Chiddingstone Causeway Circular (First Attempt!) – 2.7 miles

   The signs were there. Storm Bert blowing through. Having to change to a different walk thanks to the National Trust’s aversion to a bit of wind. Smashing my wing mirror after picking up our lunch. Even an additional stone hitting the window as we approached the day’s start point of Chiddingstone Causeway.

  Thanks to all of the above – well, mainly the incident with the mirror – we started the walk uncharacteristically late, around one o’clock in the afternoon. As it was only a four-and-a-half-mile circular, we felt we would still fit this in before sunset, and so set off into the blustery late-autumnal day, already with the niggling feeling that the universe was trying to send us a message.

  We made our way up and over the bridge across the train line and out into the field beyond. At the very first gate, we were greeted with a muddy puddle to navigate, yet this was only the start. We walked along the edge of this field along a squelchy path, watching the flock of sheep across from us freaking out at the strong winds. A little way around the edge of the second field, we came across our first real obstacle of the day. The stream running beside the fence line had burst and flooded, blocking our way with a deep and wide puddle, a small waterfall tumbling down to rejoin the watercourse.

  It was a significant amount of water. The only way forward presenting itself that would keep our feet mostly dry was to jump across the small waterfall. The distance was not huge, but was certainly slippery, with lots of water waiting to punish any mistakes. It was also slightly downhill, so getting back would be even trickier once we had committed, should we need to. I felt I could do this, but Beth with her little legs was less sure. As we considered our next move, another couple arrived and decided against it. Was this all another sign for us to stop?

  Possibly, however, Beth had other ideas. She spotted a disused fencepost beside us and suggested we use it to cross. After moving the large post into a suitable position, we gave it a tentative step. Our boots would still be slightly submerged and it wasn’t completely stable (and of course slightly slippery itself) but was also suddenly our best option.  With a bolt of bravery, Beth quickstepped over, and splashed through the sodden field beyond with the energy of a Golden Retriever delighted with its efforts. My less-waterproof boots did let a little water in, but we were over and able to continue on our way.

  After this, Beth brimmed with a new-found confidence following her recent triumph. This became most evident a few fields later, winds still blowing. We crossed a small river (using a real bridge this time) and found ourselves in a largely waterlogged field. We carried on nonetheless, until the water grew deeper and began to swallow the grass, at which point I slowed. Captain Beth in her Panda hat however didn’t slow a beat, and boldly splashed through, blazing the trail, and I was only too pleased to follow her example.  This largely occurred all the way through the large field as the footpath zig-zagged to and fro, and by the time we were halfway across both of our feet were so soaked that neither of us very much cared anymore!

  However, our defiant march was brought to an abrupt halt, when we came across the largest obstacle yet. The route had circled back to re-cross the small river we had crossed earlier, only as had been the theme of the day, it was completely flooded, and had no helpful bridge to see us clear.  The expanse of deep water stretched far and wide, and was sadly too deep for Beth to construct another of her magnificent bridges. We stood together amongst the howling wind, feet soaked, staring at the water ahead.

  Okay, fine.

  Finally, we paid heed to the Universe’s increasingly unsubtle signals. We turned and splashed our way back across the fields. We were still not caring much about the water continuing to enter our boots, although now the gusts of wind were significantly more in our faces, which at points were strong enough to sway and slow our steps. We walked back across the series of fields, feeling we had made the right decision, and hopped back over Beth’s bridge and once again passed the flock of sheep, who were still very much freaking out. We returned to Chiddingstone Causeway and stopped at The Little Brown Jug for Beth’s final good idea of the day; a pint.

  Despite all the signs, we had to try and whilst ultimately we didn’t make it around, I am still glad we attempted it. Today, Beth was a hero, and seeing that was worth every wet toe and smashed mirror.  It also served as an exciting and memorable end to our autumnal walking season, throughout which we have enjoyed all of its colourful delights. Next stop, Winter, and today we felt her howling call.

  As for the route, we will try again when the days are warmer, skies bluer and footpaths, crucially, dryer – this was not a defeat, merely a tactical retreat!