North Downs Way Day 6 - Wrotham to Borstal

It’s been seven weeks since the last time I was out on the trail. I’d have loved to walk more, but work has been very busy, and there’s been exciting things happening too, with Tasha finally moving into her new house. So when I saw a couple of free ish days in the calendar I grabbed them, especially as they coincided with a good weather forecast.

David dropped me just outside Wrotham this morning to restart where I left off in February. There’s something rather good about doing a walk in bits over the seasons. I started the North Downs Way in the late autumn, then did some in the winter, and this third chunk is in the spring. It’s great seeing the trail change with the seasons. Today has been such a different experience to February.

I took a little diversion into Wrotham to see if it could offer me a toilet and a coffee. None were available, so I retraced my steps, and reminded myself of the M20, that had been such a feature of the last couple of days of walking. But once it was crossed I was then up and over the fields, following the Pilgrims’ Way.

This made me think about my good friend Sophie, the person who really understands the claim long distance walking has on me. She is currently walking the Via Francigena, that runs from Canterbury to Rome. Such an impressive and envy-inducing undertaking. If you are interested in following her adventures then her blog is http://www.walkingthelandscape.com

I strongly recommend it.

Anyway, back to my walk. There have been two excellent things about today. One is that the weather has been perfect, blue skies but not too hot. Two is that it has been dry underfoot. No mud, unlike the slippy nightmares of February. I am testing a new pair of trail shoes bought for walking the Portuguese Camino which I start next month. They loved the firm surface of the tracks, and the other excellent news is that unlike every pair of walking footwear I’ve owned, these do not mash the fourth toe of my right foot. A long day on my feet today and they felt peachy.

Up the hill through Hognore wood, reminding me of home. The woods near us to which I walk regularly are called Hodgemoor. Our village used to breed wild boar for one of the early royal Henrys to hunt. Maybe this wood was a boar breeding ground too. Blowing a bit at the summit, I discovered that I am definitely not as fit as I’d like.

But at the top was the best sort of cafe - an unexpected one. Part of the Trosley country park, it did an excellent flapjack and a good coffee for a fiver. And I sat next to three women talking loudly about whether or not I should be using walking poles, whilst not catching my eye.

Trosley is a fantastic country park that was filled with families enjoying the Easter holiday sunshine. Fitness trails, outdoor classroom, lots of different circular walks, goats grazing, a wood henge and an outdoor orchestra - similar to something I set up at school many years ago.  The clanging made by one small boy could be heard a quarter of a mile away.

The path took a steep hill down past a ‘footpath closed‘ sign. I generally ignore these, there’s always a way past. But this was really closed, a huge mains burst, a big digger and 3 men doing some intent looking. I have taken no names or photos, because they very kindly helped me continue along the NDW by picking my way over the mud to the side of the leak. It would have been an awfully long diversion if not.

I was struck by a gorgeous hedgerow of mature trees, I thought it was maybe an avenue leading to a stately home, but actually just marking the edge of a field. Whoever planted it had such optimism for the future.

In contrast to February’s grey murk and wet mud, today I was treated to chalk fields gleaming white against the blue.

Up another hill, having got no fitter than I was an hour earlier, reaching a hamlet at the top of Holly Hill. This was idyllic, with red brick cottages, phrase, sheep and lambs in the fields. And nobody around.

A couple of miles in woodland, then the path came briefly out into an estate field. There was a sign that told me that they were widening the paths to make it all better for everybody. I was mystified by this, but glad that this recently turned mud wasn’t wet. It was hard enough on my legs and the new shoes in the dry.

Then a succession of scrubby trees and scrubby fields, not the prettiest bit of walking. In fact the place I elected to stop and eat my sandwich was called Scrub Wood. But, as often the case, even the most unprepossing place can have aspects of beauty when studied long enough. I sat on a mossy mound of tree roots and ate my lunch (chicken salad sandwich, if you’re asking, with my thermos tea) and in the quiet the loveliness unfolded. So peaceful, bright green growth on the shrubs and trees, lots of sadly unidentified birdsong, butterflies flying in and out of the dappled sunshine.

On again, watching two farmhands fixing a fence, the sound of their hammers reminiscent of the woodland orchestra earlier. I loved the stripes of the birch which was then mirrored by the rows of vines, (if that’s what they were?) which were to be cared for by ‘autonomous machines’. I hung around to see if they would come on shift. but no such luck. I walked on.

I stopped briefly at a gorgeous house at Upper Bush, guarded by an inappropriately-ferocious-sounding-for-the-size-of-his-legs dachshund with a friendly owner who reassured me that the second path closed sign of the day wasn’t going to affect me. It’s a good job he was friendly, as having had a few hours of not really seeing anyone, I appeared to have lost the ability to talk sense. I threw a few unconnected phrases at him, and he smiled slightly anxiously.

Given it’s so near the motorway and the railway line, Lower Bush valley is a very tranquil agricultural place, alpacas and sheep grazing on one side, more possible vines (or are they hops?) on the other. But then up Mill Hill, and once over the top the atmosphere changed with the motorway suddenly audible, the bird song fading into the background.

When I was walking Scotland, I had a moment of being completely intimidated by the bridge across the Forth of Firth. It was too high, too long, too much. Arriving at the M2, with its complex roundabouts that had to be skirted, and then the gigantic bridge over the Medway felt a bit similar. Fortunately, it wasn’t windy, but it was still very high and very noisy. It felt like a sensory overload after my peaceful day. I dealt with it by fixing my gaze on the river, and trying to ignore the frantic vehicle activity to my right.

What I did notice though was the number of signs as the bridge progressed on which were the contact details for the Samaritans (116123). I thought about what this environment would be like for someone feeling desperate, and I hoped that people would get consolation from making a call. I felt very proud to be part of the organisation.

My accommodation was in Borstal, famous for housing the first Young Offenders institution in 1908, the success of which led to similar ones across the country. It’s also Charles Dickens country, I went past roads dedicated to both Magwitch and Oliver Twist. But my historic interest was in the Inner Dowsing lightship, built in 1840, and now moored on the Medway after a long career as a lightship off the Lincolnshire coast. It has been converted into a B and B, and is my bed for the night. My cabin has uninterrupted views of the river, and I’ve never stayed on anything like it.

The only disadvantage of the boat is that Borstal doesn’t have many food options, and there’s no breakfast on board. So even though it had been a long day, I then did the 3.5 mile round trip along the river to Rochester to get supplies. Not much of a hardship, the sky was still blue and it meant I got to look at the castle.

This time last year I was walking the South Downs Way in tumultuous stormy weather and in a pretty tumultuous psychological state. Today couldn’t have been more different. The weather has been perfect and I am feeling calm and happy. I look forward to more of the same tomorrow.

Stats

Distance travelled - 14.5 miles plus an additional 3.5miles for supplies

Total ascent - 1355 feet

Local tipple - a tin of G and T from M&S. The glamour.

Video of the day.

https://www.relive.com/view/v26MdXYNVEO