Why we love THE WHITE CLIFFS OF DOVER
How did these chalk cliffs on the Kent coast become a national symbol? Kathryn Ferry investigates
Visiting the White Cliffs of Dover recently, I wondered why I’d never been before. The 16-mile stretch of coastline either side of Dover is surely the best known in Britain; I felt like I knew it, even though I realised I had only ever seen it from the deck of a ferry.
Actually walking over the clifftop proved to be awe-inspiring. On a cloudless day, the contrasting colours were at their best. Between the vast blue of sea and sky, the vertical mass of whiteness was tempered by rolling green meadows on top and flint-grey pebbles at the bottom. This beauty did not, however, stop a flutter of vertigo in my stomach when I drew near the edge. Looking down on the bustle of the port makes you appreciate the scale of the man-made harbour – but the 300mhigh cliffs to the east dwarf all the huge vessels that criss-cross the Channel.
As far back as 55BC Julius Caesar recognised the cliffs as an impregnable fortification, a barrier he and his invading soldiers could not overcome, so he altered course to land further along the Kent coast. Our modern response to the cliffs has been shaped by threat of another invasion, so that they are inextricably linked to our collective understanding of the Second World War. Lined with long-range gun emplacements and riddled with secret tunnels, these cliffs were steadfast defenders of our island frontline, and have become a patriotic symbol of the nation’s fortitude. In the 80th anniversary year of VE Day, there remains something deeply resonant about the image of a Spitfire soaring above the white cliffs.
A MIGHTY WARTIME SYMBOL
And then there is that song. Though redolent of war, the central theme of Vera Lynn’s 1942 anthem is peace. When American lyricist Nat Burton promised “Bluebirds over / the White Cliffs of Dover”, those serving overseas ached for the beauty and peace of Old Albion. But Burton’s white cliffs were also a metaphor for the return of happier times. The cliffs shone out as a symbol of purity and hope; a fresh start for a bruised and bloodied nation. “There’ll be love and laughter / And peace ever after / Tomorrow, when the world is free.”
Of course, Burton’s lyrics contain an error. Migrating birds do routinely stop off on the cliffs, but bluebirds – native
to North America – have yet to be seen among them. In the end, though, this ornithological error mattered less than the heartfelt sentiment those fantasy bluebirds expressed. For a war-weary population battered by bombing and yet to be relieved by American intervention, the song offered hope. The cliffs were the last thing many servicemen saw as they went off to fight, so those lucky enough to return must have felt inexpressible relief at seeing them again.
Of course, Dover’s port is still the scene of many a homecoming, and for the migrants who reach our shores after unimaginable journeys the towering milky cliffs remain hugely symbolic. In 2012, the proposed Government sell-off of the Port of Dover, publicly owned since 1606, demonstrated how far port and cliffs had come to share the same meanings. Such were the concerns about security and identity that the sale was scrapped, leading opponents to claim it had been “saved for the nation”. The White Cliffs of Dover might sit in the southernmost corner of England but they are a truly British landmark.
WILDLIFE OF THE WHITE CLIFFS
The cliffs are also very special because their chalk grassland provides a rare habitat for flora and fauna. Thanks to the harsh marine conditions, large plants are unable to take over, allowing multiple smaller species to thrive together. Modern farming techniques could upset this delicate balance, so on the five miles owned by the National Trust, the traditional task of grazing has been handed over to two herds of Exmoor ponies. Their efforts control the growth of scrub brush and help maintain the ancient biodiversity.
Many orchids grow along the cliffs, the most nationally rare of which is the early spider orchid. Flowering between April and May, it is identifiable by its dark centre, which looks like the body of a large spider set among yellowy
green petals. Over the summer, look out for oxtongue broomrape, whose dainty yellow, white or blue snapdragon-like flowers dot the cliffs between June and September. A more flamboyant resident is viper’s bugloss, which boasts rough petals in vivid shades of blue and purple that contrast with red tongue-like stamens.
WINGS OVER DOVER
Flitting amid this wealth of wildflowers, butterflies are the most noticeable of the cliffs’ insect inhabitants. Reflecting the vibrant hue of a summer sky in the colour of their wings, perhaps the most beautiful are the rare Adonis blue and its slightly paler cousin, the chalkhill blue. Like both of these species, the more modest marbled white prefers the warmer summer months, whereas the red admiral displays its striking orange stripes on a velvety black-brown forewing for a longer season between February and November.
Birdlife also flourishes on the cliffs. The abundance of seagulls is hardly surprising but other birds make their home here, too. Most impressive among them is the peregrine falcon, which can go faster than any other animal on the planet – up to 200mph in a hunting dive. A year-round cliff-dweller, it’s more easily spotted when silhouetted in the sky overhead. Impressive in a different way is the raven, which returned to breed on the cliffs in 2009 after a 120-year absence. As the world’s largest type of crow, it is hard to miss its jet-black presence, though its smaller relative, the grey-headed jackdaw, is a more common sight. And, despite a dramatic decline in skylark populations elsewhere, the cliffs remain a haven for this threatened bird, renowned for its vertical display flight and distinctive call.
A WALK ON CHALK
Walking these cliffs from Dover to the seaside town of Deal is one of the most popular activities among visitors but you need not do the whole length, which is around 10 miles. Instead, from the National Trust car park above Dover Castle, you can take the coastal path to South Foreland Lighthouse, a walk of about 50 minutes.
If you follow the lower path towards Langdon Hole, you can view the cliffs from below. However, this option is not for the faint-hearted because the narrow zig-zag path stops short of the beach and the final eight-metre
“The task of grazing the cliffs has been handed over to herds of Exmoor ponies”
descent to the shore must be made by ladder. Once there, it’s a great place to hunt for fossils, which can be found on the foreshore and at the cliff base in either direction from Langdon Hole.
West of the town, at the base of Shakespeare Cliff, is the 30-hectare nature reserve of Samphire Bay Country Park. Created from the spoil excavated by digging the Channel Tunnel, it offers views of the majestic cliffs at the point where they are closest to France, a mere 21 miles across the Straits of Dover.
MORE INFORMATION
The National Trust car park is open daily between 7am and 7pm with limited spaces. At time of writing, the café is open for takeaways only and the visitor centre is closed; check for updates before you go.