Today we drove over to Dover. From the tall white cliffs of Dover (which Drake said his landing sight in Marin reminded him of), you could just make out the shores of France. We drove to the highest hill in Dover, and there was a large triangular shaped fortress. Dover Castle has a pretty large history. The Romans built light houses throughout the channel in the late first century, one of which went on the hill in Dover. Then in 410, when the Romans took off, the Saxons came in and built an wooden fortified town around the light house on the hill. They built an old abbey next to the light house which still stands there today. They also surrounded the town with a trench and hilly earth work to add extra defense. Then, William the jerk face, as the Saxons called him, came in around 1066, burned everything down, took the thrown, and civilized the English. In Dover, William quickly built a keep on the hill, and then surrounded it with stone fortifications. The resulting castle was used a lot over the next thousand years, and abandoned at various times. When Napoleon started getting war happy, the started bolstering the defenses at Dover again, and continued to through the second World War. There were portraits of the Battle of London, depicting the castle set in front of mortar and flack explosions in the sky. It would have been a pretty scary place to be. Turns out that Dover Castle also has a HUGE series of secret tunnels under it, which acted as the naval headquarters during WWII, and that the evacuation of Dunkirk was planned in those tunnels. Crazy history, in that that castle was used as a military place for over 800 years. Similar to the Tower of London too.
The castle keep itself was pretty small on the inside, with tremendously thick stone walls. There were also a lot of tacky touristy things added in all the rooms to make it seem like King Henry VIII was on his way (he apparently stayed there for 2 nights once). It was cheesy and funny, especially the recordings of “workers” who were getting everything ready for the king. “Hurry up there! Hurry up! You! Stay out of the kings quarters!” hehe. funny stuff.
While we were driving back to the hotel, we noticed a strange stone thingy poking up over the hill. So we swerved off the road to check it out. After a short drive down a tiny little road we came upon a stone archway, the last remnants of what seemed to be a great wall. We drove through and immediately started photographing. Before long, we began turning around our diesel guzzling cherokee, and a grizzled old man with a cane strolled through the arch with his walking stick, and two old sheep dogs trotting in front of him. The English country side rolled out to his right, and the setting sun cast an orange hue on the stone arch. I wish I had my camera up at that second. He told us that it was the old wall of Winchelsea, and that the town was a large, old port city. He also said that he was having an argument with another man, about this very archway. He said that this was the traitor’s gate, and was left open when the French came a-knockin’ in the 1200s. The town is only a few blocks in size now. The old man said it was once much larger. Those darn French! Everything here is so cool. What a crazy history!
Check out the pictures here -> http://ups.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2022044&l=ac38f&id=17700012
The castle keep itself was pretty small on the inside, with tremendously thick stone walls. There were also a lot of tacky touristy things added in all the rooms to make it seem like King Henry VIII was on his way (he apparently stayed there for 2 nights once). It was cheesy and funny, especially the recordings of “workers” who were getting everything ready for the king. “Hurry up there! Hurry up! You! Stay out of the kings quarters!” hehe. funny stuff.
While we were driving back to the hotel, we noticed a strange stone thingy poking up over the hill. So we swerved off the road to check it out. After a short drive down a tiny little road we came upon a stone archway, the last remnants of what seemed to be a great wall. We drove through and immediately started photographing. Before long, we began turning around our diesel guzzling cherokee, and a grizzled old man with a cane strolled through the arch with his walking stick, and two old sheep dogs trotting in front of him. The English country side rolled out to his right, and the setting sun cast an orange hue on the stone arch. I wish I had my camera up at that second. He told us that it was the old wall of Winchelsea, and that the town was a large, old port city. He also said that he was having an argument with another man, about this very archway. He said that this was the traitor’s gate, and was left open when the French came a-knockin’ in the 1200s. The town is only a few blocks in size now. The old man said it was once much larger. Those darn French! Everything here is so cool. What a crazy history!
Check out the pictures here -> http://ups.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2022044&l=ac38f&id=17700012
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