Monday, July 26, 2010

My first shot @ Travel writing.....Dover,England.




''The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand;
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!''
- Mathew Arnold.

The melancholia symbolising Mathew Arnold's 'Dover beach' was never apparent to me as I sighted the delightfully picturesque seaside town of Dover with its towering white cliffs. The port of Dover was of strategic importance to England in the 18th century as it directly overlooked mainland Europe.It still looked busy and bustling with activity today as I walked along the promenade. As I headed out on a steep, narrow climb to the gateway to the white cliffs, I couldnt but admire the lovely view of the deep blue sea, though, the steady hum of vessels and machinery at the port, almost drowned the roar of the sea.

And finally , I could see the chalk white cliffs looming ahead and quickened my pace. Milky white cliffs,scattered over with lush greenery - segulls,by the
hundreds, calling out, swooping, flying and circling the cliff tops..It was nature - unrivalled and almost untouched.Behind the cliff face are miles of hidden tunnels that were created during the Middle Ages and later played a role in the defence of Britain during the Napoleonic Wars. The tunnels were later enlarged to become the Secret Wartime Tunnels beneath Dover Castle. It is said that the walk along the white cliffs of Dover are one of the best coastal walks of England, and now I knew why.. Lying ahead were miles of lovely greenery with narrow, well worn,white paths..For a walk in the rugged cliffs,the ups and downs were'nt all that steep, making it a very pleasant walk altogether, without much huffing-puffing!

All along the walk, I'd hardly have counted a dozen people, which made it all the more tranquil.. After every stretch of climb, the land gently fell away,and every living soul that moved in the valley below for miles and miles could be seen ..I couldnt but help think that this would surely count for the worst ever hinding place in all of England!!! As I walked further along the ridge for a few more miles, I almost came to the very end where the last white cliff ended. Right below was a 180 feet fall.. There was this tiny cove at the foot of the cliff, completely inaccessible , but with a lovely, cosy little beach.. It looked wonderful, almost reminded me of Robinson crusoe's lonely island... I really wouldnt have minded being a castaway in such a place of beauty!

I just sat there at the ridge , gazing over at the vast sea stretching to the french coastline far far ahead and wondered if there was someone out there watching me too.. Rudyard Kipling's poem "The Broken Men" , came to my mind, which ends with the lines "How stands the old Lord Warden? Are Dover's cliffs still white?" referring to the homesickness of the English exiles'.. And I replied to myself ''Yes, white still they are and shall forever remain the towers of reassuring strength of humanity...