South Downs way day 5&6 Graffham to Washington to Saddlescombe

Day 5

I don’t think other people read the same rule sheet I did about quite after10:30 last night. I’m impressed that I’m packed up by 8:15. On my way out a rather nice dog begs me to throw his frisby a couple of times. It’s a lovely morning , bright though still with cloud. I’m still annoyed At the camp for charging so much , and it wa much less nice than Holden which was half the price. The butterflies are out in the farm hedgerows as I head the long way back to the sdw, following signs ‘to the pub’. The clouds are burning off quickly. It’s going to be a hot day. I’m so loving the sun bathing my face. After passing a pretty pub (and climbing a fence to shortcut) the route goes through peaceful woods, and as I stop to take a photo of a beautiful bubbling stream I notice a small dear on the other side, it doesn’t scamper, I’m not even sure it notices me, just stands for quite a while, brown and sleek against the sun soaked green until I move and it leaps away. The sound of the water is calming. I’d love to bathe my feet. - until that is I realise I have to cross a very narrow log to get across. Pole fully extended and hip belt undone, I nearly slip towards the end but get across fine and dry. I eat plums from someone orchard hanging over the path. Old flint barns with wooden slat windows. A huge bird with a wingspan must be over a metre takes off from a fence 10m from me. Hot sunny fields then climbing -clearly an old way- in the shade. A squirrels scamperes away, birds twit, but mostly just the quiet background rustle of leaves. The top of dunction hill then through a confusing quarry area. Then down to Littleton farm to rejoin sdw. A huge hare sprints through the wheat. I much preferred the beauty of those footpaths to the starker bridle way that dominates the sdw. Except I actually make an error and have to walk along the a road. Up Sutton down. Sunflowers are growing amoungst a crop, so pretty against the blue sky. At the top what i think to be cloud I realise is sea- my best view yet all along the south horizon, and filled with wind farms. Suddenly there’s lots of people around runners and cyclists and walkers. More wonderful views, This time the low north wield contrasting the rolls ahead. I spy a Bench in the car park before Bignor Hill and head for it. My left foot is not good. I take my shoe off for some relief. I eat a whole packet of biscuits, my hungers started. It’s so lovely being bathed here by the sun I don’t think I want to move. The toe isn’t any better but I get on eventually. Up the pretty hill. Another great view over the Weald and downs and sea, and pass Tobys stone. Down and up the next hill. I’m trying to walk evenly and not compensate for my painful foot, as I don’t want to mess up my ankle like I did in Hadrian’s wall, but it’s hard particularly on this flinty ground . It’s hot. Walking. I stop in the shade of trees above amberley for lunch. First the left shoes off again, and this time plasters are coming off too, even though it was mainly the little toe causing pain, there’s a huge puffy lump on my heal that throbs continually after I peeled off the blister plaster , and a thick white layer on my little toe. After lunch I go to rewrap, try a simple approach but dreading putting weight on them. The first few metre cause a lot of swearing in my head, but the pain fades a bit- I’m never sure if the brain blocks it out or if the blisters leasten when you walk a bit. The view down to Amberley is nice, walking it not so much. I can see exposed chalk faces. The chalk path is increadibly bright. Down by the river something makes me feel like I’m walking to a beach- the seagulls, the hot sun and breeze, the long dry grrass full of crickets. On the flood plane. Two trains come past. I take a different route to refill my water and buy a twister, which is delicious, but I drop the last half on the pavement:(:( Back with the sdw it climbs up, and I can see the ruins of Amberley castle 1 it’s pretty big (apparently built to defend the river which used to be navigable this far up). Hot climb out - still sad about my twister. I hold the gate for three cyclists who impressively make it up the steep gravel path and step (well, two of them do). From Amberley mount (steep but rewarding) an amazing view back: the grey sea, green and yellow downs and flood plane by the river, the castle ruins and north over plane, dotted with churches and villages, to forested hille, grand houses under the downs. A man points Arundel castle out to me . Silloughted against the sea- I always lived using Lord Arundel as an example for 1549 rebellions. Pretty sheep with the sea as their backdrop. My feet are soar (not blister pain thankfully, it’s somehow faded (or the paracetamol worked) but the stony ground is tough) but I plough on along this beautiful ridge aiming for some trees for a rest. I eat my first blackberries of the year, only the ones from the tip of the bunch are ripe, they’re sweet and tart, perfect for my throut. I rest at four. There’s still a decent chunk to go. I treat myself to listening to my podcast. Each km takes forever. Lots more beautiful views. A ring of cows on a smooth hill. The downs are much narrower than I imagined, bordered between the Weald and the sea. There’s terracing on the north slope. From a car park someone’s flying a big kite, I wonder if there doing something,, as there’s a big battery out and it’s tied off with wires leading up it. I see a small flock of birds doing that murmuration thing which I’ve never seen before. They settle amount the cows. Long on down of the hills, crossing over the busy a road, then footpaths to camp. I arrive 5:30. Nine hours walking- not a bad days work. After wasting way too much time dithering on pitch site (I was too polite to ignore the reserved sign), I set up with speed and I’m in the shower just after 6, then on to dinner in the ‘hikers hut’at 7, why does everything take so long? I’ve no idea where camping time goes. I’m tired but not as much as I dreaded. I’ve got one of those horrible adventure food meals for dinner, but it’s good calories for today (double the amount I get from pasta)- I actually whoof it down though so I must be in need of the calaries. I’ve got to survey my food this evening and make a shopping List for Steyning. Apparently I wasn’t meant to camp near the blue sign afterall (but she let me get away with it tonight as I’m leaving early).

Day 6

I wake to the loud sound of seagulls, and pack away my tent. A pretty bird with a bright yellow Breast hops nearby. It’s already baking by eight. Set off 8:45. I’m thankful for the beautiful cool shade on the small shortcut I take to rejoin sdw. There’s a group of girls with big backpacks sitting in the shade at a junction- they look like doing DofE but I don’t know if people can do it this year. Out of the trees the sky is a brilliant blue, a big bird is floating above the hill, buzzing in the long grass. Rumbling of cars down in the Weald plane. Through disused chalk p it a, where the chalk peaks out of the green in folds. Green grass, blue sky, and brilliant white. I look down to my camp in the plane, dwarfed by the huge quarry next to it I had not noticed from below. Convex hills also make for hidden summits, which is a lot less satisfying, scanning and scanning for the trig point. I se me my first few pond, I didn’t expect them to have raised rims like they do, there’s definitely no water in it today but perfect spot for a sneaky break. A bird with a huge wingspan, with tipped up ends, overhead. Then there’s Chanctonbury ring, that I’ve much looked forward to seeing. Robert Macfarlane had a haunted night when he slept here in Old Ways, and apparently in the early twentieth century chartered trains took a huge number (I think 16,000!) from London for a moonlit walk to the ring. The trees sit impressively in a crown, white steamed, green topped, climbing over the old fort earthworks. I wander through the trees, the dateddness of my guide book shows- it bemoaned the Loss of the trees in the 1987 storm - the new plantings seem grand enough to me. The romans too had

D a temple here. I get cold as I sit on a mound in the ring- strange contrast aftet the baking heat of the open. I wonder what is underneath me. Little birds flit through the trees. I circle inside. On the north side the land drops steeply away. Smoke rises from six points on the plane. I swing on a rope. You can see the house of the man who planted the trees. I spent nearly half an hour sitting in the trees , then Out again along the saddle of the down. Butterflies sit in the grass and a huge horned bull stands against the skyline. There couldn’t be a more perfect day for this site. Did I move on too quickly?

I’m level with the wind farms now, that I saw away to the east in the sea a few days ago. I walk a side track to see if I can get a view of Cissbury ring but can’t do back and on, but on the next rise I can see it away to my right: the biggest fort of the south downs, with two clear ramparts encircling the hilltop- on that documentary we watched they showed the flint mine pits. I catch I short glimpse of the towers of Brighton then take my leave of the trail to head for Styning. It seems a shame to miss such I nice part of the route. As I walk - the whole day- rhymes play over and over in my head the night we went to Birmingham/ by way of beachhy head. And even more annoyingly the horrible history song the earth goes round right round right round not the other way round Kepler found. I think they get stuck because the rhythms are exactly the same as my walking beat.

The white and yellow flowers on the long grass are stunning in the sun. A lamb is taking a bath in the water trough. My ways not the downs but it’s still lovely: descent through steep cool woods with mountain bike trails, I wish I had wheels to roll down theses paths, but I get in a jogging rhythm to ease my knees am the slope, and get down faster. I pass a rifle range which I read is truly old, with musket balls found, used to practise against threat of a French invasion. . Then at the junction with mouse lane, a stone is inscribed with the very moving ww1 poem Chance Memory.

I can’t forget the lane that goes from Steyning to the Ring

In summertime, and on the downs how larks and linnets sing

High in the sun. The wind comes off the sea, and, oh, the air!

I never knew till now that life in old days was so fair.

But now I know it in this filthy rat-infested ditch

Where every shell must kill or spare, and God alone knows which.

And I am made a beast of prey, and this trench is my lair,

My God, I never knew till now that those days were so fair.

And we assault in half-an-hour, and it’s a silly thing:

I can’t forget the lane that goes from Steyning to the Ring.

A great fact sheet shows a cross section of the downs and a timeline, Then into the village by a thatched house, and past the old workhouse- which is beautiful. I go past a nice looking cafe- it’s busy, and do my shopping at the coop which has everything I need. I really can’t be bothered to walk back to the nice cafe, and another one doesn’t look to interesting so eat my own Lunch in the church yard instead, in the shade of a yew. Someone’s playing somber music on the organ in the church- it’s an impressive stout flint building. Grave stones are very modest things to mark a life with. “In loving memory of Charles Stanley Blaber. ABRN. Who died June 18th 1917 on HMS Alecto at Great Yarmouth. Aged 24 years. Also Lucy Matilda Blaber. Mother of the above. Who died November 30th 1934. Aged 83 years. “

“In loving memory of a dear husband and father Edward John hickmott. Fell asleep 16 March 1977 aged 57 years. And his wife Lilian hook. Fell asleep 1 June 2018. Aged 96 years.”

In loving memory of .... who died .... aged ....

So much meaning said by so little, amount the dandelions.

Except the early 19th Century ones. They’re not modest at all.

I bought a gingerbread man and eat him to the sound of seagulls. It’s heading 1. I’ve been dallying today. Residential streets then the floood plane and over a river very like the one in Amberley yesterday (tidal I think- coastal in setting, my sense of the beach is probably because the area around the river is salt marsh), a buzzard swooping overhead And ruins of Bramber castle looking out of the trees. Another beautiful flint church on the other side of the river. There’s a loverly old bridge into upper breeding. I go there to go to the pharmacy but when I get there it’s closed 1-2! It’s 1:30. I can’t afford to wait half an hour, they might not even have tape. Just got to hope my feet will make four more day’s , very annoying, besides who closes a shop for an hours lunch in nowadays !? Finally out of the settlements, climbing a very steep track, a car comes down , impressive because the ruts are worse than in Kyrgyzstan. It goes on forever (it’s on the monarchs way- evrytime I’m on the monarchs way it’s terrible!) Finally it reAC he’s the top and the sdw, with a stunning views of everything I missed on my detour, Steyning bowl, Annington hill and Botolophs village. and Chanctonbury ring at the edge. There’s a huge black building near the sea- I think from the guide book it’s the chapel of Lancing college, will have to look it up. 2km by road to Truleigh hill. Finally I reach the youth hostel (cafe closed) and sit in the shade for a bit. Now thoughrely back on the downs, I’m actually glad I missed a chunk, otherwise ,as beautiful as it is , I’d be unbearably bored- huge stretches of pasture on round hills. Yet still it’s pretty stunning. I meet a father and son I saw yesterday and follow a backpacking man I saw this morninng. These hidden summits though! And evry hill seems so close on the map so far by the feet. My feet! A big bird is hovering and diving over the crown on the hill, hunting. in the sea breeze. This might be the prettyirst pylon view in England- not grandest, but prettiest.on and on, metre by metre, undless hills, and endless views. Devils dyke pub comes into view. . I was so excited wn I saw Devils dyke was on the route because I remember staring at the os map of it during geography gcse for so long it IngravEd in my brain. The myth is very similar to that of Cam long down on the cotswold way: this time the devil wanted to flood the churches of the Weald from the sea so scooped it out but gave up when he mistook a lady with a candle for dawn. It’s Britain’s largest chalk karst coombe. The sea is silver white in the west, blue to the east. Devils dyke is different to how I imagined (never fair to imagine a landscape before you see it(, but still very impressive - very steep. It’s such a relieved to see Saddlescombe farm come into view (though when there I get confused about what I should do, there’s no one around, it’s a ‘basic’ campsite) and such a relief to take off my shoes. I’m so impressed with myself for getting into camp at 4:30- i was sure I’d be well after 5. It was a tough day, pounding, and the detours was hard, but it was also very beautiful- particularly the morning, I wish I could go back to Chanctonbury ring and spend the whole evening just lying there watching. The f at her and son I met early are camping here, as well as a boy & girl - she (completely ignoring social distancing in the bathroom which was awkward) told me they’re on day 3, the same way, so doing 40km days- horrendous. I lie back in the grass and the sun as I wait for my pasta to cook. It’s warm, crows fly overhead, birds are calling. The clouds are thin stretched out whisps in a blue sky. I’ve got another of those vegan Dolmios sauces fir tonight, yum. I use pasta water to melt my fredo for hot chocokate. The hot choclates great, the pasta too (I finally realised that it really is much better to boil the pasta upon the water), but there’s an awe full lot of it that takes a long time to get down. The chickens on the farm are busy. The toilets quiet a walk away which is a pain. I’m tired, but do another blog upload, then I’ll clean teeth and go to bed. I’m going to have a lie in tommorrow: alarm for eight. This is a beautiful campsite, surrounded by bird song. But I can’t publish my blog because wiz wo t let me which. Is annoying.