Monday 12 September 2011

Day 6 - Truleigh Hill to Lewes

The weather forecast (provided by George Newberry) prooved to be correct as it was a glorious if slightly blustery day to follow the hellish walk of the day previous. The distance was likewise not so great at 14 miles or so.

The views were also great, once we passed through the unfeasibly large golf club at Pyecombe and stopped at the Jack and Jill windmills! Overlooking such notable villages as Westmeston and Plumpton it all felt a little quaint compared to the day previous, although climbing up to the Ditchling Beacon was quite an effort. Eventually we descended in the early afternoon just to the east of Lewes and decided to walk to have a look at Brighton's new stadium at Falmer.

Let me tell you, it may appear all nice and sparkling on the pictures but the stadium is depressingly inaccessible for walkers. It is plunked right down next to the fairly anonymous University of Sussex and smacks of 'out of down' anonymity. All things considered we couldn't wait to get away from Falmer and into a real town, Lewes.

The B&B in the Cliffe area was beautiful and the town was a revelation. Had a wonderful meal at the Snowdrop Inn and left before the Morris Dancing was getting going. Had a fantastic pint of the local Harveys 'Olympia' in the John Harvey Tavern, a good drop in the Gardener's Arms and a few more in the Lewes Arms with one of Craig's friends from British Sea Power. Then back to the John Harvey Tavern for a night cap to a local band (pretty much just a saxophone and a blues-type singer). Lewes is a wonderfully preserved little town with a brewery, a history of radicalism and an obsession with celebrating the burning to death of Catholic traitors. In short it's a place I could easily retire too. End of Day 6.

Day 5 - Amberley to Truleigh Hill

The day began auspiciously enough with an early departure from Arundel YHA thwarted by a ridiculous state of affairs at the local train station. The power was out at Arundel and some scum sucking excuse for humanity had stolen some copper wiring from a signalling station and thrown the entire trainline into disarray. The station manager/ticket office guy spent the hour we were at the station in an attitude somewhere between blissful ignorance and sincere yet amused pity for all of us who not only had no clue when or if the train would arrive but also had to endure seeing two trains speed past without stopping and one that did stop declare that they were not stopping at Amberley (our destination); no reason was given for this.

Anyway, we eventually bonded with a lovely old couple of ramblers at the station who were heading the six miles from Amberley to Washington but were concerned about forecasts of gales and the rain that was sheeting down (erratically at this juncture). We got a train with them and eventually arrived at Amberley at around 10.15, wished them look and headed off at great pace to make up for lost time.

For a good half hour the weather was not promising but not disasterous, but then we reached the top of the Downs. I can honestly say it was the most persistently atrocious weather I care to remember. Gale force winds coming in nearly knoecked us off our feet. The rain thrown at us sideways was unending and soaked us to the bone even though we both had waterproof jackets, trousers and boots.

There is very little to say about the walk itself. We saw nothing apart from each other and mist for about five hours. There was one tired old man who greeted us coming the other direction. He looked like he had experienced something truly terrible and longed to know how far he had to go. Fortunately we could comfort him in the knowledge that Washington was a little over a mile away. We hope he made it safely. It was every man for himself on the Downs that day!

There was no shelter for hours, no trees, no hillocks, no nothing. So we resolved to head off the trail to a barn and sheltered there for some food and a change of socks! We eventually got to Truleigh Hill YHA at around 4.30pm. the last two miles crossing the 'industrial' (read ugly) Adur and passing Upper Beeding to go on up to Truleiugh Hill seemed like the longest two miles of my life. Thankfully there were friendly faces and a drying room at the hostel.

Craig almost broke down when he heard they had no license to sell alcohol so our post-dinner entertainment consisted of chatting to a slightly loopy cyclist and a lovely old couple who had tried walking for a few hours and given it up to take a taxi the rest of the way. We started and did not finish a 1,000 piece jigsaw but did find a Humpty Dumpty game based on Jenga that was enthralling to our addled minds. End of Day 5.

Monday 5 September 2011

Day 4 - Cocking to Amberley

An amble to Amberley.

A much shorter day this one. Craig's landlord provided a lift to Midhurst and we caught the bus to Cocking, after stocking up on ibuprofen to ease my aching feet.

Could not have asked for better weather for the start of a walk. We hardly saw a soul for the first few hours until we were on top of the downs. The skies were blue, the views spectacular. Fields flecked with haystacks, glimpses of the shining sea, etc. We even had home-made sandwiches and windfall fruit to help us on with our endeavours. The rain came briefly around mid-day but we were well prepared. On went the waterproofs. Once bitten, twice shy.

Arriving in Amberley around half 2 we caught the train into Arundel where our hostel was located. Our first stay in a YHA hostel was a pleasure. Local bottled beers, friendly receptionists, good pub tips. We ambled into Arundel for tea but were too late to properly view the castle which dominates the townscape. The Red Lion was very pleasant in all aspects, it even had a resident, lovely porky black hound that liked strokes. However, the music was exclusively Kings of Leon which is frankly enough to ruin any evening. Of course it didn't, but it was a black mark nevertheless. Finished the evening by updating the blog and currently listening to Craig debating the cause of the London riots with a retired home office worker! Ah, sleep cannot come soon enough.

Day 3 - East Meon to Cocking

Wet, wet, wet.

Got a great early start in the mist and made great time but then the heavens opened. Hours of up and down walking on the downs in sheet rain that soaked through everything we had and filled one of Craig's boots with water. We found some refuge in a disused barn that was a bright spot. Indeed, we had covered a lot of ground by early afternoon. Early in the day we had climbed and descended a large hill that had army men training by running up and down it in full packs! Then later we passed a large group marching for charity who looked woefully underprepared for the deluge that followed. Incredibly after the weather had turned in the late afternoon and we finally stopped 18 miles later in a pub in Cocking to dry off, lone behold the charity walkers turned up! They offered a lift back to Petersfield and we offered a small donation. What could have been a rough day's walking actually turned out rather well.

The views when the weather broke were beautiful and we were able to dry our stuff at Craig's house in Petersfield in the evening. A pasta meal, a few beers and a big sleep. Day 3 over. 36 miles done.

Sunday 4 September 2011

Don't wanna walk from Fagg's Farm no more

Things I learned on the second day walking the SDW:

1. An early start (830am) pays dividends - we were able to stop for 20 minutes for morning coffee (Jack - green tea) and millionaire cake (Jack - no food) at Queen Elizabeth Country Park visitor centre.

2. The SDW used to start/end at Fagg's Farm three miles north of Petersfield (this would be a nondescript beginning or end to a National Trail and no mistake) but the start was moved to Winchester in 1989. Grand indeed.

3. Shoes sold as waterproof may not actually be waterproof when it comes to wearing them in the rain.

4. The spirit of fellow walkers can simultaneously lift and dampen your morale. Two friendly gentleman passing us in the opposite direction today greeted us warmly, cheering
us in the driving rain, but then said: "Don't worry, only 70 miles to Eastbourne!"

Pictured - me in rain gear, with 69 miles to go 'til Eastbourne.


Day Two: Winchester-East Meon

Awoke to a hearty English breakfast, toast, juices and tea at the B&B. It would have been the perfect start and we even managed to broker a promising conversation with a man at the breakfast table. Unfortunately myself and Craig fell silent (as much with bewilderment as disgust) when conversation turned to stabbings in London. A sample (and I paraphrase here somewhat):

"[Daughter of ex-pat couple] Yah, I like used to live in a tota

lly rough area of London with stabbings and shit but now I live in a really nice part that's boring, just how I like it."

"[Annoying girl at breakfast table from Bristol] Yah, I like so know what you mean but it's a really great city. It's totally not as bad as how New York City used to be or L.A. is now. Yah, We're not as bad as America."

"[Mother] Yah, stabbings are bad."

Thankfully the dad told us who Izaak Walton was: A famous fisherman who is buried in Winchester Cathedral! We would later have a pint in The Izaak Walton in East Meon.

Anyway, the walk itself. Beautiful weather. My racy pale blue sun hat purchased from a charity shop that morning paid for itself over the course of the day. Within an hour we were 'uponthedowns' and enjoying the scenery. The whole day was glorious, we made great time until lunch at The Shoe in Exton (12 miles from Winchester). After that we climbed Old Winchester Hill and enjoyed the sights, although the iron age barrows were not immediately obvious until we viewed them later from a mile away. Likewise we think we saw the Isle of Wight but it was difficult to make out (our eyesight is somewhat lacking). This long opening stage seemed to go on forever through sunny fields and tree-lined paths. We navigated our first field of cows and summoned up extraordinary willpower to walk past a riverside cafe advertising cold beers! We were left to rue that decision as we climbed Salt Hill in the searing afternoon heat, our only entertainment being my long description of the plot and meaning of La Haine to Craig. [Pictured below is the last section of day one - we descended into this valley, through the farm you can see in the middle of the picture and on into the hills just right of centre.]

Finally we arrived at The Sustainability Centre at around half 5 to discover the kitchen of the hostel was beyond our use as a party of 30+ people had booked the whole building for a 21st birthday celebration. Anyway, we were allowed to scavenge some breakfast food and take it back to our Yurt, whereupon we mulled over our options for the evening meal. Tired and hungry we tried to order pizza from the nearest town six miles away. Failing in that task we opted to walk to East Meon two miles down a village road with no pavement. So dangerous was this that we decided it was best not to attempt a return in the dark so we ate at The Izaak Walton pub and ordered a usurious cab journey back to the Yurt.

Our sleep in the Yurt was nothing short of magical by candle light (tea lights lit with matches borrowed from neighbourly campers) though I was awoken by a pattering of small feet outside at around 2 in the morning. I convinced myself that this was a lovely badger and not a rat eating the apple core that Craig had left outside and drifted back to sleep. End of Day Two.

Where there's a hill there's a way

Some things I learned on the first day walking the SDW:

1. You're not allowed (by your walking companion) to stop at every pub you walk past otherwise you won't arrive at your destination before dark.

2. Cows don't attack unless provoked.

3. One mile is a much larger and more difficult amount of distance to walk at 4pm, when you have already walked 16 miles that day, than it is at 930am when you are full of breakfast and enthusiasm.

4. Pizza delivery companies in Petersfield won't deliver to a yurt on a camp site six miles away.

Here's a photo of a pub we didn't stop at.