Five days of walking.
Four nights hiding under a tree.
Subpar gear but superior English weather.
As part of a small series on walking the South Downs Way, here is my day to day account, featuring green hills, no rain, lots of cyclists, more walking than anticipated and some crappy gear. For more fun details go to the overview page, which tells you more about the sudden decision to walk this route (and my planning, and my gear…)
Day One: Friday Afternoon
Winchester – near Old Winchester Hill (24.9 km / 15.5 mi)
I have a quick morning of throwing the last bits of gear in my pack and putting all my food in ziplock bags. I catch a train to Waterloo East and make my way to Waterloo Station. I pick up the final additions to my gear: water bottles. I have a 750ml plastic bottle already, and I buy an additional 500ml wide rimmed juice bottle and another 500ml water bottle from M&S. It seems to be the limit of what fits in my side pockets. I hope it’s enough.
The train is empty. Today is not a popular day to visit Winchester, it seems. Either way, a little over an hour later and I’m there. And it is in fact, very busy. I head towards the cathedral and then check my GPS for the starting point. It takes a while to find the monument, and it’s stuck behind a closed gate. Typical! It doesn’t matter, it’s only a 100 mile walk – and so I set off. It’s 2 in the afternoon.
After just a mile, I hit my first field. I’m distracted by blackberries immediately, picking them off the side of the fence. The views are those typically green and grassy, rolls of faint hills and farms in the distance. It feels good to breathe in different air. After the first field I hit a small section of road, a few houses with apples in buckets by the road, and a tap for hikers – not an official one, but one placed in front of someone’s garden. I see a few other hikers headed in the other direction. Small day packs, maps in hand.
The day takes me past farmland and small sections of woodland. There are also some narrow country roads which worry me a little, but for now they are quiet. They skirt around tiny towns, never actually going through one. It’s overcast and warm.
I find my first water tap 10 kilometres in at a farm, with clear signs, and exactly in the spot where my map said it would be. I fill up only one of my bottles – I haven’t actually touched the big one yet. The next tap is only 5 kilometers away. Here I wash my hands and face, and take the alternative route through a large field instead of the road, wondering why the alternative isn’t the official route. After crossing the edge of Exton, it’s starting to get late. Sundown is at 7:30, so I start to look out for a hidden place to camp.
I’ve never stealth camped in England before, so it’s a little daunting. My biggest concern is for no one to see me. I go up a little hill while the light dims and I run back and forth, checking my map for the trail ahead, unsure if there are any good camping opportunities ahead. I decide to go back a little, and dive into the bushes on a slope, overlooking farmland and some buildings in the distance. I spread my inner tent on the floor and crawl inside as though it’s a bivvy. I lie on top of my (very thin) fleece blanket from IKEA, and cover myself with two puffy coats (one for my lower body and one for my upper), then my tent’s outer fly on top for extra warmth.
I prepare dinner in the dark – couscous with tomatoes and tuna, cold water poured over inside a ziplock bag. Usually I love this meal but it doesn’t taste great. When I’m done I zip myself inside the inner. This is going to be interesting.
It proves to be a substandard night. I’m awake for most of it – I feel the cold of the ground seep through, chilling my body from below and creating uncomfortable cold spots. I take out my emergency foil at one point, an impossibly large piece of gold and silver, crackling into the night, creating noise that is definitely not stealth. I layer it on top and spend most of the night rearranging myself, constantly switching sides on the hard ground.
Day Two: Saturday
Near Old Winchester Hill – Rackham Hill (57.2 km / 35.5 mi)
I set my alarm for five but realise the early morning has warmed the ground ever so slightly, and I’m finally able to sleep a little. I stay in my spot until 6, before getting up to leave, as it quickly gets light. My body is stiff at first but I’m remarkably awake. I have to establish that not having a sleeping pad is not a good idea. Luckily I’m on a short route!
Walking in the early morning is invigorating. It’s quiet and overcast and the route feels more remote than it is. The first hours of the day are calming, and I watch the day awaken, before running into all the cyclists that say hi. I notice a great area to camp just beyond where I stayed, an overgrown field with cover from bushes and trees. I could’ve actually erected my tent there – something I’ll definitely do tonight. Perhaps it’ll be warmer, more comfortable.
The biggest morning stimulation comes from my drink – an amalgamation of coffee and hot chocolate (although cold). This is my favourite trail mixture although not the way I made it today: the chocolate drink I had at home barely had any milk powder mixed into it, and I’ve added too much coffee. I feel like every sip is a cold espresso shot. It’s so strong it makes me laugh and I drink it anyways (it takes all morning.)
As it’s Saturday it gets busier with people. I start to see more hikers. First another solo girl with a large backpack walking in the other direction. Unfortunately she’s on the phone so we don’t get to chat. I see more couples, only one with backpacks as well, clearly camping along the way, and some groups holding guides and carrying daypacks. Apart from ‘hi’s’ no one initiates a conversation, and I’m too reserved to do so myself.
The morning has quite a few roads, unexpected water taps and then a longer forest section through the Queen Elizabeth Country Park. There’s a Visitor Centre and I expect the area to get busy but it doesn’t. After the forest I’m back to country roads and fields, and I sit next to the route, eating snacks. I’ve already been walking a lot more than I imagined. There’s no reason to hurry. I watch all the people walk by that I passed earlier, and then pass them again when I continue.
It’s noon when I walk through the most glorious area around Beacon Hill. The trail skirts around the steep incline straight to the peak, and I follow the official route dutifully. The hill is gorgeous and I hope it continues so I can have lunch in a spot just like this. The sun comes out and I follow the long detour, presumably to make the route more accessible for equestrians and cyclists. I follow an array of little peaks, growing tired and hungry but the beauty of that first spot hasn’t repeated itself, and I just keep on walking, hoping to find another bit of glory.
It’s another few hours when I hit a rest area with several tree trunks for seating. Finally. I opt for the high grass instead, take off my shoes and prepare dinner for lunch – couscous with cheese, tuna and olives, rolled into a huge wrap. This time it tastes great. I feel invigorated when I continue, following the chalky path, watching sheep, plants and flowers blow in the wind.
Later in the afternoon I skirt through spacious fields, passing lots of opportunities to stealth camp. But I want to wait until it gets a little darker, so I don’t have to wait for sundown to set up my tent. There’s a spot at around 43 kilometers from where I camped this morning, around Bignor Hill. There are lots of trails and cover, according to the satellite images, so I should find something comfortable there. But I’m not so lucky. Perhaps my bathroom adventure just before I reach the area foretells a bad omen – I retreated into some bushes to explore a campsite, but found it too overgrown (and used it for a toilet break instead). I roamed around the overgrowth a little, before attempting to break out in a different spot from where I entered the little forest. I found myself blocked by spiderwebs of dead and live bramble bushes, thorns attacking from every side, threatening to tear me and my pack to pieces. When I finally pushed through, my leg was scratched open.
When I reach Bignor Hill it’s busy with people and everywhere is overgrown. It’s impossible to find clear ground for a tent. I keep on going, the light slowly fading away from me. The trail turns to a small path with no shoulder, no accessible fields with any level corners. I keep going off trail to explore but can’t find anything comfortable. I consider a field overlooking the lights of Houghton and Amberley, but get scared of the movements in the forest behind and when a trail runner passes in the dark, I keep on going instead. I cross the river Arun with a few cyclists in my track, then the residential roads close to Amberley, hiding the torch on my phone, not wanting to raise suspicion as I climb up the mountain beyond. It’s pitch black now.
It’s after 9 when I finally spot a crossroads of trails with a patch of land in between. I set up in the brambley ground underneath a tree, so relieved. My feet hurt after walking more than 50 kilometers. Tomorrow will definitely be a short day.
Day Three: Sunday
Rackham Hill – after Saddlescombe Road (27.8 km / 17.3 mi)
The night in my tent was a bit more comfortable. Each night it gets a little warmer, and despite the awkward shapes that dig into my body and limit the sleeping positions I can assume, I got some rest. Setting up my tent also helped trap some warmth inside, and I’m mentally casting aside the idea of bivvying along the rest of the route. I set off with feet that are still in pain. All the little rocks dig into the sore undersides. The morning casts low lying mist into the distance, and reveals more camp spots as I continue on. I follow the hills into the morning light, the air still cold but the sun rising straight ahead, welcoming me to a new day.
Today’s hurdle is cows. Fields of cows I need to cross. Cows are scary, and their personalities tend to differ per country. When I approach the first field I hope to chase them away by shouting, but they are wholly unmoved by my efforts. Instead I have to skirt past, trying not to walk in between mothers and babies, keeping as much of a distance as I can. Not that they seem to care too much. On the opposite side a huge cow block the way out, so I continue in the field on the wrong side of the fence, and with some effort, climb over on the far end.
The day is gorgeous though. Sunny but also touristy as I pass lots of popular weekend destinations, with lots of people strolling everywhere. It’s also town day. I thought I’d hit Upper Beeding for my one resupply at the end of the day but I get there around noon, and hike the short river trail into town. I resupply and get a few little baguettes with ham and cheese for lunch. When I’m done I continue up the hill and plonk into the grass at the top. Bliss. My feet are not dealing well after yesterday and they welcome the break. I’m ravenous as well. I make my first baguette and spread out ample amounts of ham and cheese, and when I take my first bite it feels as though I’ve never eaten anything more delicious in my life.
When I check how much ground I’ve covered, I realise that I’ve already walked more than 20 kilometers today. All in all, I’m already 100 kilometers in. How did this happen? I’ve only been walking for one full day and two half days. The route is just 160 kilometers long and I bought food for another three days. I wasn’t sure if I would finish by Wednesday, but if I continue like this, I should finish Tuesday morning instead.
Realising there’s no rush to get anywhere, I stay in the grass for a while. I eat the second baguette and then continue towards the YHA at Truleigh Hill. I clean myself with a little piece of soap, until I’m refreshed and ready to go. The afternoon is easy, I stroll amongst the weekenders around the Devil’s Dyke, and follow the trail up after Saddlescombe Road. It’s another quiet area, with lots of space and trees. I see people sit in the grass and decide to stay. I don’t want to risk another late night without finding a camp spot. And if I stop now, my feet might be a lot happier tomorrow. It’s only just after 4, but I retreat to a sunny spot in the grass where I dry my tent and spread out on my fleece blanket.
I eat and wait until it’s dark. When it gets cold I walk around a little, up and down the hilly field in the dusk, wishing the sun would go down faster. I return to the first spot I thought could work and stand around a while longer. When I’m pretty sure no one else is going to come walking down the trails, I set up and go to sleep immediately.
Day Four: Monday
After Saddlescombe Road – Exceat / Seven Sisters (42.1 km / 26.1 mi)
It’s been another night on bumpy, hard ground, but the little bit of grass made it a smidgen more comfortable. Every night seems a little better, and tonight was the first night that I slept mostly uninterrupted.
The morning is peaceful and enchanting once again. It starts with views across to the sea, with Brighton in the distance, the trail skirting north of its borders. I follow the sun across grasslands and narrow paths. It’s clear I’ve been walking along a ridge of some sort, a non-dramatic English hillside ridge. I gaze out over small villages and farmland, all broken up into small plots with clumps of trees in that picturesque sort of way.
I hope to get water at the Church of the Transfiguration near Pyecombe in the morning, but there’s no tap outside and a notice tells me it doesn’t open until later. The next one, after some 13 kilometers, is set in a wall next to a busy road and it’s nice to refresh just before the sun strengthens. An exposed climb follows, which is surprisingly tiring. When it’s time for lunch I eat the noodles I got in Upper Beeding. It feels like a huge luxury.
The views today are widespread again, and include the famous chalky white cliffs that line the horizon. I’m also starting to move towards the sea, the trail finally descending slightly, after a lot of up and up and up. A lot more up than I’d expected.
When I hit Alfriston everything starts to feel a little different. I’d imagined passing through a small yet significant town but after a few cobbled streets I’m on the other side already, and this is where the trail splits. I now realise that the GPS route I imported onto my phone only includes the option via Jevington and not the slightly longer and more interesting route via the white cliff sea coast at Seven Sisters, which is accessible by foot only. Now I just have the signs to guide me, and I wander alongside the river, towards the sea.
The trail feels a lot less remote here, with people from town going on their evening dog walks and exercising after work. I also pass a large group of teenage scouts, drowned by their excessive pack weight. They look uncomfortable and I feel sorry for them. Then it’s up and down again, into a forest and out, up a load of stairs. I’m in a hurry by the time I get close to Exceat, where a visitor centre marks the start of the sea path at Seven Sisters, the white cliffs of the last stretch. I need a toilet and water, but when I get there everything is closed because of Covid. I can’t even find the outdoor water tap because some of the grounds are barricaded off.
I have no choice but to continue walking. Luckily, I find some bushes not long after and a beautifully peaceful hidden spot to camp in the midst of bunny holes, just as it’s getting dark. This last night is a good one, the ground just a little softer and warmer than it’s been before.
Day Five: Tuesday Morning
Exceat / Seven Sisters – Eastbourne (10.5 km / 6.5 mi)
I wake up from the best night on trail so far. It’s only 6:30, and apart from one trail runner, this otherwise so popular place is deserted. It’s just me and the wind and the shimmer of first light when I climb up towards the sea, and reach the top of the first cliff, raised above everything. The blue sea blurs into the faint pink, then orange sky, the sun ahead casting a golden glow that enchants the diminishing darkness. I am so happy to be here. To have my last morning here.
I move slow, taking all the time to take pictures and film the sun rising, blanketing me with its last rays of summer. The shoreline takes me up and down the cliffs, narrow chalky tracks carved into the ground.
I see the first people only after several hours, at Birling Gap. A few cars and a delivery truck too early as the visitor centre isn’t open yet. The toilets are locked but the outdoor tap is accessible. I take out my small piece of soap and relish in a quick cleanse. The day is starting to warm up again, and I’m hot. I fill my water bottles and find my way alongside the early risers of the day, a lighthouse, and finally a bushy trail, now busy with people, so close to town.
I think I’ve reached the endpoint when I get to the edge of Eastbourne, but a trail marker points me another mile further inland, back up into the green belt that surrounds town. Here it all goes wrong. There aren’t enough sign posts, and at one point I take the wrong trail. I know where the alternative route ends, so I head in that direction, but I can’t find the terminal monument. I try to google where it is but it’s new and it’s not noted anywhere I can find. The interactive map from the official trail doesn’t work on my phone and I can’t zoom in. I walk up and down the trail until I give up. I’ve walked it. I head towards the train station where signs noting the start of the South Downs Way mock me. But I’m done! Five days. Or three days and two half days. Or four days? I’m just happy I got to do a little walk in 2020. Plus, my first English trail.
Read more about the South Downs Way here.
