Ightham Mote to Dunks Green Circular – 7.8 miles

  A week on from our car-based disaster and I’m pleased to say my car is back on the road and ready for more adventures!

  This week’s walk will take us from regular start point Ightham Mote out to Dunk’s Green and back again, and is particularly exciting as it is a walk crafted by the man whom I have to thank for my love of the countryside and walking; my Dad.

  He also claims that this is his ‘Favourite Kentish walk’, which would be quite the title coming from such a seasoned walker. To quote the great man further, today would be all about layers. Whilst the day outside looked bright and blue and promising, the temperature had dropped somewhat since last week and a stiff breeze blew, and so with that in mind we donned a few layers, knowing we could remove as the day called for it.

  After another serving of syrup-covered bacon and banana pancakes, we set off and arrived at the start of the walk at about a quarter past eleven. We actually ended up leaving closer to half past however, as we got a few steps down the first path before the sun went in and we decided that we did need our top layers after all. We again took the path heading east out of the back of Ightham Mote and were immediately among the countryside, and turned left onto a field path which rose uphill, quickly getting our legs warmed up. We continued to climb through a woodland teeming with the green sprouts that would soon become a carpet of bluebells, which soon levelled out and opened up to views of the rolling countryside ahead. Here the route began to head back downward, through an orchard and eventually emerging to a quiet road lined with very pretty, old cottages and a nice bench which we sat upon as the sun poked its head out again. We followed the road steadily downhill, and we looked out at a peaceful part of the world which looked untouched and unchanged for decades if not centuries past.

  We picked up the next footpath at the bottom of the hill, where we found a tree-lined stream nestled amongst leafy Wild Garlic and sparkling in the sunlight. Across the bridge and the path again began to rise (so far, this is classic Dad stuff), taking us through countryside full of orchards, hop gardens and Oast houses – a triage of Kentish icons. The path came out at another quiet road and things began to get a little steeper, which is when layers began to get removed at a faster rate. By the time we had reached the woodland which grew across the hill’s top, Beth’s coat was off and I was down to a t-shirt, having had to remove gilet, hoodie and thermal. The breeze still blew a little, but from this point on the day got a lot more consistently bright and warm. The remainder of the climb went steeply up amongst the woodland, levelling out at the top for a long stretch through the midst of the trees beneath a clear blue sky. Eventually, this again began to descend, and we walked through National Trust owned Gover Hill. Near the bottom, I was happily walking along when behind me Beth stopped, having noticed a sign post which unusually said ‘View’. Quite rightfully she went to investigate, and so I turned back and followed her. Thank goodness Beth went to check it out! Just off the path, the trees opened up to reveal the bright countryside sprawled out before us beneath a clear blue sky, with a sun-soaked bench just begging to be sat on; aka the perfect lunch spot. And so we sat and ate and, soaking up the sun and enjoying the views, whilst a Nuthatch sang amongst the trees to our back. Was this our best lunch spot ever? Quite possibly.

  We carried on slowly downward through an orchard, turning right at a way-marker with several different markers, one of which was marked as “WW”. We quickly realised this was the Weald Way, and not Weight Watchers which was our first instinct. The route took us through a series of sunny fields and orchards, and a small patch of woods where I had a wee, as we closed in on the day’s pub stop. By the time we got to ‘The Kentish Rifleman’ the day was just about warm enough to justify a pint in the garden, and so we stopped for a quick refuelling of cider. Normally we would have sat for longer, but I feared Beth would quickly get cold when stopped and so we were soon back on the road.

  We immediately went the wrong way after the pub stop, but noticed quickly and the mistake was easily rectified, and we were soon back on track. We walked through the middle of an open and surprisingly dry crop field, and it was at the end of this stretch that I started to encounter a bit of an issue. For a little while now, my boots have been showing signs of tiring, and on several occasions I had said I needed new ones. At the start of the day, I had noticed that there was actually a visible hole in the right toe, and had since caught it on a jutting rock or root several times. Only at this point did I look down at my boots and notice that the sole itself was now flapping too. No sooner had I commented that I would need to be extra careful of water, did I step straight into one of the only wet patches we had come across all day, and was rewarded with a wet sock and soggy foot. From this point, my boot began to flap and catch and fall apart increasingly quickly.

  Across a road and we entered a large field teeming with sheep, which was a nice distraction from my boot issues. They were obviously used to people too because we were able to walk unusually close without spooking them. We made our way across the driveway of a very posh house and crossed another busy road, shortly after which Ightham Mote came back into view, not far away. This was fortunate, because as we returned down the same stony path we had began the day on, my boot began to totally disintegrate. Our last half mile was notable for my sock becoming increasingly visible, as my boot prolapsed out of its own toes all the way back to the car.

  My boots were dead. Since their first steps, they have carried me across 316.5 wonderful miles, and have been comfortable and reliable the whole time. True, they may have let a little water in over recent months, but to be fair they were never advertised as waterproof and I really put them through their paces. They were also, don’t forget, only about £25, and as such I consider them fantastic value for money. So much so, that I have just ordered a new pair of Peter Storm Buxtons (my third pair in a row).

  After removing my boots and replacing them with trainers, we enjoyed a mooch about the Ightham Mote gardens in the late afternoon sunshine, where we saw a very fat pigeon and a falcon who seemed to live in the garden. We also played on the giant wooden xylophone as well as jumping between several wooden stumps which were definitely designed for kids, before making our way home – this time, the car did not blow up.

  Today was a great walk, and we really enjoyed this patch of Kentish perfection. I can see why Dad says this is his favourite walk in the area; there is lots of undulation, which us Huggins’ enjoy very much (Bethany Roses less so!), and plenty of picturesque countryside, as well as a great pub along the way. It does a fantastic job of making you fully submerged in your surroundings from start to finish, and would be a fantastic walk come bluebell season, or even in the heights of summer – nice one Dad!