How faded Folkestone got its mojo back

Telegraph

6 days ago

You never feel far from the beaten path, wherever you are in Folkestone. If you are approaching from the north, you cannot miss the power lines of the High Speed 1 railway link which connects the town to London in 53 minutes. Nor can you ignore the Eurostar trains with which it shares the track, before they zip into the Channel Tunnel. And if you are down at the waterfront, you can see the docks at Dover, six miles north-east along the White Cliffs.
Life is slower in the town itself – although, if you are talking about Folkestone's recent history, you might be minded to use a more disparaging description. 'Wearier', perhaps; even 'bleaker', if you are inclined to negativity. Because this outpost at the south-east corner of Kent has had its share of troubles in these first decades of the new millennium.
A quiet backwater in the Middle Ages, Folkestone grew into an important port in the 19th century – while simultaneously morphing into a fashionable seaside resort. The arrival of the railway in 1843 brought crowds of Victorian (and, later, Edwardian) tourists, and over 100 years of prosperity.
But the boom in travel which sparked it to life would also smother it, the advent of cheap overseas packages and the opening of the aforementioned Channel Tunnel drawing away holidaymakers and passengers. The last ferry to Boulogne departed in 2001. Folkestone Harbour station, there on the dockside, waved farewell to its final train in March 2009; a branch-line appendix deemed unnecessary in changing times.
That, at least, is the general narrative, if you haven't been paying close attention. In fact, over the course of the last few years, Folkestone has undergone a remarkable resurgence.
The origins of this upward curve can be traced to 2004, and the decision of Roger De Haan, the multi-millionaire former owner of travel giant Saga, to purchase the harbour for £11 million. The subsequent rejuvenation has been impressive. Gone is the dilapidated Rotunda amusement park which once hugged the tide, its footprint returned to nature (for now) as a half-mile stretch of bare shingle.
But the heartbeat of the overhaul is the Harbour Arm. The 1,600ft (488m) wharf where ferries once anchored and trains used to terminate is – as of resurrection work which commenced in 2015 – a pleasure pier, alive with bars and restaurants. It is also a colossal concrete canvas for the Folkestone Triennial – the art festival, held (as its name suggests) every three years, whose latest edition (July 19 to October 19) is underway.
What's it like?
Pretty rapidly gentrifying – at least around the harbour. The repurposing of the disused station is especially eye-catching, the track left embedded in what is now a promenade that sweeps between the preserved platforms, all the way to the Victorian lighthouse (now a champagne bar) at the end. The original signal box is still in position at the station 'entrance', reinvented as Sip, a coffee shop, but with the points levers still in situ as decor. There are further knowing nods to the past around the corner, where the outdoor seating at beach bar The Pilot includes dodgems and waltzer cars salvaged from the Rotunda.
A recurring fixture in the Folkestone calendar since 2008, the Triennial has added another bright dimension to this attractive scene; a series of thought-provoking sculptures. Some of them are unusual: French artist Laure Provoust's Above Front Tears, Oui Connect is as oblique as its title suggests; a three-headed bird, its tail hanging down as an electrical flex.
Some are more open in their meaning: Sir Antony Gormley's Another Time XVIII exudes a sad beauty. A naked human in cast-iron, it stares out to sea from a loading bay underneath the main promenade. When the tide comes in, the water reaches the figure's knees – a metaphor for those days when modern life can feel overwhelming.
The vision for the waterfront is most extravagant at Shoreline Folkestone, a swathe of luxury apartments, beach houses and penthouses – another De Haan project – that has risen at the west end of the old theme-park site. Two of the houses are available to rent for weekend stays.
I check in to find contemporary furnishings and widescreen views of the Channel – a panorama that is somehow more dramatic when I wake to find it shrouded in dawn mist. Whether such amenities will be enough to entice the target market – one-bedroom apartments start at £395,000, while the penthouses cost from £1.6million – remains to be seen, but there can be no doubting the scale of the ambition.
What's not to like?
Very little, in terms of the waterfront regeneration – although I begin to wonder what some of the older residents make of the installations which have appeared in their midst.
So I ask. Steve (who does not want to give his full name), walking his dog on the 1847 swing bridge across the harbour, shrugs when I point out the pastel-pink 'wendy house' – a comment on short-term holiday lets and their effects on local housing markets, crafted by the artist Richard Woods – floating among the fishing boats. 'I can't say I pay that much attention,' he says. 'It's not my cup of tea, but if people like it, I guess that's fine'.
You might assume that his opinion is replicated at the Grand Burstin Hotel – an old-school seaside two-star more concerned with bingo nights and cooked breakfasts than cryptic commentary. Certainly, you can detect a tacit gap between the old-fashioned and newfangled incarnations of Folkestone; one made visible by the lower section of the 1843 viaduct. Converted to pedestrian use where it crosses the harbour, the structure is blocked by high fencing immediately beyond the water; a Victorian marvel lost to weeds.
Do this
You might grimace at the idea of The Old High Street – which edges up the slope from the harbour as a precipitous arc of cobbles – being subtitled 'the Creative Quarter', but there is a pleasing artiness to what was once a hard-working artery of fishmongers and butchers. There are alluring shops aplenty: the vintage clothing of Bounce; the second-hand books and coffee of Steep Street; the gallery and studio of local painter Shane Record. And if such niceties are too hip for your tastes, the real high street, Sandgate Road, offers the standard big-name stores.
Take the left-hand fork at the top of The Old High Street, meanwhile, and you should stumble onto the kernel of the town: the grassy graveyard and blocky tower of the Church of Saint Mary and Saint Eanswythe. A simple apparition in grey stone, its 12th-century architecture and seventh-century patron (St Eanswythe) carry Folkestone away to the Norman and Saxon eras.
Eat this
Folkestone's dining scene runs the full culinary gamut. You can opt for sophisticated seafood (and a harbourside location) at Rocksalt. The refurbished Radnor Arms (named after the Victorian aristocrat whose money funded the town's initial metamorphosis into a holiday resort) deals in upmarket pub fare. There are also the traditional joys of Sandy's – a fish-and-chips favourite of award-winning reputation.
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Don't do this
Peer too closely at the cliffs. In contrast to the harbour, the sandstone ridge which separates the upper town from the waterfront has not enjoyed significant reinvigoration, and the majority of the pathways and staircases which reach up towards Leas Cliff Hall (the town's main venue) are either in slippery disrepair or closed to the public. The Leas Lift – an innovative water-powered funicular built in 1885 – has been out of use since 2017, and while restoration work is ongoing, suggestions of a 2026 reopening feel optimistic.
From a local
Matt James offers guided tours of the Triennial artworks, having swapped London for Folkestone in 2010. He says: 'I enjoy the sense of space living here provides, but I also think there is something here for everyone, rather than the same thing for everyone, from the broke to the billionaires.'
From a visitor
Vintage Vinyl is one of the busiest shops on The Old High Street. As I am browsing, a family comes in. Ellie is looking to spend her birthday money. 'She wants the new one by [mask-wearing metal band] Sleep Token,' mum explains, as her daughter combs the crates. A loud shriek ensues as the album is found. 'Are you staying the whole weekend?' the owner asks. 'Sadly not,' is the reply. 'With the festival on, we could only get a room tonight. We're off home to London tomorrow... but we'll be back.'
Staying there
Short stays at Shoreline Folkestone cost from £350 per night for a two-bedroom apartment, and from £800 per night for a four-bedroom Beach House.