A Condensed Movie of the walk
There are some days that deserve our full attention when the frost of early morning has moved over and allowed the sun to illuminate the local landscape... and this was it. The blue sky christened our arrival outside Rotherfield Village Hall as the four of us laced our boots and harnessed our backpacks into position.
It was a repeat of the same hike completed by a different group of us last year, although there was a plan to find there way through the maze of woodland paths during the final phase of the walk.
But more of that later. We were ready to head along the first short distance from the car park towards the first footpath, passing a steep set of steps into Rotherfield Bowls Club, which was signposted to our right. The path was actually marked as Chant Lane. There was a notice to say it was closed to vehicles and couldn't really understand how vehicles could even contemplate driving down a narrow, steep very muddy track that was extremely uneven. We carefully picked our route along the path which after descending for several hundred yards then climbed again. The sun was glistening through the trees that overhung the lane which then came out beside a farm and a row of cottages.
The instructions informed us that we were to turn left through a gate and walk down a narrow path that led us several interesting properties, cutting across drives and into the next field we continued along the marked path. Once section that we crossed was in the most northern part of the old Cuckoo railway line that we'd walked last week.
The sun had caused much birdsong to be heard as we walked and realised that the first signs of spring may be closer that we had thought. The path led us through more fields and finally came out on to what appeared to be a very small village green, bordered on 2 sides by roads. A small bench took pride of place at the top hedge and pondered whether any local games of cricket may have been played on there or even the Sussex game of Stoolball. The grass however was long and in need of a committed groundsman if it were ever to return to its former glory. Well that's if our ideas held any worth or value.
We were back walking along the next quiet lane passing the quintessential image of thatched cottages and looking out for our next landmark. Bricklayers Lane was our next turning and again, traversed beside large wooded area that were illuminated by the sunshine. We had to make a few hurried moves to the verge as large 4x4 vehicles came through with a glancing hand gesture that gave us small recompense for our efforts to avoid being hit.
Regardless, we were not to be put off and continued down the hill where a collection of small streams collected and flowed under the road. The steep climb the other side was a quick reminder of just how hilly this area was.
We were now at the edge of the wood to our right which was our cue to take a left onto another signposted footpath. But no sooner had we started walking along this path, a motorcyclist came passed us... Presumably this footpath was open to vehicles. In truth though, the footpath was also a drive to few houses that took in the views of the elevated position. A worker was leaning against a gate as we arrived at one of the houses and acknowledged us. He appeared to have been erecting a fence as his post hammer was close to hand.
We continued for a little further uphill and finally arrived at the highest point of the walk. As we turned left we looked south west over the top of the freshly trimmed hedge and realised how far we could see. In the distance was Crowborough on the horizon. The entire vista was a sharp reminder of what rewards there could be for the effort to walk out into the countryside. We steadily walked down along the lane known as Danegate. A steady pace was necessary as on some parts of the road there were patches of sludge and ice which at this altitude was refusing to melt despite the sunshine.
Speaking of which the clouds had started to gather more during the past half hour and the breeze had gathered strength. There was no threat of rain though, but thought it timely to stop at a bench and take an opportunity to compare snacks and flask content. In fact the added bonus was a slice of freshly baked pecan and cranberry cake which was just the energy lifter we needed to cope with the final section of the walk.
As we were about set off down the next bridleway, a quad bike drove gingerly past us and the rider gave a hearty 'good morning'. No sign of a bale of hay or a border collie riding pillion though. We never saw him again, but assumed he'd found his way, as we were about to, and find the bottom of the hill where a foord awaited us. On first sight from a distance there was no sign of there being a footbridge that enabled us to traverse the stream without getting wet. But despite the footbridge 2 of us decided upon testing out the waterproof claim of our gortex shone boots. Apart from a dribble of water that must have crept in via the lace eyelet, we crossed with our saturation status intact.
Once again, because this was a stream, we were at the bottom of a hill which meant only one thing afterwards... Upwards via a twisting footpath which was clearly defined. We arrived at the top where a road and several cars were parked. We crossed and entered through a gate which welcomed us into another wood known as Big Millhole wood.
The car owners were clearly dog owners as we saw a couple people coming up through the wood from the direction in which we were heading. Several footpath junctions and we navigated out way once again to the bottom of the valley where the same disused railway line (Cuckoo Line) once was.
We carefully stepped through the gate and under the bridge that supported the line old track above our head. The other side was a well constructed bridge that gave us safe and clean passage to the wooded area through which we needed to walk through to find our way to the road.
The network of footpaths were becoming more confusing and once we'd crossed over the road to find the continuation of the same path, the signposting became more scarce and caused some confusion about which was the best way. The directions we had printed out had become useless to our means and our sense of direction and compass in hand were become dependant on our charm offensive to asking a lady with a 3 legged dog for assistance. She pointed in the complete opposite direction to where we thought we needed. She admitted that this had been a different route for her and she wasn't too certain about the best way she was going to be repatriated with her car.
We bid our farewells and hoped the 3 legs of the dog as well as her 2, would manage to get her back home.
In the meantime, we started to look for any possible signs that might help us get back on track. There was a strange woodpecker sound above our heads. He was probably communicating with other wildlife that there were some hikers lost. The bracken and broken branches on the ground tested our resolve, but we found a sign which led us onto open land with a protected fenced path through which previous walkers had caused the track to be very muddy and slippery. Our attempts to walk with legs apart, trying to maintain our dignity as well as balance, made it look like we had an allergy to mud. We almost came to grief on a couple of occasions but we arrived at a stile over which we climbed onto slightly better terrain even though there was just as much mud churned up by what appeared to be more quad bikes.
A couple more fields and we were heading back down the lane and joining the original lane toward the village hall.
The car was in exactly the same place, and after our 7 mile hilly circuit we travelled home.
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