West Sussex Coast - A Cycling Perambulation

So far 2022 has been shaping up no better than 2020 or 2021, with the TV news increasing your likelihood of driving to the nearest cliff and depressing the accelerator with every bulletin. If it's not narcissistic tyrants making a last-ditch attempt to make a name for themselves using mass brutality it's a constant drip-feed of price rises pushing people into the kind of poverty that just shouldn't exist if the world's sixth biggest economy operated with a modicum of empathy.

As always, sunshine and nature are there to provide a free panacea for all this angst, and I undertook my first cycling trip away during Easter of this year. My very first public article dates from 1994 and it documents a cycling trip through Sussex to raise money for our local Venture Scout unit, of which I was a member at the time. I saw the friend that I went with on TV news discussing COVID research a while back, so he's obviously done well. As for me, I decided to retread some old ground, and it was interesting to revisit some of those places after almost 28 years have passed. - 28 years!? That's insane!

I headed for Brighton with my bike and rucksack on a train that was packed as far as the tourist Mecca of Rye. After that i could breathe freely. Upon alighting, I cruised down to the coast and followed the sea wall cycle path to Hove and the road to Shoreham-by-Sea, which is the longest road in the UK beginning with a two, specifically the A259.

My comments were quite negative about Shoreham in that 1994 article, possibly due to the abundance of industry to the east of the town, but I can confirm that the town is actually very pleasant, with a bustling riverside town centre and a quaint churchyard nestling just behind it in a way not to dissimilar to the parish church in my home town of Ashford. I rode over the footbridge across the River Adur and then followed the cycle path along the coast, which was initially separated from the 'mainland' by a lagoon.

I described Worthing as having a 'green beach' in 1994, but I can confirm that the colour scheme is quite normal in 2022. The tall building by the promenade at the centre of the town reminded me of the similar building that you can't miss around fifty miles up the coast in St Leonards. It seems that planners seem to have a compulsion to put one of these 'iconic landmarks' in every large seaside town. As I continued westward the roads took me away from the seafront for a while, and more surprising than the tall concrete finger pointing into the sky was spotting the odd thatch-roofed cottage as I rode through the suburbs of these Sussex conurbations, a remnant of days before the towns swallowed up the surrounding countryside no doubt.

I got stopped at a level crossing near Angmering and I was surprised at some of the 'big name' shops in little old Rustington. I then picked up the sea wall for some more (respectful) pedestrian-dodging, heading into Littlehampton, another pleasant town where a river meets the Sussex coast, this time the Arun. A very basic white lighthouse overlooks the sea, which I had of course visited with my father in researching our lighthouse visiting tome, 'England and Wales in a Flash.' I was surprised to find a Wetherspoons pub in Littlehampton so I popped in for the obligatory curry before heading inland to Arundel and using a gravel trail which climbed into woods, where I found a spot to set up camp. The birdsong died down and the moon was bright. It was chilly as the night went on, confirming my long-established view that an early morning low of seven degrees is the very coldest temperature that I will camp in.

It was now Easter Sunday and I saw a deer as I continued westward along the trail, which soon turned south and descended to cross the A27 dual carriageway. I headed back to the coast via pleasant villages and suburbs, eventually resuming a westward course along the sea wall. I'd never been to Bognor Regis before, and the extent of my knowledge was that it is one of around a dozen places in England with the suffix 'regis' indicating 'royal patronage' and that it has long been reputed that George the Fifth's final word was 'Bognor.' The penultimate word was a taboo verb! However, this is something of an urban myth as his final words were in fact the equally pleasant statement of 'God damn you' spoken to a nurse.

I intended to use an independent café for breakfast but Wetherpoons was just too convenient again. I was surprised to see holiday-makers drinking pints of beer at 9am, and in spite of this Bognor was surprisingly quiet. I concluded that those who do their drinking at the other end of the day were not yet out of bed. Continuing westward on lanes, I found that the scenery became flat and very rural, a bit like our local 'Romney Marsh' in Kent. After heading southward down a lengthy dead end by mistake I lost the will to ride to Selsey, so I picked up the path beside Chichester Canal at Hunston, following it all the way to the marina at the end and then all the way back into Chichester, the county town of West Sussex. At 3.8 miles long, the canal is not exactly epic, but it's very pleasant nonetheless.

Oddly, this was my fifth trip to Chichester by bike but the first time I'd properly explored the city, which reminds me of a quiet version of Canterbury. The most striking features in the cathedral (pictured) for me were the Roman mosaic which is at the height of the original ground, so you gaze down upon it through a glass window in the floor, and a 'tomb for two' depicting a ancient couple holding hands which seemed romantic in a tragic way. I also did the 'wall walk' around the city which was almost as impressive at Chester's city wall, with a view of the priory and a motte-and-bailey castle mound, both in a large playing field. I then headed for the Chichester Inn and sat in the courtyard at the back for my first outdoor pint of 2022. Well, it was a bit more than a pint to be honest.

My next plan of action was to follow the old Roman road of Stane Street up onto the South Downs. There is something satisfying about following a dead-straight ancient course which is sometimes A-road, sometimes lane, sometimes bridleway and sometimes footpath. After a long climb through woods I turned around to enjoy the view, with the hills on the Isle of Wight in the distance. I found a spot to camp behind some gorse bushes and there was a nice sunset. The night was unusually silent for wild camping and the morning was again cold, so I packed up and began my ride back to Brighton at 6am.

I had a wander around the striking Catholic cathedral on the hill at Arundel, I found Angmering to be a very quaint village in spite of its suburban location, and I enjoyed a fine English breakfast with added mushrooms in an independent café (hurrah!) in Worthing. The staff were taking the Mick out of a customer who had been on a disastrous date. I'm sure that made him feel wonderful! I followed the A270 into Brighton purely to have a nose at what journeys were like before the town was bypassed. As I passed beneath the plethora of railway lines I spotted some steps leading up to a siding that had been converted into a short walking route called the Brighton Greenway. I followed this to the station but I wasn't ready to go home yet, so I decided to ride to Lewes, the country town of East Sussex.

As you'd expect in a city with Britain's only Green Party MP, the cycle route beside the A270 out of Brighton was very good, but the pub I intended to spend lunch in at Falmer was not open on Mondays so I merely followed the route to Lewes and caught the first of three trains home. Falafel, homous and a can of Coke on Hastings Station was the somewhat modest finale to the mission. If you've enjoyed the write-up, you know where there's plenty more (Stair-Rods & Stars).

A Tale of Five English Pubs

Once upon a time, in deepest, darkest Kent, there were five 'Style and Winch' pubs all built to the same design in the first half of the twentieth century. One of these was known as The World's Wonder. It used to be one of a handful of 'locals' that I use but sadly bit the dust in September 2014.

Avoiding the inevitable invective against Government policy and taxation of the working man's place of refuge, I am just going to tell you that this former pub is located in the village of Warehorne, which is located near the larger village of Hamstreet, which is located near the town on Ashford which is located around 55 miles southeast of that big place called London.

I recently achieved something I'd planned to do for years, and this was to visit all four of the Wonder's 'twin pubs.' I remember discussing with the landlord the notion of completing this challenge by bike in a single day a few years ago. Sadly I only visited one of these by bike in the end.

The most southerly of these pubs is The Ship at Lade (pictured), tucked away in a back-street just off of the road along the Southeastern Kent coast between the seaside villages of Greatstone to Lydd-on-Sea - basically almost France, were it not for the water in between. This pub has been redundant for many years, and I took a mosey up there some years ago for the obligatory photo that I have since lost.

In November last year I set out to visit a pub of the lesser-spotted 'open' variety. I caught the train up to Swanley and set off on my bike along what must surely be the longest station access road in Kent! I followed the B-road to Dartford via Hextable. The scenery between the built-up areas reminded me of East Kent, consisting of expansive open fields.

I found my way to the centre of Dartford via a signed detour for bikes. Having been to Liverpool, the home of The Beatles, many times, I was profoundly disappointed by the former hometown of Mick Jagger. I could find no reference to either Jagger or the Rolling Stones in the town centre. I had expected a statue of Mr Jagger complete with pouting lips somewhere in the town and I thought at least one enterprising individual would have opened an alehouse called 'Jagger's Bar' and adorned it with replica gold discs and framed photographs of the group, but like Sir Mick, I got no satisfaction. I have since learned that there is a blue plaque commemorating the place where Jagger and Richards first met at Dartford railway station.

Dartford did however have a bustling market in its high street (as opposed to flinging it out as far as possible as though allergic to such trading like the similarly Kentish town of Ashford). I wheeled my bike past the impenetrable crowds and on via a pleasant park.

The town itself seemed dearly in need of some of its most famous ex-resident's money, but the park was pleasant enough. My aim now was to attempt to follow the River Darent southward. I rode some suburban roads and then found a footpath which brought me out via meadows onto the A225 near the A2 bridge. Just beyond this, in the village of Hawley, was the Papermaker's Arms. I chained up my bike and ventured inside.

The young barman was fascinated when I showed him the picture of the 'Wonder' on my village's hiking page on the Internet. This reminded me of the boy in the film 'A.I.' finding out that he was actually one of many identical models. However, where the boy in the film was devastated, this barman was overjoyed to discover that the pub was one of five!

After supping a local ale, I continued and turned off of the main road to go through the villages of South Darenth and Horton Kirby. The healthy quota of pubs in these Darent Valley villages was nothing short of impressive.

I eventually came out onto the A20 at Farningham and continued along the A225 to picturesque Eynsford where I watched a Landrover splash its way through the ford. Beyond the station, I took a lane to Lullingstone and rode a path by the river, northward again so I could look at the castle. I stood at the impressive arched gatehouse, admiring the stately home across the lawn, before continuing again. A little further, the Roman Villa seemed to be located inside a modern building, designed to preserve it. I feared a fee of some kind (although I was recently impressed by the Roman mosaic situated within the park at St Albans which can be viewed free of charge), and returned to the A225 heading south, making a detour to the village of Shoreham on the lanes, where I counted four pubs. Four!

My ride ended in another village, Otford, where I caught the train home and it wasn't until May 8th 2015 that I returned to the challenge. This time I had my fiancée in tow, having attended our legal preliminary meeting to marrying at Maidstone registry office. Yes, it's complex to marry somebody from outside the EU, although bizarrely if she was marrying somebody from outside the UK but from within the EU and living in the UK, none of the red tape would apply. Like most things in life, this simple meeting expanded to fill our day, as we had make a lightening-speed trip back home (around thirty miles away) in order to return with the photographs and additional line in our 'proof of residency' letter that they hadn't told us we needed.

We were pretty shattered after this and a little drive along to Barming to check out The Redstart Inn seemed to be the perfect tonic. Inside, the bar was lively and I kept hearing words like 'Miliband' and 'Farage.' I guess the recent election had meant a change from the usual pub 'staples' of conversations like football and smut! This particular 'Wonder' was up a quiet residential lane. There was a village feel here, in spite of being on the edge of Maidstone, one of Kent's largest towns.

Our final 'Wonder' would be just a photo, as The Bell at Coxheath is now an Indian restaurant, and dinner was waiting for us at home. This former pub stands beside the east/west B-road in the village centre which has a semi-urban feel. It's even got a set of traffic lights!

So, having completed this challenge a few years behind schedule, I'll leave you to ponder the merits of checking out more of my travel writing on Amazon Kindle or vowing never to waste time on this blog again. If your view is the former, the book 'Mud Sweat and Beers' by Adam Colton may be of interest.

The South Coast Trunk Road (Part I)

This latest blog is extracted from a web-page I used to run for road enthusiasts (yes, there really is such a thing!). It concerns a 222-mile-long blast from the past - The South Coast Trunk Road, although it it predominantly the eastern half that I am looking at here. I removed the page as I no longer travel the route often enough to keep the narrative updated, so here, preserved in aspic is the route as it was in 2011.

Apart from the odd section that has been dragged kicking and screaming into the modern age (such as the Brighton bypass), it is a remnant of the era of long distance travel without motorways. Formerly known as the Folkestone to Honiton trunk route, it has since commandeered the A2070 to Ashford instead, although the road signs from Hastings to the Kent village of Brenzett still give Folkestone as the end destination.

The route begins as the A35, climbing steeply out of the valley as it leaves the town of Honiton and conveys us to Bere Regis, via the attractive thatch-cottage village of Wilmington and three bypasses, namely Axminster, Bridport and Dorchester. This section is mostly single carriageway. The landward side of Golden Top, the highest cliff on the south coast, can be glimpsed before Bridport.

At Bere Regis the A31 takes over and continues to Cadnam, becoming a dual carriageway around Ferndown and Ringwood, where holiday traffic from Bournemouth joins us for a fern-lined sprint across the New Forest.

Before long the mighty M27 subsumes the role, and our route is now the proud owner of six lanes and a hard-shoulder. The most striking moment during this motorway section (apart from the prices in the service station) is passing a yacht-filled marina between Southampton and Portsmouth.

Some miles later, after bypassing Fareham, Portsmouth harbour is visible on the right-hand-side, as the motorway descends past terraces of houses stacked up along the hillside. This is where our 'narrative proper' begins - the M275 feeds in, expanding the road, now relegated to A-road status, to eight lanes, until the departure of the A3(M) for London. The water to the right is Langstone Harbour.

Beyond Havant, the terrain is mainly flat and the A27 gently curves as it bypasses the villages of Emsworth, Southbourne, Nutbourne, Walton, Fishbourne and Bosham, which many a schoolboy will know a naughty limerick about. Signs appear every mile counting down the distance to Chichester, the country town of West Sussex.

It is often argued that it is quicker to go through the centre of this cathedral city than to use the bypass, as our route makes quite a meal of going round it, with a succession of roundabouts – the cause of many a queue. It is with a sense of relief that one finally leaves the city’s orbit and streaks towards Worthing. There are three roundabouts punctuating this next section; two at Fontwell bookending a short allegiance with the A29 – a route which is largely comprised of the old Roman road, Stane Street.

Just before Arundel, our road becomes a single carriageway and winds through trees, before a gentle descent. The historic town and its castle are well worth a detour left. Our road then crosses the flood plain of the River Arun, bypassing the town between roundabouts. It then climbs gently, after passing the railway station. The junction beyond this is interesting; one feels as though one is descending onto a motorway via a slip-road. This is where the dualling of the A27 from the east came to an abrupt halt.

The road is now fast again, with some moderate inclines and descents, but soon it’s back to single carriageway for a trawl through the northern suburbs of Worthing – Sompting to be precise. There are two roundabouts bookending another short multiplex, this time with the A24.

Briefly leaving the 40 limit, the road has another quick stab at dual carriageway before it’s time to hit the brakes again for Lancing and several box-junctions with traffic lights.

Once open countryside is reached, the road duals again and strides over the River Adur. These concrete bridges have even been painted by an artist and featured on the Southeast news. We climb steeply onto the South Downs to bypass Shoreham-by-Sea, Hove and Brighton via a series of scenic ups and downs. There’s a glimpse of Shoreham before the climb into a short tunnel under the hills. The road resembles an expedient roller coaster ride, until it is rejoined by its former self at Falmer, the site of the University of Sussex and Brighton and Hove Albion's football ground. We then descend into a valley, with trees in between the two carriageways hiding vehicles coming the opposite way.

The next town is Lewes – the historic county town of East Sussex - well worth a quick detour and famed for its annual bonfire-night pageant where effigies of famous figures are burnt, as well as its own currency – the Lewes pound – designed to keep trade within the town.

The dual carriageway road strides across another flood plain (River Ouse) between the two roundabout. An interesting fact is that when the river flooded the town's Harveys brewery, the beer was trapped and fermented for much longer than usual. This extra strong ale was then bottled and sold as Ouse booze!

The A26, joins us from a tunnel beneath the chalk escarpment, and after a short climb and descent (with crawler lane for traffic heading westward) bridging the railway line at the site of the former level crossing, it decides to leave us for Newhaven at Beddingham roundabout.

Beyond this, the trunk route singles again, and this time it is more or less for good. There is a series of long straights across fairly level land, with the stunning South Downs ever to the right (look out for the 'Wilmington man' chalk carving further along).

Just up a lane to the left is the attractive village of Glynde, which has a lot of stone cottages, and Glyndebourne which is famous for its opera. The A27 is muzzled to pass through the village of Selmeston, and it has to halt its flow again after descending to a roundabout near Berwick.

Soon we arrive at Polegate, where our road bears left at the lights and then right at a large roundabout to briefly join the dual carriageway A22 bypass for a mile or so. Our route soon departs this mighty modern conduit which is the main route into Eastbourne - currently England's official sunniest town and the birthplace of TV weatherman Michael Fish – are the two connected?

Unperturbed, the A27 continues in wide, straight, single carriageway style, to meet its demise at Pevensey – a pleasant village with a castle. William the Conqueror’s famed landing-place is nearby. All the South Coast trunker will see though, is a large roundabout where the A259 takes hold of the baton and presses on to Bexhill.

And that's where you will leave us for the moment. The stunning conclusion (Part II) is among the blogs on the right hand side of your screen - go check it out!