I take a long, hot sip from the bottle of cider in my hand. Beth is sitting beside me. Her eyes are wide, staring ahead, hands clasped firmly to her cheeks. We both watch as the thick plume of smoke rises through the air only a short distance across the dry, barren farmland.
But let’s go back a couple of hours.
We arrived at the little riverside campsite, which we had passed on several occasions, sat within the metaphorical shadow of Bodiam Castle, at about a quarter past two, Wednesday afternoon. It still hadn’t rained in weeks, and the temperature on this particular day was over thirty degrees. We had spent an hour or so erecting our all-new inflatable air tent, which I am sure we will appreciate more on days which are not so incredibly hot-as-balls. After countless droplets of sweat had dripped down my face, and we had discovered a gaping two-inch gash in our airbed, we had then sat for a well-earned hydration break. Beth downed some lemonade, and I downed a bottle of Rattler. We then went to fill up our water and see if there was any tape at reception available that we could borrow to fix our bed.
As we walked back into reception, we were met with a lady informing the staff about a fire which had been spotted across the farm. Having had such a dry summer, when a new area of the country seemed to be sparking into a blaze every other day (we had spent the last few days reading about the fire in the New Forest, which is particularly sad), this was the last thing that we or anyone would want to hear. With a look and a nod to Beth, she scurried off back to the tent to start gathering up the essentials, just in case. I managed to acquire some tape – which suddenly seemed insignificant – as the manager came marching out and disappeared out the door. As I too left, I almost immediately spotted the dark plume of smoke rising from the not-so-distant distance. Okay, so there actually is a fire. On my way back toward the tent, as I stopped to get the water, I spotted the manager talking to a gentleman who turned out to be the farmer. I took the opportunity to ask if we were all about to burn down, to which he said “no, I think it’s just my stupid….”, trailed off, and then started making noises about going to sort it.
I approached the tent, and I saw Beth standing staring toward the smoke. Beth is a naturally anxious soul, and on this occasion, there was actually something to be reasonably concerned about. Still very much hoping that we weren’t going to burn down, we settled ourselves down in the limited shade available in front of our tent, and stared at the smoke, waiting.
And so there we were, two hours after arrival, waiting to discover our fate. We watched as the farmer tore across the farm in his van, presumably to give someone a bollocking. Minutes later, we heard the reassuring sound of a fire extinguisher, and the smoke began to reduce. This went on for a while, as they made attempts to smother it altogether, including another blast from the extinguisher. Finally, a great digger was drafted in to heap on shovel loads of the dry earth. The smoke suddenly turned brown and dusty, faded, and then was gone.
We were not going to get caught in a wildfire after all – fantastic!
We could now relax and enjoy a couple of events that had been lined up for the occasion. The first was due to begin just after six o’clock: the eclipse. As the celestial event began, we regularly popped our heads around the tent, donning our special eclipse glasses to check on its progress, watching as the sun turned into a great Pac-Man in the sky. As the moment approached, we moved our chairs out to the side of the tent and sat down with our glasses to watch as the moon covered 95% of the sun’s surface. Finally, at around quarter past seven, only a sliver of sun shone. We took off our glasses and looked around. It was not dark, but the world suddenly had the hue of a particularly beautiful evening, as if someone had turned the light down to a soft, golden glow. Together with a herd of cows across the field opposite our tent, we watched the eclipse.
As the moon began to slide away again, Beth turned her attention to cooking her famous camping chilli. We tucked in ravenously with our bag of tortilla chips, as the sun began to truly disappear for the evening. The temperatures finally began to cool, and the first specks of stars began to appear in the sky. As more and more appeared, we began to keep an eye out for the second show of the evening: the Perseid Meteor Shower. The Perseids come from the orbit of the Swift-Tuttle comet, and tonight the Earth would be passing through their path. Yet the first thing that I noticed was the fact that the modern night sky is very active. Gone are the still dark skies of old, with only planets wandering slowly through the cosmos. Countless specks of satellites whizzed through the heavens; the more you looked, the more and more you saw. They moved like nothing else in the sky, and are undeniable when your eyes find one.
Then, we spotted one. A small, whizzing flash of light, appearing and vanishing into the night. Beth gasped, and we both made a wish. They then began to come through thick and fast, and we wished upon every one. Suddenly, low in the sky to our left, an extremely bright streak of light tore through the sky. We gasped as the afterglow faded to black. I had seen shooting stars before, but none like that; it was incredible. We stared up into the night, where stars continued to tumble and vanish, another one or two leaving more shockingly bright afterglows. Beth nodded off somewhere between ten and eleven to the sounds of baas and moos from our neighbours, as I supped on a pot-noodle and beers. I made it all the way to midnight, and after I had wished countless wishes, we finally went into the tent to sleep on the floor (the tape didn’t work). We left the meteors to rain down from above, as we rested beneath,
*
The rising sun began to heat the tent around six o’clock the following morning. Another baking hot day dawned. However, more importantly, it was B-Day.
Yes, the reason for coming camping on this particular occasion was now upon us – it was Beth’s 33rd Birthday. This does of course officially make her an adult (by hobbit standards), and we began the day’s celebrations with a coffee on the shady side of the tent and some presents – the highlight of which seemed to be the stuffed pigeon cuddly toy, which naturally became known as “Pidgey”. We made our way up to the café for a breakfast of waffles and a smoothie, which Beth ended up sharing with a seagull, before breaking camp. The morning was already sweltering, so this again became a sticky, dehydrating affair. We threw away the airbed (we have ordered a camping bed, which we’re quite excited to try!) and headed minutes down the road to park up at Bodiam Castle.
We were, therefore, quite exhausted by the time we even got to the point of starting the walk. Beth felt particularly wobbly, and with threats of 35-degree-plus temperatures, began to question if she wanted to do the walk at all. To get the situation under control, we stopped in the shade and brought ourselves a long overdue drink. As we cooled down and hydrated ourselves, I came up with a cunning plan; we could do the walk in reverse. Thinking about the route, which we normally do clockwise, the walk would begin with a shadeless climb, and end with an always overly hot and deceptively long river stretch to finish things off. However, if we flipped it, we could start off with a more manageable flat section, climb up through stretches of shade, and finally end with a long downhill run. On these terms, along with me taking the bag the whole way, Beth decided to go for it.
And so, finally, into the melting hot day of the driest summer I can recall, we began. Was this stupid? Probably, but here we go. We headed away from the castle along the river. This section was hotter than ever, as we walked along the tantalisingly cool water. We spotted our camping spot from the night before on the opposite side and paused in the infrequent shade to sip at water. Oh boy, was this going to be a hot one.
By the time we reached the end of the river stint, even I was starting to question whether we had made a mistake. Nonetheless, we pressed on, as we turned toward what was now going to be the trickiest section. Here we began to climb. This began with the steepest, trickiest part, up the side of the alpaca field (they were not out to play today). This short, sharp stretch had us both pausing for breath and water on the stile at the top. We then continued in this manner, from shady spot to shady spot, up through the farm, stopping for a good long pause at the top. We then walked out into a wide-open hilltop field. This is one of my favourite parts of the walk, but today I had feared it would just be too hot to embrace. However, as we stepped out, we were greeted by a welcome breeze, which enabled us to pause and enjoy the view of Bodiam Castle nestled among the countryside below.
We ducked down into a stretch of tree-lined footpath. Whilst this was shady, it also lacked the blessed breeze, so it suddenly felt surprisingly close and stuffy. However, the plan seemed to be working. The day was hot, yes. We were sweating, sure, profusely. But we were managing. Regular shady pauses accompanied by the sipping of water had meant that we suddenly found ourselves at the top of the hill, and halfway through the walk. The hard part was behind us, and we would now reap the rewards of our earlier decision.
A picturesque stretch of gently bumbling farmland wound away ahead of us; this has always been one of my favourite sections of footpath in the Weald. Today, like the rest of the countryside, it was significantly drier than we had ever seen it before. The only beasts to be seen were a collection of flies and wasps feasting on the corpse of a mouse, which we had inadvertently paused next to during one of our breathers. We stepped out into the outskirts of Ewhurst Green, passed all the lovely cottages, and turned down to the long, promised downhill stretch that heralded the finish line. We spotted a couple of flocks of sheep, wisely sheltering beneath trees, as we drew closer and closer to the castle. We had planned to then stop at the pub for a drink and some chips. However, Beth then asked a question, which changed the course of events: “Is the gas canister alright in the car?” After a quick Google revealed the potential dangers of leaving one in a car on a particularly hot day, the last five minutes became a bit of a focused march for me to get back to the car before it exploded. You will be pleased to know that I did get there in time, whipped out the gas, put it in the shade, and did my best to cool the car down.
Unfortunately, we both agreed that if we then went to the pub, we would spend the whole time worrying about the canister heating back up in, so we sadly forwent the pub on this occasion. Instead, we whisked the explosive home, stopping at Hawkhurst Tesco on the way to pick up a meal deal, orange juice, lemonade and some ice to have in the cool safety of our own home.
Perhaps not the end to the trip we had envisioned; however, it was nice to bookend the occasion with the threat of a fiery death!
Matthew G. Huggins 