Walking for pleasure

 

As well as beer and travel, one of my other main interests is walking. By walking I mean being out in the great outdoors, travelling from one destination to another, preferably across country. This cross-country walking, as opposed to pounding the streets in urban areas, is variously described as hiking, rambling, hill walking, trekking, or backpacking. The latter two terms refer to long-distance walking where participants carry their entire luggage required for a multi-day hike, on their back in a rucksack. Walking, particularly in high mountain areas for several days, is also known as trekking.

Rambling normally refers to organised groups of between six and twelve people, following a clearly defined route plan. To me, rambling, conjures up middle-aged men in shorts, over-sized leather boots, brushed-cotton shirts with the sleeves rolled up and a large, stiff, and well-worn canvas rucksack on their backs. The women are of similar age and similarly attired; possibly with a tweed skirt replacing the shorts. Whether it’s a rucksack, a knapsack, or a backpack they’re carrying (the terms are largely inter-changeable), it will invariably contain an Ordnance Survey map, a flask of tea, packed lunch, plus that confectionery no serious rambler would be without – Kendal Mint Cake!

I prefer the term walker, and most of the walking I undertake is either a circular hike to a nice country pub, or a linear hike following an established long-distance footpath (LDP), of which there are many in the UK. The former are normally undertaken with a small group of friends, whilst the latter are either solo walks, or with just one fellow walker for company. They quite often involve at least one overnight stay, and often several more. The latter two are my favourite types of walking, as they afford a real opportunity of getting away from away from it all; a break as it were from the stresses and strains of modern life.

I have only completed three long-distance footpaths all of which are in the UK. The first of these walks was the South Downs Way, which is one of the oldest of Britain’s LDP’s. The SDW is a 100-mile trail which follows the line on the chalk South Downs uplands from Eastbourne on the East Sussex coast to Winchester – the ancient capital of England. The second LDP is the Wealdway, an 83-mile trail from Gravesend on the Thames Estuary to the town of Eastbourne, on the south coast, overlooking the English Channel. As its name suggests, the walk traverses the Weald area of Kent and Sussex, in a roughly north-south direction.

I completed both these walks over 10 years ago, and last autumn (2022), I finally finished the North Downs Way. The latter LDP is perhaps a mirror image to the SDW, as it takes a similar east-west route, but along the chalk escarpment of the North Downs. It broadly follows the historic pilgrims would have taken, from the Surrey town of Farnham to the shrine of St Thomas Becket in Canterbury. It doesn’t end at the cathedral city, as it carries on towards Dover and the famous White Cliffs, and just to complicate matters, the path splits just to the west of the river Stour, with northerly and southerly routes, both of which finish at Dover,

It took me much longer to complete the NDW, as with a couple of exceptions, I walked the route a section at a time, on the odd day off from work. This was in contrast to the other two walks which were completed several sections at a time, with overnight stays, either at pubs or bed & breakfast establishments along the way. Overnight stops were a key feature of these walks and added to the sense of freedom and relief that goes hand-in-hand with “getting away from it all.”

Sometimes it's nice to walk alone, especially when you fancy a bit of solitude, but the enjoyment which comes from shared experiences on the trail, such as appreciating a spectacular view, laughing at a particularly funny joke, or sinking that first pint of the evening, is something which cannot be under-estimated. It’s nice to set a challenge, plan it out and then set off to accomplish it. If the challenge is a physical one, then so much the better, and as I experienced on the NDW, walking the entire length of the county, and then heading into neighbouring Surrey, took me to places I hadn’t been to before, even though they’re at most a few hours’ drive or train ride away.

There are several other LDPs I would like to have a go at, Including the famous Pennine Way, the Cotswold Way, and nearer to home the Greensand Way. If I had my time again, or was perhaps 30 years younger, the world famous, 2,200-mile-long, Appalachian Trail in the east of the United States would be the long-distance walk to aspire to. The American writer Bill Bryson famously recounted his experiences attempting to walk the trail, in his book, “A Walk in the Woods,” but the book that really inspired me was “Journey Through Britain,” by British walking enthusiast, John Hillaby. 

Published in 1968, the book describes Mr Hillaby’s epic eleven-hundred-mile trek from Land’s End to John O’Groats. My father, who was an avid reader, as well as a collector of books, lent me his copy. I read it whilst in my teens and still living at home with my parents. I eagerly devoured the book, fascinated by the author’s narrative and descriptions of the places he passed through on his epic journey. From memory, he had an interesting and slightly eccentric view of life, and this comes across in his often-witty observations. A few years later, he published a follow-up in the form of “Journey Through Europe.”

Both books inspired me to take up walking for both fitness and pleasure, and I have enjoyed walking since my mid-teens. During this time, I lived in a small village, with poor or non-existent public transport links. This meant it was often necessary to resort to shank’s pony as a means of getting about. I was also a member of a local youth group which, during the school holidays, embarked on a number of Youth-Hostelling trips. I’ve got the leader of the group to thank for taking us on these holidays, which involved a fair amount of walking and, whilst it may on occasion have seemed hard going at times, just being out in the fresh air and enjoying the local scenery, instilled a love of the great outdoors which I still have today.

For the record the group leader was the local vicar, and the locations we visited, and walked, included the South Downs, North Wales, the Peak District, and the Isle of Wight. On one of these trips, I learned how to take compass bearings and follow these across open moorland, without getting lost. You don’t lose these skills and even though navigation by GPS has largely augmented proper map-reading, there is still no substitute for being able to follow a map, unaided.

A few years ago, I heard an article on the radio entitled, “It’s the sitting down that kills you”. Apparently, research has shown that sitting down in excess of six hours a day makes you up to 40% more likely to die within 15 years, than someone who sits for less than three hours. This applies, even if you exercise! Fortunately, as stated earlier, I’ve always been fairly active, and my current job allows me to walk around the factory on a regular basis.I also go for a walk most lunchtimes, covering between a mile and a mile and a half. This allows me some exercise before getting back to my sandwiches and a cup of tea. I really enjoy being out in the fresh air and getting away from the factory, whilst the rural setting of my workplace adds to my enjoyment. Following a small number of set routes also allows me to appreciate the changing seasons; something which is obviously far more noticeable in the country than it is in a town.

I shall end by describing briefly, the sense of achievement and euphoria I experienced on my first LDW, which was the South Downs Way. It was the spring of 2008 when a friend and I set off to walk the 100 or so miles from Eastbourne to Winchester. We completed the walk the following year, having divided the trail up into three manageable sections. We stayed overnight at B & B establishments along the way; some of which were pubs, and in the evenings especially, there was normally plenty of beer consumed to rejuvenate a tired and aching body. I cannot overstate the enjoyment of walking through some of the most attractive landscapes in southern England, the camaraderie, and the people we met along the way.

We felt a real sense of achievement at finishing this LDP, and the following morning celebrated our arrival in Winchester, by visiting the Hospital of St Cross, just outside the city. Having followed the outward path through the water meadows surrounding the river Itchen, we arrived at this venerable Christian establishment, where we asked for, and received the "Wayfarer's Dole" of bread and ale. Whilst neither of us are religious, we still felt like modern day pilgrims, and that sense of fulfillment is something I still remember to this day. Walking then, can be good for the soul, as well as the body, and is an activity that I highly recommend.

 

 

A brief walkabout around sunny Tonbridge

The end of last week started with a spot of car trouble, but more about that another time.  Perhaps I’m being paranoid, but it does seem like something goes wrong every time we return from a trip away.  This aside, Mrs PBT’s and I ended up missing our regular Saturday morning drive over to Tesco, at Riverhead. It didn’t really matter, as we’d stopped off on Tuesday, at a massive Tesco store near Emsworth, on our drive back from Southampton, so we were pretty well stocked, provision-wise, as it happened.

With the shopping trip cancelled, the opportunity for a pub visit was already running through my mind, when Mrs PBT's informed me there was a parcel of hers awaiting collection down at M&S.  She suggested I could pick it up on my way back from Fuggles. How did you know I was planning to go to Fuggles? I replied. Call it feminine intuition, was her response. As it happens, I needed to call in at the building society, plus one or two other places in Tonbridge, and had planned to stop off in Tonbridge for a beer. If I'm honest it wasn't necessarily Fuggles that I’d be heading for, but it remained a distinct possibility.

So, with the sun shining and not a cloud in the sky I set off on a short walk down into the centre of Tonbridge. I called in at the Nationwide, pleased to see that one financial outlet, at least, still remains open in the town. Now the news is that Tonbridge will soon be getting its own banking hub. This is great news for all those local people who have campaigned for such a facility in the town. Tonbridge was bustling with shoppers, all enjoying the most welcome sunshine. After withdrawing some cash at the building society, I turned off from the High Street towards Town Lock and the path along the river Medway. The towpath is well-trodden, and is one I know well from my first years of working in Tonbridge.

I lived in Maidstone at the time and not having a vehicle at my disposal, travelled into Tonbridge by train. A walk along the High Street and then a right turn into Medway Wharf Road, took me to Town Lock and from there, the path along the riverbank meant that in 25 minutes or so, I could be at my desk ready to start work. Much of the riverside area has now been developed, with rows of tall, brick-built apartments lining the nearest of the two banks, and some more pleasant looking, Scandinavian-style dwellings, with brightly coloured wooden facades on the opposite side.

The final piece of land, earmarked for development, is the site formerly occupied by two large, but obsolete gas holders. These were dismantled and removed last year, and newly cleared site is now awaiting redevelopment. The engineering company where I started my career in Tonbridge, is also gone with the 1960’s office block pulled down, and the older and more functional area at the rear also vanished. The latter was, at one time, home to the short-lived, Storey Motor Company one of the early pioneers in the field of car production. One of the new buildings, now occupying the site, is the Marks & Spencer food hall, and that is where I had to collect Eileen’s parcel from. Mission accomplished I headed back into Tonbridge, passing the site of the old Town Mill on my way.

I then turned off Bordyke and took a path leading past the Parish Church of St Peter & St Paul. Just a short distance away was the first of the two pubs I intended to visit. The Ivy House needs little introduction, as I have written about it on this blog, several times in the past. Housed in an attractive old tile-hung building which dates back to the 15^th Century, the Ivy House started life as a tollhouse. It was known as the Elephant & Castle until becoming the Ivy House, a name presumably acquired on account of the ivy which covered the building at one time.

Over time, it has undergone various changes and has developed into something of a gastropub. Despite this, it has been tastefully renovated without losing its essential character and remains a pleasant place to enjoy a pint or two. My last visit to the pub was for breakfast with Matthew, towards the end of last year, but it had been ages since I had a pint in the pub. 

Approaching the bar I noticed the pub’s two cask beers were Harvey’s Best plus Tonbridge Coppernob. Feeling slightly disappointed that Pilsener Urquell was no longer available (I’m not sure when that Czech classic was discontinued), I opted instead for a pint of Sussex Best, priced in excess of £6.00!  I took take my beer outside to recover from the shock, but mainly to take advantage of the unseasonably good and very welcome spring sunshine.

There were plenty of other customers also taking advantage of the weather, but I managed to find a little spot all to myself, tucked away in an almost unseen area behind the pub. I have to say the Harvey’s was in fine form and was worthy of a 4.5 NBSS, had I been scoring. I sat there contentedly enjoying excellent beer, enjoying the moment and generally just chilling out. Despite the excellent beer and pleasant setting, it was time to move on, so leaving the Ivy House I retraced my steps back through the churchyard, before turning right into East Street. 

There, roughly halfway down, on the right is the Man of Kent, a fine old weather boarded pub, of similar antiquity to the Ivy House, tucked away down a side street just off the town centre. This was the first Tonbridge pub that I set foot in, whilst on a reconnaissance trip, prior to starting my new job in the town. The Man of Kent belonged to Charrington’s at the time and as well as stocking Charrington IPA, also served a very acceptable pint of Draught Bass. 

It wasn’t long after starting in my new position that I started calling in to the Man of Kent for a lunchtime pint, normally on a Friday and sometimes accompanied by one of my new colleagues. The pub was a real classic, old-fashioned town local, that I visited whenever I could, especially when I moved to Tonbridge, five years later. Things have obviously changed over the past four decades, and the pub trade has been altered out of all recognition. 

The introduction of the Beer Orders, at the beginning of the 1990’s, led to the selling off of many pubs belonging to the so-called “Big Six” brewers in the UK. This piece of legislation was supposed to free-up the market, by encouraging competition, and whilst full of good intentions, was badly thought out. 

Without going over too much old ground, the end result saw the Big Six brewers, being replaced by a number of equally large pub-owning companies – the so-called Pub Co’s. If anything, these organisations were far worse than the brewers they replaced. The Man of Kent was one of many pubs sold off as a result of the Beer Orders, although today it is owned by a small local company called Pendry Inns. Somewhere along the line, the partition between the Public and Saloon bars was removed, along with the Draught Bass. Fortunately, it was substituted with Harvey’s Best.

The latter was one of two cask beers on sale last Saturday, the other being St Austell Tribute. I opted for the latter, because of its rarity value, but it wasn’t exactly at its best. There was a dozen or so punters in the bar, all glued to the TV where some football game or other was taking place. Perhaps sensing my disquiet, or possibly just because he wanted to get rid of me, the landlord asked if I wanted to take my beer out to the garden. Situated at the rear, it seemed a good idea, until I discovered that the commentary was being relayed out there as well. Talk about no escape! The other issue was that the courtyard garden is surrounded by private houses on three sides, so I’m not sure how they feel about having to put up with some latter-day David Coleman disturbing the King’s Peace.

It was time to go, but despite commentary from the so-called “beautiful game” being blasted into my ears, I’m still pleased that I gave the Man of Kent a try, if only for old time’s sake. Given that most of the customers were there for the football, I feel correct in assuming that the pub remains very much a locals’ pub, so who am I to criticize it? The Ivy House, on the other hand, caters for a more transitory crowd, as well as those who enjoy “posh nosh”, and that, in a nutshell, if you’ll excuse the pun, is the Great British pub in a nutshell, as we move into the next quarter of the 21^st century.