The more times I head back home to England, the less I visit London. Instead, I increasingly potter around the adjacent county of Kent.

I grew up in London. Sort of. I was born in the market town of Dartford, which is the first town travelers reach after leaving the boundary of London and heading southeast in the general direction of the English Channel and France. Dartford is famous for being the birthplace of Wat Tyler, who lead the Peasant’s Revolt in 1381, and Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, who led another type of revolution with their rock band The Rolling Stones a little less than six centuries later. According to legend, The Glimmer Twins met on a train heading to London, which would have put them just about where I grew up, the Thames-side town of Erith, which is mentioned in Joseph Conrad’s classic novel, Heart of Darkness.

If you write a letter to Erith, you will put Kent in the address, not London, although technically it is part of London. It is part of the London Borough of Bexley, one of 32 boroughs that comprise the United Kingdom’s expensive capital. Erith exists in No Man’s Land, betwixt country and city, rather in the same way as perhaps Little Neck does—part Long Island, part Queens, part New York City.

When I was young, my interest always was to the west, to London. As I grow older, I stare more to the east and southeast, to Kent. It is a fascinating and historical place.

Kent derives its name from Cantii, which is one of the area’s original inhabitants. Their home was called Ceint, and this root also lent itself to their capital, Canterbury, which remains as England’s holiest site. Canterbury’s original name was Cantwarabyrig, the spelling of which is, it seems to me, Celtic in origin. Today, anyone in England would swear that a town thus spelt must be in Wales and be a Welsh name. Of course, like numerous places, Kent’s early history has more shadows than it does light, but there does seem to be a king called Vortigern, who invited to Kent the Jutish people, the Jutes, from modern-day Denmark. This people gets its name from the Danish island of Jutland. Vortigern invited two Jutish warriors, Hengist and Horsa, to help defeat the Picts, also resident in the United Kingdom. I will repeat again that the history is murky, but it is thought to have transpired that Hengist and Horsa (and there are two small residential roads named after them just up the road from my parents’ home in Erith) rebelled against Vortigern. Hengist assumed the throne. This is all reported in the Venerable Bede’s Historia Ecclesiastica Gentis Anglorum (“The Ecclesiastical History of the English-speaking People”), which was written in AD 731, when Bede was a priest living in the north of England.

This all happened more than 400 years after Julius Caesar invaded. He landed in Kent in BC 55, a date known to all English schoolchildren. A decade later, he became head of the Roman Empire. Approximately 100 years later, another Roman army came, this one led by Claudius.

Several battles were fought over the centuries, before and after Hengist was on the scene, and eventually, the Jutish kingdom became part of other kingdoms in the “kingdom,” first Mercia, then Wessex.

In the late 6th century it was to Kent that came Augustine, who introduced Christianity to England. He also was from Rome. He was based in Canterbury, it was then that that settlement became important as a religious and trading center. He converted the Kentish king Ethelbert (also spelt Aethelbert or Æthelbert) and his followers, and all was happy in Kent, although that, too, could be disputed history.

Facing France, Kent always had to be on guard. The Dutch attacked villages along the River Thames in the 17th century. The Germans during the Blitz in the middle of the 20th century dropped bombs all over the county (and including on my Mum’s childhood home in Barnehurst, when, luckily, all were out). The Prime Minister who led Great Britain out of those dark days, Sir Winston Churchill, retired after the war’s end to his home of Chartwell, in the western Kent village of Westerham.

Canterbury is the main city in Kent. It was here that two knights assassinated the most famous of the archbishops of Canterbury, Thomas à Becket, following a reportedly offhand remark made back up in London by the then king, Henry II: “Who will rid me of this meddlesome priest?” The cathedral predates Becket by several centuries. It was built by Edward the Confessor, who on his death bequeathed the whole nation to William of Normandy, who invaded when the English decided they did not want him and instead put Harold, the last of the Saxon kings on the throne. Soon to be known as William the Conqueror, he landed at a spot called Pevensey Bay, which is just across the Kentish border in the county of Sussex. Following Becket’s murder, Canterbury became the most important pilgrimage spot in the country and the subject for one of the first truly British works of literature, Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales, which was written in the 14th century. Elizabethan playwright Christopher Marlowe was born in the city.

Sitting on the River Stour, Canterbury is a delight. The cathedral dominates, but also catching the eye are a Norman castle, sections of Roman wall and the King’s School, reputedly the oldest in England. It has many quaint streets. Devotees of English life might also want to see if they can fathom Kent’s most popular sport, cricket (the county only has one professional soccer team, Gillingham, and it is not a very successful one, currently languishing three divisions and 74 spots below well-known Manchester United). Its cricket ground, St. Lawrence, actually has a tree growing on the pitch. A lime, it survived the building of the ground in 1847, and when a freak thunderstorm blew it down in 2005, the ground staff merely planted a new one. Currently, it is small, but very soon it is hoped that it will block the forward trajectory of cricket balls. In cricket, if the ball is hit along the ground and outside the edge of the pitch, what is called a “boundary,” then four runs are added to that team’s total. So it goes if the ball hits this tree. Actually, this new tree —currently, seven feet tall—was “prepared” juts outside the boundary in the mid-1990s, when the original, still standing proud, was diagnosed to have a fungal rot. Fans knew it was on its last “legs,” but the thunderstorm, catching everyone off guard, resulted in this new tree being planted within the boundary earlier—and shorter—than it was intended.

Canterbury also has other less-known yet equally unique tidbits of history connected to it. It was the main city to which French Protestants, known as Huguenots, emigrated, and in the 17th century, of the 5,000 people who called it home, 2,000 spoke French as their native language. It also was the home of the first passenger railway in the country, the Canterbury & Whitstable, lovingly referred to as the Crab & Winkle, winkle being an edible mollusk found of Kentish shores. Today, Whitstable is a popular day-trip from London. If you wish to splurge, make a reservation at one its regarded seafood restaurants and try local delicacies such as cockles, whelks and samphire, the first two being examples of seafood, the last an edible plant found on seashores that has a slightly spicy taste. Sadly, eels are absent from most menus.

Another quirky Kentish phenomenon is that those born to the east of the River Medway are known as Men of Kent (the vast majority of the county populace), while those born to the west—like me—are known as Kentishmen. It is thought that this division dates back to our friends the Cantii.

My father (a “foreigner” who grew up in Sussex, although he does know Kent like the back of his hand) had a friend, Jim, who used to be an eeler on the River Medway. He had a small fishing boat near the village of Yantlet, which is near the county town (the equivalent of the U.S.’s state capitals) of Maidstone. I remember going to his boat and watching him fish when I was young, but today the English do not crave jellied eels, and the trade is nearly dead.

Maidstone itself is not an A-list destination. It has an attractive archbishop’s house on the bank of the river, another famous writer, the Nobel Laureate William Golding, taught there and the surrounding countryside is among the prettiest in the country. The River Medway flows from roughly Royal Tunbridge Wells, famous for its spa—which rivaled Bath during its heyday—Tudor houses and historic city center, known as the Pantiles, to the River Thames just north of Rochester, which is famous for its cathedral, castle and scenes used in the works of Charles Dickens.

Every year, Rochester holds a Dickens Festival to commemorate the writer, who after becoming internationally famous bought a house, Gads Hill Place, up the road in Higham. The townsfolk dress up in Victorian garb, cricket matches take place on the green behind the vicarage, exhibitions of ancient English craftwork and traditional dancing are held and rumors fly around that one pub—somewhere in town—is selling, for a 10-minute period or so, beer at 19th-century prices. I’ve never found it! Morris dancing, often ridiculed, takes place. The word “Morris” comes from the Greek name Moira, the Goddess of Fate, supposedly, the dance being an interpretation of a Greek celebration. Two millennia of changes and adaptations have made Morris Dancing quintessentially English, and numerous troupés—or “sides,” as they are more correctly known—gather in Rochester during the Sweeps Festival in May to do battle. Intricate dance steps are choreographed, the air echoes with the smashing of tree bough against tree bough and vast quantities of ale are consumed. Women can only join in by being an accompanying musician, although this “apartheid” is being whittled down with each year. The dances have a decidedly pagan spirit running through them, most notably in the opening ritual to greet Jack in the Green, a recent metamorphosis of woodland spirits that have been celebrated since the days when all this energy was exerted to honor the ancient festival of Beltane.

Rochester’s castle dates back to the 11th century and the reign of William the Conqueror and is at 130 feet, the highest Norman keep in the land. Built by Bishop Gundulf, the castle was laid siege to for two months in 1215 following an uprising against King John. The cathedral, the second oldest in the country, dates back farther, to 604. Gundulf is often depicted in Morris dances—normally in a very bad light. Taking this time-progression back another step, the city of Rochester (cities in the United Kingdom can only be called such if they possess a cathedral or royal seal) was established during the Roman occupation as an important stopping place on the way to London (Londinium or, before that, Londinos).

The route taken by those pilgrims Chaucer chronicled also divides Kent, but this time from west to east, not north to southwest. Mostly this path, which still can be walked today, indeed is, by many religious observers, edges the scarps of chalk cliff sides on, in and above which can be found fossils, orchids and rare butterflies. The soil is very thin, an uncommon thing in a county known as the Garden of England. Apples, pears, apricots, strawberries, raspberries, damsons, quince, cherries, plums, sloes and more all have been grown here for centuries. For the whole list, visitors can do no worse than make a beeline to the National Fruit Collection (www.brogdale.org/nfc_home.php) at Brogdale Farm, near Faversham. It claims to have examples of more than 100 varieties. Kent, though, is perhaps more famous for its hops, the main ingredient needed for good ale. They’ve been growing hops and making beer here for hundreds of years, and a common sight here are oast houses, sort of rounded houses with conical roofs. In these houses the hops are laid out to dry above large ovens known as kells in the Kentish dialect, kilns in other parts of the English-speaking world. A small white cowl at the top of the roof moves with the wind and allows the heat to escape. The oldest oast house in the county is at Cranbrook. It is not unusual to see that some of these buildings have been turned into apartments.

To see interesting fauna, not flora, head to Woodchurch, between Ashford and Tenterden, and its South of England Rare Breeds Centre (www.rarebreeds.org.uk). You will see that sheep are not merely sheep, cows not cows, pigs not pigs, hens not hens, etc., but Lincoln longwalls, Chillingham wilds, Gloucestershire old spots and Scots dumpies. The Canterbury Oast Trust runs the centre to raise funds go to provide homes, care and occupational opportunities for adults with learning disabilities.

In the far southeast of the county, the chalk (still today, residents need to scale their kettles and pots of chalk, such is the chalkiness of the water) and Greensand hills make way for a flay alluvial plain that tapers at the nuclear power station at Dungeness. This area feels very remote from London, although its local airport, Lydd, is being increasingly used by low-coast airlines to Europe. The film director Derek Jarman lived here and created a front garden made from stones, pebbles, flotsam and jetsam. A small-gauge railway (www.rhdr.org.uk) runs from Dungeness to three other coastal towns, Dymchurch, Hythe and Romney, the latter two being two of the five cinque ports, ancient ports that were responsible for the naval safeguard of all of the kingdom. There still is a ceremonial post, the Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, that is bestowed by the monarch, currently, Queen Elizabeth II, but which dates back to the 12th century. Sir Winston Churchill has held the post, although his predecessor certainly wins the title for best name, being Major Freeman Freeman-Thomas, 1st Marquess of Willingdon.

Dungeness is part of the great marsh at Romney, famous for its sheep and smugglers and the curious, landlocked Isle of Oxney. The church of Stone-in-Oxney contains a very rare example of a Mithraen altar. The marsh is as desolate place as one could look for. Irrigation ditches crisscross flat fields, fences and villages appear weathered, boats are left ashore on shingle creeks and lonely Martello towers, which defended the population from French and Dutch invaders, peer through the mist as ghostly sentinels. I would recommend the excellent and sometimes sinister Disney film The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh for future insights into this enchanting area.

The history of the county does not suffer as it heads north along the coast. Towns such as Folkestone, Dover  (the famous castle and the White Cliffs of…), Deal, Sandwich (where the food item comes from), Ramsgate, Broadstairs, Margate, Herne Bay and Reculver all are liberally dashed with stories; legends and characters. Many have connections with Dickens, especially Broadstairs and its Bleak House (www.bleakhouse.info), which towers over it.

Margate is a popular seaside vacation spot with amusements, while Reculver has the remains of a 12th century, twin-towered church.

Our tour has now rounded the county and is heading back inland between Canterbury and Maidstone. Perhaps it is this part of Kent that is missed by the traveler, but that would be a mistake, for one of the greatest joys in Kent is to wander along a footpath (the United Kingdom is riddled with a footpath network that the public have full access to) or stream and end up at a charming public house for a pint of Shepherd Neame ale (the Kentish brewery) and a warm pie or roast. A couple of my favorite public houses are Ye Olde George Inne (www.pubsinshoreham.com) in Shoreham and The Bell Inn (www.thebellinnromneymarsh.co.uk) in Ivychurch, but there are many that are equally welcoming.

Other attractions in the “middle” of the county include Leeds Castle, often called the “prettiest castle in the world,” the villages of Hawkhurst, Chilham, Elham and Sissinghurst, the castle at Scotney, which has a beautiful garden, and the castle at Hever, where a young Anne Boleyn, second wife to Henry VIII, lived. She was beheaded. As the rhyme goes, “divorced, beheaded, died; divorced, beheaded, survived.” Kent’s beautiful gardens include Goodnestone and Bedgebury Pinetum.

History and beauty is everywhere around you here, so read up and look around.

Sadly today, many visitors only see Kent at speeds reaching 186 miles per hour as the Eurostar train speeds towards the Channel Tunnel and Europe. Here’s hoping they delay France for a few days and pause in the Garden of England.

Practicalities

Transportation: Rent a car from Heathrow Airport, and you can be in Kent, on the other side of London, in an hour. That will be to its western reaches, around Westerham. If you fly into the capital’s second airport, Gatwick, then you will much closer to all of Kent. England’s train network is extensive within the county.

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