Rotherfield & Saxonbury Hill hike - where water flows uphill

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.

Annual Cuckoo Trail Pilgrimage (return ticket)

Its Friday 13th and the weather forecast influenced  our decision today as we wanted to preserve a cross-coutry hike across potentially muddy fields for a better day. With grey clouds and just a glimmer of sun shining through some light clouds, the four of us gathered in the car park opposite Hellingly's historical pub, the Golden Martlett, although no pints had pulled there since a fire swept through the building over 20 years ago and remains as a shell having had little attention since.
We were about to embark on what is likely to become an annual 'fall back' pilgrimage along the old railway track that used to connect Eastbourne to Tunbridge Wells (via Heathfield and Mayfield) which was a branch line that left south of Eridge. The line was closed north of Hailsham on 14th June 1965. The line was one of the nationally unprofitable links in the eyes of Dr Beeching and was therefore doomed to close.

Our pace was steady and purposeful as we ran the gauntlet over the first mile with our canine company through several packs of dogs with their owners, walking back in the opposite direction.
The breeze was occasionally sharpening up however to our advantage the clouds were parting every so often and allowed the sun to shine down.
The trail had a steady ascent toward Horam. Sheep in nearby fields watched from a safe distance as we walked passed with weathered moss decorated benches. There were distant sounds of woodpeckers making familiar drilling noises to impress their nest making ability.
Just small signs of spring were evident. Fresh buds on nearby bushes and scenes of ploughed fields being prepared for planting. Thats not to say it could still turn cold and a late fall of snow could scupper and chance of early crops.

Nevertheless, the remains of Horam train station came into sight after passing through a small complex of houses. Signs for the nearby Wessons cafe was almost tempting after reading the diagram of the trail that started at Heathfield and showed distances south to Eastbourne. It seemed like at least another 3 miles (or was it 2.5 miles?) until we would get to Heathfield.
We exchanged glances of encouragement and continued under the bridge and started a slightly steeper incline.

We'd seen no cyclist until now. Two came past us looking a little weary and worn by the effect of the hill. We were at least pacing ourselves for the final mile or so and we exchanged pleasantries as they continued uphill. The clouds were gathering and it had darkened as though it could deluge at any minute. zipping up our raincoats, we prepared however without cause to, as no rain fell.
There was a growing number of dog walkers again as we were getting nearer to Heathfield. Some diverted their gaze with both us and the dogs we had with us. There seemed to be some coded language that we were not privy to.

Down into a short track and up the other side we arrived at Ghyll Road where a new housing estate had taking up the fields that once had accompanied the trail. Imagining the sights that once would have been seen from the windows of the trains that pulled into Heathfield station, there would now be unrecognisable changes for the passengers.
So we stood on the kerbside and decided that as we'd virtually arrived on the outskirts of Heathfield, the need to further into the town centre was a high priority and what we later found out we'd already walked over 5 miles, we were well on the limits of what we needed to be walking in one go and at such a pace. We agreed to retrace our steps downhill and set up our snacks and flasks on a picnic table a short distance back along the trail.

The rest was earned, but couldn't be too long. There was still the threat of rain in the air, so after our flasks had been emptied and healthy nutty bars and bananas had been consumed, we latched on our back-packs and started the descent to Horam.

We observed the rustic sight of an old BMX track with death defying jumps and ramps made from earth that if moved by hand, must have taken several months to construct. We considered bringing our bikes the next time and give it a try, but soon dismissed the idea as being inconsiderate to those younger than us who would benefit from such exercise.

We were making good progress and arrived back at Horam station and again examined the map that informed us of the miles we had left to walk. We needed to set some targets especially as the rain that was well overdue now could fall at any time.

We marched on with semi-empty stomachs and kept a meaningful pace of what felt like close to 4 mph. There was no turning back, as the sheep once again kept their distance from the trail. The clouds were gathering ahead and we once again saw an increase of dog walkers who were hardly dressed adequately for the deluge we were about to experience.

A few spots of rain soon turned into a full downpour and those not wearing raincoats had to quickly don them and make an even hurried walk back to the car park at Hellingly and complete our 10.6 mile hike.

Windy walk for the Sisters

There'd been a lull in post Christmas walks although a few of us did get out last week and make an impressive walk along Eastbourne Prom from Holywell to the Water Treatment plant and return, which amounted to a 7 mile round walk.

This week however caused us to turn our attention to getting back to stomping on the turf of the Downs. A depleted walk-force (by 2) saw us congregate in the a National Trust car park at Crowlink, with our sights set on walking westward along the remaining  four Sisters of the iconic south coast feature.

The forecast was for a bright sunny yet windy north easterly wind whipping the temperature to almost sub zero conditions.

We headed down through the small hamlet of Crowlink and stopped to observe the house and gallery belonging to Grayson Perry.

The ground was hard and holding the frost from previous nights of cold temperatures, however for a few early patches there were signs of some small muddy areas.

We entered a field in which there were 2 determined cows who were making an impression on the neighbouring hedge, looking for some sustenance during the cold morning sun. We gave them a wide birth, not wishing to disturb their concentration on attempts to strip any greenery from the bush.

We were soon heading diagonally upwards to ascend the summit of the fourth Sister. The sea came into view and we looked back towards Bell Tout lighthouse and admired the view as the sun glistened on the choppy waters below.

We found our way carefully down the hill on the coastal path section of the South Downs Way. No sooner were we at the bottom, we were striding upwards again and conquered the next sister only to once again choose our best chalky track downwards again. Our confidence in staying upright was being tested, but we eventually arrived at the signpost which overlooked the Exceat where the meandering River Cuckmere flowed into the English Channel.

The sun behind us, we soaked up the amazing vista and all agreed it was one of the best views in the South East. The view from the opposite side is a much sought after view by Japaneses tourists who it appears are familiar with the view as one of the most used wallpaper views on computers.

We made our way down the side of the hill towards the track which would eventually led us to the road. The grass track down the hill did take a couple of us by surprise as the hard slippery surface coupled with the camber of the hillside had caused bodies to tumble to the ground.

We'd soon got back into our stride though as we were back on the solid concrete track to the Visitors Centre which was closed, although the convenience was opened for our convenience.

The steep hill awaited us, but at least the reward of a couple wooden benches awaited us and allowed us to take 10 minute to have a small snack and pour a hot beverage from our flasks. 

A young man with a large rucksack approached us to ask us which way to go to see the cliffs... He appeared to be a disorientated person from the orient.

A steep descent down a series of poorly spaced steps awaitd us on the other side of the hill upon which we'd just sat and admired more incredible views. 

We were now entering Friston Forest and followed the straight track between the crowdd network of tall timber spires commonly referred to as tress in this area. We reached a junction of tracks and footpaths and decided to walk back up the steep track, which at a higher level, had been designed for mountain bikes... Earth had been turned into jumps and banked corners between gaps in the trees. The canopy of semi fallen pine trees creaked as we swiftly walked beneath them. Eventually we were on the top track that ran near to the main road where we could occasionally catch glimpses of cars passing along it.

After another 15 minutes we'd arrived at the road junction and crossed over the road to head back to the car park. 

The walk had taken just under 3 hours and we'd completed just over 6 miles.

Points of View on The Mount Caburn trail

The weather forecast couldn't make it's mind up, and proved even more inconsistent as we drove out to Glynde in the pouring rain to meet up with the others in the group to start our Friday challenge to make the ascent to Mount Caburn.

Assembled on time outside The Trevor Arms, we started to walk, with canine company, toward Glynde Post Office having crossed over the railway line and looked out on the deserted platforms below.

Just opposite the Post Office, we were able to unleash the dogs and despite there being sheep in the field, there was no concerns of their intention of worrying them. The ascent had started and the first gateway came into view. In fact the gate proved to be the first challenge as there was no access to allow the dogs into the next field. With careful dexterity the gate was lifted from the single hinge and allowed both dogs and all but one of us. The following field was as steep but with little or no chance of obtaining sufficient purchase on the muddy surface. The pace was steady and whilst the dogs made easy progress toward the next gate. The next field was much easier on the friction/grip quotient and after a further 10 minutes we had reached the junction of footpaths and discussing whether, in such wet conditions, we should turn up and formally conquer the summit of Mount Caburn. We thought it was the right thing to do and head up the hill about 500 metres and look out on the A27 traffic below and pose on the seat.

The view, through a grey mist, was all but we should have expected given our trek to the summit. With a wave to a passing train below, we turned and set off back down the hill toward Lewes Golf club. 

Our orientation was then put to the test when we ignored the yellow arrowed marker post. However, just prior to this we were lucky to see a Roe deer flirting across a fence with a herd of cattle. We startled him a little as it scurried away up the hill. Once we'd re-directed our route alongside a barbed wire fence we found 2 sheep entangled amongst bracken bush? As we approached one of the sheep managed to free himself whilst the other appeared totally wrapped up with little hope of freeing himself. Once we got through into the field we ushered the dogs away from the area, whilst 2 hikers equipped with a small pen knife went to free the sheep. After some 5 minutes, the sheep walked away from the bush and the group were reunited on the hill top relieved to have rescued the distressed livestock.

Our next target was Lewes Golf course club house and time to take a rest and re-charged our batteries with a selection of snacks and hot drinks (bar 1). The views across Lewes were taken in from the hill top, identifying memorable landmarks where one of the group had gone to school.

The back-packs were strapped on again and we headed off toward the obelisk which commemorates 

17 Protestant martyrs who were burned to death in Lewes for their beliefs, during the Marian persecutions of 1555-7. It had been erected in 1901 and looks over the area of Lewes known as The Cliffe.

The rain had stopped at this stage and our ambitions were turned to tracking around the golf course. Eventually finding ourselves at the high point of the course we climbed over a stile and walked along a grassy track.

The rotating white blades of the wind turbine, which generates Glyndebourne Opera House's power supply, came into view. The dogs were keeping a careful check on more sheep ahead of us and we soon brought them to order. We were on the home stretch and heading across the high ridge which gave a 360 view. As we dropped down onto the next footpath, a collection of hunters with gun dogs and beaters were positioned at strategic intervals looking into a small copse. We'd heard gun fire earlier and had now discovered where it was originating from. 

None of the group of hunters (or were they poachers?) acknowledged us as we continued uphill again and through a gate where the dogs were given their liberty for a final run.

We were now returning down the hill where we had come up a few hours before. The weather had changed since we were here before and the sight of blue sky to the west gave a pleasant backdrop to our final descent.

We got through the final gate at the bottom of the hill, after just managing to keep our footing on the slippery slope, and saw the post office again. Glynde forge was open and the station platform was occupied by a lonely passenger waiting for the next train into Lewes.

Our work here was complete and our 6.7 mile walk over Mount Caburn was achieved with spirited enjoyment.

Alfriston Heights view

It was our first venture on to high ground in 2015 and having all 6 of us together again, rendezvousing on the western fringe of Alfriston meant that our view of the first hill was in our sights before we'd got out of the car.
Previous hikes up this hill had caused some of the group to shake in dread and anticipation of another grueling ascent.

The dogs were as ready as we were and set the pace for the following half mile ascent toward a junction of footpaths and took in the full view of the Weald below us. Wendover hill to our right and Firle Beacon to our left, there was a grand panoramic vista below us as we headed into the first field of sheep where the wind strengthened around our ears.
The simple task of walking was hampered by the continuing buffeting of wind, but the sun kept threatening to shine on us through grey clouds. After another mile of discussion and sheep counting, we turned south and straight into the wind. We caught glimpses of the ferry maneuvering on the sea outside Newhaven. The conditions out there didn't favour a particularly smooth crossing to Dieppe today, but it slowly disappeared from sight as we descended into the sheltered valley on Green Way.
We weren't the only ones out treading the chalk downs as we encountered several other people making progress across the network of surrounding footpaths.

At the foot of Blackstone Bottom we opened the new gate and started the steep ascent which provided a test of both stamina and grip for our boots. The awaiting bench at the top gave perfect opportunity to sit and refuel ourselves. Flasks and other post Christmas leftovers (and breakfast cereals) were devoured with relish, with dogs looking on for any dropped scraps.

After setting off back inland we soon encountered the company of a circling light aircraft that at around 500 feet was struggling with the similar buffeting wind that we had experiencing as he was trying to head into the westerly wind. Shoreham Airport, we assumed? He soon gave up and was seen with tail wind speeding at nearly the speed of sound. We admit we didn't hear any supersonic boom, but after 10 minutes he was making another overhead pass and making better progress than his previous attempt. He was soon out of view as we courteously passed through a sequence of older gates heading eventually to find a few people who had driven to the car park at Bopeep.
The sun tried to creep through the grey clouds, but with little effect as flocks of crows circled on the next horizon, no doubt disturbed by the windy conditions or by other wildlife that were competing for food sources.

At least the weather hadn't deteriorated despite seeing some serious dark clouds ahead. At least we didn't get rained upon. The sheep looked perplexed as we all arrived at the top of Borstal hill and pervade the scene across the Weald once more. We had reached the high point of the walk, and saw a lonely seagull struggling to get back to the coast with little chance of achieving his objective for the day unless the wind at 200 feet decreased considerably.
A steady descent now along the same path we had walked a couple hours previous. The view of Alfriston and the flooded fields next to the Cuckmere river was all the confirmation we required for the decision to remain on the high ground rather than circumnavigate our route (as we had done before) down towards Frog Firle and for a final walk alongside the river.
Several more dog walkers exchanged pleasantries with us and we were back at the junction of footpaths and steadily walked down the chalk stone trackway.
On our final descent more aircraft. 2 jet aircraft zoomed without any hindrance of the weather conditions as they banked and showed off their profile towards the sea.
The cars were in sight as we reached the bottom of the track and the gardener who was diligently cutting the hedge when we left was still hard at work with his petrol trimmer, filling up his trailer with cuttings.
We unlaced boots and after our 7 mile hike, we congratulated each other on the first walk of the year and made plans for another walk the following week.

A cold finale hike of 2014

There couldn't have been a better day to have taken to the Downs and put the group through an endurance hike. On a crisp, frozen, sunny, blue sky morning, the 6 strong troupe assembled at 9.30am and took to striding through the groups of mainly dogwalkers and off road cyclist towards Beachy Head from Butts Brow. The sun was in our eyes and the terrain was hardened by the sub zero temperature. We were soon generating heat from our swinging limbs and with dogs accompanying us today, they were soon making light of the occasion by going in different directions.
We soon gathered them and indicated our direction and were able to maintain interest and as much pace as we were for the first mile. We reached the first dew pond which was frozen however not strong enough to take our weight. Not even the dogs were interested in the idea of a skating lesson.
The golf course soon after, was sparsely occupied as we dodged aside to allow more cyclist go through in the opposite direction. We reached the junction of footpaths that left us pondering whether we could manage a little further distance or head down through our more relied route through more of the golf course.
We decided on continuing towards Beachy Head a little further and then cut across another footpath to drop down into East Dean.
We crossed the main coastal road between Eastbourne and Seaford and reached the second Dew Pond which again was half covered in thick sheets of ice. The dogs were again intrigued to find ice and whilst one was more attracted to the idea of bathing, the other looked on with no interest to wallow.
We continued and crossed the road leading out of Old Town area of Eastbourne. The sun continued to shine bright and low in the sky and the ground showed little evidence of it ever thawing today.
The small camp site on our right had a few festive camper vans pitched in for the duration and would likely be seeing the new year in tomorrow evening from their vantage point which gave views across the bay toward Hastings.
We needed to walk briefly alongside the road before heading back across the Downs onto a Bridlepath known as 'Long Down'. We walked passed fields of sheep. In fact we disturbed a Ram that was resting next to the flint wall after perhaps some early morning 'tupping'. The flock had appeared to have devoured a field of Brussels sprouts... unless the farmer had removed the Brussels and left the stalks for them to finish off before cutting them down. Our journey toward Belle Tout lighthouse was straight and after walking passed a herd of cattle feeding hay from galvanized hoppers we spotted a rather large bloated brown cow laying on its side showing no signs of life, even after one of the dogs went to investigate. It was evident that the farmer hadn't stock checked for a few days and had left the cattle to fend for themselves. The mood quietened for a short while as it was clearly a distressing scene to observe to an otherwise healthy looking herd.
A steady walk down into East Dean, however one of our fold was starting to suffer with an ongoing complaint of plantar fasciitis, which meant that the final few miles would be impossible for him to complete. He'd phoned to request his wife meet him opposite the Tiger Inn whilst we took a break and refueled with flasks and mince pies! at the 6 mile point.
We were now 1 man down and ready to do justice to the final stretch uphill toward the junction that would eventually lead us to the Old Willingdon Road. A route which was a regular return to Butts Brow, but one which always had to be negotiated with more cyclists and walkers out for their post Christmas exercise.
As we looked behind, the sun was beaming down pools of light onto the sea and the fields of winter greens were abundant with growth for the livestock that were likely to need sustenance over the coming months.
Our walk was completed as we walked down toward the car park and the time was 1.30pm. The dogs had to be rounded up whilst we had little hesitation in unlacing our boots and collapsing into the cars after completing 9.5 miles

A Christmas Trail (around Isfield)

The logistics on paper appeared to work out for us. The usual 6 suspects would meet at the Laughing Fish at 10am, then walk a pre-planned route (courtesy of an Argos walk published in July 2012), then back to the pub for a Christmas meal after what looked like an achievable 5¼ mile walk in just over 2 hours. Without our usual refreshment break, it seemed the perfect days activity.
What we hadn't bargained for was the the underfoot conditions and the lack of signposting which had us disorientated soon after we'd departed the pub and reaching the first stile.

Looking around and reading the directions we didn't pick out any of the described landmarks. Some instinctive treading along worn walkways in the field led us to one gate and then eventually another stile. It wasn't looking good as we failed to maintain good purchase on the slippery muddy fields.
Heading towards a farm which we thought would lead us out onto the main road was in our sights after crossing fields that had been cordoned off with temporary electric fences that had been organised to allow horses to have their right to roam over our rights.

"Can I help you?"... a lady came from the barn walked towards us. Her manner was pleasant however she informed us that the way along the drive to the road wasn't a 'right of way' and that the owner of the land would be none to pleased about us walking through this route. She advised us of the alternative route, which meant re-tracing our slippery steps in the same few fields.
The toil of walking on this surface was beginning to tell on us and realised there might be difficulty in keeping on track. 

Time was precious and our chances of continuing on the same route to walk across the National Golf course was fading fast. We consulted the OS map and decided on an alternative route that would take us further north yet still encounter the Lavender Line, which was part of the original route.
We found our way across some more fields and eventually out onto the A26 where the convenience of a footpath was a pleasant relief to walk on.

We soon turned off onto a lane with the golf course on our right and Wharton Wood on our left. It wasn't long before we were treading across another field where we'd eventually discover the welcome sight of the Railway line which ran between Isfield and a halt affectionately referred to as Dingly Dell (on the OS map).

But although the railway line was in sight, the challenge to find the crossing point left us concerned about the lack of signposting, but we eventually found it and stopped to observe 3 roe deer attempting to find a way out from the confines of the railway line.

The final phase of the walk would take us through treacherous conditions and that the addition of snorkels in our equipment might have been a good idea. We were about to walk alongside the banks of the Rivere Uck which was swelling and flowing fast.

"This way looks better" every man to his own route seemed to be the optional strategy. Puddles of muddy water were ankle deep and creeping into our boots!!
Horses looked on with bemused wonderment as we made our way through barricaded gateways. Someone was making it difficult for us, even though the green dotted lines on the OS map and the few footpath signs gave us clues that we were on a legitimate route.

Another 10 minutes and we had reached Elms Farm and walked through despite signs that suggested we may have been trespassing.

The Isfield sign welcomed us back into the village and the sight of the pub came into view. It was coming up to midday and after 3.5 miles we had disrobed in the car park and ready to take up our places at the reserved table to consume a tasty Christmas meal....

We spent the afternoon around the table reflecting on the year's walking and all agreed the amazing walks we'd achieved although also considered that the last couple of hours wouldn't necessarily feature as one of the highlighted walks. We will now be taking a couple weeks off and plan some more interesting and maybe adventurous walks for 2015.