A well-deserved reward for finally finishing the North Downs Way

A couple of posts ago, you may remember me saying that bad weather had forced me to postpone walking the remaining two miles of the official route of the North Downs Way. The idea was to try again in a few weeks’ time. Previously, I had travelled to the Three Horseshoes pub at Knockout Pound, by bus from Orpington station, but with a couple of rail strikes called for the end of the week, that means of reaching the pub was untenable.

It was then that I had a brain wave, why not drive to Knockholt, and follow a circular route that involved the missed section of NDW, and then a return, along the road, to the Three Horseshoes. I knew my previous at this section that there was a pavement all the way to Knockholt Pound, so providing I could find a suitable spot to park my car, where it wouldn’t get hit or cause an obstruction, then it was game on. A few clicks on Google Street View, confirmed that the small area of green, opposite the pub, would be the ideal place to leave my vehicle, and so on Thursday morning, off I went.

Half an hour later, I was pulling up opposite the Three Horseshoes, relieved to find my chosen spot was empty. I’d dressed slightly differently from my usual walking attire, especially with regard to my footwear. Rather than my tried and tested Meindl hiking boots, I wore an old pair of gardening shoes instead, as it stood to reason that heavy and rigid walking boots, would be unsafe to drive in. Also, I didn't fancy faffing about changing footwear, after parking the car, and then having to changed back again, on completion of the walk. Without giving too much away, I'm not as subtle, or indeed as flexible as I once was, and bending down in a confined space whilst attempting to tie intricate boot laces, was not a good idea.

Fortunately, given nearly two weeks without any significant rainfall, the ground under foot was just right for the type of footwear I was wearing, and whilst there were still muddy patches in places, these were quite easy to avoid. There's not too much to say about the walk itself, apart from confirming involved a walk along Chevening Lane to the top of the escarpment, and then turning right, onto the footpath that is the North Downs Way. Most of the route followed the edge of several fields that skirted an area of dense woodland. At one point there was a narrow break in the trees, which afforded a keyhole view down towards Chevening House. This impressive retreat is the official residence of the British Foreign Secretary - whoever he or she might be, at the moment!

Later on, the path veered to the right, again following the field boundary, before plunging into an area of woodland. this was the same wood where I became lost and diverted away from the official route, nearly two years ago. Fortunately, this didn't happen this time around, although it might well have been that the NDW direction signs were clearer, for those walking east to west, as last time I’d been walking in the opposite direction. Upon entering the wood, I stopped to take a few photos of the snowdrops which were quite prolific in certain areas. Their tiny while flowers contrasting against the carpet of dried leaves on the woodland floor. They looked lovely, and a real herald that spring might soon be on its way.

Eventually I reached Sundridge Lane, where I turned right and followed the road to the T-junction at the end, where it joins with the aptly named Main Road that runs along towards Knockholt. Fortunately, the road has a pavement, so I followed it, in an easterly direction back towards where I had parked the car. I stopped on the way for a look at Vavasseurs Wood,  on the opposite side of the road, as this small wooded area looked vaguely familiar. It was of course the place I had ended up in last time, when I stumbled out of the trees onto Main Road, almost by accident. I was obviously very disoriented, back then, but this time, and just 10 minutes later, I arrived back opposite the Three Horseshoes, where my car was waiting.

I then set off to drive to the village of Cudham, the home of the mystery pub I referred to in that last January post. I claimed that it was the pub that most members of West Kent CAMRA would not have been to, although I obviously did them a disservice with that statement. Most of them are well travelled, and I know that two of them formerly lived in the Bromley-Orpington area, and would be pretty familiar with the surrounding villages. This was my first time in Cudham, which was further away from Knockholt, than I thought. It was a spread out and rather lengthy settlement of cottages, the odd farm house plus a number of large, well-to-do properties.

It was all very rural in nature, so I was surprised to see a sign warning motorists that it lies in the recently expanded Ultra Low Emissions Zone (ULEZ), although not until August, as subsequent research revealed. I don’t want to get into the pros and cons of expanding this zone, but Cudham at least, along with the surrounding areas, seemed pretty rural to me. Local residents, with an older, and non-compliant vehicle, will have to pay a fee of £12.50 each day they take the car off the drive. One could perhaps understand this in a built-up area, but in the middle of the countryside?

The Blacksmith's Arms, lies at the far end of the village, and is situated on high ground amid some attractive countryside. The pub's website details the history of the building, which stretches back to 1628 when a farm house and stables were erected. It became an alehouse in 1729 and was owned by a blacksmith's family business. An old photo inside the pub, shows that it formerly belonged to the Dartford Brewery, but in more recent times, it was a Courage house, as evidenced by the signage both externally, and internally, above the bar.

I successfully negotiated the rather tight entrance to the rear car park and was surprised by the number of cars already there. I accessed the pub via the rear entrance and once inside, the number of customers explained the nearly full car park. I approached the bar but as I couldn't see around the corner where the hand pumps were, the girl behind the bar informed me that Doom Bar and Harvey's were the beers available. I naturally opted for the latter, and also asked about food. There was bit of a wait due to a large party of ramblers who’d arrived earlier, but as 15 minutes seemed quite reasonable, I went ahead and ordered a ham and mustard baguette.

The pub extends quite a long way, to the left of the bar, into what appears to be almost a separate room, but I managed to find small vacant table in the corner, close to the fire. I sat down to enjoy my beer, pleased to see that the pub was so busy, in fact I’d say it was buzzing. The largely “senior” clientele seemed a similar age to myself, or perhaps slightly older. Judging by their footwear and back packs, quite a few were ramblers, and it was good to see they were responsible ones. I say that because last autumn, whilst out for my usual lunchtime walk, I witnessed a party of walkers, quite brazenly sitting in the, admittedly empty garden of the Little Brown Jug, eating their sandwiches and knocking back cups of tea from their Thermos flasks. A colleague noticed them too, and neither of us could believe the bare-faced cheek of this group!

I didn't have to wait too long for my food, which for me was just the right portion for lunchtime. The baguette contained some nice thick slices of ham, although if I'm honest I could have done without the grated carrot and other fancy pieces of salad. There wasn't time for another pint, and I was driving anyway, but more importantly, I had to get back to collect Mrs PBT’s from the farm-based office, where she works, on Thursdays. Before returning to the car, I crossed the road in order to take some photos of the front of the pub. The aforementioned Courage sign was still proudly on display, adding a touch of nostalgia.

My route back to Tonbridge involved cutting across to Westerham Hill, before taking the northern relief road, known as Beggars Lane, which bypasses the town. Westerham Brewery is off this lane, but
with no time to stop, I was aiming for the A25, and then the A21. I arrived at Mabledon Farm with 5 minutes to spare, but then of course Eileen wasn’t ready to leave! I was delighted to have experienced the busy and buzzing Blacksmith’s Arms and can understand the reasons for its popularity. As I said in a previous post, the Blacksmith’s Arms is reachable by bus, from Orpington station, and that is the route by which I shall return next time I decide to visit.

So, apart from having enjoyed this rather fine village pub, my trip out also represented the culmination of five years walking the North Downs Way, and whilst the rather annoying, two-mile section that I’d missed was, if anything an anti-climax, it was still the end of what had been, quite an epic walk. As for the actual completion, that had already occurred – certainly in my heart, if not my mind, because my NDW adventure actually ended last September when I arrived at the official end of the trail, in the attractive Surrey market town of Farnham.

 

A quiet Kentish backwater is home to a trio of historic pubs

Following the gentle teasing of the previous post, which was intended to set the scene for this one, we now move on to the main event.  This is where I take a more detailed look at the three historic pubs, I visited last Friday. Before I get going it's interesting to note that the youngest of the three pubs is the only one that features on CAMRA’s National Inventory of pubs with unspoilt interiors. I’m presuming this is because the two older pubs have been altered and knocked about somewhat, over the years.

I'm going to start with the oldest pub first, and this is the Olde Yew Tree in the tiny village of Westbere, overlooking the River Stour. It was quite a hike down a winding narrow lane leading off from the busy, traffic choked A28, and enjoy the tranquilly as the road to Westbere descended down towards the river. Fortunately, there were very few cars passing along this road and the only real sound I heard was that of an old boy cutting a hedge.

Westbere is obviously a place for the well-off, as evidenced by some rather splendid looking houses -   not too grandiose but in keeping with the tradition of this tranquil, rural, settlement. The Olde Yew Tree is at the far end of the village, not far from the church, and from the outside it was everything one might expect from an old medieval inn. It is an attractive, half-timbered building which is deceptively larger inside, than it is on the exterior – as I was soon to discover. What Pub gave an opening time of 11.30am, but 10 minutes away from midday the pub still looked decidedly shut. I walked up to the church and back to kill a little time, stopping to take a few photos along the way, and when I arrived back at the Yew Tree, shortly after midday, the lights were on.

I followed the sign that said the entrance was at the rear of the building, so I followed the path round, and stepped inside. I was the first customer, and the friendly licensee behind the bar greeted me warmly, asking me what would I like to drink? There was only one cask ale on and that was Shepherd Neame Master Brew, not my favourite beer by any stretch of the imagination, so rather than risk a pint, I went for a half. The landlord was quite chatty and happy to answer some of the many questions I had. I learned that the front part of the pub was the oldest,  and that it dated from 1348, explaining why the Olde Yew Tree can claim to be the oldest pub in Kent.

The section at the rear, which is where the bar is situated, is newer, although he didn't say by how many years. A step or two down from the bar area, is oldest, and also the main part of the pub. There are plenty of old beams, as one might expect, and I suspect that some upright timbers might once have been part of walls between a number of separate rooms. A building this old is obviously steeped in history, and Queen Anne plus an Archbishop of Canterbury are said to a stayed in the pub, although presumably not at the same time! The building was also used as a hospital to treat wounded soldiers, during the English Civil War.

The landlord invited me to take a look around and confirmed that it was fine for me to be taking a few photos, although pretty soon after I’d finished me inspection, other customers began arriving. I got the impression that the Yew Tree is popular with diners, no matter what the season, for whilst there is a warming pen fire during the winter months, there is a large and attractive beer garden at the rear of the property for when the weather becomes warmer.  

On leaving the pub, I walked back up to the main road – the old boy was still hard at it, cutting his hedge, when I walked by. As explained in the previous post, I took the bus back to Sturry station, and from there it was a short walk into nearby Fordwich. Until the middle ages this picturesque little town was known as “The Port of Canterbury'” or more accurately, the port FOR Canterbury, because it was indeed a port. It sat at the head of the Stour estuary and was both tidal and navigable. The town owned the quay and also a crane for off-loading cargoes, and derived income from duty on imported goods. Stone used to build Canterbury Cathedral, passed through Fordwich, having been imported from the French city of Caen.

By the late 1700's the estuary had largely silted up, and the town found itself stranded inland, due to restricted access along the River Stour, and by Victorian times it had become inaccessible to cargo boats. Fordwich finally ceased trading as a port in 1830, when a rail line was built linking Canterbury with Whitstable Harbour. At this point in time, the townsfolk built a narrow bridge over the River Stour and derived income from tolls charged on the carts and wagons coming into the town. These tolls were leased by the landlord of the George and Dragon, which brings us nicely to the next pub on my list.

Situated next to the River Stour, the George & Dragon is a multi-roomed pub that has been tastefully refurbished. It is one of 79 pubs owned by the Brunning & Price group , and whilst the chain is probably better known in the north-west of England, they own a number of pubs in the south-east. I’m not certain of the age of the George & Dragon, but its pale lemon coloured exterior seemed to compliment its obvious antiquity. It was quite busy when I made my way inside, and the layout of several bars, comfortable furniture, and plenty of wooden beams, helped create a feeling of unhurried cosiness, along with the warming glow from several open fireplaces.

The bar is at the front of the building, almost opposite the entrance, with a dining area to the left, and two separate rooms leading off to the right. There is another room, at a lower level, behind the bar, and it was here, at a small table, that I made myself at home – but not before buying myself a beer. Gadds’ No. 5, Adnams Southwold, plus a B&P "house beer," brewed by St Austell, were the beers on offer. I opted for the Southwold Bitter, as it is an Adnams beer we don’t often see in Kent (some of us aren’t that keen on Ghost Ship!). My pint was well conditioned and tasty, and I enjoyed sitting there watching the comings and goings. There was a good, mixed clientele, which included tradesmen, families, mothers and babies, plus the obligatory “ladies that lunch!”

Leaving the George & Dragon I turned the corner and headed into the centre of Fordwich, which is marked by the church of St Mary the Virgin. On the way I stopped briefly to ask a couple of builders, working on the exterior of a rather old medieval property, if there are any shops nearby. I was looking for a bakers, so I could grab a bite to eat, but the pair laughed and said the nearest shops were in Sturry. I knew that the food at my next destination, the Fordwich Arms would be expensive - £70.00 per head, for the 3-course a-la-carte menu, but salvation came in the form of Piper’s Crisps.

As the Fordwich Arms is an unashamed gastro pub, a better plan would have been to have called in there first, and then visited the George & Dragon on the way back to the station. Food prices would undoubtedly have been more reasonable there. A “schoolboy error,” as one of my colleagues would say, but never mind. The pub itself is a 1930s, red-brick building overlooking the River Stour, opposite Fordwich’s ancient town hall.  Internally, there is a large and attractive, wood-panelled bar at the front of the building, with an open fireplace at one end. A number of stools allow drinkers, who like that sort of thing, to sit at the bar. To the left of the bar there is a separate oak-panelled dining room, which has collected a Michelin star, along with some other prestigious awards.

The beer, and the Piper’s Crisps were much more appealing, as far as I was concerned, and whilst Taylor’s Landlord was the sole cask offering, it was in top condition. Definitely a 4.5, and pushing towards a 5.0, if I was able to submit beer scores to CAMRA. Mind you, it was a fiver a pint! Apart from me, there was one other punter, sat on a stool at the bar, with his dog sitting patiently at his feet, drinking a bottle of Newcastle Brown. He was on his second bottle by the time I left.

The Fordwich Arms is on CAMRA’s Inventory of Heritage Pubs, due to its interior of regional importance – the only one of the three pubs I visited that day, to have this achievement. It’s worth a visit, despite its gastro credentials, and appears to tick all the right boxes, as far as the foodie luvvies are concerned. I did read that before its conversion, at the beginning of 2018, it was an ordinary pub, where I definitely could have procured a lunchtime meal!