Return to the Tunbridge Wells Circular Walk, but would I make it past those sinister looking sheep?

On Saturday, I pulled on my trusty hiking boots for the first time since last Spring and headed back out on the Tunbridge Wells Circular Walk. Last year I’d set myself the relatively easy task of completing this 28 mile walk which, as its name suggests, encompasses the town of Tunbridge Wells. On the way, the TWCW passes through the High Weald Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, and takes in some attractive villages, which include some excellent pubs. A guide book, published by the Kent Ramblers Association, divides the trail up into four sections of slightly equal length, with the opportunity of dividing these further. Being a circular route, there are opportunities to join the path at a number of different locations, whilst keeping in mind public transport connections at either end.

It should have been an easy task, after all when a friend and I walked the South Downs Way, we were covering distances between 12 and 14 miles, on a daily basis. That was 14 years ago, and unsurprisingly my levels of fitness and stamina have declined somewhat, but even so, just a couple of years ago, I was walking 8 to eleven miles a day, as I completed the quite challenging at times, North Downs Way.

By the end of May, last year, I’d only completed two of the four sections (15 miles) of the Tunbridge Wells Circular, before inexplicably losing interest in the walk. The guidebook was partly to blame, as I took several wrong turns due to a combination of poor signposting, plus scant, and in some cases, incomplete information in the guidebook. Becoming lost in the middle of a wood, is no fun, even though civilisation is never that far away, so I kind of gave up on the TWC – not completely, but the idea was definitely put on the back-burner.

This weekend though, I was determined to do something about it, and following a couple of weeks of dry and relatively warm weather – for the time of year, was determined to do something about it. Up to this point, I had walked in a clockwise direction, from Southborough to Frant, taking in the large village of Pembury on the way. The next stage is from Frant to Groombridge, a distance of just seven miles, although given my decreased levels of fitness, plus the possibility of muddy conditions under foot, I sensibly decided to cut the walk short at Eridge Green. This isn’t quite the halfway point, but with a half-hourly bus service back to Tunbridge Wells, it did make sense. So, on a rather dull and overcast Saturday morning, off I went, taking the bus over to Tunbridge Wells from Tonbridge.

I was lucky with my onward connection to Frant, having just a 15-minute wait, and after a short ride south, out of Tunbridge Wells along the A267, the No. 15 bus dropped me off almost out side the Abergavenny Arms. This imposing pub, dates from the 15^th Century, but has seen many alterations since first opening its rooms. It is one of two pubs in the village, but seeing as it was both nearer to the starting point of the walk, and the fact I wanted to renew my acquaintance with the pub, the Abergavenny was my first port of call.

There will be more about the Abergavenny in a subsequent post, and the same applies with the strangely named, Nevill Crest & Gun at the end of the walk in Eridge. For now, I want to concentrate on the walk, apart from saying that the walk I was about to undertake, was a repeat of the one I made with a group of friends, on August Bank Holiday Monday, 2020. This was during the period when COVID restrictions were first lifted, only to be re-imposed three month's later with that ridiculous 4-Tier system, devised by the hapless Matt Hancock. The bonus, at the time was our meal qualified for a 50% reduction, under the then Chancellor, Rishi Sunak’s “Eat Out to Help Out” scheme. Rishi is now Prime Minister, and Hancock thankfully, is nowhere to be seen, but three months later, we were to look back at those halcyon days when lock down was first lifted, with a sense of longing.

It's worth noting that my friends and I had walked to the Abergavenny from Tunbridge Wells earlier that day, and after our meal hiked a similar distance to Eridge. On Saturday, after leaving the pub, I continued along the A267 for some distance, concerned that I might have missed the spot where the TWCW deviates from the main road, and descends into Eridge Park. I hadn’t missed it, even though the turnoff seemed much further away than I remembered from 3½ years ago, but the drop down into the park was every bit as steep as I recall. The path was slippery as well, and contained umpteen trip hazards, in the form of exposed tree roots.

Worse was to come, in the form of mud and lots of it, and my initial optimism that it might be reasonably dry underfoot, soon vanished. I was warned about the mud by a group of ramblers who were making their way up to Frant, after having walked over from Eridge. One look at their muddy boots and trouser bottoms said it all, although it was some way down before I reached the really muddy areas. These were found in the relatively flat bottom of the hollow, where a series of lakes, topped up by a number of streams, makes this an idyllic spot in summer.

The area didn’t look anywhere near as attractive in early February, but I kept plodding steadily on, only to reach a sign which said “Halfway ish.”  Discovering there was a similar distance still to walk, was rather dis-heartening, because whilst this section of the trail was only three miles in length it seemed much longer, thanks in no small part to the muddy conditions underfoot, which made for slow going. A walk which should only have taken an hour, ended up taking nearly two because of the constant need to make ones way around the worst of the muddy areas.

I almost got lost again, although the guidebook did hint that one should bear right, across a stream, and then continue steeply uphill. Having to leave the mud-free, metalled road I’d been walking along, didn’t seem right, but fortunately salvation appeared in the form of a young couple, who knew where they were going. They suggested that I follow them, which I did, but they soon disappeared from sight, being much faster walkers than me. This didn’t matter too much, as after looking at both my map and guidebook, I could see I was on the correct path.

Getting left behind, seems the story of my rambling life, as I am quite a slow walker. This is the principle reason I prefer to walk on my own, as it ends up quite embarrassing when walking companions end up having to stop and wait for me, at the brow of every hill, or area where the path splits in two. And Mrs PBT’s thinks I’m a fast walker! Fortunately, I was on the final straight, and at the top of the final hill I could hear the noise of the traffic on the busy A26.

There was one last hurdle to contend with, and that was a field of sheep, or rather two fields, as they were interconnected. A field full of livestock doesn’t normally bother me, and I have

walked through herds of cattle (including one containing a rather large bull) as well as flocks of sheep, without any trouble. This lot had a look about them though which was far from friendly, and when several sheep came bounding towards me, I had to scare them off by waving my rucksack in front of them. That worked for a while, but as I continued towards the second field, further woolly beasts made their appearance and didn’t look like giving up on me.

Again, waving my backpack and my stick along with raising my voice had little effect, so foolishly or not I made my way towards them making as much noise as possible. They backed away, but then their mates in the second field came funnelling through the gap in the hedge to join the others. Once they were all through the gap, that was my cue to make my way as quickly as possible towards the kissing gate at the far edge of the field, and escape.

I recall a work colleague claiming that sheep can, if alarmed, charge at people with the objective of headbutting them to the ground. This is where the danger lies, because should you find yourself in this unfortunate position, the herd will take great delight in trampling you, possibly with serious and even fatal consequences! Knowing this and determined to show these normally docile creatures who was boss, my tactics of waving things around, shooing them away and looking them directly in the eye worked, and I escaped from the field unscathed.

I double checked the way mark signs plus my map, and was definitely on a public right of way, so technically I wasn’t at fault. One possible explanation for the sheep’s intimidating behaviour could be the lambing season is fast approaching and these expectant mums would soon be giving birth. It makes sense, wanting to protect their unborn from a nasty man, even though his sole aim was to get across their field, to the other side of the road, where a nice welcoming pint of beer was waiting for him.

The Nevill Crest & Gun was indeed just a few minutes’ walk away, and next time I shall tell you about the pub, and how it served me one of the best pints of Harvey’s I’ve had in a long time. 

Footnote: the second sheep picture belongs to another time and another place, but they still look quite menacing, don't you think?