Finally, the morning window showed blue skies and sunshine. Finally, the smell of sunscreen lingered around us. Finally, my shorts have returned. Yes, after what has seemed like an unusually long time, the fine weather does appear to once again be upon us! And the timing couldn’t be better, as we continue our string of favourite routes by returning to one of the very first we completed together, and one of the key walks responsible for us falling in love with walking to begin with.
Regular readers may recall that at the start of March, Beth and I had to run out one morning for emergency boots. Beth’s were an immediate success, however mine not so much, with slightly squished toes and rubbing heels. These issues have persisted since, and so Beth suggested that this week I try “heel grips”. They are basically designed to sit at the back of your shoes and stop them rubbing. This sounded great, however before we had left the car park, I discovered that, quite naturally, the space given over to the heel grip at the front was sacrificed by the front. My already uncomfortable toes suddenly felt more compressed, and so I fidgeted and adjusted my way along the first few hundred yards as I got used to this. I also made Beth re-adjust the bag, because something (my lunch) was making a really annoying noise as I walked. So, after all my fussing, we finally headed out of Ightham Mote just before eleven o’clock.
The well-used gravel track began to slope upward toward the awaiting hilltop. We walked past the farmyard of “Mote Farm”, where Beth stopped to read an information sign. The farm sells its produce locally, and as I had been looking for a more ethical source of meat, this seems like it could be a good option. The path continued to rise, and soon we found ourselves walking alongside one of the most notable Wild Garlic groves we have come across to date. I was very pleased to find it once again in full bloom. The sun shone down through the glowing leaves, and the ocean of white stars cascaded away beneath the trees as far as can be seen, as the scent wafted up on the warm air. The grove is long and deep, and made me want to be a fox or a badger for the day so that I could follow their little trails and walk amongst the galaxy of Wild Garlic flowers.
There were also bluebells dotted throughout the grove, and these continued to line our path for several miles. We also began to rise above the tree line to our left, and views of the countryside opened up and stretched away to the horizon. Mote Farm also continued beside us, and we passed a herd of goats who did not want to come over and say hello (despite my best – and expert – goat noises) and a herd of cattle – they did indeed look very happy and well kept. However, one thing was beginning to niggle – my left heel. We reached the end of the track and arrived at a steep road, and here I took my boot off to see what was going on. The heel grip had curled down on itself and was now rubbing too. I intentionally brought the whole pack for such an eventuality, and so replaced it, and things were immediately better.
Turning our attention back to the walk, we headed up the road a short distance and then began to climb a steep set of stairs up the bank. As the steps wind up amongst bluebells and mosses and twisting trees, you could be forgiven for thinking you were about to stumble upon the magic faraway tree. Actually, what awaits at the eventual top is not far off. The path continues steeply through the trees and is a good test of your leg muscles. However, this is quickly forgotten and the extra effort is well worth it, once you cross a style beside a National Trust sign saying “One Tree Hill”. This little patch is one of the highlights of the walking calendar, and the reason we save it for April. We were going to do this walk next week, but as bluebell season is a couple of weeks early this year, we brought it forward, as not to miss them. Already, some of the bluebells lower down had begun to droop and dry, and we feared we may have missed our window. However, we immediately realised this was not the case. We walked along the ridge, covered in the glow of bluebells, taking it all in. It really is beautiful up there. We stopped for some refreshments on a bench, looking out across the countryside below, the sea of bluebells at our back; sitting together upon Kent’s Tanzanite crown, on a perfect spring day.
Leaving One Tree Hill behind, we carried on along the hillside path, with bluebells continuing to serenade us and plenty of butterflies fluttering through warm meadows beside. We then emerged into a horse cross-country field, where for the first time we witnessed some kind of event/training going on, and Beth briefly mistook a labrador for a small horse. Soon after we entered Knole Park, and made our way along its familiar, wide paths, past the house and a few grazing deer. We crossed the golf course toward our lunch spot, and the familiar silhouette of a particular tree came into view. This was where we had stopped last time, and I gratefully sank into its awaiting roots, which seemed to fit me perfectly. I began tucking into my pasta pot, looking up at the blue skies appreciatively through the fresh leaves. Beth meanwhile, was having a different experience. Upon sitting down, she had spotted an ant. She then spotted another ant. And then another. The more she looked, the more ants she spotted. Beth does not like ants. Beth did not have the best lunch stop of her walking career. I was very comfortable and happy amongst the roots, but Beth was all too ready to get going again as soon as lunch was eaten – but only after checking herself and the bag for any stowaways.
As we headed out the back of Knole Park, Beth asked me how my feet were. Unfortunately, I had developed a new complaint. The tops of my right toes were rubbing – an unusual complaint – and it was actually quite uncomfortable. Fortunately, I had just the right motivation around the corner to keep me going – the pub. Our path led us out into the village of Godden Green, in the middle of which sits The Bucks Head. We took our seats out front in the sunshine, and Beth went in to get some drinks. She soon reappeared, carrying two pints of cider. She placed them on the table, and the liquid glowed gold before me. We clinked glasses with a cheers, and I took several long, deep sips, as the sun warmed my face and shone through my eyelids. I had waited for this moment for so long. The first of the year’s sunny ciders, and it was heavenly. We could have sat there quite happily for the rest of the afternoon – yet the footpaths always call us on.
Having had an entire pint, Beth was tiddly and so decided to sing and dance to distract me from my sore feet as we got going again. The gravel track wore out as we left the last of the cottages behind, and we made our way through the middle of peaceful farmland beneath the dappled shade of trees lining our way. This brought us out to an avenue of blossom trees, before we crossed back into the grounds of Mote Farm, and an area they had left for Skylark conservation efforts – excellent! However, not to whinge, but here my right foot developed another complaint, which this time was an aching sole. Fortunately for my feet, we were not far from home now. We passed by a bright strip of dandelions and a small herd of sheep before descending another track lined with bluebells. From there, we walked along a flat path beside a quietly tinkling stream, which brought us back to Ightham Mote. We then climbed back up to the car park, where I gratefully removed my boots.
We were having such a lovely day and had decided to extend it a little. We purchased ourselves a couple of ice creams and headed down into the garden. We found a patch of warm grass in the sunshine and ate them, after which I lay back and stretched out, looking up at the perfect blue and few fluffy white clouds above, occasionally closing my eyes and soaking up the heat. We finally rose, walked around the outside of the house itself, admiring the fish in the moat and the light from the water glinting off the wall, before finally heading home.
This was the best day. Beth happy cried more than once, which says it all. It really was a “Good Place” day; a perfect day we would do again and again. It is no surprise that this route lead to walking becoming our thing, and this, our third visit, may have been our best one yet.
Matthew G. Huggins 