Dunstable to South Coast walk Easter 2011

Easter bank holidays are abundant and so it seemed the perfect opportunity to do something special.

I'd often stood atop the hills where i live and pondered that to walk due south would eventually reach me the south coast of Britain. I often marvelled like some small child at what countryside lay between, what towns and people i would meet.

Walking has always appealed to me. Its the only means of travel provided to most of us from birth.

But to walk was no mean feet. I didn't dare calculate the total distance, hadn't even estimated how many miles I'd be able to achieve each day and didn't even know if I'd be able to reach the coast or just collapse with fatigue. I just wanted the opportunity to see beyond my usual days horizon.

So i began by buying some OS Maps for the journey from home (Dunstable) to as far as Windsor. I already had a sturdy green backpack I'd used since my teenage years. Its fabric had many times been sewn back together after it ripped, broke or tore. I packed it full of what i thought I'd need.

The main item on my mind was sleeping. I'd just bought a Bivvi bag, a sort of fabric waterproof sealed bag that you climbed into with your sleeping bag. It was no protection from the wind but provided protection from the rain, damp and insects. In the Bivvi bag you would lye on the ground mat to separate yourself from the cold ground but that was all. I'd have to cover everything else with my raincoat if it rained.

But the major advantage of the Bivvi bag was its weight. It was the lightest thing you could carry.

For cooking i took an unfolding metal box that contained firelighters. The lids of the box were coarsely serrated so you'd push them into the ground. You'd then place half a firelighter underneath and a small aluminium saucepan on top. It also came with a cup with foldaway handles and lids.

For food i really rationed myself with Fruit loaf for lunch, Noodles and Polish sausage for dinner. I took a 2 litre bottle of water. I planned to shop on way whenever possible.

First days route from Dunstable to Bourne End

I also took personal items such as toothbrush, paste, tablets, etc. plus the all important penknife, plastic knife and spoon and compass.

Day 1 - Dunstable to Bourne End

On Good Friday i left home with a back pack weighing 20lbs and walked up to the visitors centre at the top of Dunstable Downs. I wanted to reach Bourne end by the end of the day. In my mind it marked the edge of the Chiltern's with the steep road that led down to the Grand Union Canal.




I then walked directly south mainly using my compass as guidance.

Studham Lane in Whipsnade

I walked first to Whipsnade then by the side of the Tree Cathedral there to the village green. I then crossed it and down along Studham lane turning towards the woods and to Studham.

Looking across the valley towards Hudnall Common

I continued, walking down the side of Ravensdell wood, down into the valley and up again on to Hudnall Common. By this time i felt tired but i battled on.

I met a runner along the footpath. He was local and was very inquisitive about where i was heading. I told him due south and he was adamant i should be starting in Oxford. "It's a much nicer walk" he exclaimed. I tried to explain i was not in Oxford but here but it seemed he wasn't listening. Eventually we parted company.

I continued on past Hudnall and along Nettledon road until the turn south just after Pulridge Wood but by now i felt so fatigued i just wanted to flop down and sleep.

The light was already fading so it was in some ways a race against time to get off the Chilterns but there was nothing more for it. I took off my back pack and sat down on the cold grass.
I was warm with the exercise but my legs felt so tired. I sat there in the twilight watching the distant sheep graze on the field on the far side of the valley and mused that I had to move otherwise I'd be failing myself.

So i arose and continued. Descending and ascending the steep valley then down to Great Frithsden Copse and on through the dark woods to Frithsden. Then out onto the golf course and across to Potten End.
But my feet were killing me and my legs felt as if they'd give in at any moment so i finally came to rest as the pub there.

I stepped inside and asked for lodgings but they didn't do them and didn't know anywhere close by.
I sat outside a while then began chatting to two guys in the darkness. It turned out they would be willing to drive me to Bourne End and the Windmill Hotel where i could get lodgings for the night.
I just needed to wait after they had some food then they'd take me.

They went inside and left me alone again. For some reason i felt i couldn't trust them and so with great effort i arose once more and hauled my backpack into the darkness. I walked down a narrow footpath between the houses eventually coming out on Little Heath Lane. I carried along this lane until i was about halfway down the steep valley towards the canal. It was now the dead of night and i felt shattered.

I was not going to spend my money on shelter. All i wanted to do was try out my bivvi bag so i found a siding and clambered up onto the field side. I could see only what the moonlight allowed but could make out the field edge, the hedge edge and that space between was my bed for the night.

I slung down my pack, took out my Bivvi bag, sleeping bag, ground mat and raincoat.
I first tried to clear away any branches, scraggy twigs and gnarly ends before unrolling the ground mat.
I then stood on the ground mat, took off my trousers and placed them in the rucksack. My boots went into the bottom section as best i could.
I got inside my sleeping bag, spread the raincoat as best i could over the rucksack and climbed inside the Bivvi bag and finally lay down.

I slept about 4 hours that night. It was quiet, eerily quiet. The misty horizon across the ploughed fields was my wallpaper for the night.

Day 2 - Bourne End to Uxbridge

I must have left very early as darkness of night still hung in the air but this is just as i love it.

The coolness of the very early morning encouraged me to get a move on, to warm me up.

I walked down to the canal then along to the Windmill pub. It was still lingering 5 o'clock so i stealthily walked through the residents area and back onto the main road without being seen.

Further along the road was the turning to Bovingdon. This morning my energy levels were restored, my fatigue gone, my enthusiasm restored. I rose up the hill by the side of the young Orchard, across the motorway bridge and up over the golf course towards Bovingdon.

Looking back up path through Bovingdon church yard

In Bovingdon i took a rest. It was still early morning, the mist not quite lifted yet, the coolness still reproachable.

I stopped at the village shop for a Ginger beer and some lunch.
I then continued back onto the footpath just south of the village and on to Holly hedges lane then a little cross country and through Flaunden.

As the day drew on it became hot and sunny. My water was quickly depleted


Down into the deep valley to Chenies then up over the hill into Chorleywood for another rest.

I bought a really nice light loaf of Rye bread, some milk and a cup of tea before heading west and down the long, long path that is Old Shires Lane.

Looking south along Grand Union Canal at Denham Park

I eventually arrived just above Denham at Juniper Wood. I then headed due east then north a bit to get across the river onto the Grand Union Canal.

It was now a simple matter of following it due south as it wound its way into Uxbridge.

I was definitely not as fatigued as i was the previous day. In fact looking back on the journey i only achieved 12 miles over the Chiltern's yet 20 miles to Uxbridge.

Eventually i reached the turning into Uxbridge centre and wanting a decent nights sleep booked into Travel Lodge for one night.

Day 3 - Uxbridge to Chertsey

I arose quite late and by the time I'd packed, had some breakfast and left it was way past 9am.

The breakfast was self service. I chose cooked thinking i'd get as much as i'd like. I did but the bacon was so dried up it really wasn't worth it.

I abhore this fast food preperation of breakfast. I paid a decent wack for a decent nights sleep and breakfast. Standard B&B nowadays is between 40 and 50 quid. At least Premier Inn offer a decent breakfast. Or did i stay in a Premier Inn and Travel Lodge breakfasts were great? oh i can't remember.

I walked back to the canal and continued south to Cowley.




I now examined the map and realised to avoid urban areas i had to veer west a little.

Looking South West across lake in Little Britain

So at Cowley bridge i took the road through Little Britain, a quaint and scenic little area with picturesque parks and lakes and a wooded path shortcut to the Slough branch of the Grand Union Canal.

I only rejoined the canal for a few hundred feet before turning due south again past the delightful sewage works, under high nettles and through a fluted railway bridge to Thorney Farm Golf Course.

Then along the Colne Valley trail. It was here i met an old chap walking his dog. Nothing unusual really.

We parted company and i carried on crossing the M25 along a disused road and then down passed another sewage works to eventually arrive at Colnebrooke.
Here again i stopped off at a shop and bought some more provisions before heading onwards to Poyle and junction 14.

I then made a mistake of heading along the side of the motorway. Not a major mistake. It followed true south along the Wraysbury river. The noise i got used to eventually. Like bird song and babies crying, if you hear it enough you can blot it out of your mind.

Cattle Footpath just north of Staines

On the north side of Staines i reached a branching footpath which i took. Many cattle were grazing on the adjacent field and some had managed to break through onto the path. This narrowed into a tunnel and no amount of screaming on my part shifted the beast. In fact i was more afraid of being trampled so i took to the field.

Some way along the field opened up into a grass area. Next to it was a disused railway bridge and next to that a bench dedicated to an old man who'd spent many best days on the moors nearby.



I sat a while contemplating life before finally moving along

After crossing a small bridge i finally arrived in the outskirts of Staines. I took again to the marked footpaths short cutting the walk to the centre and very quickly i was walking onto the Thames path towards London.

I found The Thames Hotel and stopped for a bight to eat and a lemonade. I'd developed a strong desire for Lemonade and ice cream by now. It was still hot sunny days, completely unplanned and i guess any refreshment was welcome.

Onwards i walked, along the path passed Penton Hook Island where i finally found my extra large 99. The weather now began to cloud over and as i approached Laleham it looked decidedly dark. On reaching Laleham park on the far side the heavens opened with a storm like no other. It pelted me to the core and i was drenched in seconds. Every one else had done the sensible thing and run to shelter.
I, however just soldiered through it. I was quite enjoying it really. Those endless days of sweating it out with the sun where now a thing to be remembered only as i was moisturised by mother nature herself.

And as i turned to cross Chertsey bridge, the rain stopped as quickly as it had started and i was left feeling fatigued and thoroughly damp. I found a hotel on the other side of the bridge but they were fully booked up so i ventured into town.
As i walked past a games shop, i saw a man trying to load a pinball machine into his 4x4 alone. I offered to assist and he welcomed me. We managed to put it in and after he gave me a cup of tea and advised me the best place to stay. His big dog constantly giving me attention. Finally we parted company and i walked into town.
To the left of me was a rather swish looking pub called Thyme at the Tavern. To the right was the Arms pub the games guy had warned me about. So i booked in to Thyme at the Tavern.

Thyme at the Tavern B&B in Chertsey

The accommodation was pricey (60 pounds) but excellent value.

The bathroom alone was the size of most peoples living rooms and certainly the same size as the bedroom.

Within it was a shower and separate bath and very well presented.

I actually didn't sleep as well as i suspected. After a long bath, a good meal across the road and a warm room the duvet was just too heavy and hot. A restless night was unfortunately had.

Breakfast in the morning more than made up for it. A good selection of Continental or Cooked and they even offered Blueberry Muffins!

Day 4 - Chertsey to Guildford

The route from Chertsey to Guildford

I began by following what footpaths i could find to the River Wey Navigation.
















Footpaths around Chertsey (and in fact for most of Surrey) were few and far between compared to (say) the Chilterns.

Looking south along River Wey near New Haw, Surrey

A small urban path went pretty much due south through the suburbs of Chertsey and towards Addlestone.

From there i followed the road until it crossed the River Wey then took to the tow path.

This river is also a canal route that stretches from the Thames near Chertsey all the way to Godalming in Surrey.

I intended to follow its complete course south.



I passed New Haw lock (as detailed in the cycle ride ?here? done a few months later) then Byfleet.

Just after Byfleet the M25 crossed the canal.

Whilst this had created a massive concrete edifice graffiti had been sown into the perpendicular columns and was quite fascinating.

The loud vibrant colours of the slogans forcibly mingled with the starkness of the structure whilst the silence of the River Wey navigation flowed under and through like a snake in a foreign land.

Looking south along River Wey navigation under M25

Those shadows cast by the bridge against the sand and grit floor was interesting. The sun was high that day and the cast was strong.

Soon the motorway was just a constant disturbance of sound and as the miles passed the noise faded.

Looking south along River Wey Navigation near Pyrford

This is were photographs hide the full scene. Here a perfect setting with cloudy skies and just the hint of mist on the water hide the gravity of noise from mans automobile.











Walking along the canal was fun to start with. My natural walking pace was actually several mph faster than the speed limit of the barges.

Another scene south along River Wey

So as i said my good mornings to one particular barge, i overtook it.

Several miles ahead I'd get tired and sit down to rest.

Half an hour later the same barge would appear and pass me by.

I would then rise and overtake it again.

This continued all the way to Godalming for one particular boat.

It was great fun for the kids, adults and me.

Almost a Constable Look south by the River Wey

But as the miles wore on, the fun aspect dissipated. The barge and its occupants stopped for their own breaks at pubs and mooring points and i was left with the magnitude of the path ahead.

At one particular point the canal twisted right around a clump of woodland. The tow path lay on the opposite bank and was open to a magnificent vista of fields and copse, hedgerows and cattle grazing in a distant field.

It felt at the time like some long lost Constable masterpiece similar to The Hay Wain.

On other thoughts, scenes like these reminded me of the descriptions and scenes laid down in those old 8 bit adventure and graphic adventure games, particularly the Magnetic Scrolls series.

Bullocks looking on in field opposite River Wey Navigation

Unlike those games, the variance of scenes was much more scarce and the canal like any river twists and turns before it reaches its goal and for me it must have taken twice the birds eye distance.

Just north east of Guildford was initially a quite frightening scene.

Across the muddy water lay a copse of many trees and several large ferocious looking bullocks.

Their eyes met mine and they huffed and shifted with some intent but without a bridge i was safe for now.

The river turned a sudden left and the bulls were left to contemplate their own solitude.

Life \and Death on the River Wey

As the river seemed to go on forever i began to notice things more. The land on the opposite bank (in places) was more stark.

The branches of trees jutted up into the sky like some inverse black lightning bolt.









But eventually the mud turned to gravel, the gravel to concrete as the stone of Guildford gradually approached.

I came to a bridge close to the centre and as i crossed it i didn't find a sign that told me were the tow path continued. I tried straight ahead but it turned out to be a dead end.
I tried to my right but it went as far as a grotty urban pub with smashed glass and beer can strewn on the gravel and grass.
So i went back to the bridge and eventually found the way to the left.

Wooden sculptures on north side of Guildford

As i continued my trek the next bridge was more clearly marked. I crossed the bridge and rejoined the tow path as it wound through a sort of open grassed area. However each tree was leafless and as i approached closer it became a sculpture. Suddenly every wooden branch held a wooden owl, vulture, penguin or fox head.

A truly wondrous place, the carvings high enough to remain fragile and avoid the inevitable youth interest.




And before i knew it i was in the heart of this bustling metropolis, its high hills holding rows on rows of Victorian houses. Its many waterside pubs mingling with modern concrete bridges and tower blocks.

The tow path now veered away from the canal of old, into a widening park area. The sun of the late day had brought out its young folk, drinking beers and smoking meat on disposable barbeque's like some silent festival. Kids played ball games, adults alike.

And as i walked along i finally overtook that barge for the final time. Its destination was here and my journey now was alone.

Not too many miles now to Godalming i thought, as i turned to avoid oncoming walkers and twisted my ankle!

And it was, for me game over. I was in such pain for each new step that i hardly reached the edge of the park when i was forced to remove my back pack and sit down on the soft, soft grass.

I rested for a good hour before i stirred again. And when i did my ankle was still very painful to walk on. So eventually i hobbled to the Train station and went home vowing I'd return soon to complete the journey.

Day 5 - Guildford to Tuesley
I returned to work on the Tuesday after Easter and quickly the sprain went away. So i then looked ahead and realised that another long weekend lay ahead due to the Royal wedding so suddenly my mind was racing to return and continue to the south coast.

However I'd spent a lot of money on B&B's and needed to refrain from doing so again. So by this time my single man tent had arrived and i set out again with it replacing the bivvi bag.

However to save additional money i would hitch hike to Guildford.

Such tom foolery to imagine Hitch Hiking works to ones convenience!

So i set out from Dunstable (my home town) due south. By the outskirts I'd built up the courage to stick my thumb out to whistle a lift.
But to no avail. In fact I'd walked near 7 miles by the time i reached the motorway roundabout and no one had stopped. I stood at the junction for at least another hour before finally giving in.

But where from here? I'd not planned walking it again so I'd not brought a map. I new i must be close to
Harpenden so walked to the nearest house and asked.

Eventually i arrived at Harpenden railway station, some 10 miles out of Dunstable.
I went for it travelling direct to Guildford, one way, no return.

Route from Guildford to Tuesley

And so i arrived sometime in the afternoon on Friday 29th April to the very spot I'd twisted my ankle and continued along the River Wey towards Godalming.

The tow path to Godalming was much in the same vein as it had been from Addlestone except, in places, it was more open.

Low Railway bridge over River Wey south of Guildford

The river still twisted and turned through the gorgeous Surrey countryside.

The path just out of Guildford became a bit more treacherous. There seemed to be a sand slide some way along, the steep bank shovelling shingle and sand over the path making it indistinguishable from the rest of the bank.

The more recent cycle ride proved little had changed in 4 months.

Eventually Godalming started to show its many occupants as light industrial warehouses shone behind lighter tree lines on the opposite bank.

To the right on the same side as the tow path was what was marked on the OS map as Lammas land which roughly translated means common land.

A magnificent expanse of low lying moor and bog.

A stark contrast to the industrial activity across the water. Eventually houses loomed on the right and i had reached Godalming Bridge.

I crossed it and heading away from the canal walked through the centre of Godalming. A bustling market town etched on the side of a steep hill.

I began to climb. The map showed a long straight path leading diagonally through all properties and i found it eventually. It took me up and over to another public path that went along side a college then away into the wilds again, crossing a steep wooded valley and up the other side to Tuesley.

Just before a country road i smelt the fresh scent of burning wood and spied children playing in a back garden. The smell captivated me for a few moments. The smell of burning wood or leaves is an evocative one.

Out on the country road and walked a little way before turning right up into a large hilly area. From here i spied hundreds upon hundreds of plant tents and a small reservoir providing the irrigated water.

The footpath wound its way through these tents until eventually arriving at an island of trees in the centre. By this time it was about 8pm and the light was quickly fading.

The wood h(i was later to discover) had a bench at both ends. In the centre was a small stream and running through it a path. The bank to the left and right quickly steepened towards the centre.

After crossing the bridge i realised i would have to camp here. I carefully descended the bank into the undisturbed wood. I could hear but not see the stream to the right of me and i hadn't gone far before i found an open area. The ground was a little soft but i managed to erect the tent.

Lying there in the darkness i began hearing strange noises. It sounded like a tramp was wailing some 50's tune but the sound gradually waxed and wained as if sung on the wind.

It continued for many hours and i listened intently, gradually getting more flummoxed and more agitated. I imagined some large woolly tramp would lurch along his well established path only to suddenly fall over my tent crushing it and me inside.

But then almost dead on 9oclock the singing ceased, as if blown out by the wind.

Later i would discover it to most probably be music played to the plants.

I slept well that night rising at dawn as i preferred.

Day 6 - Tuesley to Selham

However the soft had now turned to mush with the rain in the night and i struggled to return the tent to the bag without taking half the undergrowth with it.

Tuesley to Selham Route

I crawled back up to the path and carried on walking to the far side. More tents confronted me plus a few surprised rabbits.

After a few wrong turns i arrived back on the road again near the village of Hydestile.

From here i headed due south along a footpath that was clearly marked on the OS map but as the path veered into the West Surrey Golf Course it was clearly the end of well marked land routes.

As always out came the trusty compass as i tramped due south across green and sand bank. No one seemed to be around so i soldiered on up the hill. To the right of me now was dark evergreen woodland and there.. in between the trees was a path. I followed it into the depths and then it split into 2, each seemingly going in well trodden directions. Inevitably regardless of map and compass i got lost.

So i headed north again and best i could found the most trodden path and by pure luck found the main south heading path.


It was at this point i found a new branch. I turned to the map. It said there were 5 ways to go, 3 lesser paths led no where in particular, 1 headed west and the other south.
So i naturally took the south path but to my dismay several miles after it began to turn and before i knew where i was going is was heading north east!
So back i trod again to the junction and took the west path. This turned out to be the correct one but intuition is sometimes the only guide to the correct route.

Misty Lake near Hydestile, Surrey

After a long walk through dense undergrowth, field edge i spied a pristine lake. At this particular time of the year it appeared to sparkling in the coolness.

Waters edge of Lake near Hydestyle

Unfortunately though i had time for some quick snaps I'd have dearly liked to have taken a nap but my mind was set on reaching the south coast by Sunday and it was already Saturday.

However the way the roots of the tree spread over the earth and dropped into the waters was like the veined back of ones hand, truly mesmerising.

When i arrived i think i disturbed some wildlife colony as the pool was kind of muddy.



Further from this the path went through an open copse and towards a thick, dark evergreen wood. At the edge of field to wood was the most lovely gate made from wrought iron and with many a curve not dissimilar to Victorian design.

Dark wood near Hidestyle

The wood became dark, the canopy of trees blackened out the sun and all seemed a eary dark dawned morning.

The scene was full of heavy silence as i strolled through and finally came into the morning sunlight again. Then the canopy hit again and i was searching the next light.

Eventually i reached a village called Hambledon. Its up market mansions reminded me i was less likely to meet local friendly folk here.


So i strolled on and along the side of a long straight road.

Chiddingfold village green

I finally reached Chiddingfold, a reasonably sized village with a large village green, a classic thatched pub and church round the corner. I was to stay here a few months later for the sponsored cycle ride.

But as a walker i was se4arching the map for better places to walk.

The road may offer the most direct, least undulating route to a destination but it certainly did not offer a landscape more interesting than the freshness and tranquility of the countryside.


Like northern areas of Surrey this area was seriously lacking foot paths. There looked like a nice one to the west of Chiddingfold and it seemed to head in the direction of the Black Downs, an outcrop of high hills whose southern summit was somewhere called the Temple of the Winds.

So i put away the map and turned away from the boring and noisy main road, following Mill lane to its end then due south along one of the most picturesque country paths I'd ever been on. The way it wound through the lush greenwood, picking high ground to low, crossing this and that stream was lovely.

Old stone bridge near Killinghurst

At one particular point it winds its way over an old stone bridge, lost many years before but replaced with wood here and there. Climbing down to the waters edge showed its old magnificence.

The shallow water below its broken arch glistening patches of sunlight as they snatched for reflection.







The floor was shingle and small boulders worn over many, many generations into what it is today.

Bluebells and Sunbeams near Killinghurst

The path then began to rise along a ridge. To the right a bank descended into a sharp ravine. I dared a moment to explore but stepped back at the last moment. If i were to fall down there (i thought) I'd not be heard nor found for life.

And so i headed onwards. The bluebells were strong here, and combined with the shafting sunlight created another mesmerising scene.

Thank heavens i shot this one on the left!

After a few more miles i finally arrived at Killinghurst. This lane gradually lead towards Black Down. As the roads and miles were eaten up so the hills became steeper and i got the occasional glimpse on the horizon of the Black downs themselves.

As i reached the foot of them a path was marked on the map that took the most direct ascent to the summit. But as i began ascending it it soon became clear this path, this 1 in 8 then maybe 1 in 4 was more like a river bed, its broken wood and casual boulders strewn here and everywhere along the trail. It was fit only for water. But though i struggled and stood breathing heavy many times i eventually levelled out and now followed the ridge south again to the Temple of the Winds.

I wasn't sure what to expect. I hoped it was like some Greek temple, high stone columns to a stone roof with a stone floor but no seats. Perhaps a lone Buddhist monk in the centre cross legged and chanting.

The Temple of the Winds on the Black Downs

Instead it was a flat area on the side of the hill.

A stone bench at the back dedicated to the one lady who donated the Black Downs to the national trust many years ago.

From this staggering viewpoint it was apparently possible (on a clear down) to see 5 counties and the Sea.

The latter interested me most.

However to facilitate the viewing a brass plaque had been placed on a stone plinth in the centre showing an imprinted legend of the distances and counties from its exact viewpoint.

I must have spent at least a couple of hours here. I was tired after climbing the hill so lay down my pack and took out my sleeping bag. However not to sleep in it i hasten to add but to dry it out a bit.

Eventually though i knew i must head on so i pondered on the map. There seemed no public path directly south off the hill. Perhaps it was just too steep?

Old dedicated bench on the Black Downs

Oh well i walked along the ridge a little and found a second seat. This time a little broken but very beautiful to look at. It too had another magnificent view.

And i continued. There seemed to be just as many footpaths as animal paths here. They were nye impossible to distinguish.
And so i mistook one path that appeared to head straight down. I followed its course until it hit a boundary fence almost at the bottom. This was infuriating. I clambered along side it best i could. Trees and branches had also taken the same course and were strewn over and by the side of it hindering my passage. Eventually i managed to get back onto a human path but not before thoroughly scratching my side till a little blood dripped.

The path headed south-west on my compass and finished on a road. Across the road was another path heading down by the side of another less dense wood. As i walked down the path i noticed red tape markers on branches and twigs. Gradually it dawned on me this was some sort of motocross course. However i heard nothing.
The day was warming up as i came out of the wood onto a large open grass field. I had no idea exactly where i was on the map. All i really knew was that i was heading south and i guess that was the only important thing.

Soon i reached a large field with horses in it. I was on some sort of established footpath and assumed it was public. The horses gradually became inquisitive. They were very gentle and raised my spirits immensely.

I wished I'd brought some apples with me.

Pristine meadow towards Bexley Hill

As i left them in the field behind i turned with the path onto a most gorgeous pristine meadow.

The path ran straight through it and onwards into more fields and boundaries until finally the path ran along the side of a private road. This was a very strange scenario. I was not allowed to walk on the road yet the path along side it was completely open to the public.

Eventually the road joined another and i was released onto public roads again. However i still had no idea where i was. However the farm opposite was signposted so i quickly located my position.

I was actually pretty much dead on course, exactly where i needed to be. I just needed to continue heading south.

The terrain now turned to open fields and dusty tracks and lanes. Eventually i found Bexley Hill or near it. It was a way point on the map i wanted to head for. To reach it though meant tramping up a very steep path that similarly resembled another river bed, but this time with cracked earth and a trickling brook constantly below my feet.

Young saplings in the sandy soil near Bexley Hill

At Bexley Hill the path steeply ascended then followed a long ridge to finally descend into Lodsworth.
I then followed the road downhill to Half Bridge. By now my water was out so i found an old boy standing outside his house. I asked for some water and he took my bottle silently.
He disappeared indoors and finally reappeared about 5 minutes later. The bottle was full and i went on my way. I tried to make conversation but he simply did not answer. A very strange fellow indeed.



As i turned the bend i fancied a drink. I drank a little of the water. It tasted foul!
I continued along the road grumbling to myself. But it didn't kill me, perhaps it was just this areas taste or maybe just stale.

Disused Canal near Selham

At Lodsworth a few miles further, i came across a disused canal. It fascinated me so i took some pictures.

Beyond the canal was Selham central which consisted of a disused Railway bridge and the Three Moles public house.

They served food!

However it was terribly pricey and so i resigned with a couple of ciders and a lemonade.

Now it was about 6pm and again getting late. I must find a place to camp soon. I now walked south again along the road which rose slightly as Selham became just a memory.

Camping in the forest near Selham

To the left of me lay a managed forest of evergreens. So i began tramping down there, and at a corner of a junction i set down and decided to make this camp for the night.

The ground was covered in fir cones, bracken, branches and twigs so clearing a comfortable ground area to sleep on took time. I realised here that i was never going to light a fire. It was just too dangerous and anyway there was no real need.

The clothes, sleeping bag and blanket would keep me nice and snug.


Day 7 - Selham to Climping Beach (Between Littlehampton and Bognor Regis)
As the night wore on it began to rain, then as morning began to break around 3:30 the rain began to penetrate the inside of the tent and i quickly became soaked. It seems the single man tent is not so water tight.

I am writing this in August and still haven't found the leak :(
So i was rudely awoken literally at the crack of dawn. The day was hardly visible as i got out my tent and set about packing up to set off again.
Frankly how i managed to leave without leaving stuff behind is any ones guess.

The early morning starts seem, however, to work best for me. Whilst i grumbled a lot to myself about refunds and heavier baggage i made excellent progress that morning and soon arrived in Graffham, a small village on the edge of the South downs.

Memorial at Graffham in West Sussex

On walking into this long, quaint village with its antiquated houses, the occasional thatch and that magnificent south downs backdrop i instantly thought of taking a picture. So camera on. Click.. Nothing.
Click, Click. The camera was full of images and i had no way of transferring them.
So suddenly i was limited to using my mobile and as a consequence much lower resolution and quality.
It was also low on power (typical!).

I spied this memorial around 6am which humoured me somewhat. Notice the sign.

I continued walking and eventually Graffham ended and the South downs began to quite dramatically ascend.
I climbed as best i could, stopping every few feet to catch my breath or take some water.
Eventually i reached the top and the South Downs way but it almost took it out of me doing so.

Bleak South downs way scene

The track now followed the ridge of the downs due east then south east.

As always photos do not do the majesty of the vista justice as the eye concentrates only on the focal point of the mind.

The great expanse, the wide skies are rarely seen unless they become the focal point themselves.

The bleakness was also turning to spatters of rain.



The path now descended into a valley, across a road then up a track on the other side. This was true Sussex South Downs.

Mock Roman sign on South Downs Way, West Sussex

As i trudged up the third or fourth hill (i lose count) i reach this sign on the right.

As if I've suddenly been transformed to zero BC.

This was in fact the turning point for my route. Now i headed not along the South Downs Way but along the Denture, a neolithic route that took me South East across the penultimate hill.

The Dentures path on the South Downs, West Sussex

The coarse was nye impossible to follow just from the map. There were many, many off shooting paths, forest clearings and crossroad junctions just not on the OS map.

Eventually i arrived at the main road again, in the final valley before Arundell.

I'd already looked at the map and judged the most direct route the better one, not thinking too much about the terrain.

So i soldiered on up the next hill and directly towards the town. On route i met a group of young ladies heading in the opposite direction. I was going downhill, they were heading up. Because of this it was difficult to make conversation. They were just too short of breath. But a welcome smile from each raised my spirit once more.

Back road to Arundell

And eventually the path turned onto the main road again and i reached Arundell.

I headed into the town centre, wanting (if nothing else) some refreshments. It was a Sunday afternoon now and the centre was bustling with people.

I found a nice little cafe next to the River Arun and sat outside with a well earned Cappuccino and some pastry or other.

Eventually i knew i had to head for the coast. I'd soon realise that was the last of the hills. From now on it was flat country.

I headed west out of Arundell picking up the path that ran alongside the Arun as it wound its way towards the coast.

Looking back towards Arundel on bank of River Arun

Because of the lack of any true vegetation along the banks of the Arun i soon got fed up with its winding nature and took to the road again at Ford.

The map said the coast was very near now but it seemed that the distances increased with every new step.

I passed Ford open prison and an interesting old church.

Eventually the roundabout at Climping arrived and i crossed it to get back onto a track. The sign clearly said "No access to the beach" but I'd seen the map and didn't believe it for one second.

After an even longer path across a huge final field i arrived at the south coast. The wind had picked up but it was warm and sunny.

Climping Beach at Easter time.

I noticed a few other people here and climbed over the beach eventually dipping my size 14's in the drink.

I returned to the shelter of the concrete boulders and sunk down for a good nap. It was just 3 in the afternoon and i had plenty of time to relax.

After a few races in my mind of the days events in getting here i eventually arose once more to make the trek back to Littlhampton and on the train for blessed home again.

Some boring statistics

Total Distance    96 Miles

Average Speed     4.6 mph

Maximum Speed     4.6 mph

Time taken        7 Days