White Cliffs Of Dover

The chalky cliffs towering above the English Channel offer scenic beauty and vertiginous views

- Lawrence Alexander

Northern Ireland may have the Giant’s Causeway, Wales its mountains and Scotland its glens, but it’s hard to imagine any geographical phenomenon that sums up ‘England’ more than the White Cliffs of Dover. Their dazzling chalk bluffs, haunted by the melancholy cry of seabirds and almost 2,000 years-worth of ghosts are the last thing we see as we leave the country and the first thing we encounter when we return. They have also been, of course, the first thing witnessed by would-be invaders. Dover has always loomed large in times of war.

Formed of calcium carbonate – essentially the skeletal remains of millions of prehistoric, planktonic algae – the cliffs stay white because they are allowed to erode naturally, at about 1cm a year. If they were protected by man-made structures, plants would quickly colonise and turn them green. Dover’s cliffs invoke nostalgia, hope and freedom. Continental Europe is easily sighted from them and while these days many of us whizz past in the Eurostar a visit to this British icon still pays dividends.

It’s likely there was an Iron Age hill fort at Dover, but the site has been shaped and reshaped so many times it’s hard to tell. The invading Romans named their thriving port Dubris, after the British word ‘Dubras’, meaning ‘waters.’ They built a harbour, including two Pharos (lighthouses) and three forts. One of the Pharos can still be seen at Dover Castle, and the glorious Roman Painted House is occasionally open on New Street in the town.