Putting the Lydd on it

To round off this trip, I take the 102 bus south as Tuesday's storm slowly abates. The attractive town of Hythe marks a point on the Royal Military Canal, last seen by me a month ago near Rye. The avenue of trees, bare for December, and raised walkway gives the waterway an almost French air. Ironic considering the canal was built to help fortify England against France two centuries ago.

The bus rolls on to Lydd-on-sea, the gateway to Dungeness. This is a truly strange area, said to be the driest place in England and fancifully as the country's only desert. Not exactly the Atacama but it has a still desolation which I find irresistible. The odd shape of the promontory generates conflicting sea currents and unsettled water, and I well remember from long ago a sailing trip battling against a near-gale and finding relief hours later at Rye harbour.

Dungeness is the terminus of the heritage Romney, Hythe and Dymchurch railway (inactive in winter) and features two lighthouses, a twin nuclear power station, and a windswept shingly beach. Scattered around the shore are the remains of fishing equipment cutting odd shapes against the skyline. It's great for creating semi-abstract images and I only wish some of the other monuments like the sound mirrors which appear on a recent TV programme, were accessible. As it is, the area lies on private land and I half-expect somebody demanding a photographer's permit but apart from a few characters looking seaward towards the French coast, it's quiet. Not exactly desert but almost deserted.Leia mais