On
Saturday 27/08/2011 we went for a walk on the North Downs, to be precise, The North Downs
Way. Not the whole thing mind you, just the section from Reigate Hill to Box
Hill. We've been, as Bill Bryson would term it, section hiking the trail for
the last two years with the kids and Mr. and Mrs. D - the in-laws, doing short
sub-10 mile stretches, two or three times a year. At 150 miles long it's going
to take us a while, we've probably managed 30ish miles so far, but we're doing
it this way to get the kids used to longer and longer days of hiking. So,
whereas the first few sections came in at under 5 miles, Saturday was an 8.5
miler. It's also a gentle way to do it, never that far from civilisation, so a
pub lunch is always an option, more of pub lunches later.
The
planning for these jaunts always begins with epic whinging on the part of my
son who claims not to like walking, but inevitably ends up thoroughly enjoying
the day, and so it was that on Saturday morning there was much wailing and
gnashing of teeth when he decided he was staying at home. As he is only 9
(going on 16) this is not an option so he is persuaded into his boots and off
we go. A car is first dropped at the foot of Box Hill in the Stepping Stones
car park then we all pile into one car, legally I assure you, and we head back
to the car park marked on Mr. D's, OS map.
Unfortunately
this map was printed in 1995, so the magnetic declination wasn't the only thing
well off, turning to the maps he'd also printed from memory map we discovered
that sometime in the last sixteen years the car park had migrated four hundred
yards south where it was now enjoying a splendid view over Reigate, Redhill and
beyond. On arrival we discovered a veritable theme park as far as National
Trust car parks go - cafe, toilets and even deck chairs - it was all we could
do to keep Mrs. D settling in for the day.
And
we're off and looking at the sky I make the decision to leave my waterproof in
the car, I say waterproof, I'm not sure it qualifies anymore, it's ten years
old, leaks and is about as breathable as a black bin bag. I'll rephrase that -
looking at the sky and seeing it's blue and cloudless, I leave my third layer
in the car.
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| The Fort, looking South - Casemate far right. |
Our
first stop was Reigate Hill Fort, built in the 1800s at a time when confidence
in the Royal Navy was at a low ebb and fear of French invasion at a high.
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| Peering through the window of the Tool Store |
It is one of thirteen forts built to the south of London; these forts were not designed to be heavily defended castles but more resupply points for mobile units of soldiers.
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| The Magazine |
Having said that, the earthworks are pretty impressive and the buildings, Magazine, tool store and Casemate, still exist, although they are locked up and one has to be satisfied with looking through the windows.
Between
the tops of Reigate Hill and Colley Hill is what the National Trails website
calls Reigate Temple, although this is the only place I can find it called
this. Other sites I have found refer to it as the Inglis Memorial. Lieutenant
Colonel Sir Robert William Inglis donated it to the Borough of Reigate in 1909.
I am struggling to find any information on Lt. Col. Inglis, but his memorial is
little gem, just take a seat inside and look up and there is a beautiful mosaic
ceiling depicting the celestial realm.
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| The Inglis Memorial |
It was originally a drinking fountain
for horses on the original route over Reigate Hill, this got me thinking about
how quickly society can change - in 1909 the motor car was still a rare thing,
no one even considered that we would need a vast road around London carrying
cars at <ahem> 70 mph and yet just 102 years later the
old main route over the downs into Reigate is a footpath and from that footpath
you can hear a constant, if distant roar, like the crashing of a waves on rocks
that is the sound of hundreds of cars a second passing on the nearby M25.
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| The Coal Tax Post |
Moving
on west from the Inglis Memorial the ridge of the Downs curves south west and
the views toward Dorking are superb. Brambles, which, on Saturday were fruiting
nicely, border the trail but I'm not sure how many berries were left by the
time the kids had grazed their way along the hillside. The trail then plunges
into the woods, woods that are mainly made up of Yew, Ash and Hazel, some of
the specimens of Yew are ancient and have been shaped by the ages into incredible
forms. About a mile further on we find a curiosity at a junction where our path
meets one heading North towards Mogador. Leaning at an angle is a cast iron
post, painted black and White with the shield of the City of London embossed on
to it and a series of numbers and letters.
It almost looks like a fancy mile
marker post but the inscription appears meaningless, I take a photo in my
iPhone and post it to Twitter asking for suggestion and very soon three chaps
have come back to me - it's a Coal Tax post. These posts were erecting in the
1850's in a ring around London marking the point at which commodities (such as
coal) were taxed on entering the City of London. There are a few examples left
of these posts and we discover another a few hundred yards further on.
The
trail then takes a left turn and we descend to the foot of the downs, knowing
full well that we'll only have to climb to the top again. Walking along the
bottom of the downs and looking up I can see the ridges formed when soil is
washed down the steep face by rain and then a large bird of prey catches my eye
as it skims over the scrub, it looks to be a Buzzard and soars lazily along
before alighting on a tree branch just outside of the effective range of the
lens on my Nikon.
We
then begin another ascent and come to a T junction where the fingerboard
instructs us to turn right in order to continue on the North Downs Way, as we
turn I feel a few spots of rain and begin to think that leaving the “third
layer” behind was a bad idea (yes, I know, you should always carry a
waterproof), however five minutes sheltering under a particularly impressive
Yew and the skies cleared.
Just
north of Betchworth Station the path comes out onto Pebblehill Road which
despite its seemingly tranquil, rural location was actually rather busy and
great care had to be taken with the little ones as the footpath is a tad thin
on occasion. The stretch of roadside walking is only about half a mile,
downhill, I hasten to add - in other words, there’s another steep climb coming,
and then a right turn takes you a little country lane flanked by houses and
back onto the footpath proper. Passing the old Betchworth Lime works on the
left with its impressive brick limekiln tower and ascending up to the top of
the old quarry provides another stunning view and an information board showing
the various species of local flora and fauna.
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| Quick's Grave |
At
the top of this latest rise is a strange sight, a grave. The inscription reads
–
“QUICK”
6/9/36 – 22/10/1944
An English Thoroughbred
Although if you look
carefully it would appear that a number existed before the 6 of the first date,
this seems to have eroded away over the years. My first thought was that the
grave was that of a house, however a little research reveals that it is
actually the final resting place of a Greyhound, to be precise, the favourite
Greyhound of the wife of a Mr. Barnholdt, a Danish immigrant and owner of the
land at the time.
Soon
after this the question of lunch arose, the walk had so far taken a little
longer than planned, partly due to a navigational misadventure where it
appeared a fingerboard had been tampered with (we were never lost, we had just
misplaced our position). The original plan was to complete the walk, jump in
the Landy and drive to a pub, however when the newer map was consulted we saw a
pint pot about a mile from the top of Box Hill and not far of the path, we
decided that we’d investigate this as a source of sustenance. Seeing that it
was not present on the 1995 map, I had already concluded that it wouldn’t be
the stone-floored, low-ceilinged ye olde hostelry of my dreams but imagine my
surprise when I stumbled out of the woods into the car park of a Smith and
Western American South-West themed restaurant. Nosebag was needed so we piled
in rucksacks and walking poles all and settled down to all things deep-fried
and burger-like. The kids, of course, loved it, and although a little slow, the
service were good and friendly. The food was pretty good as well and from
someone who’s spent a little time in the south-west US its not a million miles
away from authentic especially when washed down with a couple of Coronas. I
still can’t escape from the nagging unreality of taking a break from our walk
in the Surrey Hills to have lunch in a wild-west jailhouse though.
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| The view from the top looking South |
An
hour and half later we waddle out of the restaurant and back onto the trail
where it takes a mere 20 minutes to drag our distended stomachs to the top of
Box Hill where, by now, there is glorious sunshine and the view south is
stunning. We pause for a few moments to enjoy the view and take the obligatory
trig point photos before beginning the descent to the car park.
Unsurprisingly
the path to the Stepping Stones car park is signposted as the Stepping Stones
Path; which makes navigational choices a doddle. Strangely it hasn’t dawned on
me that a Stepping Stones Path leading to a Stepping Stones Car Park may at
some point involve Stepping Stones and so when we encounter the river and its
single line of stepping stones they come as something of a surprise. Son
bounces across the line of wet concrete pillars with little concern and I
follow, the water looks pretty deep at the stones, looking upstream one can see
the river bed through the clear water, but not under the stones, where the
water is murky and the bottom invisible. Fifty yards later we’re back at the
car.
So
there we are, another section done, 8 and a bit miles, the kids have done
really well and we’ve all enjoyed ourselves. Great views, reasonable weather
and good company, that’s what its all about, isn’t it?
