Riding the Rails to Dover

 RIDING THE RAILS TO DOVER

May 2

Although train travel is fairly uncommon in most states outside the Northeastern corridor and the Far West, it's popular in Europe, where the trains are comfortable, fast, and dependable. That would be the mode of transportation by which we would use to travel steadily eastward from Portsmouth back to London, then after a change in trains and even stations, from London to Dover. Each leg was about 75 miles, but the train to Dover was a fast one. 

We rather enjoyed the train travel. In addition to the relative speed and comfort, one gets to see the countryside -- and not just the castles, but the architecture of homes and businesses in towns and cities. Here are a few samples ...

The disadvantages of train travel vs. air are twofold: 1) You don't check your luggage and have it magically appear at your destination; instead you haul it around with you wherever you go and stow it on your train car yourself. Not a big problem if you travel light, which we did. 2) Perhaps it's just because it was a new and different experience for us, but we "be prepared/plan ahead" travelers found the lack of advance information a bit nettlesome. Unlike airlines and airports, train travelers aren't overwhelmed with constant advance, detailed information, so don't always know which platform their trains are leaving from well in advance ... and trains don't keep calling for travelers to board or wait for stragglers. But one quickly learns to adjust, and there are typically helpful, experienced travelers who can and will help lead sheep who have strayed back to the flock.

In fact, the only smidgen of drama on our cross-country train trip was (unsurprisingly) self-induced. Upon reaching London Waterloo Station, we had to grab our gear, travel across town to St. Pancras Station the best way possible, and rinse and repeat the process of finding whether our train was on time (they seem to always be punctual) and which platform we'd board from (which to spoiled air travelers always seems to be revealed at the last minute, creating the urge to hurry, the enemy of panicky rookie train travelers!). And changing train stations in a huge, crowded city?! How far was it between stations? Did we have time to make it? Would the traffic be manageable? Could we trust our driver? No worries, mate. We followed the dependable Way Out (not Exit) signs and those for the taxi queue, found a legendary black cab, and were whisked across busy but not gridlocked London to St. Pancras Station, which like Waterloo had been, was a combo busy train station and shopping mall. Time to spare. We found a place to grab a sandwich, sit and eat, and wait for the platform for our train to be announced. We made it with lots of time to spare and were off to Dover.

Ah, yes, Dover ... another port city, home to the White Cliffs, Dover Castle, WWII tunnels, and Operation Dynamo. Now we start to build toward Dunkirk, our raison d'etre for the trip. Dover Priory is a modest train station compared to those we saw in Paris, and it was about a 10 minute walk to our hotel (fortunately all downhill). Our hotel was pretty meh, had small rooms, and apparently was staffed by phantoms, but it had good breakfasts and was conveniently located to restaurants, pubs, tourist sites we planned to visit, and our ferry terminal. Upon arrival we wasted no time checking in, then walked down the wide promenade that ran along the harbour. 

It's a pretty yet gritty town. Jerry's feet were beginning to fail him, so he bravely volunteered to find a pub while Frog and I set out for the Dover Museum. Its location baffled us and Google Maps, but when we gave up and headed back to find Jerry, suddenly it appeared before our very eyes. Only 15-20 minutes remained before it closed, and the person at the desk made it clear that she respected the posted quitting time. We scooted through, saw a few displays that focused on Dover, which during WWII was the center of what was known as Hellfire Corner, site of frequent German bombing and artillery fire from German forces based in France, just 21 miles across the Pas de Calais. 

Dance with caution!

The museum's star attraction, however, is a Bronze Age boat which construction workers in 1992 found and excavated. The boat, estimated to be ~3,500 years old, making it the oldest seagoing boat in the world, has been painstakingly excavated, studied and preserved by archaeologists.

  

Having had our interest in history, particularly WWII, thus piqued, we used our skills acquired as Eagle Scouts, Frog's 20 yrs. in the Air Force, and my 6 yrs. in the National Guard and Army Reserve to  drop a few azimuths and find Jerry (our traveling mate, not the Germans), who had successfully infiltrated Churchill's pub and restaurant. We joined him for drinks and dinner (at a table overlooking the harbour), made it a fairly early evening, and rested up for what would be a full sightseeing day tomorrow. [Spoiler alert: It was more than full!]