Day 6 - Monday 7th July - East Meon to Midhurst

I have to admit that waiting almost half an hour for my breakfast to arrive never puts me in a good mood, even if it is delicious!

I also left East Meon this morning in grey drizzle, which didn't help.

By the time my little lane had reached the downland escarpment and was testing my legs with a steep climb the dampness was gone.

A short climb took me to the slopes of Butser Hill, at 889ft the highest point of the South Downs, but the top is crowned by a telecoms mast and is not worth an extra half mile slog.

The curious cone is actually the roof of a coffee shop...

There are great views to the south, with glimpses of the Solent and the Isle of Wight, after which the path plunges down a steep grassy slope towards the noise of the dual carriageway A3, hurrying its way down to Portsmouth.

The road is crossed in a tunnel, after which the path skirts the facilities at the Queen Elizabeth Country Park and heads sharply uphill through woods to regain much of the height it lost from Butser Hill.

From a car park at the unfortunately named Faggs Farm the path goes uphill and downhill for a couple of miles, with only rare views. 

Finally it makes a sharper climb to Harting Downs, a superb viewpoint looking down to Harting village and on to the Surrey hills, plus a perfectly timed bench for a lunch break.

Harting Downs was also busy with a group of model aircraft enthusiasts, the gentle breeze making a perfect day for their hobby.

The path goes down steeply again to the foot of Beacon Hill, with a fine view of Treyford Hill.

I decided against the very steep climb directly to the top of Beacon Hill and followed the official path route around the base, adding a bit of time and distance.

The path wasn't going to let me off so easily though...

A wander through fields and another climb into woodlands took me eventually to the Devil's Jumps, the best preserved examples of Bronze Age burial mounds on the South Downs. They date back 3,000 years. At least something is older than I am!

It's the little things which can make a journey like this - the slow worm which wriggled across my path, or the tiny stone memorial almost hidden in the bushes to a German fighter pilot who crashed in the woods nearby. You just don't see the details from a car.

The path wandered on to the delightfully named Didling Hill, with more fine views.

Just beyond here I had planned to use a bridleway to drop from the ridge and start the last part of the journey, but it was lost in brambles and undergrowth, forcing an extra mile to use the next trackway to descend. These things happen.

The final three miles along roads to Midhurst were covered at a pace - I needed a pint!