Back on the trail again

As regular readers will know, I’ve been attempting to walk the entire length of the North Downs Way. Although not as well-known as some of England’s long-distance footpaths, it’s still a trail that is well worth completing.  It’s true to say that it mirrors the more famous South Downs Way, and whilst it does have the disadvantage of, at times,  passing the southern periphery of the capital, by adhering largely to the line of chalkland uplands, it winds its way from west to east through some scenic and, at times, quite spectacular countryside.

Eleven years ago, a friend and I completed the South Downs Way. We did this in three stages, spread out over a couple of years, following the route westwards from Eastbourne in Sussex, to the end of the trail in the Hampshire city of Winchester.

I have adopted a rather different approach towards the NDW; a situation that arose because I had no intention to start with, of walking this trail in its entirety. Back in the summer of 2017, I joined a small group of friends in accompanying a member of our loose-knit walking group on what proved to be the final stages of the NDW. This keen rambler had been walking the trail in stages, spread out over two or three years.

He’d began his walk in Farnham, where the NDW commences, and had slowly been heading east. As he edged nearer to completion of the walk, in Dover, he’d been joined on several stages by one or two other keen walkers, and this is where I came in. So, in July 2017, I accompanied this small informal group on two stretches of what is known as the “Canterbury Loop,” of the NDW.

These sections were from Wye to Chartham and from Shepherdswell to Dover. Because I enjoyed both walks, the idea of perhaps walking the NDW in its entirety, slowly formed in my head. That plan was reinforced when I received an A-Z Guide, mapping out the trail, in my Christmas stocking.

It didn’t take long before this plan hit a stumbling block, following the hospitalisation of Mrs PBT’s at the start of 2018. I nearly lost her to a bout of pneumonia which developed into sepsis, and what followed was a spell in ICU and then a lengthy period of recovery and recuperation.  Thoughts of walking any stretches of the NDW went out the window, and it wasn’t until the following year, that I was able to put my plans for this long-distance trail back into action.

I completed the Canterbury loop in July 2019, during a three-day spell involving two overnight stops. The intention then was to turn westward and head off towards Farnham, but it wasn’t until January of this year that I was able to get another section under my belt. This stretch was from Otford to Wrotham, and part of this section was a walk with the same informal group of walkers to the unspoilt Rising Sun, at Cotman’s Ash, high on the North Downs above Kemsing.

And then along came Coronavirus. Talk about a double whammy, it was almost as if events were conspiring against me ever completing the NDW! I did manage a further two sections during lock-down, but these were, of necessity, very short, so it was with some excitement that I set off early on Friday morning to walk a much longer stretch.

My aim was to walk to Cuxton, just below the crossing of the River Medway, from the bus stop at the top of Vigo Hill on the A227. This was the point I’d walked to from Wrotham with son Matthew, back in June, and carrying on to Cuxton would mean completing an unbroken stretch 17-mile section of the NDW leading west to Dunton Green, just to the north of Sevenoaks.

With fair weather forecast and with public transport options available at either end of the walk, I set off in good spirits, pleased to be back on the trail and escaping the claustrophobic confinement of Coronavirus lock-down. After travelling by bus from Tonbridge, and swapping services at Sevenoaks, I arrived at the bus stop opposite the sadly closed Vigo Inn. This was to serve as my starting point, but before going further it’s worth mentioning I was one of only two passengers on both buses – so what was the point of wearing a mask?

I was glad to remove the wretched thing as I stepped off the bus, relieved to be breathing freely again, and after crossing the busy A227 with care, headed off towards Trosley Country Park. This 170-acre area of woodland and chalk downland, was once part of the Trosley Tower Estate. Today it is managed by Kent County Council and is a popular with dog walkers, families and all who appreciate an unspoilt area of downland.

I certainly encountered plenty of dog walkers as I walked through the woods that run parallel with the top of the ridge, but after leaving the country park, and dropping down off the ridge by means of a steeply descending path, I saw very few other people afterwards. This was apart from two riders on horseback, who loomed large through the gloom of the woods. I must admit they scared the cr*p out of me for those few moments it took for my eyes to properly focus on what was coming towards me.

No need to be scared, of course, as they were two very pleasant ladies and their horses seemed docile enough too, but I’m sure there is some deep-rooted, primeval fear in many of us, about walking alone through a darkened wood. Tales from childhood, about wolves, witches and giants, designed to frighten the children and keep them quiet, obviously worked; although the original intentions may have been to prevent youngsters from straying off into the woods and becoming lost, rather than anything more sinister.

The people who piece together long-distance trails, have to strike a balance between following existing rights of way, the need to avoid private land and steering clear of built-up areas and major roads. This sometimes means descending from high ground for a while before climbing back up onto a ridge, or escarpment.

On open downland, such as much of the South Downs Way, there is little need for this – much to the relief of walkers like me, who dislike what seems like unnecessary effort. Given the more enclosed nature of much of the NDW, this losing and the re-gaining of height is much more common, and this was the situation I encountered several times during Friday’s walk.

So, after a quite lengthy stretch at the foot of the escarpment, along the Pilgrim’s Way, it was back up to the summit before heading north towards the area around Holly Hill. En route I passed Holly Hill Lodge and eventually Holly Hill House, but this stretch really was one of the most pleasant sections of the entire walk.  I stopped for a brief chat with the postman, whose van seemed to be following me along the lane, but soon after I passed into Greatpark Wood, followed by a whole series of other named “woods.”

According to my guidebook, these areas of woodland collectively make up Rochester Forest, and for much of the rest of the route, I was walking beneath trees – mainly beech if what I learned during my Boy Scout days was correct. The trees provided much needed shade for the fierceness of the midday sun, but they also acted as a windbreak. Consequently, with no refreshing breezes to cool things down, it did feel a little stuffy at times.

Fortunately, I’d brought plenty of water with me, as well as something to eat, and shortly before 1pm I chanced upon somewhere I could sit and enjoy my packed lunch. In a small clearing, at the junction of three paths, was a nice, solid-looking wooden bench, thoughtfully placed in memory of George Fuller, with an additional smaller plaque added (probably at a later date), in memory of his friend Colin Holman.

I always think such benches are a touching way for families to remember loved ones. There are quite a few of them dotted around Tonbridge Sportsground, and following the passing of our friend Eddie, last autumn, his widow had a bench placed in nearby Haysden Country Park, overlooking the lake. I was certainly appreciative of George Fuller’s family for providing somewhere comfortable for me to sit and enjoy my filled rolls.

More woodland followed, until eventually the path left the trees behind and with a dramatic change of scenery, I found myself in open countryside. The path led down into a steep valley, with an equally steep ascent on the other side. There was one further area of woodland to traverse before reaching the tint settlement of Upper Bush.

The road leading into Cuxton, beckoned ahead and whilst I was tempted to continue along the NDW for a further mile, and then approach the village from the north, I decided that discretion was definitely the best part of valour. My feet were starting to ache and a look at my Smart Watch indicated I had already covered ten and a half miles. This was a mile and a half further than I’d calculated from the map, so with this in mind, I turned right into Bush Road and headed into Cuxton.

It was a further mile until I reached the station, and whilst I was sorely tempted to call in at the nearby White Hart pub, my watch told me there wasn’t enough time before the train. There is only an hourly service running at present along the Medway Valley Line, but this does have the advantage of being a direct train to Tonbridge. I made my way to the station, located the ticket machine and then sat, waiting for the train to arrive, on a very uncomfortable metal seat, in the shade of the platform shelter.

The train was on time, and the air-conditioning was running. I had enough water to last the journey back to Tonbridge, where I would go and treat myself to a pint. The three-carriage train was more crowded than I expected, but still had plenty of room for social distancing. Not everyone was wearing masks though; the chief culprits being the youngsters. I wasn’t too bothered about this, but if I had been there were no railway staff visible, let alone willing, to enforce the regulation.

More to the point, there was no-one checking tickets and I suspect that virtually no revenue checks have been carried out these past four months. I can’t really blame the train crew for this, as confronting fare dodgers is fraught enough during normal times. You can just imagine, during the current pandemic, some little scrote threatening to cough or spit at the ticket inspector, to understand this reluctance, even if it does amount to a fare dodger’s charter!

I enjoyed the journey back to Tonbridge, as the train travelled along the Medway Valley. As we departed from Aylesford, the river changed from being tidal in nature, to that of a more peaceful and tranquil waterway, enjoyed by fishermen and boating enthusiasts in equal measure.

If you’ve read the previous post, you’ll know that once the train had reached Tonbridge, I called in at the Forester’s Arms for a well-earned pint of Whitstable Bay. It hardly touched the sides, but that’s another story!