Lockdown hit me hard. I’d left my job to backpack across Europe and Africa, but suddenly I was stuck at home. Luckily, I discovered that, armed with a backpack and designated driver, a little adventure was on my doorstep.
The South Downs Way is a long-distance footpath running 100 miles from England’s ancient capital, Winchester, along the chalk downs to the coast at Eastbourne. Most people walk it in 6-9 days and there are regular stopping points at guest houses or campsites (though you may have to deviate a little from the trail to get to them!) Due to the lockdown, we were obliged to go home every night and my dad was kind enough to drive shuttles to and from the trailhead each day. So, while I can’t comment on the overnight spots, I have stomped all 100 miles of the trail and here are the 10 things I remember…
1) There’s a lot of up and down
I accept the clue is in the name with this one, but it only really hits home when you’re 15 miles into the day and a big Fulking Down looms in front of you (yes, this really is the name of one of the hills on the route). The Way never goes more than 300m above sea level, but what it does do is undulate relentlessly. One moment you’re strolling happily atop a ridge, with the verdant farmland of the southern shires stretching before you, and the next you’re plunging into a perpendicular valley. Compared to an actual mountain I have to admit it’s benign, but I think it surprised me because I expected the walk to be so gentle.
2) There are ponies
We encountered the ponies while descending Butser Hill, the highest point on the Way. There were two adults and three foals cropping the hillside, seeming very nonchalant about the flow of walkers through their territory. I lay down on the ground for a better camera angle and one of the adults came so close that I was obliged to withdraw the lens and let him nuzzle my hand. According to the park authority, these Exmoor ponies arrived in April with indefinite leave to remain for conservation grazing, so keep a lookout for them!
3) It’s bucolic
There’s a certain breed of American tourist that thinks everyone in England spends their days taking afternoon tea, punting along rivers and generally acting like a Jane Austen character. Frustrating as I find these people, there’s no doubt the South Downs Way is the epitome of traditional English countryside. You’ll stroll through mile upon mile of rolling meadows, dappled woods and soothing farmland. It’s the kind of country ones imagines a young Tolkien roaming as he sketched out The Shire. The people may not quite live in hobbit holes, but amid the thatched roofs and Tudor beams, I wouldn’t be surprised to find a café that serves second breakfast.
4) It’s hard
According to the Mohs mineral hardness scale, limestone comes in somewhere between 3 and 4 out of 10. Without wishing to cast aspersions on the eminent Friedrich Mohs, I do wonder whether the man ever walked 100 miles on exposed chalk paths. If you are short on time, there is a home experiment you can do to replicate this feeling for yourself. Simply lash your feet to a kitchen worktop with the soles facing up and encourage an assistant to bash them with a steak tenderiser until they reach the consistency of partially defrosted mincemeat. Until I walked the Way, I never could have imagined the glow of gratitude the sight of a soft, grass verge can induce.
5) There’s trail magic
Whether on the road or at home, the next meal is never far from my thoughts. Tackling the Way during the coronavirus pandemic meant that all of the tempting country pubs along the route were shut and I had to make do with a packed lunch until Eastbourne. However, I was always on the lookout for enterprising takeaway van drivers plying their trade in the frequent beauty spot car parks. Most delightful of all though, was finding flapjacks right on the trail 10 miles into our second day, near the little village of Buriton. Hats off to anyone leaving out delicacies for hungry hikers – the world needs more trail angels!
6) It smells like a pigsty
Admittedly, I am only talking about a small stretch of the route near Steyning, which runs along the perimeter of pig farm, but you will scent it from a mile away. The pigs here are all free range and I’ve never seen so many of them in one place. We were a little peckish by this point in the day, but somehow it seemed in poor taste to bring out the bacon sandwiches. Meanwhile, the farmer was doing his rounds topping up the feeding troughs, causing the pigs to squeal in anticipation. They are surprisingly loud – their screeches can clock-in at 100 decibels, on par with a small chainsaw.
7) You might encounter Satan
The devil’s dyke, about halfway through the walk, looked pretty tame when we passed it on a sunny afternoon, dotted with picnickers and showing no signs of animal sacrifice. Legend has it that Lucifer was doing a bit of digging in these parts, hoping to create a sea trench that would flood the churches of the Sussex Weald. Sources differ on why he was unable to finish the job; in one variant an old woman with a candle scares him off, while in another it’s an angry rooster. If you’re disappointed you missed him, then you’ll be relieved to know the Way also passes by an iron age hill fort where he can be summoned. Simply run around the clump of trees called Chanctonbury Ring seven times anti-clockwise and Old Nick will apparently turn up to offer you a bowl of soup in exchange for your soul.
8) You won’t get lost (probably)
We bought the guidebook containing detailed maps of the entire route, but the Way is so well sign-posted that we hardly used them. That said, we did manage to blunder off the coast-bound path on our final day and spent an hour wandering around the forests near Westdean, but I think this was probably karmic justice for my brother’s boasts about our flawless navigation. If you haven’t seen one of the familiar signposts in the last 15 minutes, then alarm bells should start ringing. The one area which is a little tricky is negotiating Winchester right at the start of the Way. For my money, the trail begins at the cathedral, but there is now an official starting post further east at City Mill. From the mill, head south along the river, then turn left over the bridge and up Petersfield Road to find your first mile post.
9) You don’t have to walk
Apart from the major beauty spots, we saw more cyclists than walkers on the Way. I suppose the physicists will tell me this is all a matter of relative velocity, but it’s also true the South Downs was the first national trail to be made negotiable by bike and on horseback. It’s possible for a fit cyclist to complete the Way in a single day, but for walkers I’d allow at least six, unless you enjoy a good route march. Having said that, Centurion Running organises an annual foot race along the whole route, with a cut-off time of 30 hours and a staggering course record of just 14 hours.
10) The finale is stunning
The final ten miles of the route to Eastbourne sees walkers emerge from the woods alongside the winding Cuckmere River Delta and then head on over the gleaming white cliffs of the Seven Sisters and Beachy Head. This is undoubtedly the finest section of the entire Way and is a powerful case for starting at Winchester, so that you save the best walking till last. There is an alternative inland route passing the Long Man of Wilmington, a 69m high chalk figure of mysterious origin, but for me the coastal path is the only choice. The cliffs of the Seven Sisters undulate almost comically in a series of skate ramps that demand a trot from even the tiredest of legs. Continue along the cliffs to Beachy Head, from which you can see the golden dome crowning Eastbourne pier and the eagerly awaited prospect of a beachside fish and chips.
Tempted to walk the Way yourself? Pick up the guidebook with the affiliate link below:
Photo credits:
Route map:
Cicerone guides <https://www.cicerone.co.uk/the-south-downs-way-fourth>
Mountain biker:
Mason Dahl <https://unsplash.com/@masondahl>