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The first ride with the full new team; here we are in front of THE Bleak House. From left, John, Norman, Rosemary, Judith and Peter (Leader).
With five bikes to carry, we met up in two vehicles at Pegwell Bay. One car parked; five bodies and bikes in Peter's Discovery to Westgate. He takes delivery of a new one (Discovery) next week, so its farewell to a faithful, if somewhat leaky, friend.
A beautiful day, spectacular coastal scenery along the Viking trail. After a photo stop at Bleak House, along a narrow lane, round a corner, and suddenly we find ourselves in the quaint and lovely town of Broadstairs. We pass the Old Curiosity Shoppe Cafe, turn left down towards the sea, onward up to the Charles Dickens (Pub, Inn, Hostelry?). Little Dorrit, Sam Weller, Mr Pickwick and friends, Flintwinch, even Miss Haversham have all broken journeys here over the years, but sadly not today.
Nontheless, the victuals were most acceptable; a fine dish of roasted pork with many accompaniments, washed down with flagons of best Kentish Ale. All this followed with a most toothsome apple pie - although Norman had a grumble that it wasn't a crumble! The landlord, upon my soul, taking pity on we poor bedraggled bunch of travellers, would take no more than tuppence from each of us in payment for this fine meal.
Refreshed, replete, and invigorated with the thought that we would have sufficient funds for another meal later in the week, we set off for the last leg of our voyage to Pegwell.
Alas, young Norman at this point became consumed with a wild desire to outrun the rest of our little party. John and Judith set off at high speed along the most precarious cliff path to bring Norman back to the fold. As a consequence of this frolic, our Leader missed his turning and was obliged to retrace his route (with Judith) to re-join his motor car and bring it back to Pegwell. No matter, Peter enjoys an extra mile or two - especially if a steep sided hill is involved!
Rosemary, Norman and John were directed by the Leader to find their own way back to Pegwell. Fortunately the signage and John's recall of the route were both good so the Viking Ship was soon in sight.
While waiting for Peter and Judith, we strolled along the deserted desolate stretch of shoreline where once the giant hovercraft plied their trade to France. The tarmac, now cracked and worn, gives way to hardy plantlife; reeds, buddleia. A peaceful place for seabirds and butterflies. Instead of gliding gracefully across the waves, we go by tunnel now.
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