Pilgrims on their way to Canterbury |
Last Friday I joined three friends for a 12 mile hike along part of the North Downs Way. One of the friends has completed much of the 156 mile long-distance trail, which
starts at Farnham in Hampshire, and runs all the way to the White Cliffs at Dover.
He could actually claim to have finished the trail, were it not for the fact
that whilst the main route follows the line of the downs escarpment, there is a loop which
runs north to Canterbury, before
heading back towards Dover. It is
this section that my friend is keen to finish.
My other two companions have accompanied the first friend on
some of the Kentish sections, and knowing that they were planning part of the Canterbury
section on Friday, I booked the day off in order to accompany them.
Way-marker |
Fortunately, following the heat wave at the beginning of the
week, the temperatures had dropped by around 10°, but with scarcely a cloud in
the sky, some form of protection was needed against the intensity of the
mid-June sun. So after smothering myself with sun-block and donning a hat
for good measure, I wandered down to Tonbridge station to meet my friends for
our journey down to the village of Wye,
which is just to the north of Ashford. (I should also add that we all took
plenty of water with us, along with a packed lunch).
Wye is a location I know well, having spent much of my
teenage years living in the nearby village
of Brook. I was a member of a youth
group there, as well as belonging to the local scout troop, so it was
interesting to be back there; even if we soon departed after picking up the NDW
to the west of the village. However, we would be returning later in the day for
a mini-beer festival, (more about that later).
Wye lies on the River Stour, and the route we would be
following runs along high ground, over-looking the Stour
valley. We walked out of the village, passing the site of the long-closed Wye Racecourse, before heading due west, across fields, towards the downs which
were rising in front of us.
Mountain Street |
There was a slow, steady rise at first which gradually
became steeper after we passed Boughton Aluph church. There were a couple of
large marquees erected in the adjacent field, advertising an art exhibition
which was due to take place at the weekend, and it was shortly after here that
the path began to climb steeply. Fortunately most of this section was through
woodland, so we were shaded from the ferocity of the midday sun.
We paused at the top for a short break, to take on some
water and a quick bite to eat, before continuing on our way. The route through woodland
skirted Godmersham Park;
a stately pile which was once owned by the brother of the novelist, Jane
Austen. We couldn’t help noticing the high wire fence running along the estate
perimeter, designed to keep out the herds of deer which inhabit Challock
Forest. It is also worth mentioning
that this area of woodland is extensively managed; the predominantly sweet
chestnut trees being coppiced at appropriate intervals, and the resultant
timber used for items such as fencing poles.
Route into Chilham |
Eventually, we passed out of the wood, but not before
descending via a steep and rocky path, made worse by the dozens of loose stones
underfoot. This stretch was quite painful on the feet, so I was particularly
glad I’d worn proper hiking boots. We then travelled along a made-up road known as Mountain
Street, which skirts the edge of Chilham
Castle grounds. Through the railings,
by the side of the road, we could see the castle up on the hill over-looking an
ornamental lake. This was a welcome sign as it indicated we were close to
Chilham itself and the chance to rest up for a while and to enjoy a welcome
lunchtime pint.
Chilham Castle |
It was a bit of a climb up into the village, with its
picturesque square, flanked by some lovely old buildings, and presiding over it
all is the impressive bulk of Chilham Castle. Were it not for the cars
parked in the square it wouldn’t be difficult to imagine one had been
transported back to medieval times. It is worth mentioning that the building
known as Chilham Castle
is an attractive, brick-built Jacobean house, which dates back to 1607. It
replaces a much earlier castle which had medieval origins. Both the “castle”,
and the village have been used as settings for a number of historical dramas,
including an adaptation of Jane Austen’s Emma, and an episode of Agatha
Christie’s Poirot.
Directly opposite Chilham
Castle is the 15th
Century church of St
Mary, and to the left of the churchyard is the 16th
Century White Horse pub. After having walked approximately seven miles, it was
the latter establishment which caught our eye, and we entered the welcoming
coolness of the interior with eager anticipation.
The serving area occupies the middle section of the pub, and
although linked, there is a choice of areas to sit in. As the pumps were
in the right hand section, we made a beeline there, but ended up sitting in the
left hand area, where there was more space and a table adjacent to the
impressive stone fireplace.
The beer choice was Otter Ale or Sharp’s Atlantic.
I went for the latter, whilst two of my companions opted for the Otter. The
third member of our party chose an intentionally cloudy cider. The beer was
excellent; cool and refreshing and we scored both at 3.5 NBSS. It was tempting
to stay for another, but with another five miles to cover we thought it best to
press on.
In addition, all four of us have sufficient experience of long-distant
walking to know that stopping for too long midway, especially if the
halt involves several pints of beer, makes it much harder to get going again,
so somewhat reluctantly we said farewell to the White Horse and made our way
out of Chilham.
We had picked up a leaflet in the pub which gave details of
the various local attractions and we had noticed that our route took us past
Badger’s Hill Farm & Cidery. We thought it would be churlish not to divert for a look, and sure enough there was a well-stocked barn selling local
produce, plus cider made on the farm.
Two of my companions bought a pint each of the Medium Cider
to take away. I had a taste, but wasn’t quite so keen, although to be fair, if
the cider had been chilled it may have been a lot more to my taste. We then
continued on our way, up the appropriately named “Long Hill”, into the village
of Old Wives Lees. As we entered
the village, we were joined for part of the route by a sprightly local
resident, who told us that since the closure of the Star a few years ago, Old
Wives Lees is now a “dry” village.
We could see the sadly closed pub down a side-turning, as we
continued through the village, but with several miles still ahead of us had no
time to stop for a closer look. Our route took us through fruit-growing
country, with apple orchards laid out on either side of us. Again the terrain
was undulating and quite challenging in places.
After cresting one hill and getting ready to descend another,
we could see laid out below us a large
encampment of static caravans and other semi-permanent buildings. This
is the farm complex of one of the largest fruit growers in the south east, and
the static caravans are used to house seasonal workers who arrive each year to
help with the harvest. It seemed a substantial operation, with a fleet of
mini-buses parked up, no doubt waiting to bus in workers from other locations.
Fruit pickers' encampment |
After making our way through the farmyard, and skirting a
number of rather nice looking houses, we parted company with the North
Downs Way. Instead our route led us downhill
towards Chartham village and the railway station, where we would be able to
catch a train back to Wye.
Unfortunately we miscalculated slightly on the times, and
whilst two of our party made it onto the platform, I was dead on my
feet and unable to sprint up the steps and over the footbridge. We missed the
train by less than 30 seconds, and with another not due for an hour, there was
only one thing to do and that was to find another pub.
Just over 10 minutes walk away, passed the playing fields
and across the River Stour, is the Artichoke; an attractive looking 15th Century
half-timbered former hall house, which has been carefully restored by the
owning brewery - Shepherd Neame. Now I know what regular followers of this blog will be
thinking, but any port in a storm, and the chance to rest my weary limbs along
with a nice cool pint of beer, was not one to miss.
The Artichoke turned out to be very pleasant inside, and the
Whitstable Bay Pale Ale was also in fine form – NBSS 3.0. Somewhat unusually
for a Shepherd Neame pub, the majority of the customers clustered around the
bar were drinking cask, with Spitfire Gold appearing to be a particular favourite.
We made it back to Chartham station in plenty of time for
the next train, journeying just two stops to Wye, where our plan was to spend the
first part of the evening at the rather low-key Wye Beer Festival. This event is worthy of a
post in its own right, so I will draw things to a close here and continue next
time.