Mad Dog (sorry Stanley) & 4 Englishmen Go Out in The Midday Sun!

Having just had the hottest day in May on record yesterday, it seemed only fair to see just what all the fuss was about. A small gathering of us hikers plus 1 dog, congregated at the foot of the South Downs, just West of Alfriston centre and although looking misty and a little grey at 9.30, we embarked on the steady first and steepest climb of the day. We took it in our stride with little discomfort and looked at the limited vista as we arrived at the first gate at the top of '2 tracks'.
It was the first taste of freedom for Stanley, who took little encouragement to explore the field which surprisingly had no sheep in it.

envious sheep wishing to fly

Our attention was attracted to some dozen or so ambitious paragliders seemingly assessing the state of the wind and thermals. There didn;t seem to be much breeze and many of them were dismounting from their hammocks and sitting around waiting for a change in conditions.
We watched for a while but there was little action to record.

We were aiming for the Trig Post on Firle Beacon, and then to descend to the lower 'coach road' back towards Alfriston.

The heat of the morning had burnt off some of the misty conditions but not enough to make the view further than the A27. Traffic sound was a distant drone overshadowed at one point by a chinook helicopter. A distinctive sound that momentarily broke the bird song around us.
We had stopped at the Trig Post and took on water and high energy snacks!...

The walk down to the more shady return leg of the walk was a welcome relief. We past a pair of hikers pacing their ascent as we were going down and exchanged views on the 'breeze' factor. They looked as weary as us.

The coach road had seemingly been the original A27 and a link between Alfriston and Firle and beyond. The condition of some of the route would be only passable by the most robust 4x4 or tractor. In fact we encountered a variety of farm vehicles and took refuge on the high bank as they past, on one occasion. Obliging nods were exchanged. Part of the country code I believe?

We were on the final leg and suddenly became distracted by one of the paragliders circling over our heads. He must have wrongly assessed any potential thermal activity on the hill above and slowly descended. He landed just over the hedge from the track where we were walking, into a field of rape.

couple of hillbillies guarding their woodpile 

No sounds of injury were heard, so we walked on, keeping a careful eye on the dog who by now had ran 10 times the distance we'd walked and trying to dive into any available water. Even if it was muddy. His favourite trick was to dive into the galvanised water troughs provided for other farm animals. He had already fully immersed himself in one on the top of the hill, but since then had been unsuccessful in having a refreshing swim.

A rendezvous had been planned back in Alfriston, so our pace was unrelenting, with a short shady path before the final descent into the high street and into the Smugglers. Orders taken we sat and quenched our thirst and reflected on the adventure. The temperature may have exceeded yesterday, but we now know the walk was 8.2 miles taking around 3 hours.