Winchester to Canterbury 2023 - Diary Entries

 To be a pilgrim...

 

Less than two weeks now before my next trip, and this one will have some differences from the previous journeys.

 

I spent months drawing prospective route lines on computer maps, and reached a shortlist which included at least one more 250-mile two-week journeys, but lurking in the background was a long-held fascination. Perhaps because I grew up in Kent, close to the North Downs, the Pilgrims' Way, Hilaire Belloc’s “Old Road” to Canterbury, has long been on my mind. I set to work, to see if it had viable accommodation en route, and what the interest might be along the way.

 

The result is the journey I plan to start on 29^th June, this time not from London but from the traditional start point of Winchester, just an hour’s train ride away from the capital. It will intertwine the traditional route of the Pilgrims' Way with sections of the North Downs Way National Trail, picking the most scenic or interesting stretches as it goes, and add in some diversions of my own, trekking around 160 miles and reaching Canterbury in nine days. That’s an average of just under 18 miles a day, rather less than the 21 daily miles clocked up in the last couple of journeys, allowing more time to soak up the history and the landmarks close to the route.

 

The line of the Way, some of which is now buried under trunk roads or lost without trace, follows an ancient trackway, thought to be part of a trading route from the southwest through to the English Channel, perhaps carrying tin from Cornwall for export to Europe, and other goods in the opposite direction. Unlike many downland trackways it does not follow the tops of ridges, but runs below them, avoiding sticky clay on the tops, and other dangers in the forests which once covered the land below. Pilgrims from the west, or those who landed at Southampton, on their way to the shrine of St Thomas Becket in Canterbury, would have followed existing routes, of which this ancient trackway is one. I am no pilgrim, but I shall follow the tradition of starting at the tomb of St Swithun, in Winchester Cathedral, and ending at Canterbury Cathedral. St Swithun’s name is linked in folklore with a long period of rainy weather, so I shall be hoping the folklore has got it all wrong.

 

Training was seriously messed up by weeks, literally weeks, of lousy weather, leaving footpaths impassably muddy and bringing many days cut short or cut out by rain. Only in the last month has it been possible to gear up seriously, building distance with a backpack loaded with old clothes and weights, but now I feel ready to enjoy the journey. As previously there will be daily updates on this page, and – I hope - loads of photos. 

 

 

Day one - Thursday 29th June - Winchester

At least when I'm walking I can pretty much rely on my feet to travel at a certain rate. Sadly it doesn't work for trains. After an "incident on the tracks", cancellations, diversions and a delayed wandering ride through the countryside I reached Winchester three hours later than planned for today.

That ruled out much exploration of the city, and a visit to the cathedral, specifically to find St Swithun's tomb, so I'll do that tomorrow morning. It also explains why there are so few photos for today.

Having said all that, the sun has shone, drying up some earlier heavy rain, and I dined well in the city this evening.

All set up then to begin the journey properly tomorrow...

 

Day Two - Friday 30th June - Winchester to Four Marks

This morning I caught up with yesterday's plans and visited Winchester Cathedral as soon as it opened. While not jaw-dropping it is very impressive. I took a few moments, passing by Jane Austen's tomb, to find the shrine to St Swithun, the traditional starting point for the journey to Canterbury. It has a "sunshine" side and a "rain" side, so some care is needed to avoid triggering soggy legends.

Swithun was born in Winchester, and became Bishop a decade before his death in 862. His remains were first buried outside the then abbey buildings, but on July 15th 971, when they were dug up and moved inside there was a violent storm, followed by days of rain. Hence the legend...
The route as far as Farnham takes his name as St Swithun's Way, and today I was encouraged that it was mostly well defined and properly waymarked.

It leaves Winchester to the north, passing all that remains of Hyde Abbey before diving straight into the countryside. The first couple of miles, to King's Worthy, follow narrow streams across water meadows before hitting civilisation again in tunnels under dual carriageways. 

Sadly the churchyard at King's Worthy was today a building site, so no picture of the 13 century church could do it justice.
The path comes close to the River Itchen just as it passes under the M3 motorway in another tunnel, then reaches the little church of Martyr Worthy.

In my time I've come across many landowners' efforts to show how much they really resent having to allow walkers to cross their land, but none so subtle as what came next. It was a stout metal kissing gate, very solidly constructed. I could not get through it with my backpack on, but my backpack wouldn't go through on its own either. I had to lift it over the gate and squeeze my own slim form through at the same time. I can't imagine how many slightly larger people would manage.

Just beyond the magic gate the weather forecast threatened to come true, and it drizzled for a while. There would be more of that as the day progressed.

The route went on to Itchen Abbas, with another small grey stone church, and a delightful little millrace, then contoured the edge of Avington Park, in other times the place to which Nell Gwynne was sent after Winchester turned against her reputation.

 

Occasional signs here confirmed that this route is shared with the so-called Camino Inglès, a recent recreation of the Way of St James, which goes from Reading to Southampton, then follows a series of routes to join the original "Inglès" in Northern Spain.

After Ovington, where at one point the little road has water lapping on each side, I crossed more fields through more drizzle, and traced narrow lanes through to the edge of Alresford. The town is famous for its watercress production, among other things, and watercress beds in various stages of use or dereliction were alongside this part of the way.

A long lane led to Bishop's Sutton, marked by the 17th-century Sutton Manor, then field paths to a point where I gave up worrying about drizzle and paused for lunch. 

I briefly became a subject of interest to a whole field full of cows here.

Onward then, still impressed by how well the path was defined, although even when they have been cut back, a field of cabbages can soak the legs. I passed through Ropley, a village built around an irrational collection of lanes. Its 12th-century church was almost destroyed by fire in 2014, but has now been rebuilt: it reopened only last year.

After Ropley the drizzle worsened, I finally caved in and put my waterproofs on, then climbed a long hill across fields and through woods to reach Four Marks, where tonight I'm in a budget hotel.

Day Three - Saturday 1st July - Four Marks to Farnham

A much better day for weather, early greyness fading eventually into light clouds and blue skies. It really does lift my mood for a long stroll: today's almost 19 miles came more easily than yesterday's damp 16.

I left Four Marks by a long slog into the village, then a labyrinth of urban paths, finally rejoining St Swithun's Way - here sharing its route with the Writers' Way, a 17-mile route with associations to Jane Austen, Gilbert White and William Cobbett.

Long straight stretches under trees and some field paths led to Chawton, where the pretty village makes a living out of Jane Austen's House, a fine red-brick place in which the writer spent the last eight years of her life and wrote, revised or prepared six of her novels. 

Given the need to prebook a visit, and my backpack, I looked outside and passed on. 

The busy little town of Alton is just a short stroll further.

Here the route gives up on the crowded High Street and follows paths which run parallel, through to the pretty 13th-century church of Holybourne. 

The ancient pond behind the church is a feeder for the River Wey. Holybourne continues the literary connections, as Elisabeth Gaskell died here in 1865.

More field paths - very much the theme of the day - led through the next couple of miles to Upper Froyle, where I paused for lunch in the churchyard. 

The original mediaeval church was much enhanced in the 19th century, and is unusual in that it is dedicated to the Assumption, not to a saint.

More fields, one decked with what I took to be cornflowers, although I'm no botanist, another with clouds of daisies, led on to Coldrey and then Pax Hill.

Hidden behind trees, the house at Pax Hill was the home of Baden-Powell. On his death, his wife gave it to be a headquarters for the Girl Guides. Today it is a nursing home.

In the fields further on I heard a skylark, only days after saying how I had not heard one in years. This one was making up for it with a very persistent song.

Next up, a dark avenue of impressive ancient trees leading up to the church at Bentley, and then the only section of today's route which was poorly marked and confusing, to reach a row of lovely redbrick cottages at East Green. 

From here, St Swithun's Way takes a bit of a circular jaunt to reach Farnham, probably not the more direct route any real pilgrims might prefer, but the paths were fine and the scenery not so bad. Here, almost unnoticeably, I passed from Hampshire into Surrey.

Finally to Farnham, a place of fine Georgian buildings and masses of traffic, and eventually to my bed for the night on the edge of the town.

 

Day Four - Sunday 2nd July - Farnham to Newlands Corner

There is something to be said for being on the right edge of a town - escaping it is very easy. So it was this morning, as I followed a track alongside the infant River Wey and soon left Farnham behind.

In a short while the track crossed the North Downs Way national trail, not far from its official starting point. This would provide much of my route for the rest of the journey, intertwined with the Pilgrims' Way where the two diverge.

The national trail climbs a short hill  then crosses a field to enter Runfold Wood, much beaten up in the storms of 1987 and 1990, but now restored as a nature reserve.

I left the trail after Farnham Golf Club to join a stretch of the Pilgrims' Way, now a road, to the village of Seal, with a pretty 12th-century church.

From just beyond here, where I watched three young men on mountain bikes ride indifferently past a large and very clear "No Cycling" sign, the North Downs Way continues as field path, then as woodland holloway. Despite its name, here, and for several miles ahead, the trail follows the sandstone ridges of the Surrey Hills rather than the beginnings of the chalky North Downs. It is likely that the ancient route went along the ridge of the Hog's Back, visible across a little valley, but that line is now buried under the two carriageways of the A31.

The path emerges on to roads as it reaches the pretty village of Puttenham, with a church which apparently dates from about 1170, the year of Becket's murder.

Around here the first proliferation of pilgrim names appears, from the common "Pilgrim Cottage" to more elaborate variations.

 
For the way itself there is some debate about the apostrophe. Should it be "Pilgrim's Way" (one pilgrim), or "Pilgrims' Way" (many pilgrims) or just "Pilgrims Way" (who cares?)? Most road signs take the last option, which seems grammatically shaky, I am using the second, in line with the Ordnance Survey.
From Puttenham the route goes through more woods beside yet another golf course before sneaking underneath the A3 just north of Compton. Here there is an artists' village complex, the Watts Gallery, founded in 1901 and apparently famous for its tearoom.

More woods, a few ups and downs, and a short stretch of road brought me to Artington, just south of Guildford. Up a short steep hill from here are the ruins of St Catherine's Chapel, built as a grand chapel of rest in 1371, but in ruins for centuries, long before Turner painted it.

The route descends steeply here to the River Wey, crossed by a wooden footbridge. The ancient ferry here stopped working in 1963 but the bridge was built only in 1978, cutting out quite a long diversion.

Not far beyond here the climb begins to St Martha's Hill, its 570ft top crowned by the church of the same name. The little church with its plain functional interior dates from around 1100 but was restored in the 1850s. 

The isolation of the hill means that the views are superb, claimed to look over seven counties, and I count myself lucky that the weather today was good.

After the hill I left the national trail behind to follow the pilgrims once more, across fields and then down a knee-crackingly steep slope to join a little lane. 

I started here to make the first real ascent of the downland escarpment, a long stony grind up to Newlands Corner, also renowned for its views.

The final few hundred metres to my hotel for tonight were along a main road, so the less said about that the better!

Day Five - Monday 3rd July - Newlands Corner to Reigate

Even though I had to start the day by reversing last night's main road trot, it began well, and in sunshine. Back at Newlands Corner I rejoined the North Downs Way going east, which here runs near the top of the chalky escarpment.

A few yards along there is a steel sculpture called the Optohedron (Will Nash), one of a series dedicated to hidden views. 

I needed to buy something for lunch, so I left the ridge and took a path which plunged steeply downhill, all the way to the Silent Pool (now better known for its gin distillery than the pool itself) 

Just beyond is the Catholic Apostolic Church of Albury Manor, built in the 1830s in rampant Gothic style. The church is actually a Protestant movement despite the name, and there are only a handful of buildings dedicated to it. This one, sadly, is now closed.

Field paths took me to the village of Shere, entering past a ford. It's an attractive place with a grand spired church - and a small supermarket.

A couple of miles further is Abinger Hammer, its history in the forging of iron clear from the name. The clock which overhangs the road dates from the early 1900s and features "Jack the Blacksmith" who strikes his bell on the hour. 

Time then to rejoin the trail, and thus to climb back up the ridge. What began as a lane shrank to a track, and then to a brambly narrow path as the gradient steepened, but the final stretch was wider and blessed with a fine view.

From here the national trail is a characteristic series of switchbacks as it follows the downland edge, with occasional fine views across to the Surrey Hills. 

After Ranmore Common it begins a slow descent towards Dorking, passing the edge of the vast vineyards of Denbie's winery, the largest acreage, I think, of vines in the country. There is a good prospect of Box Hill across the valley.

At the bottom is the dual carriageway of the A24, where the official trail route goes 600m north to a subway crossing, then 600m back again on the other side. The road was not busy - I went straight across.

Next is the crossing of the River Mole, traditionally using the 17 stepping stones. I'm not sure of my balance with a full pack - I took the footbridge.

Then the climb up Box Hill. It is not very big, only 570ft, but the ascent is cruelly steep, mostly now on sets of steps formed in the path. The view is good, if not spectacular, but the hill is very accessible - by road at the top - so quite busy today with visitors.

The trail leaves the popularity of Box Hill behind and resumes its woodland ups and downs, some of them very steep. 

It rained briefly as I approached the next road, near Betchworth Station, but stopped almost as soon as I had put on my waterproofs.

Soon after leaving that road the national trail merges with the ancient line of the trackway which became the Pilgrims' Way, and follows it under the shadow of Mount Hill, Coneybury Hill and Juniper Hill before turning off to climb steeply to Colley Hill, for the view from the top. I was quite grateful not to be walking the old track with peas in my shoes!

I'd already decided I did not need yet another steep climb, and was glad that I had, because at that moment the rain returned with a vengeance. It was a very heavy shower lasting about twenty minutes, long enough to make the paths greasy and slippery. 

It stopped suddenly just as I reached Reigate Hill, a couple of minutes from my hotel for the night.

 

Day Six - Tuesday 4th July - Reigate to Dunton Green

As always, the different weather forecasts disagreed over the details  but they all suggested some serious rain on the way in early afternoon. To get some distance done before the predicted downpour I left Reigate early, also aware that today, at a little over 20 miles, was the longest stage of this whole journey.

First on the agenda - Reigate Hill, the steep path to the top started just beyond my hotel, and ground upwards relentlessly. Rejoining the North Downs Way, it crosses the deep cutting which carries the main road on an old iron bridge (1901), then reveals a splendid view of the town.

Ahead of the expected rain I had reworked my route to use roads rather than paths, because in the wet they are easier and faster, and need less navigation, but in the morning sunshine I took to the national trail through Gatton Park and across the fields (and the M25)  to Merstham. 

The church, mostly from the 13th century, retains the patronage of the Archbishop of Canterbury.

I let the trail take its wanderings and stayed on the road east of here, which crosses two major railway lines and a huge motorway junction before slipping into the countryside. Rejoining the trail meant another very steep climb up White Hill, but the views again repaid the perspiration.

The route then follows roads, and as the skies gradually darkened I was grateful. I had one more section to go where footpaths would be the only option, so I hurried. No time to sample the famous old inn just a few yards off the route!

The footpaths through to and beyond the crossing of the A22 - yet another bridge over yet another dual carriageway - were wriggly and not always easy to follow. In some parts of the North Downs Way it seems the signposts may not have seen much attention since the route opened in 1969. All the same, I reached the road over Gangers Hill, again good views, perhaps ten minutes before I felt the first raindrops.

Remembering the dire forecasts I paused to put on full waterproof gear - jacket, overtrousers, backpack cover... It drizzled and spotted a little, but rained properly for perhaps five minutes.
Along that hilltop road I passed Botley Hill, at 885ft the highest point on the North Downs and on my route, but with just road and trees, no views, it was hard to feel a buzz about it. I dropped down from there on a soggy little path parallel to the busy road, and reached the very tall spire of the 18th century Titsey church.

Here the route is pure Pilgrims' Way, following roads along the foot of the downland escarpment for about five miles. Here also it was obvious that it had really rained, witness some huge roadside puddles, and on both sides I could see dark rainclouds, but somehow I missed the drama.

Along the way there were more vineyards, associated with a winery in nearby Godstone.

And along the way I passed unnoticed into Kent.

The road ends at the edge of Chevening Park, where in 1792 a former owner decided he disliked people walking in his grounds and casually ended thousands of years of public access. Today Chevening House is owned by the government and made available to the current Foreign Secretary, so they probably would take a similar view.
I walked into what there is of Chevening, passing yet another ancient church still under the patronage of our man in Canterbury, but there is no view from there of the house, and lots of threatening security notices.

Of course it began to spit with rain again as I left there, because I had only just removed my waterproofs, but - taking in another crossing of the ever-noisy M25 - I was only a few minutes from tonight's stopping place, just north of Sevenoaks.

 

Day Seven - Wednesday 5th July - Dunton Green to Cuxton

The serious rain suggested for yesterday appeared overnight, leaving dampness and puddles shining in this morning's sunshine. 

I kept to roads for the start of the day, expecting paths to be mucky.

In the old village of Otford I bought something for lunch later and went to explore what remains of the Palace. The most impressive remnant of the 16th century rebuild, a project for Archbishop William Warham, is the gatehouse, but today it was totally enveloped in scaffolding and blue plastic. Nothing to see here. Luckily another small remnant had escaped the builders.

The church of St Bartholomew dates from the 12th century and has an unusual rendered tower.

The old pilgrim route eastward to and beyond Kemsing is now a 1½ mile stretch of detached houses, the road far too posh to have a pavement, which made it tricky walking in the last phase of school run traffic madness. As it shrinks to a rural lane it suddenly becomes clear how it has gently climbed, because there are some fine views.

The lane, and the track which succeeds it, follow the principle of most of the ancient trackway, running along the foot of the downland escarpment but high above the plain, safely above what would then have been forest. 

Just before Wrotham I saw what I thought was a dog, but it was a very handsome red/gold fox, nothing like the scruffy beasts that raid the bins in London.

Wrotham is one of those renowned Kentish place names - pronounce it "Rootem". The village has a pleasant open green, where I rested a while, and a church on a 10th century site, maybe the oldest church in England with a dedication to St George.

Behind the village is the rumble of the M20 motorway, crossed by a road bridge before the pilgrim route continues eastward, once again as a narrow lane, then a track. 

Here, annoyingly, it rained - a passing heavy shower mitigated by the tree cover above the track, but by the time I reached the turning for the Coldrum Stones the sun had returned.

The long barrow site known as the Coldrum Stones lies about 500 yards south of the old trackway, close to the village of Trottiscliffe ("Trossley"). The sarsen stone construction is partly fallen and the covering earth mound long gone.

The site dates from the third millennium BCE, the Early Neolithic period, when agriculture was being introduced. As the remains of 22 bodies testified it was a burial site, but latest thinking is that such sites also served as centres of worship and culture. Coldrum is one of several ancient sites either side of the Medway, and indeed it looks straight across the valley to the location of several more - some on tomorrow's agenda  The design apparently reflects similar sites across the north and west of Europe, from Sweden to Spain.

I returned to the Pilgrims' Way, now keeping an eye on the showers.

The track continues as a sort of tunnel through the trees, passing the foot of steep Holly Hill. 

In this area the ancient trackway left the downs to descend to a river crossing, later a ferry to Old Burham, now long gone. Purist modern pilgrims can divert here to Aylesford to cross the Medway, or use a new bridge near Wouldham. Instead I had chosen to follow many mediaeval predecessors and divert to Rochester.

The "new" Pilgrims' Way continues to hug the downland slope as it curves northward into the river valley, giving good vistas across to the next part of my journey on the other side.

The track becomes a road again approaching Upper Halling ("hawling"), which has its own little surprises.

Heading towards Halling and Cuxton everything grows more urban, crowded, noisy and busy. This is an area once famous for its many chalk quarries, providing lime for building. It went through a stage of massive exploitation, especially at the end of the 19th century, and the scars of excavation still stand out. One of them, at Holborough, next to the road here, was active until 1984. Half of it is now filled with water to make an aquatic centre, the other half is a housing estate.

The last couple of miles today are best left aside - a very busy road, another motorway crossing, and a dreary leisure zone led me to my resting place for the night. At least there was an impressive view of the Medway Bridge, which carries the M2 and the high speed railway over the river.

Day Eight - Thursday 6th July - Cuxton to Hollingbourne

In many ways a day of memories, as today I passed through areas I had known well as a teenager, although some things have changed in  the last half century!

The first call was Temple Manor, in Strood, a 13th century lodging house built for knights en route to the crusades. Sadly it's buried in a dingy industrial estate and can only be glimpsed through tightly meshed metal fencing  although apparently it is open on weekend afternoons.

I crossed Rochester bridge, with its fine prospect of the castle. The Norman square stone keep dates from 1087 and is one of the finest of its kind in Europe.

Rochester High Street is now pedestrianised, and has a rather sad mixture of cheap and charity shops alongside more interesting independents.

The view of the cathedral's north side is nevertheless impressive.

A narrow passage, the "Pilgrim's passage" leads off the High Street to allow access through a door into the North Transept. This was used by pilgrims visiting the shrine of St William of Perth, murdered in 1201 just outside Rochester while on a pilgrimage to Canterbury.

I walked round to Boley Hill, with its old gatehouse and fine view of the cathedral main door, then headed south along St Margaret's Street to leave the city. 

Soon the ancient charm gives way to unremarkable urban spread, on the way to Borstal. The one-time village, famous as the location of the first of a series of young offenders' institutions which bore its name, has little to recommend it. 

Just beyond Borstal comes a jumble of modern infrastructure - two separate bridges overhead carry the two carriageways of the M2 motorway, while a third carries the high speed railway from London heading for France. The local roads have been bent around to fit, and one former farmhouse in the middle of it all is reputedly the most blighted property in Britain.

Luckily a five minute stroll back on the Pilgrims' Way here leaves it all behind and soon reveals a lovely view across the Medway back to yesterday's journey.

I left the pilgrim road behind near Wouldham and climbed steeply to the top of the downland ridge, where a broad track, then a road, lead through to Burham Downs and Bluebell Hill.

The downs here offer a sudden and expansive view across the Medway valley and south to the Weald, and a point to rejoin the North Downs Way.

The national trail descends here to reach Kit's Coty House, another Early Neolithic burial mound site, although here three upright sarsens and a headstone survive. The site looks straight across the valley to the Coldrum Stones (yesterday), which may be significant. Apparently the name is a corruption of the Celtic for "house near a wood".

Just below, a short distance along the horribly busy road to Aylesford, is Little Kit's Coty, yet another such site, although here the stones are a fallen jumble. 

The information board here corrected yesterday's history lesson - these Medway megaliths date from between 3900 and 4800 BCE, which makes them around 6000 years old.

I returned to the Pilgrims' Way, which soon negotiates the dual carriageway M2/M20 link by a subway, then crosses the high speed railway with a look down at the entrance to the Kent Downs Tunnel. 

A few yards later, as the track regains its composure, along comes yet another megalith, the White Horse Stone.

Apparently there were once two, yet again a burial site, but one was destroyed.

Farewell then to the Neolithics, as the track continued to Boxley.

I was passed here by several cyclists, and was left wondering why it seemed only those over 30 knew how to say hello...oh well.

The stretch from Boxley to Detling is a narrow lane with some fine views, including yet more vineyards. The rumble of the M20 is distant but constant, while the occasional quiet whoosh of a passing train hardly troubles the ears. It's amazing how empty and rural it feels here despite all that is nearby.

At Detling there is an old inn and some equally old houses. 

The village was divided in 2000 when the main road - Maidstone to Sittingbourne - was upgraded to dual carriageway, but nobody thought to provide a crossing for the Pilgrims' Way or the national trail. After a little girl and her grandmother were killed that year trying to cross there was a concerted campaign to do better. The resultant footbridge, known as Jade's Crossing in the girl's memory, opened in 2002.

Just beyond Detling I rejoined the national trail to climb Detling Hill. At 650ft it is dwarfed by the bigger hills I'd already crossed, but it is the highest point of the downs east of the Medway, the summit marked by a trig point and some view indicators. 

Today the view was at its best, the South Downs visible in the distance.

The path drops down to Thurnham Castle, now just a tree-covered mound, built in the 12th century as a watchtower on the old trackway. Even the Normans respected the ancient route. I know that 50 years ago you could sit on the top and look around, but now the trees have firmly taken over. Nothing to see...

Thurnham has a pub, right on the old road, which today is becoming unusual in such hidden places, but the church is some distance to the south.

From here the Pilgrims' Way is a narrow metalled road for the couple of miles to Hollingbourne, and the escarpment of the downs becomes gentler.

Hollingbourne, where I turned south to head for my hotel, was busy with traffic and not well provided with pavements, but nevertheless had some good older buildings. 

The church was rebuilt in the 14th century but retains its solid Norman look.

The 16th century Hollingbourne Manor springs out suddenly from behind the hedges. It seems it should have been the classic Elizabethan "E" shape, but ended up as an "L" because the money ran out.

Such problems are clearly not new...

One year ago today I set out from London to Bristol and Barnstaple. How time flies.

Day Nine - Friday 7th July - Hollingbourne to Kennington

For once the weather agreed with the forecasts. It has been a very warm day, topping out at around 29 degrees this afternoon, reminiscent of last year's hot journey.

I rejoined the Pilgrims' Way just east of Hollingbourne. Here, and for much of the route today, it is a track  only occasionally dipping into roads, and here, again as for much of the day, the downs to the north are gentle slopes and the ancient route runs quite high, mostly just under 500ft.

There are glimpses from the track across to the south, still with the distant rumble of the M20, although to be honest it is no intrusion, and the route is very quiet. As in previous days I saw hardly another soul.

I did encounter Brother Percival though, a wooden sculpture slouching on a bench just north of Harrietsham. Apparently this pilgrim has been taking his ease here next to the path since 2007.

I also came across my first old Pilgrims' Way sign complete with a scallop shell. I know there used to be some closer to the Medway, but they all seem to have been replaced with bland modern signs. The scallop shell is an ancient symbol of pilgrimage.

Next came the chalk cross carved out near Lenham, the village war memorial. It can be seen from the main roads below, and the site offers a splendid view.

On then past the curiously perfect cube farmhouse of Cobham Farm, and passing a mess where the water company is installing a new mains supply, to more tracks leading to Charing.

I diverted here to buy some lunch and to explore. The little village is a delightful mix of styles, and the church, with its huge 16th century tower, is impressive.

Next door are the remains of an archbishop's palace, now converted into dwellings.

 
Charing was a regular haunt of anyone travelling to or from Canterbury, just one day away, and at one time a place of pilgrimage in its own right, with a relic of St John the Baptist, which later mysteriously went missing.
I rejoined the track east of the village. For the next couple of miles it offered shade under the trees, but then became a very hot field path. 

The modern footpath runs a few yards away from the ancient route, but much of that has here been built over.
Just off the track is the church of St Mary, at Eastwell. It's another mediaeval building, but now sadly a ruin. 

The construction of a 19th-century lake alongside apparently introduced moisture into the old church's columns, which eventually crumbled. By the 1950s much had gone, and the nave roof finally collapsed in 1957. It is an evocative place.
The lake next door is also very attractive, despite its unintended ruination of the church.

The path beyond here passes Eastwell Manor, now a classy spa hotel carefully concealed behind the trees. At a particularly overgrown point there's a curious signpost announcing the trail as a "European Path" - which is true, it is part of  path E2 from Ireland to the Mediterranean coast - but I had not seen any other such signs.
I reached the main road at Boughton Lees, and trotted about 1½ miles to my hotel for the night, the only relief being a view across to Wye Downs, on the other side of the Stour valley, complete with the crown cut into the chalk by students from Wye Agricultural College in 1902 to celebrate the coronation of Edward VII.

 

 

 

Day Ten - Saturday 8th July - Kennington to Canterbury

The ninth and last day of walking threatened to be disrupted by thunderstorms, but although the air was heavy and humid the rain never came.

I started by reversing the last bit of yesterday's journey, but in this direction I spotted the ornate old entrance to Eastwell Park, now closed and a little neglected.

What is left of this part of the park is also lacking care, overgrown and crumbling, and long brambles overhang the wall alongside the road, a risk to passing walkers.

I rejoined the route - both the Pilgrims' Way and the North Downs Way - at the hamlet of Boughton Lees.

Just a short way beyond here the national trail divides, one route to Dover via Folkestone going right, the route via Canterbury going left, my route, on a good straight path.

Soon comes the 13th century church of All Saints at Boughton Aluph, a tiny hamlet very much off the beaten track, with views across the Stour valley. 

The church was enlarged in the 14th century and restored in the 19th. It's a solid- looking building.

A field path leads to the old house at Soakham Farm, me hoping by now that it would not live up to its name.

Next was a steep climb to the downland ridge, where the path dives into woodland. This is King's Wood, at 1500 acres (588 hectares) it is one of the largest areas of woodland in Kent. The path wanders on, but there are only trees to see for more than two miles.

There is an old milestone for the North Downs Way, probably dating from its creation in 1969. If it's not clear from the photo it counts Farnham at 103 miles in one direction (I can vouch for that) and Canterbury at 10 miles in the other.

Finally the path descends from the ridge to join a little road known as Mountain Street.

The road wriggles gently towards Chilham, with some good-looking old houses along the way.

Chilham is a tiny delight, with its main square, now inevitably full of parked cars, ringed with old buildings, many half-timbered. 

On one side is the entrance to Chilham Castle, a castle in two parts - a Norman keep (1174) and a Jacobean mansion (1616). The keep is still used as a house, possibly the oldest continuously inhabited building in England. The mansion was owned by UKIP activist Stuart Wheeler, but since his death in 2020 it has been back on the market. The 2022 asking price was £15m.

Across the square I paused in the White Horse for a welcome and excellent pint, then set off on the next stage.

I have to say that the part of the route from Chilham to the edge of Canterbury is very disappointing after all that I had seen so far. 

It passes through Old Wives Lees, a village of little obvious charm, then crosses a vast area of apple orchards. The planting is regimented, the trees all very uniform, and there is a large caravan site ready for hundreds of pickers in the season. It has the air of an industrial site, and the national trail through it is poorly marked.

The next village, Chartham Hatch, does little to lift the spirits, then the path goes back into woods. Not the grand woods of the downland tops, just a bit scruffy.

There is however the passage through No Man's Orchard, a nature reserve dedicated to older varieties of fruit trees.

I diverted to Harbledown, the pilgrims' last stop before Canterbury, calling by the Black Prince's Well, aka Becket's Spring, which is an old healing spring, dressed up in decorated Victorian stonework.

Just behind it is St Nicholas's Hospital, a foundation dating to 1084, originally for lepers. It has been updated many times since, most recently in the 19th century, and long since converted to almshouses.

And so to Canterbury, and the end of the walk. I was at first disappointed to find the cathedral gates firmly shut - as were the many tourists there...

I rested a while, strolled the streets, and returned to find the gates open, with access to the precinct, and its views of the enormous mother church.

As the cathedral closes quite early and requires pre-booking for entry I knew I would end my journey outside, not at the reputed spot of Becket's murder, but this was, after all, a walk, not a religious adventure.

Then, after a pizza and a beer in the sunshine, I took the train back to London and home.

Afterthoughts

Back in London, and a few days after ending the walk, there is time to reflect on it all. While it lacked the distance and the ups and downs of the Walk to Wales or the Go West Walk, this journey nevertheless posed its challenges. The final distance, including diversions and the occasional wrong turn, was 167 miles, with over 16,500 feet of ups and downs, which might be surprising among the low hills of southern England. The average daily distance then was around 18.5 miles, compared with 21 miles on previous journeys, which generally meant I reached destinations a little earlier with more time to relax.

This was the first time I travelled to a starting point rather than setting out from my front door, a pattern very likely to be repeated in future journeys (yes, there are already some ideas). It was also the first time that every stopping point was an hotel, with no pub accommodation in the right places. Planning accommodation was, in fact, surprisingly difficult given the very civilised areas through which I passed, and what I did find was substantially more expensive than anywhere I stayed in 2022, let alone earlier. Even the budget hotels can no longer claim to be good value. Having said that, the food in most of the hotels was very good, with one or two seriously superb meals.

Highlights have to include the area around St Martha’s Hill, in Surrey, the collection of megaliths on either side of the Medway, and the peaceful isolation of the sections either side of Charing. Peaceful is the word for much of the route. Although I was nowhere more than an hour from London, and often in earshot of motorways and major roads, on most days I saw very few people, and met hardly anyone else walking any distance.

On the technical side very little of my gear was changed from last year (see the Go West Walk pages for details) except for two things. For years I had walked in Merrell’s Moab 2 GTX shoes, but they have now been replaced by a Moab 3. Merrell claimed to have solved the one problem I had with the older version – the footbed was quite hard, especially under the toes. They have succeeded: the new iteration is much better, more like walking on carpet. After thinking I would never be seen dead using them I have added walking poles to my kit, a response to some muscle strains in the thighs after last year. I am very pleased with my Black Diamond Trail poles, in snazzy orange and black. I used them on steep gradients and rougher terrain, and put them away where the ground was smoother. They have certainly proved their worth. Merrell and Black Diamond don’t pay me for praising them, by the way.

Here are the final statistics by day: