerful chap behind the bar has soon shown me to a fine table on the raised terrace overlooking the beer garden below. Reaching the creek, my route swings south past boatyards and slowly decaying wrecks of old vessels, before reaching the village of Oare and the promise of a well-deserved pit stop after two hours or so on my feet. The Three Mariners at Oare was the perfect pit stop for lunch A number of slowly-decaying craft were visible during the walk Handy signs give walkers a guide to the wildlife which call the Swale area home Rhys Griffiths exploring a corner of Kent he had never visited before Whatever they were hoping to spy fails to reveal itself, so I continue on my way. I idle briefly at a spot where a group has gathered by a small pool, binoculars and cameras trained on a small patch of reeds. It takes some time before I cross paths with anyone else in this desolate but beautiful landscape, two cyclists first, then gradually more walkers and birdwatchers as I near the nature reserve on the corner where Faversham Creek meets the Swale. The coastal path bisects the two, running along the crest of the earthworks built to hold back the waters of the Swale and protect the farmland below. To my right the low-lying marshes, with sheep and cattle grazing in the middle distance, to my left the occasional boat picking its way along the narrow navigable route left passable by the low tide. More than once I stop in my tracks just to look up and marvel at the feeling of being in such an empty expanse of natural beauty. A rather antique road sign points the way to Conyer The elevated coastal path divides farmland on one side from the Swale channel on the other There were a number of birdwatchers out enjoying the sunny weather Low tide in the Swale revealed extensive mudflats The only sounds are the persistent hum of insects in the undergrowth, and the occasional screeching call from the many, many birds wading in the shallow pools on the mudflats left exposed by the retreating tide. But soon enough you’ll feel the pull of the sea, spying the masts of boats on the creek at Conyer, and then emerging on the banks of the Swale with epic views across the channel to the Isle of Sheppey beyond.Īlthough I’ve only walked half an hour or so from the railway station, I’ve managed to find myself in a spot of pure isolation.
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