Off to Market

The barometer was set fair and the sky was misty as the 3 trudging hikers (yes, we were down to 3) parked up at Butts Brow car park amongst dog walkers going off in all directions.
We were setting our first warm up stretch toward Beachy Head, passing a dew pond which had notices warning dog walkers that the bottom of the watering hole had broken glass in it and that dogs should be kept from entering.
The site of Eastbourne below us was coming into focus and we were soon passing through the Eastbourne Downs golf course. The groundsmen were out keeping the grass looking in prime condition and for this time of year, the green had a certain lush gloss, that we were certain was appreciated by the golfers who trundled their golf trolleys across it.

We headed westward down the concrete drive toward the farm, firstly waiting for a three ball game that was just teeing off from an elevated tee, then shortly after the farm entrance, we managed to avoid a cyclist who was head down and looking like she was reaching exhaustion status.
We made steady progress along the enclosed path and reached the end of the track where options of further directions were displayed on the well weathered signpost.

Our aim was to continue along the lane which came out onto the main coast road and then toward the Village Hall and car park where the weekly Market was already in full swing. In fact we'd arrived around 11.30 and the rush of the first couple of hours activity were subsiding although there were still a bountiful display of fruit and veg as well as the meat and fish van which had a queue accumulating as we walked by. The main attraction of the day was the Ugly Baking Company, which had the usual selection of pastie styled snacks. The Moroccan Lamb was our only attraction which was simply consumed within minutes of purchase.

We eventually took rest on a bench in the shade of a horse chestnut tree which was starting to drop its prickly shells overlooking the village green and the Tiger Inn.
After a short snack and some drink, we gathered our backpacks and started the climb toward the church through a field of rare breed sheep from the nearby sheep centre.
As we reached the top of the field, a large dog (possibly a great dane), who's owner had allowed it to be off leash, started to bound after one of the sheep. Desperate shouts from the owner eventually caught the dogs attention before the sheep took to running down the hill, appearing to be none the worse for its encounter. Through the gate at the top of the field, we examined a few inscriptions on gravestones as we walked along the path toward the newly refurbished pond outside the church gates.

We had to cross the road again to then walk back up the Old Willingdon Road, enviously examining large houses that overlooked Friston Forest on the opposite side of the valley. The sheep were very much in evidence and as we reached the top of the track, we observed the modern method of rounding up a flock of sheep. The farmer was seen at the bottom of the hill steering his quad bike around the flock which were scattered around a large 5 acre field, with a spaniel on the back barking frantically for good effect, while the farmer continued to also give shouts to the sheep. He quickly took his hand from the handlebar to give a wave to us as we watched this speeding quad bike go whistling past near to the fence. No doubt the shouts were a familiar cry and after about 5 minutes we saw the entire flock had been herded down the bottom of the field and heading through a gate into another field.

In stark contrast, a few minutes later, we saw a more idyllic scene of sheep resting in the shade of trees, looking like they had all the day to ponder what they should do next. The field was full of greens, probably being grown as food for the sheep.

The car park would soon be in sight as we got through the final gate, but not before being engaged in a conversation with a lady who had walked to this point from Alfriston and was seeking our advice on which direction to head next. She was enthused by the idea of walking to the coast and along the footpath that goes west on the top of the Seven Sisters, which would get her to Exceat and then follow the river back to Alfriston. It appeared she was in no rush and seemed like she had the stamina to last the remaining hours of daylight to complete her challenge. Meanwhile behind us a runner requested our attention to identify what turned out to be a baby adder, wriggling with efficient style through the grass.

The car park was only a short downhill trek and we completed our walk which was 7.2 miles.