It felt amazing to be waking with my rucksack ready, the sun in the sky and an unwalked path ahead of me. Indeed the sun in the sky meant a hasty detour to buy sunglasses, the one thing I’d left behind in my speedy pack yesterday. I also popped down the road to check out a building development being done by a friend of mine on the same street as my accommodation, had an excellent protein packed breakfast and set off.
The start of the North Downs Way is well marked, but by the very busy A31. Not a place for quiet contemplation, more one for a swift selfie before getting started. I liked Farnham, with its genteel market town atmosphere, but felt that generally the car has the upper hand here.
The marker board for this National Trail talked of a ‘fresh air adventure’ and that was how it felt, walking swiftly away from the bypass and onto footpaths. My Cicerone guide described the route as being full of wild flowers and scented roses. Not in October. But I prefer autumn. This morning I had crisp blue skies, frosted grass, sweet chestnuts crunching underfoot. The cusp of the end of the year, with the trees still holding on to their leaves for a last hurrah. The squirrels were working with intensity, meaning I was bombed with chestnut cases as I walked under their tree.
I had planned to finish listening to the fantastic Whalefall by Daniel Krauss, which I’ve been gripped by over the last couple of days. But I couldn’t bring myself to be distracted from the joy of walking.
Approaching the river Ley crossing towards Moor Park there were road closure signs. I normally assume that a cheerful smile will allow a pedestrian access, so continued, and was indeed waved through. But the works looked so large and intriguing that I stopped, watching Brendan painstakingly chipping away at the old bricks of the bridge. He stopped to talk to me, and explained that he and his colleagues are rescuing the 200 year old bridge, which had been in danger of collapse. As well as the brickwork and rebuilding, the work had involved damming and rerouting the river temporarily, whilst also being considerate of the wildlife. He told me how they’d saved a family of water voles nestling into the side of the bridge. We talked about the joy of walking, he told me that he had done part of the Thames path after lockdown, getting out walking ‘like a hare out of a trap’. I totally got that.
Leaving Brendan to his work, I climbed up past the very grand Moor Park House out onto what I thought woils be the first open fields of the day. In fact on the left was a landfill site, with its alien looking vents dotting the grass. When I was training for Lands End to John O Groats, I did a big walk near home, which inadvertently got me stuck on a big land fill site. The footpath on my map was old, and had been closed off without me noticing. I had continued, believing the map over what was in front of me. Being up on that intimidating landscape, pitted with holes and the vents periodically hissing, was one of the most unnerving days of my preparations. In the end I arrived in the middle of the machinery working the landfill, which caused some consternation for all concerned. It taught me to be very careful of which path to take, and to be more alert.
This feels a wealthy area, and Farnham Golf Club on the outskirts of the Sands seemed to bear that out. It’s a huge conglomeration of course, practice greens and driving ranges, club houses, car parks. I stopped to watch someone taking a shot from the tee. Maybe I put it him off, it was going to be a tricky second shot from deep in the bunker.
As the path moved along the side of the golf course I noticed a hand written note suggesting a detour ‘to avoid wet feet’ and then a couple of more official ones showing a similar reroute due to flooding. As I was considering this in relation to the state of the ground, which appeared dry enough, I met Sally and David, who had similarly decided that valour was the better part of discretion, and had continued down the main route. They are also walking the NDW for the next three days, but more remarkably, David also did LEJoG in 2022 - he managed it in one go without injury! It was great to talk to fellow walkers about routes and motivations, nobody else understands it in the same way. we walked companionably together past huge fields of maybe raspberries and then roses, being assiduously tended.
Because I walk faster than most, we said goodbye after a little while. I’m sure we’ll meet up again this weekend. I continued to walk to Puttenham Common, thinking about how much lighter I feel since my last big walk in April, both physically and because I’m no longer blindsided with the grief I was dealing with then. It sometimes still walks alongside me, but mostly I’m ahead of it. This was the first proper climb of the day, and I enjoyed it, feeling strong.
I stopped at the top, and had a short break with a cup of tea out on the common. There were pheasant squawking, and although the rumble of the motorway was audible, the bracken was still and my thermos was hot.
I enjoyed walking through the old red brick village of Puttenham, and especially the excellently named Good Intent pub, down the road from the picturesque church.
And then one of those lovely walking moments, falling into step briefly with a chirpy man whose photo I didn’t get and whose name I didn’t have time to ask. We talked of how much he’s enjoying walking in retirement, and how having these conversations show that not all is wrong with our world. He then pointed out the enormous gaff of Roger Taylor, the Queen drummer. Looking at it, I’d say he’s done well for himself….
Past more golfers jovially doing some practise swings. When I commented on what they were doing. one said cheerfully ‘warming up is rather overstating it’. And then approaching the A3, its noise intense, and ducking under it with an underpass. I like these, there’s often art of some sort there. Famously, my friend Sophie, another very experienced walker, once saw a reference to Gangsta Hikers in graffiti form. It is our mantra. This motorway underpass had a disappointing lack of gangsta hiker graffiti. But there was a shout out to the mushrooms.
There was another underpass very soon afterwards, this time under the quieter A 31. I felt so lucky that I had the time to stop in what might be seen as a rather prosaic place, to admire the extraordinary craftsmanship in the brick work. I thought about Brendan telling me of the satisfaction he got from fixing the bridge, and thought about those maybe 19th century craftsman making that arch. I hope they felt very proud of it.
The Watts Gallery came straight afterwards. It shows the work of George Frederick Watts, who apparently was described as England’s Michelangelo in the 19th century. I had to confess to myself that I’d never heard of him. I could have gone into the gallery to look at his work, but I’m afraid that the combination of a very steep entry price and the allure of the cafe put paid to a thorough investigation of his art. I did get the chance to see an enormous, and very impressive sculpture of his through a window for nothing, and I will certainly research more. I got a good look at a photo of him and his splendidly behatted wife Mary though.
The cafe paid off dividends. Previous readers of this blog will know my history of cheese sandwiches being often the only option for a pescatarian. Today’s cheesy offering was next level - a fantastically savoury Welsh rarebit. I was fortunately sitting outside on my own, as the inside seating of the cafe was rammed with George Watts fans, so they didn’t observe me falling on it with possibly unseemly gusto.
The next couple of miles had moments of real loveliness, an easy sandy track and then beautifully lit beech woods.
But at about 11 miles my feet started feeling a bit tired, so I brought out my music, and the songs that have got me through many difficult walking episodes did their job again. Dancing was done, and much thinking about the special people who had suggested those songs to me. I had first listened to some of them when I got out back onto the Pennine Way, when returning to my big walk after I was injured. The joy I felt then, being out on the moors, able to continue, with music in my ears, was utterly unconfined. This was a little lane in Surrey, with rolling fields, not rugged heath and spacious views. But the joy was still pretty special.
I turned off the North Downs Way to walk into Guildford, where I’m staying tonight. This took me along the Wey South Path, and along the complex of the Wey Navigations, which was first started in the seventeenth century to link Godalming to Weybridge as a way to improve trade. This far sighted bit of industrial engineering created a thoroughfare used until the 1960s for transportation. It’s now used for pleasure boats, and very pleasurable it would have been on a blue sky day like today
I popped into the Guildford Museum, mainly because I can’t bear to let one pass, and also because it was free, and enjoyed some of the possibly random looking items on display. And then went on to the high street where I was staying. Guildford appears to be another prosperous market town, again rather divided by traffic, but the high street is more pedestrianised and less daunting to a walker than in Farnham. And there are some gems, such as the 400 year old Abbots almshouses, and the spectacular gold clock. But the best thing is that my room has a bath. Though that might be negated later by it being over the top of the nightclub attached to the pub….
Stats
Distance travelled - 12.8 miles
Total ascent - 810 feet
No video of the day as I completely forgot about it, I’m a bit out of practice!
It occurred to me that you could have a little card made up with the website for "jane's big walk" to hand out to the people you take photos of so they can see the fab photo .and recommendations ... obviously you wouldn't give it to the people whose places you thumbs down ... especially liked the photo of Sally and David ! Xx
The perfect breakfast read to galvanise me for the day and make me remember I should be out, not in. I love how you record the way a day’s walk has a narrative, that the threads of it circle round and pick up and echo even when you are walking a linear route. I savoured every bit of your rarebit, and admired Brendan’s brickwork and the antecedents thereof. Was amused by the graffiti, horrified by the landfill experience, and charmed by the watervoles (made me remember the watervole which greeted me at the very very end of the walk which started at the Wey navigation — ! Our paths cross in space if not in time)
Wonderful to find you on another big walk, Jane. Perfect time of year as you say-,Enjoy XX
What a beautiful day for walking!! Glad you could glimpse Tom's project!
Mary looks formidable - not to be trifled with! 'Behind every great man.....'!
Also - rarebit should only ever be approached with gusto! xx