I am sitting on the ground. We’ve just visited the Rainforest Café at Disneyland Paris, which seemed different somehow from how I remembered it. Wilbur, the recently rescued Golden Guernsey kid, only a few months old, runs over to play. He leaps on my lap as he always does and goes all floppy for a cuddle. He skips away with excitement, only to drop his hindquarters to the floor and drag his bum along the ground. I should probably worm him – I look down – and probably wash my hands, too.
*
Beth leaps out of bed.
“Are you okay?” I ask as I am torn prematurely from a pleasant if wormy dream.
“I forgot I was going to Surrey,” says Beth urgently as she stomps hurriedly around the room, referring to her work, “it’s 6.30.”
I watch her for a few seconds, as my waking brain whirls up enough to form two vital words.
“It’s Sunday.”
A silent pause in activity falls across the dawn.
“Oh.”
*
Due to a prompt awakening, we were able to depart unusually early today.
Despite Beth having sorted out our meal deals the day before, we stopped on our way. Partly to pick Beth up some throat sweets, as she currently sounds like she smokes forty a day, but also to get some breakfast. This morning’s eggs, intended for another classic “egg surprise”, were not the freshest, and we decided not to risk it over nearly ten miles. As a result, we found ourselves eating one cheese and onion slice and one baked bean and sausage slice at the starting point of the Groombridge playing field car park.
Today was another hot day, although perhaps not as hot as last year’s visit. We quickly grew sticky, nonetheless, as we made our way out of the village into the farmland beyond. Last year, these first fields were full of colourful flowers and butterflies. However, this year they must be resting and look a little more unkempt. The morning passed smoothly, with no mistakes and managing the heat with plenty of drinks breaks. We were looking forward to some refreshments at the Dorset Arms in Withyam, which sat a little over halfway. However, as we approached – disaster! Metal fencing surrounded the building, which was clearly shut. A note read, ‘Closed due to fire’. Well, that was disappointing. Hopefully they reopen by the time we return!
Continuing on our way, we managed to get the route correct to the church and back this time, before crossing through a sheep field where we shared the footpath with some of its residents. Away to our left, we could see the spire of Hartfield Church, and soon after, made our way over the familiar disused rail line that could take us all the way there and beyond. We passed last year’s lunch spot, but did not stop due to being too early (word to Beth), and before we knew it, found ourselves stepping boot into a known cow field. This presented the first real challenge of the day. However, being seasoned walkers, we have learned a thing or two about cattle by now. We made our way onward, taking note of the fresh pats and scouring the shady field fringes for a swish of the tail. Sure enough, we spotted them in more-or-less the exact same sheltered spot as they had been in last time. We gave them a wide berth, and they did not moove. No problem. I had pointed out a couple of likely looking lunch spots along the long swathe of land, but Beth assured me that she would not be comfortable eating in a cow field.
For a while, we walked through large stretches of very hot crop fields. The heat waved up through the air in front of us, with no shade to be found. Large patches of daisies grew in their midst, sitting like galaxies of flowers amongst a universe of wheat. Eventually, after crossing over a couple of babbling streams lined with flowers, butterflies and dragonflies, we spotted a fine Oak Tree just off from our path. We stopped and sat beneath its relieving shade for lunch. We leaned comfortably on its trunk and looked out beneath its glowing leaves at the sunny Weald beyond. It was a perfect spot, and Beth had also picked me up a World Cup-themed three-pack of wraps to eat, or a ‘Wrap-Trick’, which made it even better.
We enjoyed this spot so much that we stayed sat for a little longer than usual. We relaxed into the tree, and enjoyed the cool spot on what had turned into a particularly fine and lovely day. We finally rose back to our feet, and I began to repack the bag. Beth froze. She pointed at something to the right of where we had been sitting moments before. A large, not unfresh, cow pat. Looking behind the tree, there was another. We then spotted a third, which we must have walked right past, eyes only for lunch. We scarpered. However, I did take the time to point out that this meant that Beth was, in fact, comfortable eating in a cow field.
We made it from the field alive without seeing the herd. However, we did spot another in the neighbouring field, who also remained in the shade and unbothered by our appearance. We were almost back now and made our way over the last few stretches of tall grass. The sounds of insects were deafening, and bugs exploded from the high stems with every step. I had also spotted that we had managed to go wrong again last time, by walking back into Groombridge along the driveway of some kind of creepy, abandoned, asylum churchy type place. This time, we continued through rising crops and were rewarded at the top with a crisp breeze and fine views.
The road back into Groombridge awaited, and we plodded our way down to the green, stopping at what is fast becoming one of my favourite visits on our walking calendar: The Crown Inn. This old-worldy little pub sits at the top of the sloping green in the sunshine. The landlord is nice, and on this occasion, we encountered one of the local dogs being escorted home after walking himself behind the bar to see if there were any snacks. On top of this, there were the swifts. I am very fond of these birds, and amongst the eaves of the old buildings around us, nested a fantastic colony. In that moment, amongst a clear, sunny summer’s afternoon, they were all out and about. They swooped and screamed together through the air, flying so low at points that it almost felt as though you could reach out and touch them. We sat and enjoyed our cold cider as we watched their display.
Finally managing to tear ourselves away from this idyllic setting with the promise of returning, we headed across the road toward Groombridge Place. We confronted some geese who let us pass, and soon after, returned to the hot car waiting for us right where we had left it. Following our second lap of this route, I think it has done enough to cement itself firmly amongst our favourites. I like that it is a good distance, I like that there is a good amount of variation and things to see along the way, and I really like drinking cider in the sunshine with my wife outside of a lovely pub watching the swifts. In fact, that might just be my idea of heaven.
Matthew G. Huggins 