An autumnal walk along the North Downs Way - Part One

It’s over two weeks now since my two-day jaunt along a section of the North Downs Way, and I suddenly realised that I hadn’t really chronicled the route I took, the sights I saw or people and things I encountered along the way. What I will say is, looking back, I am extremely glad I grasped the opportunity of those two glorious mid-October days to make the most of the Kent countryside and spend a night away, in the comfort and tranquillity of a traditional, old English inn.

Before booking those two days, I had a feeling that the country could be heading into some form of lockdown; although I didn’t appreciate at the time quite how restrictive this would be. Still, as a colleague of mine I fond of saying, we are where we are, and with precious little else to write about, what follows is the account of my walk.

My walk was due to start from the large village of Charing; a settlement built on the slope of the North Downs, at the junction of two major highways.  In order to reach the village, I caught an early morning train coast bound service from Tonbridge, changing trains at Ashford.

The interval between arrival and departure at Ashford International, was one minute; an impossibly short time as I discovered, given the distance between platforms. This was despite the service from Tonbridge arriving a few minutes ahead of schedule, and my best efforts to make the connection. I hurried down the steps to the subway, passing under the currently disused international Eurostar platforms.

 

I almost made it, but with the dispatcher blowing his whistle, and
shouting at me to move away from the departing train, I missed the London Victoria-bound service by less than 30 seconds. After apologising for my foolhardiness, there was no option but to wait half an hour for the next train. Fortunately, the café on the platform I’d just come from, was open, and rather irritatingly, that was where the train to Victoria would be departing from.

I was able to grab a rather good cup of coffee and take advantage of the bacon roll offer. £2.99 for a coffee, but only £3.99 with a sausage or bacon roll thrown in. The downside was the Covid restrictions which had rendered all the inside seating as out of bounds – what a miserable, little, anti-social bastard, Coronavirus is!

I managed to find a vacant seat on the draughty, rainswept platform, thinking that the weather wasn’t boding well for my walk. Fortunately, by the time my train arrived and transported me the short six-minute journey to Charing, the sky was clearing, and that was the last I would see of the wet weather for the next few days.

Charing station lies to the south of the village, whilst the NDW passes close to its northern extremity, so there was an uphill walk, through the attractive main street, in order to reach the trail. First, I had to cross the busy A20 road;  the main thoroughfare between Ashford and Maidstone, before the opening of the M20 motorway.

Despite having formerly resided in both these towns, I knew very little of Charing, apart from the nightspot it once boasted, called "King Arthur’s Court." Housed at the now permanently closed, Swan Inn, a mock-Tudor roadhouse, built in the 1920’s, King Arthur’s was the “in place” for trendy Ashford youth. But with soul and disco, not really my scene, I wasn’t exactly a regular visitor.

As mentioned, my route took me up the rather narrow, village High Street, past an abundance of attractive and historic houses and shops. One former kitchen shop now houses the Bookmaker’s Arms micro-pub; currently the only pub in a village that is home to over 2,700 inhabitants.

Quarter to nine in the morning was obviously far too early for a swift pint, so I continued my walk, up through the village to where the High Street narrows further and becomes the appropriately named “The Hill.” At the top I crossed the busy A252 Faversham Road and continued for a short distance before turning left onto the Pilgrims Way and, for me, the point where I joined the NDW.

As I wrote in an earlier post, the "Pilgrims Way" is a relatively modern name for an ancient trackway, although pilgrims on their way to Canterbury would undoubtedly have

made use of it. The track runs almost directly below the escarpment of the downs, which meant it was relatively flat. It is also tarmac for most of the route, which was an added bonus, although there was a stretch where the hard surfacing disappeared and was replaced by the wettest and muddiest conditions of the entire walk.

Amongst the contrasting sights I passed along the way, was the Memorial Cross, cut into the chalk grassland in 1922, just above the village of Lenham, to commemorate those who fell in the Great War. The cross serves as the village war memorial and is clearly visible for quite some distance. You can’t help noticing it as you pass along the A20; a road I have travelled along dozens of times. This was the first time though, that I’d seen from close quarters.

Further along, the Pilgrims Way passes the rear of the sprawling Marley Works, which were established in 1923, originally as a joinery works making doors and windows. The Marley name is well-known today, with factories in other locations of the country, whilst the works here concentrate on producing plastic drainage pipes and roof guttering. It is quite well camouflaged, by hedges and trees, and the only real sign of the hustle and bustle taking place behind this natural barrier, is the hum of machinery and the noise made by forklift trucks, trundling between the various buildings.

I eventually reached the small and attractive village of Hollingbourne, which lies on the southern slopes of the North Downs. The attraction here was the Dirty Habit pub, which provided a welcome lunchtime break and the opportunity for a well-earned pint of Harvey’s.  I wrote about the pub, in some detail here.

The final four miles of the first day’s walk were undoubtedly the hardest, as after leaving the Dirty Habit, the NDW climbs right to the top of the escarpment. The ascent was worth it in terms of views, but it was a tough going, following on from the nine miles I’d already walked. The route wasn’t that easy to follow either, with the waymarks either missing or none-existent in the first place.

You can read more about this section here, where I describe how I eventually reached the end of the first day’s stretch, and my resting place for the night, at the lovely old Black Horse Inn, at Thurnham.