The Greensand Way Part II - a Walking Perambulation

My twenty-year 'china anniversary' re-walk of the Greensand Way is now complete. I first walked the c.110-mile path from Hamstreet to Haslemere in May 2006, as the first phase of a challenge to hike to Ham Street in Somerset with my friend, Tom.

This second installment fills in the gaps between the sections explored in the 'Part I' blog.'

The mid-Kent section westward from Sutton Valence to East Peckham was achieved by catching trains to the village of Headcorn and then a bus to Sutton Valence. The first two thirds of this section feel similar to the section from Pluckley (documented last time), with the path remaining resolutely at the top of the range of hills, with excellent views across the Weald of Kent to the south. Orchards abound and the path passes the gated driveway to Linton Hall. Eventually the route tumbles off of the hills to reach Yalding, a village that used to flood severely on a regular basis. The route then follows a short navigation channel which was built to cut a corner off of the meandering River Medway for commercial vessels.

The hill range takes a while to get back into full flow after the path crosses the Medway Valley, but the next section westward includes the pretty village of Shipbourne (pronounced 'shibbun' and located a few miles north of the town of Tonbridge), with its grassy common land being a prominent feature. The moated manor house at Ightham (pronounced ‘item’) is well worth a short detour. Beyond this, the ridge reasserts itself and one is really quite high up when nearing Knole Park on the edge of Sevenoaks. You may spot a deer here and you will almost certainly pass the odd jogger! The path then falls off of the hills and becomes quite hard to follow, needing to tunnel beneath the A21 to reach the village of Sevenoaks Weald. After a pint of mild and a bag of crisps in the local pub I walked up to the Hildenborough Road and caught as bus to Tonbridge Station.

The next section west from Sevenoaks Weald takes the walker all the way to Surrey, climbing back onto the ridge again to pass the village of Ide Hill, with its conveniently located shop / cafe, and the wooded summit of Toy’s Hill, one of the highest points in Kent. The true highest point is actually Betsom’s Hill on the North Downs above Westerham, which musters over 820 feet in height.

The path then passes Chartwell, which was Winston Churchill’s home for over forty years, chosen by him mainly because the view across the Kentish Weald is so nice. Crockhamhill Common becomes Limpsfield Common as the walker passes into Surrey (it's all just 'woods' to me). Here, there is a marker-stone showing Hamstreet and Haslemere as each being 55 miles away in opposite directions. The walk beyond into Oxted is typically ‘Surrey’ with lots of common land around leafy suburban roads.

Having documented the sections between Oxted and Dorking in my last article, there is just the last 35 miles to report on. I decided to work backwards, catching trains to Haslemere to begin my walk eastwards. Haslemere is a pretty country town, where a plaque commemorates the first police officer in the Surrey Constabulary to die on duty in what is known as the 'Haslemere riot.' Clearly these were different times.

The Greensand Way climbs steeply to the Devil’s Punchbowl at Hindhead, a village that used to endure a near-permanent stream of traffic on the A3. The road tunnels beneath it today and there is not really any evidence that it used to run right through the village, with tasteful landscaping removing all vestiges of this arterial road from London to Portsmouth. After some magnificent northward views the path descends to Thursley village, from where it begins its long bumpy journey eastward to Dorking. I was crestfallen to reach the Dog and Pheasant at Brook to find 'To Let' signs. I had used the pub in 2006 on my initial walk and a beer would have gone down like a snake's foot (as people say down here on Romney Marsh). Instead I continued via Sandhills (the clue is in the name) and Wormley, and I had an evening meal in the Merry Harriers pub in Hambledon. Conversations in 'RP' English reverberated around me as I ate. A few miles beyond, I camped in the Hurtwood. The name has nothing to do with pain, as ‘hurts’ was a local dialect word for bilberries.

The next day was searing hot. Hascombe was quaint with a winding lane, a pond and a pretty church. When I reached the village of Shamley Green, where the ridge has another break to let a river through, I was seriously considering throwing in the towel. However, the next section was mercifully shady as the ridge is heavily wooded here. There are some great viewpoints, and the path descends to pass by the Duke of Edinburgh School and again to pass through the village of Holmbury St Mary. Beyond is Leith Hill, the highest point in Surrey. It is crowned with a tower and seems to be quite a tourist hotspot.

There was just the long slow descent to Dorking to go after this. Time was limited before the train that I needed to catch home, so a ‘meal deal’ in an Esso garage had to make do. There's no point lying - this last section was gruelling in the heat, with no public transport on a bank holiday Monday and no refreshment facilities between Holmbury St Mary and Wotton, by which point I needed to get a spurt on.

All in all, it’s been fascinating to re-walk this long distance path, and I’ve made a few tweaks to my book, ‘Mud, Sweat and Beers’ which documents the route and our continuation westward to the other ‘Ham Street’ in Somerset. It is perhaps inevitable that I will eventually re-walk those paths too.

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).