Pulling back the canvas curtains it appeared, at first glance at any rate, that the weather Gods had been kind. Through windows of white netting a billion shafts of sunlight poured into our tent speckling the insides lush bedding with a multitude of blurred squares. They weren’t the only things either; my eyes reliving the night before when far too much of that staple camping beverage had been consumed – Tawny Port! I was reasonably certain, though, that a rather enormous breakfast would soak up the remaining alcohol currently coursing through my veins and I set about clambering from our deliciously comfortable bed.
Gnome Guard
Stepping outside into the daylight for the first time is always one of those simple pleasures I look forward to when camping. I think maybe one of the reasons for this is because, generally, pitching the tent the day or night before is normally done while being drenched by the watery juice of a giant, grey cloud. Friday had been no exception. So it was with a very glad heart that I stepped outside to see blue skies punctuated every so often by large balls of woolly, white fluff. The day (as was the entire weekend) was to be a good one, I thought.
Onto breakfast then and, armed with two gas cookers and a mountain of plastic cutlery items and encouraged by the deep, resonant rumbling in our bellies, I pulled together a fry-up of unparallelled taste. Outdoor food whatever the guise always tends to taste pretty good to me but when it happens to be rashers of smokey, back bacon, pork and herb sausages enveloped in a bundle of chestnut mushrooms accompanied by a couple of eggs nestled to the side it doesn’t really get any better than that. Throw it all onto a plastic plate together with a beautifully prepared roll of eggy bread and you could be forgiven for thinking that an official looking man wearing a little metal Michelin badge would pop out from behind a tree and award our tent 3 stars!
Hearty breakfast
So then, with breakfast consumed and you having skim read my three hastily prepared, scene-setting paragraphs lets move on to the whole point of this blog entry; the walk from the incredibly tiny village Pyecombe to Lewes along a section of the South Downs Way.
These two locations are separated by approximately nine miles of glorious countryside views with panoramic vistas to the North and South along the majority of the journey. After packing up essentials such as chocolate chip cookies, cheese and ham buns and a scotch egg or two we set off from Blackberry Wood campsite negotiating the initial one and a half mile stretch to Plumpton College. We then had to jump on a couple of buses to get us to our starting point, the Plough pub in Pyecombe. (Just a word here on beginning the walk but you can either do as we did and trawl up and down a steep hill masquerading as School Lane in the hope of finding a small shop selling water or proceed directly to the local golf club and take a chance that half way round the hike there would be a little ice-cream van waiting to sell us a Screwball or two).
Initially heading up past the golf course to the right and avoiding any stray tee shots or practice drives you veer to the left along a well used path and walk towards two pretty windmills directly in front of you. The two windmills are apparently called Jack and Jill and, should you wish to visit them, you will find one is open to the public and welcomes you with open arms and the other is not. As to which of the two affords you the opportunity to play out your twisted fantasy of dressing up as Windy Miller of Camberwick Green fame I’m not sure but since they’re separated by just a few small paces I’ll let you discover for yourselves.
Not sure if this is Jack or Jill
Onwards, then, from Jack and Jill and their pretty sails and you’ll easily find a post announcing that you’re now trekking along the famous South Downs Way. This was actually the first time I’d been up the downs (as it were) and I was struck by how beautiful and serene everything is up there. The initial climb up onto the ridge is relatively comfortable and you could probably Google the actual height of the Downs for yourself but I will tell you that following the path from the windmills will take you directly to Ditchling Beacon which I’m reliably informed is the heighest point on the Downs. Prior to, then, and immediately after this point your aching limbs and gasping lungs are rewarded with sensational views towards the coast and also inland offering uninterrupted scenery for many a mile.
Ditchling Beacon
I forgot to mention that just before you get to the Beacon itself you will come to a car park located adjacent to a main road and, following the necessary purchase of a 99 ice-cream (with flake – I mean who asks for a 99 ice-cream without the requisite flaky chocolate finger?) you may cross the road and continue your journey.
Following the path past the Beacon you will soon arrive at Black Cap which is essentially a copse of trees planted to commemorate the Queen’s Jubilee back in 1953. As an aside, whilst we marvelled at the trees and felt the cool, crisp wind blowing through our hair and chilling our ears we noticed a glider circling above and riding the currents of fast flowing air above. It looked eerily like a giant seagull with tattooed markings under its wings. But it wasn’t.
Heading up towards Black Cap and Mount Harry on the SDW
Continuing along the path you’ll pass another rise, named Mount Harry and you’ll need to either head left towards the small village of Offham or take a path cut into the hills to the right providing a more direct route to Lewes. Depending on how your legs and blistered feet are feeling I heartily recommend the wooded surrounds of Offham as the path descends leisurely through a mash of trees and twigs that will, I presume, look beautiful in the summer once dappled with green leaves. More importantly though, the path will lead you out just a few hundred yards shy of the Chalk Pit Inn, a wonderfully located pub that provides much needed sustenance before undertaking the relatively short trundle downhill into Lewes itself.
The South Downs Way; somewhere between Pyecombe and Lewes
Ok, so this was an entry of firsts. First entry ever into the murky waters of blogging, my first experience of hiking a section of the colourful South Downs Way and my first recognition of the fact that no matter how remote you happen to place yourself in this world there’s always an ice-cream van called Mr. Whippy happy to sell you a blob of vanilla flavoured swirl with a Cadbury’s flake sticking out of it!