The Winter season is upon us!
We begin with a new route, starting from the free car park along Burwash High Street in East Sussex. The original route calls for a clockwise direction, however thanks to certain lunch plans, we had decided to go against the grain. We set off just before midday and began by walking through the middle of Burwash. Going this way around also gave us the advantage of getting this section of busy road walking out the way at the start of the day, rather than leaving it until the end. We made our way along the A265 for five or so minutes out of the village, before turning off to the left down the day’s first footpath.
It seemed like it had been a while since our last walk, and as we emerged out in the field and saw the awaiting countryside beyond, it felt good to be back, the scattering of sheep looking over at us the finishing touch. However, this moment of bliss was short-lived, as we felt a familiar squelching sensation beginning beneath our boots. The winter mud had arrived right on time, and we got stuck into the struggle that would be making up the next few weeks and months.
Nonetheless, it was a fine day, with hints of blue sky above, and the mud, for now, was not too terrible. We descended through a couple of fields before picking up a track running alongside a trickling stream. Soon after we took another footpath to the left, which began to take us steadily uphill for a short distance across another field. On the other side, the route took us past a fallen branch, the tips of which were covered in fluffy green lichens, which Beth of course loved. However, as we admired it, we couldn’t fail to notice the awaiting path forward. The mud had suddenly got much, much worse. We entered the small patch of trees, boots squelching through the bramble-lined footpath. Both of us hoped that this would improve soon enough, and it did!
Briefly.
Then it got much, much worse. We weaved our way along, doing our best to navigate the mud, but my socks were becoming undeniably wet. We once again naively thought that the worst may have been behind us as we crossed a stile into another open field, but this dream was soon extinguished. Two horses stood at the edge of this field and watched us do our best to navigate the (thanks to them!) heavily churned paddock. Once out the other side, the path did become firmer, thanks to us walking up a driveway back to the road.
We rejoined the A265 for a few minutes before turning down a side road opposite the Wheel Inn (somewhere we will likely frequent in the future). We walked down past a few expensive-looking cottages, before another footpath came up on our left, turning us back toward the countryside which we had just walked. This short stretch, bramble hedge to the left, electric fence to the right, was the worst of the day. It was narrow and full of unavoidable sloppy mud. This left us with no option but to simply go for it. We could feel the mud entering our boots as we went, and I did my best to follow Beth’s boot prints before they refilled with water. This technique, whilst unpleasant, was working, until suddenly a particularly muddy patch caught Beth off guard. She slipped, and I did my best to grab her bag as she slid down toward the mud. Unfortunately, Beth’s reactions were quicker than mine, and she had already instinctively reached out with her hand to grab something to steady herself. She did, to her credit, stop herself from falling in, but unfortunately, the only thing for her to grab were the brambles. As you’d imagine, this hurt. The thorns had pricked her hands in several places and already specks of blood were blossoming. We got to the end and crossed another stile into an open field, where we stopped to run some water across the pricks and remove a small splinter, before continuing on our way; soggy, muddy, bleeding, but not defeated!
The walk brought us back to the horse field (hoorah), and we waded our way back across to the stile we had entered over. Instead of going back over however, we turned right down the rest of the churned paddock, toward a stretch of path through the ominously named ‘Bog Wood’. Despite its name however, the path through the trees was a vast improvement and we waved a grateful goodbye to all the muddy fields. We made our way downward, the sound of water running somewhere below. The path levelled out after a hundred yards or so, and we caught sight of the stream running parallel to the path. There we found an idyllic spot, one of those hidden gems of the weald, and a perfect scene for a summer’s picnic – again, we will be back!
The route continued beside the stream, and after crossing over a small bridge we were reunited with our old friend – deep sloppy mud. This led us to our planned lunch stop; Bateman’s. We have lost count of how many times we have stopped here, and today we entered through the familiar back gate. However, Beth spotted that this was only for ‘ticket holders’. We carried on into the ground for maybe fifty yards, under the justification that we had a lifetime membership. Yet our consciences caught up with us and so we doubled back to walk along the road and buzz in at the proper entrance. Unfortunately, our good intentions were rewarded with a small incident that involved Beth’s coat getting covered in mud – oh well never mind!
We had lunch just after two o’clock, and sat outside the tea room eating a turkey-based bap, cheesy chips and festive biscuits, watching three sparrows and a bolshy robin squabble over a scattering of crumbs. Before leaving, we got a stamp in our new National Trust passport from a very cheerful lady, who may or may not have been enjoying the free gin samples available in the shop. Waving goodbye to Batemans for the day, we carried on along the route. There was only a short amount left, probably less than a mile, which was a large reason for doing the walk this way around. As a result, we soon found ourselves back in Burwash and at the car, completing the day’s walk at about three o’clock.
Despite the conditions, this was a really nice walk and we both enjoyed the day. We will certainly be doing it again, however (and we advise anyone reading this to do the same), we will undoubtedly be saving it for the summer – in this scenario, it would be pretty perfect from start to finish!
Matthew G. Huggins 