White Horse Stone

I visited the White Horse Stone this week – the first time for a VERY long time as I live in a different part of Kent these days. They have re-opened the pilgrims way now that the CTRL is finished, meaning that I didnt have to take the long walk through piles of old carpets, washing machines and building rubble that litters the pilgrims way from the bottom of Boxley hill.

The site seemed dreary and miserable to me ... once a place full of mysticism and excitement for me, now utterly grey – with the thunderous roar of the high-speed trains just increasing the feeling of melancholy.

The surrounding trees and scrub were littered with beer cans, empty cheap vodka bottles, fag ends and old plastic bags. I tidied up as much as I could fit into my pockets, set up my tripod and took one shot then left feeling utterly despondent.

This place once defined the spiritual revelations and explorations of the 20-something years for me and my friends ... now it seems to have died.

Sadness.