Named by travel guide Lonely Planet as one of the world’s top visitor destinations, the Kent Heritage Coast is a stunning mix of natural beauty, incredible history and top-class places to eat and drink.

We dispatched our man Rhys Griffiths to walk the coastal path between his hometown of Folkestone and neighbouring Dover…

Walking the cliff-tops of what was once the Second World War ‘Hellfire Corner’, I could have been forgiven for thinking the drone of a Spitfire engine was just a figment of my imagination.

But no. Overhead soars an icon of the Battle of Britain, likely taking a lucky passenger on a once-in-a-lifetime flight over the famous White Cliffs where brave pilots of the Royal Air Force engaged in dogfights with the Luftwaffe in the summer of 1940.

All along this coastal walk are ghosts of those fraught days when fear of invasion stalked the land.

Concrete pillboxes still stand sentry, looking out across the waters of the English Channel towards the French coast. The Abbot's Cliff Sound Mirror, eventually made redundant by the advent of radar, remains a haunting reminder of the threat to our island nation. And the Battle of Britain Memorial at Capel-le-Ferne provides a sobering reminder of the sacrifice made by those young men, both British and from allied nations, who lost their lives in the fight against Nazism.

Proximity to the continent has always made this coastline and the sea beyond an axis of trade and connection, of threat and defence. Today, thankfully, the former is in the ascendant – evidenced by the cross-Channel ferries shuttling between the Port of Dover and the harbours of northern France.

Those ships are just dots on the horizon as I prepare to begin my walk from Folkestone, along the clifftop at Capel, and onwards towards Dover. I stop at Folkestone Harbour Arm for some fuel for the road, coffee and a pastry with a glorious – if not a little windswept – view of the route I will be taking.

I will confess to a slight sense of trepidation, seeing the cliffs stretching out for miles before me. I have gazed along the coastline to Dover, where the harbour breakwaters can be seen jutting out beyond Samphire Hoe, on occasions too numerous to count. But, despite having lived in Folkestone almost all my life, I have never walked this path. The convenience of a short train journey along one of the nation’s most spectacular coastal rail lines has always won the day.

But I am excited to test my legs and explore what Lonely Planet describes as “a unique combination of history, heritage, stunning and iconic natural landscapes”.

A test it certainly is, in the intial stretch from the harbourside in Folkestone to the clifftop eastward. After walking the promenade at Sunny Sands it is a climb of the East Cliff, with its Martello Tower, pitch-and-putt golf course and quirky Triennial artwork. There then follows a sudden, steep climb of the footpath above the Warren to Capel. Despite my claims to moderate fitness, I’m panting heavily when I finally reach the top.

From here its a short walk along the path – where thankfully the spring’s growth has been hacked back – to the Battle of Britain Memorial, with its poignant statue of a fighter pilot keeping eternal watch out over the Channel. The memorial was only opened in July 1993, after a campaign to create a permanent tribute to ‘the Few’, to whom Churchill said so much was owed by so many.

After a few moments of reflection I rejoin the path, which is well signposted, and marvel at the stunning views across the Channel, where on a clear, bright day the coastline of France is so clearly visible. Soon the views downwards are equally marvellous, being close enough to the cliff’s edge to see the Warren below, with the railway line running between the towering chalkface and the wave-lapped shore.

Beyond the Cliff Top Cafe, where visitors are enjoying late breakfasts and cups of tea, the path winds vertiginously above a steep drop. I am extremely grateful for a sturdy barrier between me and the clear air beyond. Heights are not my favourite thing, especially when the path is uneven in places, and I’m having to watch my every step.

Beyond Capel, but before Samphire Hoe, I am glad when the footpath runs close to the national cycle route between Folkestone and Dover. I opt to switch to the surer footing of the cycle path, giving up views for a more comfortable walking surface slightly more in-land. Cyclists whizz by me, cheery waves and brief hellos exchanged as we pass.

It is a delight to see this route so well-maintained, with fencing and gates at regular intervals – no doubt designed to keep the cattle and horses grazing along the clifftop well away from passing cyclists. I pass a stone marker engraved ‘Dover Borough’ which indicates I am making good progress, and before long it feels like the gradient is increasingly downward as my destination grows closer.

I’ve probably walked about 10km by the time I reach the turning on the A20 for Samphire Hoe. Shockingly, perhaps, I’ve never visited this remarkable little nature reserve before, so, despite a growing ache in my calves, I dive into the tunnel that leads through the cliffs and down to the Hoe.

Within minutes I am walking on part of the Kent coast which did not exist half a century previous. During the preparation for the building of the Channel Tunnel, there was plenty of discussion about what to do with the vast amount of spoil which would be excavated by boring the tunnels linking Britain to France. Eventually it was decided the best option was to reclaim land from the sea at the base of Shakespeare Cliff.

In all, almost five million cubic metres of spoil extracted from the tunnels were deposited behind a 1.7km-long sea wall, reclaiming some 111 acres from the English Channel. Today the site, which was used as a platform for workers building the Channel Tunnel, is a thriving nature reserve. Opened to the public in July 1997, it sits cheek-by-jowl with a cooling station which still plays a vital role in keeping the Tunnel operational.

I head straight down to the sea wall and walk all the way around the site, which is home to numerous species of hardy flora and fauna. Then it’s back through the steep tunnel through the chalk to rejoin the cycle path for the final descent into Dover.

The last leg of the walk is perhaps the least enjoyable, as much of it runs alongside the busy A20, with lorries and cars racing by on their way to catch the ferries from the Eastern Docks. Once into the town I swing right, into the Western Docks, with its newly-opened marina and regenerated dockside where pop-up cafes and food huts provide a welcome place to end my trek after more than 17km of walking.

Gulls swoop overnead, and I enjoy the uninterrupted view of Dover’s magnificent castle – just another reminder of this coast’s long history of invasion and repulse. My legs may ache, but my spirit is lifted. It may be the first time I’ve walked this way, but it certainly won’t be the last.