More small steps along the North Downs Way

I took Friday off from work; only the second day’s annual leave I have taken this financial year. I felt in need of a break as, despite not many of us being in, it’s been pretty much non-stop at work. A couple of weeks ago, we finally received our revised ISO and CE certification, after a frenetic 14-month period.


Our application and transition to our new accreditation body involved a considerable amount of work, and whilst I wasn’t involved at the sharp end, I still played a major role in terms of preparing documentation and other paperwork necessary for our transfer.

Our new notified body is TÜV Sud, a highly respected testing and accreditation organisation, based in Munich, Bavaria. This means, we are now subject to German law, in respect of our dealings with our new NB – so much for “taking back control!”

TÜV Sud didn’t leave us hanging about, as on Wednesday they conducted the first of a series of agreed surveillance audits. Because of the pandemic, the audit was conducted remotely using Skype, and although I wasn’t called in for the closing meeting, it appears to have gone well.

So, with this major hurdle now cleared, the idea of a day off was even more appealing than usual. Apart from a day spent getting my car serviced in mid-April, my previous day’s leave was at the end of the first week in March, when I travelled up to Britain’s brewing capital – Burton-on-Trent, to enjoy a “Proper Day Out” in the company of the “real pub men” of the Beer & Pubs Forum.

That day out seems like a lifetime away, and a visit to any pub now is unfortunately out of the question, but what was feasible was knocking off another section of the North Down’s Way. Son Matthew was keen to accompany me, as he’s been going stir-crazy these past ten weeks of lock-down, so it was just a case of which section to go for, and where to start from.

I’d been looking at the map and had noticed a free car park and viewing area on the crest of Blue Bell Hill, close to the A229 – M2 junction. The NDW passes close by, so we’d be able to pick up the trail and head in either direction. My plan was to walk in a westerly direction, towards the River Medway. It was just over 4 miles to where the route crosses the river, by means of a footway on the viaduct carrying the M2 motorway and high-speed rail-link high across the Medway, just to the south of Rochester.

It seemed quite doable, even though it meant retracing our steps and walking a further four miles back to the car. We left home shortly after 10 am. Traffic wasn’t too heavy, even on the stretch of the M20 motorway that bypasses Maidstone. We reached the top of Blue Bell Hill and, despite getting slightly lost in the maze of side roads just below the summit, found the car park we were looking for.

There was just one problem, it was closed due to guess what? the Corona-virus pandemic.  I wasn’t best pleased. The car park is owned and maintained by the Kent Wildlife Trust, and I’d made a point of checking on their website about opening times and accessibility. I double checked when we got home, again nothing about the place being closed. The only reason we could think of was, as the site was un-manned, it was closed to prevent access and occupation by so-called “travellers.”

It was time to put plan B into action which involved a drive west, along the M20 and M26 as far as Wrotham. There we parked up, in a quiet street, just down from the recreation ground and a couple of hundred yards away from where the NDW passes through the village.

It seemed strange to be back in a place that I’d last set foot in five months ago. Back in January I’d walked there from Otford, following the route of the NDW. I’d ended my journey with a celebratory pint in Wrotham’s Bull Hotel, but with all pubs in the village firmly closed, there would be no welcoming pint of beer at the end of this walk. Matthew and I had each brought a packed lunch, so at least there would be the chance of a sandwich or two. Not quite the same, but sometimes we have to compromise.

 

We found the spot where the NDW passes through the village and quickly joined the A227. We followed the road as it passes over the M20 motorway, before heading off in an easterly direction along the rather narrow Pilgrims Way. This narrow road then veers off to the north-east, following the base of the North Downs escarpment, and there were several “off-road” sections were the trail diverges off into grassy fields.

The latter were full of grazing sheep, but fortunately nothing larger, or fiercer and we made good progress towards Hognore Wood, where we knew we would have to climb to the top of the escarpment. To our right we could see across to the Medway gap in the distance, whilst just the other side of the Pilgrims Way, there were several fields of poppies – all looking resplendent under the rather cloudy skies.

It was quite a climb up through the woods, and the stony track, which was hard going underfoot, seemed to go on forever. We met a fellow walker, descending the slope with his two dogs, but apart from two ladies – also with a dog, plus alone cyclist, there was no-one else out and about. The woodland is known as Wrotham Water; a Site of Special Scientific Interest, owned by the National Trust and manged on their behalf by the Woodland Trust. 

It’s a shame then, that some brainless individual had chosen to dump a pile of household rubbish there! This type of vandalism is unfortunately becoming all too common in rural areas, particularly after council tips were closed due to lock-down restrictions. Eventually we reached the summit and level ground, but not before we’d passed a lengthy brick wall enclosing a garden that appeared to be part of a much larger property.

 

We carried on until we emerged back onto the A227, a short distance long from the now sadly closed Vigo Inn.  This attractive old pub closed several years before the current crisis; its loss being sadly lamented by all who love traditional pubs. For years the Vigo was the only pub where customers could play "Dadlums"; a form of table skittles, peculiar to this part of north-west Kent. The photo below, taken in the mid 1980’s, shows me plus a group of CAMRA friends, gathered around the pub’s Dadlums table.

The pub is named after the battle of Vigo Bay, a naval encounter which took place in 1702, during the War of the Spanish Succession, but prior to that it was known as the Upper Drover. Although the pub is sadly no more, its name lives on as that of the nearby Vigo Village; a modern settlement built in the mid-20th century, on a site that once housed an army camp during World War II. 

For pedants, the area around both pub and village is known as Fairseat, which itself is a hamlet in the parish of Stanstead. It was here that we did an about turn, but not before noting the position of the bus stop. Once this virus situation is properly under control, and a sense of normality returns, I can take a bus from Sevenoaks, to the stop opposite the former Vigo Inn, and resume the North Downs Way. 

From the Vigo, it is an eight mile walk to Cuxton, a village on the west bank of the Medway and in the shadow of the Medway Bridges. Cuxton will be an ideal end point for that stretch, as it has its own railway station, on the Medway Valley line. From there, I can get a train back home to Tonbridge. 

That’s all in the future, but to conclude our walk, Matthew and I followed more or less the same route back to Wrotham, although once at the bottom of the escarpment, we stuck to the tarmacked Pilgrims Way. It had started to rain, as we approached the village; nothing substantial, just a little annoying, but it was wet enough to prevent us from sitting out in the recreation ground to enjoy our sandwiches. Instead, we sat and ate them in the car.

Our walk was just over five miles in total, which means another two and a half miles knocked off from the NDW total. Small steps in the general scheme of things, but still nice to get away from work and regulatory matters and instead, get out and enjoy the glorious Kent countryside.

In an English country (pub) garden

Like all beer lovers I am looking forward to the day when the nation’s pubs are finally allowed to re-open their doors. Amongst the many suggestions put forward in relation to relaxing the lock-down of our pubs and bars, is that those establishments with gardens, or other outdoor drinking spaces, should be allowed to re-open first.

The science behind this is sound, as the chances of contracting Corona-virus outside are practically zero, especially if so-called “social-distancing”  measures are maintained, but even if these guidelines are occasionally breached, being outdoors is far safer than being crowded inside a busy pub or bar.

As a scientist, I have obviously been paying a lot of attention to what’s going on with regard to the pandemic, but as there is so much conflicting information regarding Corona-virus, it would be foolish for me to speculate here. Instead, I’ll leave that sort of thing to the politicians.

I have been wondering though why pub gardens and other outdoor drinking spaces haven’t been allowed to open before now. Germany and Denmark re-opened their beer gardens a couple of weeks ago, albeit with restrictions on the numbers of people admitted at any one time, and earlier this week, the Netherlands did the same. 

It seems that here in the UK we’ll all just have to be a little more patient; after all our infection and mortality rates from Covid-19 have been far higher than in most of our European neighbours. Science has not been able to explain this discrepancy, and neither have politicians, but whatever the reason,  if we leave the opening up outdoor drinking spaces until next month, we’ll have passed the summer solstice and the time when daylight hours are at their maximum.

Somewhat typically the weather has taken a slight turn for the worst. This isn’t surprising after two solid months of wall to wall sunshine and scorching temperatures, but I really feel for all those struggling pub and bar owners who, almost certainly could have been open, and open safely.

Still, no point crying over spilled milk, or should that be spilled beer, and leaving science and politics to one side, let’s down to the question that’s vexing the real pub men. I’m speaking here about those individuals who claim, not without some justification, that drinking a pint outside a pub, is not the same as enjoying one inside. Some would argue there is no comparison, and that the two are completely different experiences.

These people would much prefer to be inside a pub, sat on the bar, on the finest of days, rather than enjoying a pint out in the fresh air. It’s all about the banter and the craic, as the Irish would say, but perhaps better summed up as that indefinable quality referred to as “atmosphere,” that makes a good pub a truly great one.

I can empathise with this viewpoint and can recall countless occasions when everything combined to create that perfect pub moment. Despite these obvious pleasures, I also enjoy a beer out in the great outdoors; in fact, I’d go further and say that a pint, in a pub garden, on a perfect summer’s day, is one of life’s simple, but great pleasures. This applies equally to whether it’s a traditional, English pub garden, or the slightly more raucous setting of an equally traditional Bavarian Biergarten. 

We’ll forget about the latter for the time being, as they’re already open, thanks to a combination of a much lower Covid-19 mortality rate and a more enlightened government. Instead we’ll stick with the idyll of an English pub garden, the joys of drinking in it and the benefits associated with re-opening these places first.

The first thing to consider is the dreaded “social distancing” – boy how I hate that phrase! There’s nothing sociable in plonking yourself down six feet away from your fellow humans, and what’s more the science behind this magic two metre figure, is questionable, to say the least. The WHO guideline is one metre; a figure adopted by much of the rest of the world. If we were to follow suit, it would make re-opening our pubs that much easier, and we wouldn’t even be having this conversation about pub gardens.

So, from some of the rumblings I’ve heard, there are those who say that allowing beer to be served and consumed in pub gardens, rather than in the pubs themselves, won’t be the same. Well of course it won’t, but despite the obvious difference, it is still a step in the right direction, and for publicans desperate for trade to return, and to generate some sort of income, even these limited moves cannot happen soon enough.  

I’ll leave you with the vexed question which I’m sure will be asked by that small, but dedicated band of Good Beer Guide tickers. Does a beer in a pub garden count as a “tick,” or is it necessary to consume that beer inside the pub?  Even if you’re not a dedicated ticker, I’m sure some of you will say drinking outside isn’t the same. 

However, in these extraordinary times we are living through, we should perhaps be grateful for small mercies and raise a glass in grateful thanks, when our pubs can finally start pouring beer again.