Swale to Margate

Monday 17 March 2025. Swale to Oare (and on to Faversham), 16 miles (15 on ECP).

Quite why the train stops at Swale station is not quite clear; there’s barely any habitation nearby, and it’s no surprise that this is the least-used station in Kent.

For me though, and no doubt an increasing number of ECP walkers, it was the right stop in the right place. All I needed was the signpost to the trail. There isn’t one – not so much as a clue. But it did seem possible to hop over a crash barrier and slither down a slope that once bore steps, so that is what I did. And there was the ECP signage.

The slime pit

It is in truth a pretty desperate first hour, dodging round some pretty noxious industrial sites with signs like ‘Danger – Explosive Atmosphere’. The nadir was a left turn through what can only be described as a slime pit. Why on earth the ECP people didn’t insist on a clean-up here, or at least some duckboarding, I have no idea. And I was taking it in a dry spell; heaven knows what it would be like in the wet.

Still, eventually the industrial ends, though it’s only after the after the crossing of Milton Creek that you can move forward with some confidence. The little village of Conyer is the first highlight; the Essex coast is dotted with little boat-friendly places like this, and it showed what Kent had been missing.

It was a good few remote miles now beside The Swale, the inlet which separates the Isle of Sheppey from the mainland and gives its name to the little station. All well and good, but it was a grey day with a sharp and chill north-easterly wind. I looked forward to a break at the mapped ‘visitor centre’ on Oare Marshes, but it’s a signboard with a car park.

However the end of my day did now beckon, with a southerly turn cutting our the worst of the wind. This took me to Oare, both a bigger Conyer and a suburb of the large town of Faversham. I’d be back here tomorrow, but for now just a stroll to my B&B.

Tuesday 18 March 2025. Oare to Herne Bay, 18 miles.

Taxi back to Oare; today was quite long enough, after a fairly rubbish winter health-wise and yet another stiff wind, this time due east on a day I was travelling west. But at least the sun was shining.

First off, it’s an hour of creek-plodding round the Ham Marshes, back into Faversham. Just when I was despairing of a coffee stop in the town, up popped the Secret Garden on Standard Quay. Next up is the little settlement of Nagden, and beyond that, possibly the largest solar farm I have yet seen. I was nearly an hour circumnavigating its western and northern edges! Since the marsh hereabouts can support little better than sheep grazing, it seems to be an entirely sensible location.

From the end of the solar farm, it’s a couple of miles to the village of Seasalter. Beyond a caravan site, the ECP is diverted for a while, neither on the coast nor on the public road, but on the marsh edge behind housing, apparently out of consideration for the residents who nevertheless don’t mind having 4x4s drive past their front doors. The Saxon Shore Way, as it happens, sticks to the public road. To rub the point in, the Granville Cliff Estate just beyond is littered with ‘we don’t want you here’ signs; and it’s even a no-go area to Google Street View cameras.

Still, better things await, namely Whitstable. B and I had a quick summer getaway here last year on just about the only sunny days of the season, my first time in the town. It’s a curious mix of the not-doing-very-well, the upwardly-mobile-with-loadsalondoncash, and the gritty industrial – aggregate shipping from the quay. I’d pottered down the High Street in the summer, so stuck with the quay businesses for lunch. I found HatHats, which asserts a social conscience. It also does mean crèpes.

There’s just five miles to Herne Bay, sticking close to the shore all the way except for a short diversion to avoid nesting ground at the Long Rock nature reserve. A quick pause at Herne Bay pier, down to the station, and train back to Faversham.

Wednesday 19 March 2025. Herne Bay to Margate, 13 miles.

It’s prom, at first, below the low cliffs of Herne Bay, before that rare thing, a rise. This takes you up, ooh, fully 100 whole feet up to the suburb of Bishopstone, to avoid a rocky headland with no sea-level path. There’s a pleasant drop-down on grass to Reculver, whose distinct church towers have been a landmark for some while. Time for another coffee, at another HatHats.

Reculver is a significant place on this stretch for many reasons. The Romans set up a fort here, guarding what was then a wide – two miles plus – sea lane separating the mainland from Thanet. Some 250 years after the Romans left, the fort became the site of a monastery; the towers that are so prominent now were added in the 12th century. Roll on another 300 years, and the channel to Thanet is silting up; progressively, land is reclaimed, and now Thanet is an island essentially in name only. But the sea plans revenge; without defences, the towers will crumble down the cliff, and a valuable navigational aid would be lost.

From Reculver there is nothing much for near on four miles; for the walker, that means a nearly-straight concrete wall to walk along, hardly the most exciting stretch of the ECP. Apart from the bird life. There are various reserves all along the Kent coast, and here is no exception, with the delightfully-named Plum Pudding Island Lagoon perhaps my favourite. Here I enjoyed watching a small flock of starlings (?) gyrate just off the coast.

But then, at Minnis Bay, a surprise, to me: chalk. Not exactly Seven Sisters proud chalk cliffs, just 50 foot or so of the white stuff, but it’s pretty continuous all the way to Margate and beyond – indeed, it’s the longest continuous stretch of chalk on the entire British coast! Now, it’s protected by sea wall, much of which looks pretty depressing, but the coast is more indented here than anywhere since the creeks around the Swale, though since this is holiday-land, the contrast between the two could hardly be greater.

It’s a nice day, and there’s an ice cream opportunity at Westgate. I’d planned to end the trip with Wetherspoon fish and chips on Margate seafront, but the pub doesn’t look too inviting. I remembered the beautifully-named Peter’s f&c shop a little further along, and find the exquisite Two Halves micropub for a fresh pint of gravity-delivered Cap’n Bob, so all in all I did much better.