Jumping on the tube at 7.00am on a Saturday morning, my well-worn commute to St Pancras station has the horrible familiarity of a work morning. With less than two months to go until my Atlas Mountain trek, Saturday morning lie-ins are now a thing of the past as I cram in as many weekend hikes as possible. Avoiding eye contact with my adjacent office, I join my bleary-eyed hiking chums as we’re whisked off to embark on a day on the White Cliffs coastal walk.

Welcome to France bleeps my mobile as we hurtle into the chaos of Dover -; a scene of stifling stalemate where lorries brood into the far horizon.  Calais may only be twenty-two miles away but today it seems as distant as Timbuktoo.  Keen to depart the fug-fuelled port, we scurry into the back streets where we’re suddenly met with the surreal site of the famous white cliffs superimposed onto quaint back street cottages.

Scampering up the steps to the chalk face, the impressive ramparts of Dover Castle come into view.  Britain’s first line of defence for over 20 centuries, the Castle has fended off invaders from the Vikings to the Nazies – it also guards the secrets of Churchill’s Wartime tunnels buried deep within the indomitable white cliffs.  Dover Castle is the first of three impressive coastal fortifications on the White Cliffs coastal walk – each built by King Henry VIII in the 16th century to defend Britain against French and Spanish invaders.

Once on the 10-mile White Cliffs route which takes you from Dover to Deal, the path is well defined with the occasional gentle slope but with none of the jaw-dropping gradients I experienced on the Jurassic Coast. Following the line of the crumbling cliffs, (don’t get too close), the route provides contrasting views of aqua-marine seas and shimmering, golden cornfields stretching as far as the eye can see. The cry of the gulls and the salty sea breezes infuse the senses and it feels so liberating to be out in the elements again.

As the route veers left, the South Foreland Lighthouse swings into view. Bought by the National Trust, twenty-six years ago, the lighthouse is now open for tours, but feeling ravenous, we shamefully make a b-line instead for Mrs Knott’s tea room. Lured in by the forlorn strains of a gramophone, we enter a 1940s Vera Lynne-style shrine complete with clashing chintzy fixtures and fittings and a vast array of crocheted items – including a tapestry-style TripAdvisor review. Clearly, there’s a slower pace of life in Kent.

After devouring the Walnut and Date cake, we make our way back onto the track which veers inland before taking us down to St Margaret’s Bay – a beautiful, remote beach situated in the foothills of the North Downs.  Marching on, we head back inland, passing the Pines Garden Tea Room & Museum – another 1940’s wartime gem where you can experience wartime village life with another slice of cake if you’re feeling particularly indulgent.

After a few more miles, we descend into Kingsdown for a well-earned lunch on the seafront. The adjacent Zetland Arms pub provides tempting seafood and a refreshing pint for those in need of alchoholic fortification. As we watch the ferries tirelessly chugging over to Calais, the views certainly beat staring at a screen.

Setting off again along the long promenade to Deal, we amble along in the company of cyclists and dogs to the soundtrack of tinkling ice cream vans.  Watch out for Walmer Castle which suddenly veers up on your left-hand side.  Once inside, you’ll discover quirky artefacts ranging from the armchair on which the Duke of Wellington died to an original pair of Wellington boots.

From Walmer, it’s a quick jaunt into neighbouring Deal which is kept under the watchful eye of Deal Castle.  Resembling a Tudor Rose, the rounded walls were cunningly designed to deflect shot from French and Spanish invaders.  Over 200 canon and gun ports nestle within its walls and just for good measure, the castle is also surrounded by a deep moat.

After a quick photo stop, we turn around and retrace our steps back along the coast to Dover – increasing the white cliffs coastal walk to twenty miles for maximum training impact.  With aching feet, we finally make it past the long-suffering lorry drivers and reflect on a fantastic day’s hike packed with castles, white cliffs and the distant shoreline of France – definitely worth the 7.00am start.

What’s your favourite coastal walk?