We found ourselves driving through a cold, damp February morning, on the way to the starting point for the day’s adventure. In a slight deviation from tradition, we stopped in Hadlow to get our lunch from the bakery, before arriving at the starting point of Chiddingstone at about quarter past eleven, and beginning a route we had not undertaken before.
Our first footpath left down past the cemetery and steadily downhill. Following the rain of the last few days, the stoney path was running with a stream of water (a sign of things to come). Things grew muddy and water-logged as the path levelled out, and we crossed over the fast-flowing river Eden across a narrow bridge. Things briefly got a bit firmer when we reached a long driveway, lined with a spattering of snowdrops, but soon enough we again diverted across fields. It slopped slightly downhill and was a bit slippery, although there was a cool tree in the middle of the field with a partially hollowed-out base, big enough for a human being. The first sheep of the day appeared to our right, and then again soon after following the second crossing of the Eden.
At the end of this long field we picked up the road for a short distance, returning to the mud on our right soon after. As we rounded a hedged corner, we spotted a fox in the middle of the field which turned out to be a goose, and worked our way around field edges until we emerged into the Hever Golf Club. Fortunately, being a drizzly Tuesday in February, the only thing we disturbed was a few more geese enjoying the many watery pastures. At the end of the main track through the course, we turned left onto a more traditional footpath. This was the first serious breach of my boots of the day, as we made our way up the narrow, mud-filled path, and my feet would not be dry again for the rest of the walk.
Across another road, we entered our next stretch of wet fields. Passing a lonely stile in the middle of the first field, the second contained a wonderfully curved fallen branch across the path. We fondled its moss and passed beneath, after which I did my Aragorn bit and tracked a herd of deer which had briefly shared our path some time before. The route then brought us out into a longer stretch of wide-open arable land, through which we squelched under the consistently grey sky. Down one long field and back up another, we found ourselves at a crossroads of paths, at which we turned left. We headed steadily downward and into a patch of trees, amongst which we picked up a driveway and passed several very fancy-looking houses.
We made it to the road and crossed over. Looking ahead, we saw a raised rail line and saw that the instructions told us to cross it. We could see not too far off a very clear path that would lead us up and over. This was the moment that we went wrong, although didn’t realise it immediately. After making our way through a couple of further fields and reaching a gate in the hedge, we double-checked the map, and only then did we spot our mistake. Having seen the obvious track over the tracks, we hadn’t bothered to check the map then. Had we done so, we would have noticed another going diagonally left, which would have brought us across a little further down. Fortunately, we quickly identified a quick track back to the route and so took the gate through the hedge to point us back in the right direction. Unfortunately, whilst this did indeed seem simple, it was actually the trickiest point of the day. The path was virtually invisible, Beth’s OS app the only thing keeping us vaguely on track. The field had also been heavily churned and ploughed, with deep, wide, water field furrows from one end to the other. We hopped our way from one muddy bank to another, mud plopping from our feet into the water below with every leap, during which time Beth brought up the Somme more than once. After we had crossed the majority of the Somme, we finally stopped for a late and well-earned lunch, stood beneath a tree – the bacon and cheese twist and cheese and potato slice were banging.
After our pause, we wiped our heavily-muddied boots on a quiet lane and crossed over to yet more water-logged fields on the other side. The constant battle with the mud was beginning to get a little tiring by now, although we did spot a pair of parakeets flying about a small patch of trees to our left. Mercifully, the route took us to a more solid path running back alongside the tracks, and out onto the road and back across the rail line. Throughout this short passage, we saw a lot of ‘house porn’ with Aston Martins and Bentleys outside – nice. Just as the path began to grow muddy again, we spotted a herd of deer staring at us from the bottom of a slope; deer for the third walk in a row. Unfortunately, after this briefly easy spell, the path grew heavy with mud and was flooded with the run-off from the neighbouring field. By the time we returned to the road (not that far) my feet were soaked and muddy, and I felt as though my socks were lined with silt.
Fortunately, the route again took pity on us for a while and we enjoyed a nice long stretch of road walking. This brought us up into the village of Hever itself, past the King Henry VIII pub, the sign of which looks like the old King having a wee (from the back at least!). The path through the churchyard opposite awaited us, and actually if we could have waited to this point and on a sunny day, this would have been a great lunch spot, with plenty of benches and a pub garden for a pint. Anyway, on we went, out the back of the church and alongside one of Hever Castle’s driveways. This was again very slippery and sloppy, but once the path turned right away from the castle, the track again became firm underfoot.
After some nice easy running, to our surprise, we came across a paddock of Llamas. Things got stranger when a Falcon came and landed beside them, with Llama and humans alike staring at it. And then, for a final touch of weirdness, we heard an owl hooting in the middle of the afternoon, not too far away. All very mystical! The magic continued a little further on, when along the edge of a trickling stream, I noticed something. Coming to a halt, I peered through the undergrowth, and found myself staring at an old and welcome friend.
Wild Garlic.
The first sprigs were sprouting up along the bank, and I picked myself a leaf and smelt that familiar scent; it was the smell of the coming Spring.
We entered into a patch of trees known as Moor Wood, the path rising up to pass between a narrow gully of large rocks. Trees towering above, roots gripping to the top of the strange little valley, the mossy place looked to belong to a witch.
Out the other side of the woods, and we began our final run-in. In the true spirit of the day, most of the way back was very muddy, and we squelched and slipped our way back to Chiddingstone. Once back of the car, I was very relieved to finally remove my boots and socks!
This day was undeniably a challenge – but one we both enjoyed! Eight and a half miles, and most of it battling mud, it’s good for us to struggle once in a while. However we both agreed that, with its many stretches of farmland and convenient pub stop along the way, this would be one for a fine summer’s day in future!
Full map and instructions available at http://www.kentramblers.org.uk/KentWalks/public/walk_422.htm
Matthew G. Huggins 