Every now and then, we take our kid, grab our bags and bundle into my sister and her fiancé’s car. We zoom, zoom, zoom with tunes banging, sister singing, kid wriggling and the boys map reading, towards the sea.
The English coastline is sprinkled with seaside towns and beaches each one of them distinctive in personality.
Dungeness is probably my favourite beach we’ve visited yet. Layers of salty air, wind ravaged and shingle beaten splintered wood, rusty rail tracks and sun-bleached nylon nets exhale a haunting otherworldliness that I wish I could bottle and take home to serve up on one of those particularly oppressive London living days that we all get here.
Dungeness is a shingle beach that sprawls out from the looming shadows of the nearby nuclear power station. Even though we often hear the word ‘bleak’ used to describe the landscape of Dungeness, it is not a word that we would use ourselves. Windswept, stark, remote, fascinating, beautiful, strange, haunting, dramatic, melancholic and otherworldly are words that better match the Dungeness that we experienced.
I would like to see the sun rise and set over the expansive horizon. I want to hear what the power station does to the sounds that travel across the shingles. How does the wind move across the landscape? Does is rush or does it dance? I will only ever know, If I stay a little longer, next time we visit. I’ve even found a marvellous place to stay! The Pobble House will do very nicely.