North Downs Way Day 7 - Borstal to Thurnham

Reading my diary from this time last year, I remembered that in the middle of the South Downs Way I had tech issues with my blog, where a whole entry was deleted and I had to start again. That pretty much happened again last night - it was published with about three quarters missing. So much later than I'd have liked, having had a long day, I had to write it again. It's made me quite thoughtful about the process of writing and its part in these treks. I find it creates a different kind of awareness, where I'm looking at things in relation to how they can be portrayed in writing. And the effort of that can sometimes distract from being in the moment. I'm not sure yet whether I'll write it when I walk in Portugal next month. Maybe I'll see how the experience feels if I just absorb it as opposed to recording it in words. We’ll see.

The view from the cabin window was wonderful this morning. I could have sat there for hours, watching the birds squabbling out on the water, looking at the changing light. Although the tide went from low to high between me arriving and the middle of the night, I didn't detect any motion from the water. It has been one of the best places I've stayed in.

A discovery from yesterday, that unknowingly my walk to collect food last night had led me along the Augustine Camino, one of the many pilgrimage trails in Europe. It runs from Rochester cathedral to the shrine of St Augustine in Ramsgate, taking in various churches on the way with a particular bent on sacred art. Not quite what I was doing with my Marks and Spencers haul of food, though I was so hungry last night that the salad and the pastel de nata had felt pretty sacred. I ate most of the remainder of the supplies for breakfast and made my way, with no particular urgency as it was going to be a shorter day today. Life is interfering with walking, and I have to return home to various commitments by the end of the day.

After leaving the marina, and climbing up the hill out of Borstal, the path ducks under and then runs alongside the motorway for a while. As it veers off to the countryside again I walked past the oast houses that I saw in the distance yesterday from the alpaca field. And got a good view of some other vines being farmed, though I couldn't tell if this vehicle was autonomous like yesterday’s. I'd love further info on autonomous vine vehicles, if there's a specialist reading this?

From the map I could see that the first hour or so was going to be uphill, and with every step upwards the traffic noise receded, and the sky larks' song got louder and more insistent. This area is the Nashendon Down nature reserve, and had once been a large wheat field, but has been partly rewilded, and the robins, goldfinches, thrush and chiff chaffs were living their best and most tuneful life in the hedgerows, seemingly miles away from the motorway.

Through the dappled light of woodland along a gravelled path I walked towards the sound of frantically barking dogs with some caution. They were soon briskly brought to heel by their horsey owners. It’s a very horsey place round here, many of the well to do houses have horse boxes, and I exchanged a cheery greeting with a little girl who was meticulously combing the fringe of her pony. She was to be virtually the only person I spoke to today.

Then it was more steady climbing, aiming for Bluebell Hill, described by my Cicerone guide as the best view of the NDW. Initially it was obscured by the big houses, who’d claimed it as their own, but eventually a viewpoint opened and there it was, beautiful in the haze. There is a large commemoration of three air ambulance crew who died here, having fundraised for that excellent organisation in the English leg of my walk I felt a bit of connection.

I sat on a bench that M had sadly dedicated to his/her darling Peter, enjoying my tea and the first half of my elderly sandwich, the last part of the food haul bought yesterday, which had been on offer. Time will tell how that pans out.

Back to my friend the motorway, walking alongside it, though fortunately tucked into a wooded gully so the noise wasn’t overpowering. And then I went under it again, following the helpful NDW graffiti. The astonishing profanity of some of the other graffiti made me laugh. I will protect the readers' ears from it.

Backwards and forwards across the motorways, it's like a very slow maypole dance of me going under, over, under. I wonder whether it's why the North Downs Way is so much less walked than the South Downs, because on the map it looks like it's all about the various motorways that come so close to it. It's true, it would be nicer without them, but there is a lot more to this trail than just the roads.

I was preparing myself for the steep hill at the second half of the walk, and therefore completely missed Kits Coty, a megalithic burial ground that is a feature of today's leg. I was annoyed, but not so upset that I retraced my steps to make me walk more uphill. I saw a White Horse Stone instead. Wikipedia tells me that this is a sarsen megalith, and that it is probably from 4000 BC. There is contention over why it's named after a white horse, and some think that it might have been part of a long barrow, though that seems to be uncertain too. Once, it would have been something critical, now it's something that a passing walker looks at for a minute and moves on.

The hill was as steep as advertised, climbing 450 feet in about half a mile (apologies for those who think in metric, it's just not my instinctive language, even after all this time!). But there were some boulders at the top on which to have the second half of my dodgy sandwich, knowing that the rest of the hike was flat or downhill. My research didn't tell me if these boulders were historic, but I was just happy with convenient.

Walking on, I had a moment of considering how fast one would go if you zipwired down the electrical cables between the pylons.

And then I listened to my latest book, ‘The Persians’, whilst walking through the woods. 1960s Iran is a different vibe to the woodland with a lovely open sandy path, primroses and bluebells amongst the trees and squirrels scampering around in the sun. This was the Boxley Downs, an Escarpment Site of Special Scientific Interest, and the chalk downland is home to much wildlife.

The penultimate village of today is Detling. In 1962 it was split in half by the building of the A249. Tragically it took 4 deaths and twenty years of campaigning to build a footbridge. At the other side of the remarkably complex structure, there was a dedication to the four people who were killed, including Jade Hobbs at 8 years old, together with her grandmother. The bridge is named Jade's Bridge.

From Detling, the NDW goes uphill round the top of a natural amphitheater. Because I had a lift to catch, I took the Pilgrims Way instead, along the bottom. But I could look up at the Way across the vineyards, and could see virtually the first walkers of the day, far in the distance.

And then I was in Thurnham, at the welcoming pub that didn't blink when my rucksack’s hydration system leaked all over their chair. Saffy and David arrived minutes later, ready to whisk me back to Buckinghamshire, and to my normal life. Hopefully I'll finish this walk before I fly to Porto at the end of May, it would feel better to end one before starting the next!

Stats

Distance travelled - 11.5 miles

Total ascent - 1,243 feet

Video of the day

https://www.relive.com/view/veqzdmJx5BO