Before I went to Scotland I went walking with some friends in Sussex. This is day one.
The walking group – yes it was wet.
When I left the law the one thing I missed and the one thing I didn’t really want to leave behind were the people I worked with. Not entirely perfect, of course, but in amongst a field of wheat there are always a few really ripe ears and me and three of them – The Celebrant, Mr Angsty and the Tall Boy – have formed a little walking group.
This time we were staying at Mr Angsty in Eastbourne, near the start of the South Downs Way. He is the perfect host, concerned to make everything as good as it can be for his guests. He can never do enough.
Trig points are good for one thing; they tell you you have reached a summit
We set off in the rain and we set off uphill. At least there was no wind or it might have been three strikes and we’re off to the pub.
For those who don’t know it, the downs are chalk hills and since top soil is in short supply the White Rock peeks through. That makes it as slippery as a mackerel pavement. Several times, until we had each adjusted our gait to the conditions, the plish plash of the rain would temporarily be drowned out by an ‘Eeewwwergh-shit’ as one or other or us mimicked a dog trying to chase a squirrel across an ice rink.
a sign of better weather or a snatch of something passing away?
It wasn’t a great start. Someone – Wainwright, Fiennes – said ‘There’s no such thing as bad weather, only inappropriate clothing’ which frankly falls into the top ten tosspot quotes of all time. If you only find out your expensive waterproof jacket isn’t when you are already into your walk, statements like that are clearly grounds for self defence when you garrotte the speaker with the drenched sleeve of your anorak.
We made it, reasonably cheerfully to the escarpment, following the National Trail. A redundant concrete trig point sat forlorn on the summit, a victim of GPS and manpower cuts. Needing to free up some space from the excess of breakfast coffee I triangulated myself and sought relief only to hear light female voices approaching. The boys had gone ahead.
There is one skill I have never mastered. Stopping a pee mid flow. Poor pelvic floor muscles or something. So as they closed along a parallel path I began to circle the trig point always keeping it between me and them. Did they notice? One waved. One smiled. Maybe the steam hinted at my indiscretion. I was pleased the ordeal was over. Mental note number one: next time use a bush in the time honoured fashion.
It’s blurry because I was crying over the camera lens
Back on the path we descended on Jevington. I was told it was too early for coffee. Are you ever too early for coffee? Whatever, I lost and we passed Jevington in the drear and drizzle. A blue plaque told me Banoffee Pie was invented here. And we didn’t stop. A travesty.
Gradually we climbed again and the clouds lifted. Still spitting we skirted the hill into which one of the two iconic chalk men of Southern England are carved. The Cerne Abbes Giant and the Long Man of Wilmington. This is the home to the latter. His is a sanitised figure whose original priapism has been turfed over. Or so I believe. He’s still an impressive sight from the train but not for us today.
The Cuckmere river threw up a surprise
Alfriston, on the Cuckmere, is quintessentially English. Beautiful church, tip top village green, essential National Trust property and pubs. We sought out the Star for drinks – Harvey’s bitter for the others, a more humdrum ginger beer for me. The food was fine and pub-plain, even if triple cooked chips are a bit of a pander to the aspiring middle classes. But it is undeniably picturesque.
Alfriston Church
Our weather apps said sunshine. The weather gods said otherwise. On hats, up collars and off we strode to Litlington for its flower show, as much an excuse for shelter as anything.
English Flower Festivals take some beating
And yet, and yet, glory be the App gods were vindicated. Out came the sun, the church and flowers rather splendid and spring in the stride, off again.
lots of wild flowers
Once more it was uphill, this time to Lullington Heath. The dew pond, the orchids and other wild flowers and best of all the butterflies, all made it worthwhile.
Now this takes me back…
As a small boy the Archaeologist and I chased dark green fritillaries across Beachy head in the summer holidays, down from the north Kent coast for the day. Would there still be any? Was it even the right time of year for them? We saw hedge browns, chalk hill blues and common skippers and then.. Yes, a DGF. How can something so dainty, so ephemeral, trigger such memories of days of white knees, helter shelter running and the undiluted joy of catching one?
that was then…
As the Celebrant said, at least we hadn’t killed them all off back in the day.
Now the sky was perfect, jackets were around waists and the walking seemed easy. We crested back past the exposed trig point, me silently regretting my misplaced micturition and on beyond the golf course and home. We had time for tea in Jevington even if no Banoffee pie and finished about six in the blazing sunshine. 16.5 miles, damp footwear, a rather good Turkish meal ahead and the day was declared fine. Mr Angsty relaxed, the Celebrant applauded and the Tall Boy briefly stooped to recognise a job well done.
TanGental 
A nice record of an area I know quite well. I have a son in Upper Dicker and almost bought a house in Alfriston. Are you twins, by the way?
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He’s older by 15 months; I’m the mature handsome one
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Really?
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well mature, you’ll grant me that, surely?
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Lovely to see that your spirits weren’t dampened by the damp day. What a wonderful way to maintain connections with “old” friends – taking these walks together. We get to appreciate the beauty and fun too, without getting waterlogged. Thanks for sharing. 🙂
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Pleasure and yes, they are a grand bunch. I was fortunate to work with them because they made my life much easier…
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I’m sure they feel the same about you – easier and enriched. 🙂
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The Weald is good, the Downs are best,
I’ll give you the run of them, East to West.
Beachy Head and Windoor Hill,
They were once and they are still.
Firle Mount Caburn and Mount Harry,
Go back as far as sums will carry.
Ditchling Beacon and Chanctonbury Ring,
They have looked on many a thing,
And what those two have missed between them
I reckon Truleigh Hill has seen them.
Highden, Bignor and Duncton Down
Knew Old England before the Crown.
Linch Down, Treyford and Sunwood
Knew Old England before the Flood;
And when you end on the Hampshire side.
Well Butser’s old as Time and Tide.
And there’s your route.
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brilliant – go on, who’s is this one?
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Kipling of course, what other poet loved Sussex as he did. The poem is called The Run of the Downs, I think it might be one of the poems included in Puck of Pooks Hill, though I may be wrong on that.
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Well I did wonder…
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It may be sacrilege but I don’t like Banoffee pie, but I would have liked a closer look at the flower show. 🙂 Ah, the joys of butterflies! I don’t think I ever caught a one… Thanks for your walk, Geoff.
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The thrill was really in finding something new and if we were lucky finding eggs or caterpillars to breed
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Lovely walk, though a bit long for my taste. 16.5 miles is very impressive – half that would finish me off! I’m looking forward to your Scottish posts.
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:-))
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Despite the grotty weather, that looked a very pretty walk with the flowers and the church, After more than 16 miles you must have been ready for that meal especially as you didn’t get any banoffee pie! 🙂
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I rather made a pig of myself if I’m being honest
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HaHa!
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*smiles*
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Banoffee Pie …. goggled it and it sounds delicious!!! YOU SHOULD HAVE STOPPED!
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I know…I KNOW
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My neck of the woods – well close. Sussex. Done the same walk several times. Love the seven sisters!
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Thought it might be; another walk tomorrow that you’ll surely recognise
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I’ll be sure to check in!
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You and blogger Sue Vincent should hike together – between you, I am covering England. Made a Banoffee pie this past weekend – between the caramel and the chocolate, I think it’s good fora few pounds!
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If only I took photos as good as Sue’s.. *sighs*
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I love Alfriston. Visit the village quite often especially around Christmas time when they have their Victorian Christmas themed days.
Shame about the rain, but the gardens did need it.
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indeed!
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