The South Downs Way. A personal journey.
Day One
So my mate Nigel picked us up as arranged at 5:55. 5 minutes early so he could pick up a paper. No problem, of course. Unfortunately, we hadn't banked on there being roadworks over-running on the motorway. First problem, we were queuing, and no more than 15 minutes into our venture. Jackie groaned as Nigel and I went into our usual litany of complaints about how the world is out to spoil our military timing. This is what blokes are good at - planning. When someone or something destroys carefully laid plans, the whole world goes wrong.
As that fine comedian Al Murray, AKA The Pub Landlord says, you have to have rules. The theme is concurrent with my own thinking - if we don't have any rules, where are we? AUDIENCE, loudly and in harmony "FRANCE!!!" If we have too may rules, where are we? "GERMANY!!!" You get the picture.
The day was overcast, and a bit on the cool side, but that was no particular bother, as we were expecting it to get better, and would prefer to start cool, as we expected to be warm enough later. Little did we know...
We (well, more specifically I) had done a minimal amount of research, as befits an over-confident approach to the whole thing. What's the point of reading about everybody else's view before you experience it yourself? Might as well read about it all from the comfort of your own armchair - or computer stool - rather than bother your ar$e doing it. Jackie, however, had done some homework on the subject, and explored bits via Google Earth. The sensibleness of this becomes apparent later, and not just today. One bit of that had been to identify a suitable overnight stop, which I had booked. I had worked out roughly how fast I thought we would walk, and expected to get there by 6pm, taking into account our lack of fitness, stamina and training. More of this later.
More roadworks followed on the Lewes road. We managed to contain our complaints to save Jackie too much angst, and indeed, we did clear them quite quickly. We did notice the chalk that all the digging had exposed. Definitely in the South Downs, then.
The search for a suitable breakfast venue led us to Sainsbury's in Newhaven. And not bad at all. We arrived at 7:40, way too early, but we loitered like schoolchildren until they opened at 8, and easily chose bacon (Nigel and Jackie) and sausage (me) sarnies. I also bought a 19p sachet of Marmite - marvellous. When they turned up, we were astonished. Great hunks of bread stuffed with bacon, and only £2.50. Good value, if rather hard to eat - crusts that size need a special kind of molar.
We polished that lot off, and set out for the start point of our mini adventure. Which is remarkably hard to find, but approaching it heading west along the esplanade in Eastbourne, the start of the walk makes a seriously impressive sight as it comes into view.
And, despite our previous and excessive (male) whinging, we arrived at the start of the Walkers route pretty much at the time we had decided on. The weather was still overcast and cool-ish, so we weren't worried about heat exhaustion. We read the sign, and had our photograph taken for posterity. And for vain display here...
Fat boy...
There is another route for horses and bikes, because they are not allowed on the fragile downland along the Seven Sisters section. Tip; if you are horse rider, or a bikeist, walk the first bit, because it is stunning.
So we knew that the first bit was uphill. We weren't prepared for this though - it's straight uphill for miles. Well, about 800 yds, I s'pose, but it sure felt like miles. And the bit about it being overcast and cool? Well, it was still overcast, but HOT - DAMN HOT. Sorry, quoting other peoples lines again.
We met a lady walking her dog. "Guess what we're doing", I asked, rather pointlessly. She had the good grace to smile, and we had a brief conversation. She wished us well, and the dog peed on a bush. Barney used to do that...
The first part of the path, once you are clear of Eastbourne, is relatively flat. We loved the views, and stopped frequently to take photographs. There was a yacht sailing along the bottom of the cliffs, and we amused ourselves watching her as she appeared and disappeared between the dips in the path. We were, however, rather dismayed that she was sailing rather faster than we were walking, and she rapidly pulled out of sight. Still we kept on at our comfortable pace, and gradually, it got warner, and the sun started to appear through the now milky cloud cover.
The path rolls along, and shortly, you come to Beachey Head. Here, the rolls get more intense, and you see the lighthouse through the gaps. You can, of course, go up to the edge and have a look, but frankly, this is madness. Well, it is to me. And you do get a very good view from standing back from the edge, as the hills curve around the Head, offering either tantalising glimpses or magnificent vistas. It's interesting to note the proximity of the road. And the bunches of dying flowers left by the relatives and friends of those who have decided this is an excellent place to deprive those relatives and friends of people about whom they cared. The odd thing I found was the bravery of people who clearly stood at the very edge of oblivion to strap a bunch of flowers to a rusty fencepost in memorium. Rather them than me, even for a dear friend.
Again, the path rolls along, though the rolls are somewhat steeper. And eventually, the road comes up close to the edge of the cliffs. As we walked down the long hill towards a small parking area, a bus pulled up, and some people, whose average age seemed to be 90, got out. Some of the braver souls, perhaps those who had no fear of dying, peered over the edge. They looked like lemmings, though fortunately didn't behave like them. Then they all got back in the bus, and it moved away. This all happened in the time it took us to walk from where we first saw them to when we got to where they had just left, a faint smell of diesel lingering in their wake.
This parking area also marks the start of the driveway up to Belle Tout. No doubt, the learned reader knows all about Belle Tout, what with it's original purpose as a lighthouse being taken over by Beachey Head when it became clear there was little point in a lighthouse that was so high up it was frequently in cloud. And that, in 1990's, it was picked up and moved back from a rapidly approaching cliff edge by about 50 feet. Around this time, the living accomodation was "improved". I really don't know why they bothered - the extension is totally out of keeping with the original, and not even good to look at - a dogs breakfast of odd tiles and slit-like windows. The wall surrounding it, no doubt to keep the tourists out, was a mish-mash of breeze blocks and bricks - salvaged from the beach? It's not worth the walk, believe me.
Moving on, we came to Birling Gap. It was beginning to get very hot, and as we approach Birling Gap, again, down a big steep hill, we decide that we'll have a break and "lube up"; douse ourselves liberally with sun cream. It's a very pretty place, with a Cafe and steps (well, a bit of a staircase actually) down to the beach. It felt very much like the people there were on holiday, and miles from anywhere. In reality, of course, it's just down the road from Eastbourne, but when you are walking and haven't seen many people for a long time, it all seems like another world. Large part of the reason we're doing this walk, I guess.
And so the walk continues. The rolls are now steep hills, albeit only 50ft or so high, but after the 6th or 7th, you can see Cuckmere Haven in the distance - and the relief is wonderful. It was now really, really hot. And we were dismayed to come to the top of the 7th hill to see another. Down we go, and up the other side to find - another hill!. This did, however prove to be the last one, and we really did feel it had been spectacular. The views had been fantastic, and the walk, although hard work, enjoyable beyond our expectation.
The last down takes you to the Cuckmere River valley, and there is a nice stroll along the river beside a field of lovely brown cows (sorry if they're not there when you try it). The water was teeming with fish, though they were difficult to spot because we couldn't get close enough to the water. Anyway, a nice, flat path leads you to the Seven Sisters Country Park Visitors Centre.
The natural place to cross the busy road to get to the Visitor Centre is directly opposite the entrance. We decided to stop there, and crossed into the Centre and had a look around. The map indicated a tap to refresh your water too, which was a good thing. Pretty much the only good thing, it turned out. At the back, in the Car Park, there were some shaded picnic tables, so we ate our lunch in the shade of the trees.
We were astonished by this place. According to the website, "Seven Sisters Country Park comprises 280 hectares of chalk cliffs, meandering river valley and open chalk grassland. It is a popular place for a number of outdoor activities including walking, birdwatching, cycling and canoeing."
Good, nice start. It goes on; "The Country Park is named after the famous Seven Sisters that form part of the chalk cliffs on the Sussex Heritage Coast, one of Britain's finest unspoilt coastlines".
Still OK.
"The Park is managed by the South Downs Joint Committee".
So, how come when you get there, it is almost impossible to find the way on? They seem to go out of their way to avoid mentioning the South Downs Way, because it doesn't get a mention anywhere. Well, not anywhere we could see, and we looked, looked a lot.
For sure, there is plenty of information about the Park and surrounding area, the Visitor Centre (great for those driving there) a nice Restaurant (ditto) and a big Car Park (ahem). But trying to find your way out is tanatamount to being on a Treasure Hunt. We asked a bloke who stepped out of a Land Rover that was heavily painted with "South Downs National Park", wearing a "South Downs National Park" jacket where the path was. "Dunno mate. GEORGE!" (insert any suitable name). George responds, not enthusiastically.
"WHAT?"
"Where does the South Downs Way go?"
"I think it's through there", indicating a non-descript path.
We took the path with some annoyance, but it quickly became apparent that it was just one of the paths that Granny and Grandad take round the little woody bit by the Car Park to work off their luncheon.
We eventually took a look at the Cycle Hire Shop - which was very interesting. I went in to look at the bikes in the Barn (which is what is is), staffed by friendly people, who didn't mind that I wasn't going to hire a bike. Shame I didn't ask them about where the path went, because we found the path with a piddly little sign round the back.
Take note, people what run the Seven Sisters Country Park - it is not a good advert. If we hadn't bothered to go into the Visitor Centre, we might have seen the sign behind the Cycle Hire Shop from the other side of the road. But that's a big "might", because your eye is taken to all the stuff in the Visitor Centre, and as I've said, the natural path to follow is the one everyone else does. If we had stood at the other side of the road, and carefully studied the place, we might have seen it. Unlikely though.
And guess what? A whacking big hill to start off straight after lunch. And even worse, the path went across the top of the hill for about 100 yards and then steep back downhill! So steep, that the steps were tricky to descend. But after the Visitor Centre, free of Granny and the kids, it was very nice, quiet, and because it is in the trees, cooler.
It's a little difficult finding the path here, because it is signposted as something else, but we found the route after studying our map. You follow the path through the woods, up and over a hill, and down the other side to Litlington. We met up with another couple who were aiming for a pub in the village for a break. They said that they had done it before, but the other way round, Winchester to Eastbourne. So not only were we not the first, but it seems many others had done the walk and were doing it again. We wanted to take some photos, so they carried on down the hill. Their pub seemed to be a good idea when we got there. But we thought a stop might not result in a go, so we kept going.
The path is down through a little avenue of trees which takes you to a brackish river, before you come to the Cuckmere again, and then along the fields. It seemed miles from our first sight of Alfriston to actually getting there. We followed someone who appeared to have paid a local walking specialist to take her out and show her how proper long distance walkers do it, with poles and stuff. We were walking at about the same pace, and their talking carried clearly back to us. The bloke looked expert, and was full of chat about his acheivements, but regretably, not much of it rubbed off on his pupil, who looked awkward with the poles. We liked the idea of poles, but decided that they would be needed in our Penine Way Walk, and not before.
Walking into the Alfriston brings you into the Village Green. We found, quite by chance, a gap in the houses that we investigated,
which brought us out into the main street. Turning right, the first pub we came to was The George. This was a really nice pub, quaint and rustic, with low beams and wood panelling, as well as a nice beer garden. Recommended - though in fairness the others in the village are probably good too, it's just that we had to choose one. We sat down with what we considered to be a well earned drink. We did this because we were too early for our overnight stop, who had said they wouldn't guarantee to be in before 4. Remember earlier, when I said we would struggle to get there before 6? It was 3:45pm!
After our drinks, we walked the 10 minutes through the village to where Pippa welcomes us to Riverdale House. She is as pleasant as she sounded on the phone when I booked. Just the right level of sympathy for our predicament, notwithstanding we had actually made the decision to do this, and that any semblance of knackered limbs and sweaty brows was entirely of our own volition. And that several thousand people had done this before, this year alone.
The room was great. Small, but perfectly formed, with a brilliant shower and dinky little fridge with real milk for your tea. That is how it should be done - full marks. After a shower and rest, we walked back into the village and had a meal at the same pub we had had a drink in earlier. We hardly noticed the walk back to Riverdale, but it was dark and we were tired and replete. We retired to our room, and fell asleep watching some really bad telly. What a great day.