Well, we just had the loveliest weekend.
To celebrate our first wedding anniversary, we took a trip to West Sussex for our seemingly annual foray into the South Downs National Park. We have just got home, and we very much made the most of it.
Let us go back to Saturday morning. After a 5AM alarm and a Clacket Lane breakfast, we parked up at the side of the road on the edge of the small village of Walderton. Things have been hot lately and today looked to be no different. However, given that we were setting off at a quarter to nine, we hoped to get a few miles behind us before the heat kicked in. The first couple saw us heading gently upward along quiet lanes and across stretches of long, open crop fields. A stiff breeze had already made itself known, taking the edge off the warmth that was even now beading upon my forehead. This relieving breath of air remained with us throughout the day, which we found ourselves often grateful for along the way. The countryside was alive with farmers hard at work gathering crops, combine harvesters throwing up thick clouds of dust, and equestrians out on hacks with their prized horses. We also passed a yard of pecking hens and a crowing cockerel, and before we knew it, an hour had passed, and all had been smooth sailing.
We soon encountered the first true climb of the day. It was not long, but it was sharp, so we took our time and stopped to enjoy the rolling views of hot fields full of hard-worked grids of great straw bales. We were also pleased to find that, quite by chance, we had picked out a route with regular patches of woodland and tree-lined paths, providing plenty of shade as the sun rose higher. Together we plunged deeper into the secretive hidden fields of the South Downs, and still all remained easy. At the two-hour mark, we stopped for a quick refuelling at the side of the road, and found ourselves not far from halfway.
As I took the bag for my second shift and adjusted the straps, I found that it was not sitting quite right. I continued to fiddle with the straps as we walked, and for the first time with this new bag, I was feeling the familiar ache in my shoulders. A well-timed distraction then occurred, in the form of an anniversary message containing a lovely photo we had not before seen from our wedding day; an unexpected and most welcome surprise! We entered a large patch of woodland, which led us gently downward as I continued to tug and adjust the bag. We did manage to take a couple of wrong paths as we navigated the trees, but fortunately, Beth noticed after only a minute or so, and saved the day both times. As we examined the route and the remaining profile displayed at its bottom, we knew we were approaching Bow Hill, which would begin with a very sharp incline. I would love to say that I toughed it out and ignored my shoulder. I would love to say that I went beyond my allotted hour and carried the bag up for my beloved wife. However, as soon as Beth pointed out that it was bag swap time, I crumbled and handed it straight over, flexing the troublesome joint with considerable relief.
Shortly after, the short-sharp began. It was far from mountainous, but it was certainly the toughest stretch of the day. Much to our delight, however, the trees continued to line the path, and so we again took our time, and it wasn’t so bad. As the path levelled out, we stopped for some sweets as well as a Reece’s Cup each as a reward. We then turned toward a much shallower ascent and began to climb along the back of Bow Hill. On the way up, we entered the Kingley Vale National Nature Reserve, where we saw a very unusual insect, which turned out to be a Hummingbird Hawk Moth, before finding ourselves at the top. Here, we even managed to bag a trig point, something there is not much call for in the High Weald! We carried on the path for a few minutes, keeping an eye out for a suitable lunch spot. As the foliage began to thin and the view opened up to our left, we found it. A perfect little Oak Tree perched on the hilltop, overlooking the countryside below all the way out to the sea before us. We stretched out, leaned back against the tree and soaked it all in, as we enjoyed our traditional meal deals. I love our lunch stops, but this one felt particularly memorable and special.
Back on our boots, and only a minute later, the entire hilltop opened up in front and around us. Far-away views stretched off on both sides, and we spotted a series of large mounds ahead. These were ‘The Devil’s Humps’, and we climbed the chalky path up onto the middle one for a look, and took it all in. After what had been a long walk, this was a fantastic pay-off and made it all extra magical. We climbed down, and before we began the way back down, Beth found an information board, which made her very happy. Apparently, the mounds of earth were burial grounds, originally Neolithic, but possibly used more recently to bury defeated Viking Kings – which I thought was really cool! From there, it was downhill all the way. We headed through woods, between open fields where the air waved up from the earth, past a crumbling stone building and then finally back into the welcoming arms of Walderton. The route took us directly past The Barley Mow pub, and so, naturally, we popped it for a tipple. I grabbed us each a drink from the bar and went out into the little garden to find Beth. She was sat waiting for me beneath a willow tree. I sat down too, and we clinked our glasses to us. The time was a quarter past two, and it was exactly one year since we had been officially married.
We left at about twenty to three and found the car awaiting us patiently along the road; and thus, the walk came to its natural conclusion. For this, our fourth venture into the South Downs National Park, I was hoping for something similar to the Bignor Hill walk we had completed a couple of years ago. I am happy to say it achieved this, and the top of Bow Hill was a fantastic addition to our South Downs experience. In fact, the entire walk was a testimony to the area. Over twelve miles of pure countryside, with little road walking, none of which was busy, through a peaceful and quiet world which could have gone untouched by the previous century. Significantly for us, too, this was our longest walk to date, beating the Bewl Water Circular by 0.2 miles. The Downs were also, obviously, much trickier terrain than a reservoir’s edge, making it feel like quite the achievement, and a great way to mark our first year of marriage.
Happily, our time in the South Downs was not yet at an end. Twenty minutes from Walderton, was the Goodwood Estate, where we had booked ourselves in for the night. We arrived just after three o’clock and checked in. After being shown to our room, we each enjoyed a stretch on the bed and a luxurious soak. We returned to reception a little after six and waited on a bench in the warm evening outside for the complimentary shuttle service to whisk us away to our evening’s destination. A black, shiny, swish Range Rover soon pulled up, and we climbed in. The seats were reclined in a luxurious fashion, and a few minutes later we were arriving at The Kennels. This is an exclusive Goodwood Member’s Club, and because I have married well, this would be the location of our anniversary meal. Our booking wasn’t until seven o’clock, so we sat out on the veranda and enjoyed a couple of drinks before being shown to our table. Beth looked beautiful, and I did a reasonable job of pulling off sophistication, save one minor incident involving bread (apparently you’re meant to tear off chunks – ?). We enjoyed a rich, scrumptious meal and shared a pudding, before being whisked back to the hotel in equal comfort. All thoughts of going to the hotel bar for a nightcap soon evaporated after stretching out on the bed, and I managed to stay awake just long enough to watch England go 4-0 up against France by half-time, before finally nodding off for the day.
The bed was extraordinarily comfy. Due to this perhaps, as well as the previous day’s exertion, we woke up a little later than planned – but no matter. We took a stroll down to breakfast, and I made the most of the buffet by trying a little cheese, meat, cereal, a bite of a lemon-seed muffin and one grape. I also enjoyed a fry up, whilst Beth had poached egg and avocado on toast – all on the house, of course. Check-out wasn’t until a leisurely eleven o’clock, so we popped back to our room to grab our swimming costumes and headed to the Health Club. Together we enjoyed a relaxing session in the hot tub, sauna and steam room. There was an information sign beside the pool, part of which informed readers that such activities result in reduced cortisol levels, otherwise known as the stress hormone. Indeed, as we checked out on the stroke of eleven and began the short drive to our next destination, I felt noticeably relaxed and at peace.
Our final stop for the weekend was the town of Petworth, only a few miles from the estate. We parked at Petworth Place, owned by the National Trust, and used our Lifetime Memberships to take a wander around the house. The great and grand rooms were full of all kinds of artistic works, but most interesting for me were the paintings. Each room contained an information booklet, and we took great pleasure in exploring the art, settling ourselves down on the squishy sofas to examine half a dozen pieces before us. Beth enjoyed the portraits of historical figures, whilst it turns out I am a fan of JMW Turner – I suspect this was down to subject matter and use of light. After then having a nose about the old kitchens, we headed out into Petworth itself, to find some lunch. We made our way along a pretty little stoned paved lane called Lombard Street, before crossing the main square and arriving at an idyllic little tearoom called Cherry’s. We sat outside, and each had a quiche with salad, whilst I treated myself to the extravagance of an iced Latte. We then meandered back through the town into the grounds of Petworth Place, where we rounded off our weekend with a stroll around the grounds. The grass was very yellow, but the water was blue, and several gaggles of geese rested along its shore. We then headed past the Doric Temple, and finally up to the Ionic Rotunda. Here, we took in the view of the South Downs one final time, and embraced for a few, shuffled steps of our first dance routine.
And then it was time to go home. And yes, we did have the loveliest of times. Beth cried no less than four times from happiness on Sunday, a record, and I cannot recall the last time I felt so chilled out. It was perfect, simply perfect.
Matthew G. Huggins 