A Breath of Fresh Air: Exploring the Saxon Shore Way and Kent’s Coastal Delights
Just over an hour’s journey on the high-speed train from London St Pancras transports you to Faversham, a market town that feels a world apart. Its cobbled streets and medieval, timber-framed buildings lean at charmingly disparate angles, exuding an old-world allure. This historic hub boasts a brilliant second-hand bookshop and several record stores, catering to those with a penchant for treasures from the past. Faversham is also home to Shepherd Neame, a brewery that holds a strong claim as the oldest in Britain, with its ales served in most of the town’s pubs.
My reason for visiting this picturesque corner of Kent was to embark on a section of the Saxon Shore Way. This expansive 163-mile path stretches from Gravesend on the Thames all the way to Hastings, tracing the ancient Roman coastline. It’s a route that evokes a bygone era, a time when the Isle of Thanet was a separate island, divided from the mainland by the Wantsum Channel.
Following the Creek to the Coast
From Faversham’s high street, the long-distance path, identifiable by its distinctive red Viking helmet markers, leads you down towards Faversham Creek. The creek is tidal, and as the water recedes, the estuarine mudbanks swell and bulge like ethereal clouds viewed from above.
As I meandered along, I passed an antiques market and a bustling fishmonger before reaching the Iron Wharf boatyard. Having spent considerable time in boatyards during years of canal living, I recognised the familiar aesthetic: a hybrid of workshop and dwelling, where each vessel seems to exist in a state of perpetual readiness, though only a few are destined to ever float again. Cats weave languidly through the piles of timber, and I observed boats moored within the rusting hulls of others, a pragmatic, two-tiered defence against any potential leaks.
Beyond the boatyard, the landscape opens up onto the vast expanse of Graveney Marshes. Here, the terrain of Kent is remarkably flat, a canvas of green punctuated by the delicate white blossom on the hawthorn trees. The air is alive with the staccato calls of skylarks carried on the breeze. I followed the gentle meanders of the river, skirting a colossal solar farm, until finally, the sea came into view. The Isle of Sheppey loomed across the channel, and I set off along the shore, heading east. The wind was brisk, yet the air was surprisingly warm.
An Improbable Culinary Gem: The Sportsman Inn
As dusk began to settle, approximately six miles from Faversham, I arrived at the Sportsman Inn. Standing on the levee above the pub, I watched the sun dip below the horizon, painting the vast skies in dramatic hues of bruised blood orange and deep blue. The solitary, melancholic call of an oyster catcher echoed across the sea.
The Sportsman Inn is, in many ways, an improbable establishment. With the exception of a few scattered beach huts, there is seemingly nothing else for miles. Yet, an inn has stood on this very spot since 1642. Its connection to food, however, stretches back even further. Historical records from the Domesday Book indicate the land was farmed by monks, who supplied produce for the magnificent Canterbury Cathedral. In 1999, Stephen Harris, a self-taught chef, took over the reins of the inn, and it has proudly held a Michelin star since 2008.
Despite visiting on a midweek, out-of-season evening, most of the tables were occupied. The atmosphere inside is unpretentious and softly lit by candlelight. The spring tasting menu, a five-course affair, began with a delightful selection of breads and other small, flavourful bites. A significant portion of the ingredients are sourced directly from the estuary and its surrounding environs, a testament to the inn’s deep connection to its locale.
My meal commenced with perfectly poached rock oysters, followed by a succulent roast monkfish. The meat course featured tender pork belly with wonderfully crisp crackling. The flavours were bold, honest, and expertly executed – simple, good food done exceptionally well. For dessert, I indulged in a refreshing passion fruit posset and a thoughtfully curated local cheese board.
Back outside, the night sky was ablaze with more stars than I had seen in a long time. My accommodation for the night comprised one of five charming cabins nestled in the inn’s garden. I awoke the following morning to what was, without doubt, the warmest day of the year. A small fridge in the cabin held eggs and yoghurt, with coffee readily available. I enjoyed a leisurely breakfast at the cabin’s small table, the sun streaming in through the windows, a perfect start to the day.
Seasalter, Salt, and Oysters: A Coastal Ramble
It was 11 am by the time I set off. Small flocks of turnstones flitted along the shingle shoreline, their undersides shimmering in the bright sunlight. The tide was exceptionally low, revealing groynes that jutted out into the mudflats. In the distance, solitary figures could be seen probing the flats for cockles.
The marshland gradually gave way to wooden boardwalks and rows of colourful beach huts. The village of Seasalter derives its name from the salt that was produced here until 1325. It was in that year that the construction of a sea wall, a response to significant storms, began to impede the tides from reaching the marshes, thus ending the salt production. At the Old Neptune pub, the tables outside were already filled with lunchtime drinkers, caught by surprise by the unseasonably warm weather. I enjoyed a quick half-pint before continuing my walk, reaching the centre of Whitstable, four miles from the Sportsman, by 1 pm.
Adjacent to the harbour, I discovered Sea Scrub, a wood-fired sauna offering panoramic views across the water. I had booked my session on a cooler, wintry day, but in the glorious sunshine, the prospect of stripping down to my swimwear felt entirely natural. I applied rosemary salts to my skin before settling in to sweat it out, sharing the space with a few other regulars. At high tide, one can run directly from the sauna into the sea, but with the tide still out, I opted for a bracing plunge into the barrels outside. The water was achingly, exquisitely cold. Feeling invigorated and a little giddy, I dried off and dressed.
Whitstable is, of course, synonymous with oysters. These delectable bivalves thrive here in the brackish waters of the estuary. It’s a tradition that stretches back millennia; two thousand years ago, Julius Agricola was reportedly shipping Whitstable oysters all the way to Rome. Oysters are readily available all along the seafront, and I just managed to gulp down half a dozen at The Forge before making a dash for the train.
By dinnertime, I was back in London, navigating the early evening rush hour with the lingering scent of salt in my hair and the contented grin that comes from a couple of days spent breathing in the invigorating sea air.
Getting There:
Trains connect Faversham with Canterbury and London St Pancras. London St Pancras also offers services to and from Whitstable.
Where to Stay:
Cabins at The Sportsman Inn are priced from £180 per night for the first night, and £150 for subsequent nights. Breakfast is included.
More Information:
Sea Scrub Sauna offers an hour-long sauna session for £16 per person for non-members.
