Back to windy Reculver...

“It can get worse than this! No question!”
We had stopped by the abbey to talk to a cyclist taking a breather and, like us, seeking a little protection from the elements. He showed us the winding path that stretched around the ancient fortifications along the top of the cliff, towards Whitstable in one direction, Margate in the other.
“Are you are visitor?” I asked.
“No, no, I live here. Retired.” He waved his paw into the wind.
Retired or not, with his weather-beaten face divided by lemon specs, Spandex top and pants, and huge calves narrowing to tiny ankles, I could tell he was a serious biker.
“The going’s mostly flat, once you get up here. Got to watch for the wind, though!”
He waved, then rode off into the wind, prudently veering away from the cliff’s edge.

A guiding light at the edge of empire

Reculver Fort stood atop a grassy, wind-blown headland, cobbled together from the remains of Regulbium, the Roman watchtower, and an old Saxon abbey. Christian and pagan ruins occupied the same site, still holding their own, sharing a similar aspect and an equal amount of respect. From a distance the Roman part of the edifice appeared stooped, near crumbling. But up close the fort looked like the head of a beast rising up from the land, strong and permanent. Gusts blew through the grass, first revealing then concealing the fort’s bone-colored foundations. Reculver was originally built by the Romans to monitor shipping and protect the inlaid channels and waterways that veined this part of Thanet. A thousand years later, single mast ships dipped their sails as they passed, acknowledging Reculver as a beacon and trusted landmark. Now, two thousand years on, it was protecting the three of us from strong broadsides of wind blown from the sea.