In early morning light at Fayette Historic State Park, I wake in the tent. I cringe at the ache in my shoulder from sleeping on the thick foam mattress we had bought for camping; this is what 40 does to a person. Gone are the days when I would bounce back after sleeping on only a simple mat in the forest, now I need plush and comfort to soothe my muscles.
I had a dream long ago of a long white pier, ornate and beautiful on a blue sea. I floated above it as if in a plane circling it. The image as been drifting in my mind since. I knew on this trip I wanted to see the white cliffs of Dover and in researching them, I found the Seven Sisters instead.