Walking the Pilgrim's Way: A Journey from London to Canterbury

Following Geoffrey Chaucer's footsteps

Something a little different for you today: a pilgrimage, of sorts. Before we get started, let me just plug a couple of recent pieces, in case you missed them.

If speculative mining stocks are of interest: watch this interview with Alex Langer of Sierra Madre Gold and Silver. There could be quite an opportunity setting up here.

There’s this piece on Einstein’s 8th Wonder of the World - compound interest and the rule of 72.

And, finally, with Thursday’s “lecture with funny bits” about gold selling out, so we have added some extra London dates - February 14th and 15th. You can get tickets here.

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I have just got back from a long walk. 

I started on the outskirts of London and finished at Canterbury Cathedral, following the Pilgrims’ Way in the footsteps of the characters from Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. It took me four days.  

Today is the morning after and I have woken up in a bit of a daze, but I thought I would write up my trip, while it is still fresh in my mind. Hopefully, it will encourage you to do something similar. It’s worth it.

Getting ready

I did very little prep. I am in good physical shape, though my ankles struggle after long walks, so training was not really an issue, and the decision to actually go, though I had been thinking about it for a couple of weeks, was quite last minute. I thought I might leave on the Thursday, then a load of stuff came up, so I set off on the Friday morning instead, only booking accommodation for the first night on the train down.

If you are to do this walk properly, really you should set off from Southwark Cathedral. That is the recognised pilgrimage. But I had lost a day and I know south-east London very well - I live here - so I skipped the London leg of the walk and started on the outskirts, from the village of Eynsford, which is an easy 30-minute train journey from me.

Were I to do this again, I would set aside more time and start from Southwark.

I am reluctant to use the word pilgrimage for what I did, by the way. It makes me feel pretentious and a little bit embarrassed. I just went walking for a few days. Wikipedia defines a pilgrimage as: 

“A pilgrimage is a journey, often into an unknown or foreign place, where a person goes in search of new or expanded meaning about their self, others, nature, or a higher good through the experience. It can lead to a personal transformation, after which the pilgrim returns to their daily life.”

I guess that applies a little bit. I certainly did a lot of thinking, and I had a lucid dream on the first night. Pilgrimage-light. Or lite, if your business is marketing American beer.

In terms of prep, I found this post by author Jo Frances Penn invaluable. It became my main point of reference and I kept referring back to it. There is also an official route here, but, once I set off, I found time and time again that Komoot gave me the best route, so I used that.

Here is a rough map of the journey. If you want to follow it in detail, here is the link. (You can download the GPX files too). Komoot says, “Expert Hiking Tour. Very good fitness required. Mostly accessible paths. Sure-footedness required.” I don’t think it’s that expert, as long as you give yourself plenty of time.

It says the overall distance is 62 miles (100km). I strayed from the path - that is to say, got lost - quite a lot, and will have covered more ground than that. On days two and three I walked over 20 miles. 

As for accommodation, again it was last minute. I went on booking.com in the morning and booked somewhere about 20 miles away and vaguely en route for that evening.

Kit: I did the walk in my running shoes. I wore shorts and a football top on day one. It got a bit chilly on day two so I added a sweat shirt. On day 3 it got even chillier so I wore two football tops. On day 4 it got really chilly, so I wore 3 football tops, sweat shirt, hat and cagoule, plus long socks.

In my backpack I carried the bare minimum. The above clothing, plus changes of socks, a pair of jeans and sliders for the evenings, toothbrush, nail clippers, kindle, laptop and cables. The laptop was one the one luxury I allowed myself. I needn’t have bothered with the kindle. I was too tired to read in the evenings.

Day 1 - Eynsford to Otford to Wrotham

My journey began at Eynsford station. It was raining.

I didn’t realise footpaths could be permissive, but the sign says they can be.

This is why people from the council should not be allowed anywhere near language.

The first part of the journey from Eynsford to Shoreham and then Otford tracked the River Darent, which I thought lovely. Here are some idyllic cottages backing onto the river.

At Otford you join the Pilgrims Way, which runs from Winchester to Canterbury, and the views start to get more panoramic as you walk along the side of the North Downs.

The villages of Otford and Shoreham were both lovely, by the way, as you would imagine picturesque Kentish villages to be. The village pond at Otford was particularly nice. I should have taken a picture, but I forgot.

I slept the night at the Bull Inn in Wrotham - pronounced “root’em” - another gloriously picturesque village. In my exhausted state, I was very grateful to the proprietors for their warm welcome. The food was delicious too. I had the braised beef.

A lucid dream

I began thinking, as I walked, about lots of things - my life, my family, my work, my ambitions - but as day one progressed my thoughts became more and more consumed with one thing, something that is probably more important to me than anything else in my life - work or career related. That thing is Kisses on a Postcard.

This is my father’s story about his childhood as an evacuee sent from London to Cornwall during World War Two. I first heard this story as a radio play in the late 1980s, listening to it on my Walkman in some dive of a hostel in Cairo, and I fell in love. When I saw it on stage in 2003 I was smitten again, and trying to bring it to a wider audience has determined many of life choices since. Dad died in 2020 and, during lockdown, I adapted it into a serialised podcast with a cast of over 50 and a 14-piece orchestra. It has won various awards, but still not reached the broader audience I had in mind. As I walked, the need to get Kisses onto the screen took over. I could not think of anything else.

That night I had a rare lucid dream. My father had returned from the dead and was sat at his desk, phoning everyone he knew to see if he couldn’t drum up some interest in Kisses. I was in my bedroom talking to my other half, shaking my head at his energy and determination. “How am I going to explain that my dad’s come back from the dead to the will and probate people?” I was wondering. Once was hard enough, but this is the second time!

One thinks of Oscar Wilde. Twice ”looks like carelessness.”

Lots for the psychologists to mull over there.

Day 2 - Wrotham to Aylesford to Thurnham

My shoulders were hurting a lot by the end of day one, so I got a taxi to take my bag to the next hotel and I set off, feeling somewhat lighter of foot. The mornings are an exhilarating time to walk.

I’ve always quite liked walking over motorways for some reason.

Pleasant paths.

Lots of fields. The sun was out.

But, not far outside of Aylesford, I beheld the future.

Not all of Kent is idyllic and picturesque historic village. A lot of it is new build. This is a new settlement built on the banks of the Medway called Peter’s Village. Judging by how well looked after the houses are, those who have moved here are extremely proud of their new homes (good for them). But so much money has been invested: why are we no longer capable of building beautiful buildings?

Tonight, no doubt, it would be Roger Scruton coming back from the dead to have a word.

Seeing what gets built, is it any wonder Nimbys are so protective of their back yards. I don’t blame them for wanting to stop development if this is what results.

My journey continued. It started to rain. My app has said it wouldn’t rain that day. My cagoule was in my backpack in the taxi. Agh. Even though it was raining, my app claimed it wasn’t. The inability of weathermen to get it right has been carried over into modern tech.

At Aylesford, a few miles up the road, I stopped at the Friary, which was in stark contrast to Peter’s village in that it is stunningly beautiful. It shows what is possible even with inferior tech and lower budgets. It also shows what has been lost.

Aylesford itself was lovely too, though there is some dodgy stuff on the outskirts.

A mile or three outside of Aylesford I stumbled across this hamlet, built out of the buildings of an old farm. Look and learn ye designers of Peter.

I ended up walking over 20 miles that day, sleeping that night at the Black Horse Inn in Thurnham. No lucid dreams tonight, but a lovely dinner. I had the liver.

Day 3 - Thurnham to Lenham to Boughton Lees

Weather was the noticably colder today, though sunny. Did the taxi thing with the bag again, this time the taxi company charged me a fortune, the unhelpful woman at the hotel reception got on my tits, and then I got lost, so a ratty start to the day.

A couple of hours under my belt and things improved. Lovely paths.

More lovely Kentish villages. (Though the staff at the place where I had lunch here in Lenham got on my tits too).

A resting pilgrim.

A memorial

I ended up at Champneys spa in Boughton Lees, in a beautiful old manor, where I had a fab and much needed sauna. Food was good too.

Day 4 - Boughton Lees to Chilham to Canterbury

Was back to carrying my bag again, but I loosened the straps and that seemed to make all the difference. I put on a really good pace - a good 20% faster than Komoot predicted. Gorgeous morning.

It was an accident but I like the way that flare of light appeared on the path in the photo.

More pleasant villages, really enjoyed walking alongside the Stour and I was in Canterbury by noon.

With the cathedral in sight, I stopped and had crumpets.

At the cathedral, when I told them I had walked from London, I was given the royal treatment. They took the idea of a pilgrimage very seriously, for which I was grateful (they said the world not me). The staff were very kind to me. I was exempted from paying the £17 entry fee and taken to the canon, Christopher Dent, a lovely man, who gave me a tour of the cathedral and his blessing.

That stone marks the end of the journey - and the beginning of the road to Rome.

Again it was all so stunningly beautiful. Why we can’t build beautiful buildings any more? And what’s with the chairs? They are to pews what Peter’s Village is to architecture.

I blame metric.

En route, I had listened to a few podcasts about the Peasants’ Revolt, one of my favourite episodes in history, so I was glad to see the tomb of Simon Sudbury, who lost his head to the rebels for the excessive taxes he levied.

I post a picture here in case Jeremy Hunt is reading.

Even though he is headless, as a nearby member of staff pointed out to me, his tomb is still one of the longest in the cathedral.

You can say a prayer aloud into those small alcoves and the sound will not carry even to the person next to you. So I said a long prayer into one of them. I expressed a lot of gratitude for a lot of things, and I asked for help and guidance as well.

All in all, my experience at the cathedral made the whole adventure a lot more spiritual for me than I had anticipated it would be. So I think, after all, it is fair to use the P word.

Then I walked to the bus station and got the National Express home.

Thanks very much for reading. If you haven’t already:

If speculative mining stocks are of interest: watch this interview with Alex Langer of Sierra Madre Gold and Silver. There could be quite an opportunity setting up here.

There’s this piece on Einstein’s 8th Wonder of the World - compound interest and the rule of 72.

And, finally, with Thursday’s “lecture with funny bits” about gold selling out, so we have added some extra London dates - February 14th and 15th. You can get tickets here.