Dover's cliffs are not just white, they are enormous: chalk faces about a hundred metres high, bright against the sea on a sunny day, the first and last piece of England for about a thousand years of travellers. This stop sits on the clifftop on the eastern side of town, where the road gives way to open grass, a National Trust area and a long view across the Strait of Dover. On a clear day you can see the French coast, about twenty miles away, as a thin pale line.
It is also one of the most busy approaches in Britain. Dover is the busiest ferry port in the country, and the road down into the docks can be thick with lorries, particularly when there are delays across the Channel, so check traffic before you set out. On the cliff itself the mood changes. Gulls call from the ledges, skylarks sing over the downland, and the wind is almost always present, strong enough to need a firm grip on the bike at the car park edge. Stay well back from the cliff edge, where the chalk is unstable.
The history is thick here. Dover Castle, high on the hill behind the port, has stood for nearly a thousand years and holds tunnels used in the Second World War. Along the cliffs, the South Foreland lighthouse and the wartime sound mirrors recall the days when this coast was the front line, and the song about the white cliffs of Dover became a symbol of wartime hope. Down below, the cross-channel ferries still come and go every few minutes.
For fuel and food, Dover has about forty-two thousand people and all the usual services, and Deal, further up the coast, has more. The cliff area has a small café and a visitor centre, though hours vary with the season. Pack a waterproof, because the weather comes in from the Channel quickly. It is a fine place at sunset, when the cliffs turn warm gold and the ships appear as dark shapes on the sea.