For the first time in months, we woke up in the morning unsure if today’s weather was walk-appropriate, a sure sign of the changing times. With thunder and lightning overnight and a grey damp world outside the window, we checked the forecast. With a sense of adventure from Beth with which I was quite impressed, we decided that we would risk getting wet in the morning, with the promise of a likely looking clearer spell through most of the afternoon – so here we go! We would be returning to a route that we hadn’t visited in well over two years, and was one of the first walks we completed together, when we were still discovering our fondness for footpaths.
A little further north than our usual haunts and certainly toward the edge of our general patch, we headed up to start our walk from the Hucking estate country park perched on top of the North Downs. We set off from the car park at just gone half ten and almost immediately encountered our first cattle of the day before turning right out of their field. This shortly led us to another couple of fields home to an abundance of chickens and sheep, as we observed the first stroke of yellow from Autumn’s brush on the approaching treeline.
However, this promising start did not last long. As we dipped down into a valley floor, we entered a long stretch of very overgrown woodland, where the footpath was clearly not well used. Several stings and a handful of scratches will attest to the fact that this was a bit of a struggle, through, as Beth put it, the kind of woods where trolls live – sums it up nicely to be honest! Once we had made it through and crossed a quiet lane onto a smaller, much nicer but still dark patch of woods on the other side, we made our way up past some spooky-looking trees where the footpath dumped us out onto a large field, but not before forcing me through one last patch of nettles for a final laugh. Beth, having had enough of nettles, decided to try and find an alternative way around, and burst through the undergrowth a few yards further on. Allegedly, the footpath carried on straight over the ploughed field, but we saw no sign of it. Instead, we decided to walk around the edge until we found the way out, also hoping to avoid the worst of the churned earth from clinging to our boots. We did eventually find the exiting stile and dipped down past a house and then up the other side onto another lane.
A footpath soon appeared to the left and led us out onto a stretch of apple orchards. Whilst the foretold rain had fortunately stayed away, the humidity of the day began to make its presence felt at this point and we began to grow sticky. We made our way through this long orchard, past a lorry loading up with the season’s harvest and then across a couple of bare fields, out onto the next lane of the day. Again, a gate appeared in the hedge to our left and brought us out onto a path going right through the middle of a small holding of animals, including chickens, sheep, horses and goats – this was not here last time! This also brought us to a tiny train station which I am sure is popular with enthusiasts of steam locomotives, although we have yet to look closely. After we crossed the tracks and made our way down a patch of overgrown scrubland, we walked out into the bottom of an open field with a small flock of sheep grazing in the middle. We made our way up the sloped paddock and paused at the top in front of a handsome tree for a drink and some sweets, whilst we watched the sheep slowly graze across the hill.
After dropping back down a small road we picked up another, slightly muddy, footpath, rising gently uphill beneath the shelter of trees. Still the rain did not come, and by this time the sun was out and we were getting hotter. This tree-lined track continued to skirt the edges of farmland for some distance, save one point where the trees vanished and we felt the peak of the day’s heat on our unexpecting heads. Back beneath the trees, the footpath continued to be muddy, large puddles even occasionally providing us with obstacles. Further along, additional and quite unexpected obstacles soon presented themselves as well. Just after we had stopped to let a young lady and her horse past us on the bridleway, we noticed her suddenly turn back around a little way ahead. We asked if she was okay and she told us that she thought she could hear dirt bikes ahead. It wasn’t long before we discovered the source of the noise. Not bikes, but large, mud-splattered Range Rovers were making their way slowly up the bridlepath, where they certainly shouldn’t have been. We backed as far into the hedge as we could to allow them to pass, warning them of the rider’s presence only a little way ahead – I can only hope that this all ended without incident.
We eventually emerged from the path and crossed another road, passing one of our first-ever lunch spots. Both agreeing that there were probably better spots and that we weren’t that hungry, we carried on and made our way out into a long stretch of wide-open farmland. On our first go, the conditions had been so extreme that the wind whipping across this large hilltop field had been a struggle to fight against, and so strong that we could lean forward and feel it holding us up. On this occasion however, a bit more of a breeze would be welcome as we continued on our humid way – although shout out to Beth, who at this point noticed that if we turned around, there was a bit of a breeze coming up behind us to cool our faces if we needed; insert clever girl meme here.* We began to descend through woodland, everywhere a little too damp to sit, before crossing some bare arable fields and making our way into Hollingbourne. We eventually stopped in the rest area containing picnic benches, provided for walkers and cyclists by the Dirty Habit pub where we had stopped for a drink last time. Sadly on this occasion the pub was not open (boo), as it had suffered from a severe fire about a year ago (aww) and would be re-opening early next year (yay!).
Lunch devoured, we made our way back out of Hollingborune and up a sharp incline back onto the North Downs Way. The steepest part of this initial ascent unfortunately came right through the middle of another herd of cows, which were fairly close to the path this time. We made our way up as brusquely as we could, ignoring our screaming legs until the very top. Only once we had a safe distance between us and the cattle, did I reveal to Beth that one of them was in fact a bull. Not that this was a problem in this particular instance, however there were no warning signs at all – tut tut tut! A little further on was also the location where Beth had first told me I had some grey hairs, and after checking in again a couple of years later, I am pleased to hear that the patch has remained resolutely at only five hairs – a major win. Another sharp incline through a thick patch of prickly woodland, and we eventually emerged back onto the top of the downs. Here, the views opened up before us and we could see far and wide across the valley. This, really, is the big payoff for this particular walk and is undoubtedly the most memorable moment of the route.
Turning away from the view, we made our way back into the trees and returned to the Hucking Estate. The walk back through the woods was longer than we remembered, but a lot less muddy than previously. As we sensed the end of the walk nearing, we also began to notice a few of the resulting aches, including my left shoulder and Beth’s feet. By the time we returned to the car park, our little white fiesta was a welcome sight. We leapt in and blasted the air-con, to finally remove the stickiness of the day!
We certainly enjoyed this route more the second time around, although the footpaths of the North Downs are clearly not as popular as those in other areas, being notably more overgrown. The obvious highlight was the fantastic views at the end of the day, but the presence of beasties was also a welcome addition. Next time, the pub will be open again and it will be even better!
Full map and instructions available at http://www.kentramblers.org.uk/KentWalks/public/walk_090.htm
*I can’t promise that this is the last time I will, however inadvertently, compare my fiancée to a velociraptor
Matthew G. Huggins 