North Downs Way, Part 3

We three, hiking again.

Back to Kent for another weekend on the Downs then, and once again I've persuaded Stuart and Sarah to keep me company.  Two twenty mile days as well, I hope it doesn't break them too badly.  For once the weather looks like letting me down, the skies are grey and the forecast suggests there will be rain at some point, still it is dry enough when we alight from the train at Borough Green, and head uphill through Wrotham to rejoin the Way.  The morning's walking is familiar enough as we follow the ridge line, mainly through woods, including an extra mile or so when we get confused by one of the numerous broken signposts.  It doesn't help that I'm relying on my phone to navigate, and it picks that very moment to break down.  Still, we make it to our lunch stop at Cuxton just shy of 3pm, and grab some beer and sandwiches at the White Hart.  Only eight miles to go...

Medway crossing.  Shudder.

There is a slight hurdle to cross however, namely the river Medway.  Excitingly the NDW does so via a strip of tarmac alongside the mile long bridge carrying the M2 over the river - not being a massive fan of bridges, this isn't really a highlight for me.  I make it across in one piece, and then it is but a short stroll, never getting to far from the M2 - in fact we cross that motorway three times, in addition to having crossed over the M26 and M20 this morning.  Thrilling stuff.  We spend Saturday night at the rather excellent Bridgewood Manor Hotel, where there is haute cuisine (duck potato!) and a goodly amount of wine.

Some of the many steps.

Sunday morning, and after a short swim, then a large breakfast, we head off, back over the M2 (only time we cross it today though, boo).  Today our route is more or less along the historic Pilgrims Way, along which people used to travel to Canterbury to view various relics of dubious provenance.  Much of the route survives either as a quiet country lane or a rough cart track through the woods... of course as a long distance path the NDW takes a rather more gruelling route, up and down over hills and ravines, the slope is often steep enough to require steps.  While we don't get lost, it is nonetheless a struggle to keep to yesterday's pace, and it is past 3pm by the time we reach the Dirty Habit in Hollingbourne.  Another late lunch then, at least it is a good one, a variety of British tapas washed down with beer.

There is a monk under there somewhere.

The afternoon turns out to be something of a contrast to the ups and downs earlier on, as we keep to the Pilgrims Way, more or less hugging a contour line.  It isn't terribly exciting, but we do get to enjoy the view south across the Kent Downs (and of the M20!).  Somewhat miraculously the weather holds up, we get some occasional sunshine, and not once do I need to put on my waterproof top!  Before long we are heading downhill into Charing, which seems very quiet on a Sunday evening, there is at least a pub where we grab a celebratory pint.  Then off to the station, and a rather lengthy journey back into town - there really are a lot of stations in Kent it seems.

North Downs Way, Part 4 is here.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

North Downs Way, Part 2

Millenium Stones in Gatton Park.

Another month, another section of the NDW, this time just me doing the walking, never mind, I am used to wandering by myself after all.  Looking at the map, I do wonder somewhat why I planned to finish at Reigate last time - if we'd gone a mile or so further all told we'd have reached Merstham, whose station is pretty much on the Way, and which has a direct train back to London.  As it is I stay on the train as far as Redhill, change there and then on to Reigate, and then have to lump all the way back up Reigate hill... at least there is a nice view from the top.  Then downhill to Merstham again, where I cross the M25 - this motorway will be an ever present companion for the weekend.

The Surrey Countryside... oh, and the M25.

Can't say the walking here is especially thrilling - I'm on a ridge, but mainly walking through woodland, pretty enough with a carpet of bluebells but not exactly an awesome wilderness.  Now and then I get a view south, complete with motorway.  At least it is easy going, and in fact I make short work of the day's fifteen miles.  Lunch at the Harrow is good, the end of the route however is at Clacket Lane service station, where the food looks a bit dubious and overpriced.  Worse yet, stupid licensing laws mean I won't be able to get a drink here, so after checking in to the Days Inn and having a rest for an hour or so, I'm back on the road.  Only a short way though, to the Grasshopper Inn on the A25... odd place, a charming Tudor building and the food is good, service is not so great though and the beer is at best variable.  Fair play to them for building a massive fire for me to watch while drinking a pint or two mind you.

The Grasshopper Inn.

Sunday morning, yet more nice weather, and off I go, up the fairly small hill back to the NDW.  Before very long I'm out of Surrey and into Kent, losing altitude all the way, and indeed I find the Way now runs through fields rather than a strip of common land as previously.  There is still a motorway roaring away to the South though... eventually I cross back over the M25, but looking at the map the Way continues to run alongside the M20, ah well.  I stop for lunch at the rather posh Rose and Crown in Dunton Green, then find myself on a surprisingly urban bit of the route through Otford and its environs.  Seems a nice place though, looks like a good spot for a pub crawl... also I seem to have come on the day of the village fete.  No time to tarry however, so, one last rather steep climb up Otford Mount.  From here it is a gentle downhill to Wrotham (pronounced 'Rootum' apparently), where I find another Rose and Crown and grab a quick pint.  And, back on the train to London - two weekends down, three to go!

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

North Downs Way, Part 1

Spring has finally arrived in the UK, so I can get out into the countryside without having to wear my thermal underwear.  Last year the South Downs Way went well, so an obvious plan for this year is to do the North Downs in the same fashion - in fact that was my original idea last time, but the only hotel I could see working for the first weekend seemed to be booked out for the whole year.  Much like its neighbour to the south, this is a long distance path running for a hundred miles or so along the ridges of Surrey and Kent, specifically from Farnham to Dover.  Again there are alternate routes towards the end, either via Wye and Folkestone, or via Canterbury.  I reckon I can complete the thing over five weekends.

Starting out in Farnham.

As with the last weekend of the SDW, I have got Sarah and Stuart along for company, so three of us set off from Farnham station.  I can't say it's the most memorable of walks to begin with, we walk through woods, past golf courses, and in ditches that I suspect are ancient earthworks.  There is a ridge, the Hogs Back, but we're not on it - the A31 not being an ideal walking route.  Still, we get some excellent ploughman's lunches at the Good Intent in Puttenham, and then pass some points of interest.  Firstly, I drag the others up a hill to look at the ruined St. Catherine's Chapel, scrambling down a steep, sandy slope on the other side reveals why this is not the official route.  Then up another hill, this time on the Way, we pass St. Martha's, a church only accessible via a mile or so of dirt track, and amusingly find a wedding party toiling down it.  Before long - only fifteen miles today in deference to my companions - we reach our stop for the night, the Manor House Hotel.  Very nice too, we have a bit of a swim and try out the jacuzzi before dinner and several beers.  There's a wedding party here too, not the same one.  Hope they didn't mind me patronising their bar too much - I did pay!

Reminiscent of Portugal, apparently.

Sunday brings more clear skies, I do wonder if the tourist board or some such should pay me to walk the downs, always seems to be nice when I do so.  An interesting route today too... for most of the morning we walk on the south side of a ridge, wooded but often with views towards the Surrey Hills, and eventually towards the South Downs too.  At regular intervals we pass pillboxes, built in the early days of World War Two when a German invasion seemed imminent, and still in good condition.  For lunch, we descend into the Mole Valley and head to the Stepping Stones Inn for beer and sandwiches, then cross the Mole via the stepping stones in question.  Then it is the first big climb of the Way, Box Hill, hardly a mountain but certainly steep.  It is mainly steps cut into the hillside so really not that hard, and before long we reach the top, with its car park and many people enjoying the first sunny weekend of the year

Pillboxes on Box Hill.

The way continues along another ridge, yesterday's sand - prehistoric beaches I assume - giving way to familiar chalk.  Slowly we make our way downhill, but there is a sting in the tail, before we reach our destination, Reigate, we must climb Reigate Hill.  But again it isn't too bad, and once at the top we get an interesting folly to look at, then something I had no idea was there, Reigate Fort, part of the London Defences built in the 1890s due to concerns over a possible French invasion - funny to think the Entente Cordiale was signed just a decade or so later.  From here we clamber down the hill in time for a beer or two before getting the train back - just about, Reigate Station apparently being designed, much like the fort, to keep people out.

Donated to the people of Reigate by Sir Robert William Inglis.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

El Teide

Mid April, and England continues to be cold and unpleasant, so I'm off to tropical climes.  Specifically Tenerife, famous for its many coastal resorts which are a mecca for holidaying Brits, and its 'eternal spring' climate.  I of course have something a little more energetic planned than just lazing by the pool - a climb up the volcanic mountain El Teide, which at 3,718m is the highest peak in Spanish territory.  It is possible to get within 180m of the summit via a cable car, but I'm going to do it the hard way, parking up at an altitude of 2,380m, giving me a climb comparable to Ben Nevis, but much higher of course.

'Teide Eggs', with the lava flows that spawned them behind. 

The drive up is an adventure in itself, I leave the beaches and karaoke bars of Los Cristianos behind, and soon find, rather to my surprise, the arid landscape of the coast giving way to much greener surroundings, trees, a profusion of wild flowers, cacti and even vineyards.  Higher still and I'm into the 'corona forestal', pine trees rooted into the rocky hillsides.  The road continues to rise through steep switchbacks, then reaches a crest as I enter the Teide national park, and the caldera surrounding the peak itself.  This is a ten kilometre or so wide ring of hills formed as the land here collapsed after an eruption of the volcano - the term 'caldera' was in fact coined by geologist Leopold von Buch after a visit to this very spot.  All of a sudden plant life all but vanishes, instead there is an alien landscape of lava fields, hills of pumice, and a little way off the towering cone of Teide itself.

The easy way up.

Shortly I'm at the car park, and any further ascent will be under my own power.  To begin with it is easy enough, the route is along a gravel track, wide enough for vehicles and with a gentle grade.  I don't seem to have any trouble with the altitude thus far, as the track curves around the slopes of Montaña Blanca - so named for the white(ish) pumice of which it is formed.  This is a neighbouring peak to the much larger Teide, and after an hour or two I reach a junction, the track continues towards to the top of Montaña Blanca, whereas I need to take a steep footpath up the side of the volcano.  An interesting spot this as well, marked by the 'Huevos del Teide' ('Eggs of Teide'), a number of 'accretion balls' formed during an eruption, by cooling lava on the top of flows rolling down the slopes, picking up material on the way.

My route leads up to, then alongside, and then over, one of the lava flows from the last eruption, the solid, heavy basalt at least being easier walking than the loose pumice.  The going is hard now, I'm getting to the 3,000m point and I'm starting to notice a little shortness of breath.  At one point I get a vague flutter in my stomach, a first sign of altitude sickness?  I take a break, eat a chocolate bar, and head on, taking it slowly.  The steep climb does mean I am gaining height quickly enough nonetheless, and after an hour or so I'm at the Refugio de Altavista, a mountain hut where you can in fact stay the night, prior to heading to the summit to watch the sun rise.  I'm just here for lunch, but it is certainly a fine place to stop with a wonderful view across the caldera and out to sea, with the island of La Palma easily visible.

Sulphurous gases emerging from a fumarole at the crater.

It is past 1pm though now, and the permit I need to access the summit is only good from 1 to 3pm.  There's another 250m or so of climb to the upper gondola station where I will present my permit, so I had better move on.  Doing so is becoming very hard however... the higher I get, the more I find that I just cannot get enough oxygen to my muscles.  I plod up the slope, panting like a sprinter, and feel my heart beating faster and faster in an attempt to compensate for the lack of oxygen in my blood... after only a little way I need to stop, take deep breaths, and wait for my pulse to settle down.  And then repeat.  In this wise I make my way, at least it means I get to regularly admire the awesome vista behind me.  In the end, it takes me forty-five minutes or so to reach the level of the gondola station, and then I just have a little bit of flat to reach it - there is a circular route around the peak, fairly thronging with tourists who have taken the cable car up.

At the summit, behind me the island stretches out to
the Northeast with Africa in the distance.

Reaching the gate leading to the summit path, I fumble for my permit and hand it over, receiving some (to me incomprehensible) Spanish in response.  I get the feeling I was expected to be here at 1pm, to then spend fully two hours making my way up and down... I guess they're set up for people taking the cable car.  Eventually the warden says 'one hour' and waves me through, and I'm back to heaving my way up switchbacks.  With the end in sight it seems easier somehow, and after a mere half an hour I reach the small crater, and smell the sulphurous fumes emerging from it.  The last few yards are a scramble along the crater edge, actually passing through the hot vapours, before reaching the highest point.  From here there is an amazing panoramic view, clouds far below over the coast of the island, and then out to sea in all directions, each of the other Canary Isles visible.  I take a few photos, and even a bit of video, before heading back down, and I'm pleased to see that as long as I am walking either on the flat, or downhill, I don't find the altitude a problem at all.  Once again eschewing the gondola, I make it back down to the car in a little under three hours.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Shevil Israel - Review

Jerusalem city walls.

Well, what an amazing country.  Fantastically beautiful to walk through, and it is truly amazing to be able to walk along miles of Roman aqueduct, or just randomly turn a corner to find a piece of architecture from Byzantine or Roman times, or further back, right back to stone age cave dwellings.  The people are friendly, and this is a civilised place where nobody tried to beg from me or 'guide' me, and I felt quite safe camped out alone in the middle of nowhere.  Food was good, and I could get a beer most anywhere, the mediterranean climate certainly made a nice change to London at this time of year too.  Not sure I'd want to go there in the summer months mind you.  Of course I did have my issues with security guards in various places, but let's face it these could happen in the UK too - not saying that is exactly a good thing, but it makes it hard to be overly critical, and after all the Israelis have rather more justification than we do.  Certainly I'd advise anybody to visit, and just apply a bit of common sense (not something I myself have in great quantities of course).

Following the blazes down the Carmel cliffs.

What about the INT itself?  Pretty awesome I have to say - this is a superb country to hike through, and clearly thought has gone into making the trail go by many of the most outstanding features, be they geographical or historical.  There are issues of course, I could have done with less clambering over barbed wire - I wonder if Israel has the same sort of right-of-way laws as we have here.  The 'blazes' took a lot of getting used to as well, often I'd get to a junction and see no indication as to the way, or worse, a blaze that was actually a little way down the wrong route - eventually I learned to look more at the way the blaze was painted, than where exactly it was.  I guess, if the INT is an official route maintained by some quasi-governmental agency, such as the Pennine Way is here, then to be honest they're not doing the greatest job.  But if as I rather suspect it is entirely the work of a small group of enthusiasts who dash up and down repainting the blazes every couple of years, then fair play to them, it is a thing of wonder.

Paddling in the Med.

As for my own plan - well, to be honest the distances may have been a bit too much, especially the three twenty-three mile plus days.  I certainly wouldn't want to keep up this sort of pace for the whole six hundred miles!  One particular problem is that at this time of year there aren't really enough hours of daylight for this sort of mileage, so I did end up with many hours of night-hiking.  Not the end of the world, but again not ideal.  Also, there were plenty of places I passed through where I'd have happily have spent an hour or two looking around (or having a beer!), which wasn't really possible given the pace I needed to keep up - this as much as anything would mean I'd be tempted to stick with the guide as and when I come back to do the whole thing.  Still, I made it, still in one piece - time to start planning my next trip :)

Photos of the trip are of course here.

Shevil Israel, Day 9

Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

What, you want to hear about my sightseeing?  Well, I am going to write about it... only nine miles today, and with no pack and, woohoo, ibuprofen, walking is no longer a problem.  It is more a question of, how much can I pack in given my flight leaves at 19:25.  So, straight into the Old City, which reminds me of Marrakech but is much less stressful... even when a boy tells me somewhere is closed, it turns out he is correct - further on a checkpoint is only passable if you are Muslim.  Interesting how in some areas Israel actually bends over backwards to placate international opinion.

Western Wall and the Dome of the Rock.

I visit the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, an astonishing hyperspace collision of different Christian denominations.  Wandering around the various sections on a Sunday, I pass first a group of Catholics chanting away, then a little further along there are bearded Eastern Orthodox priests conducting their own ceremony.  A short distance away I reach the Western Wall, as near as I can get to the Temple Mount itself, the Dome of the Rock gleaming above it.  Then it is back to the Jerusalem Trail, although I take a little detour to the City of David archaeological park, including an amazing - and claustrophobic - climb of a 600m Herodian sewer, only uncovered over the last few years..

Down in the sewer.

From here the Jerusalem Trail heads east and around the city, I pass various tombs on the way up the Mount of Olives, walk past the Hebrew University and on to Ammunition Hill - a memorial to the Israeli fallen in the Six Day War.  From here it is not far back to the hotel where I pick up my bag, then get some shakshuka sandwiches - eggs cooked with spicy tomato - for lunch.  Then off to the bus station - just to be on the safe side, I want to leave a fair bit of time to get to the plane, in fact it's only 3pm when I reach the station.

This turns out to be wise.  After fighting through two floors of shopping mall(?) I reach the ticket office, and stand in line for a bus.  This takes an hour to do the 30 minute journey claimed by the bus company web site... and does not in fact go all the way to the airport.  By the time I am at the elderly looking terminal 1 via a shuttle bus, another half hour is gone.  Security now kicks in with a vengeance... numerous people ask me what I've been doing in the country, who I know there etc.  I am asked about my trip to Morocco last year, I pass through several security doors, they open my bag and prod my camp stove, and in a bizarre moment, pierce my bags of dried food before taping them shut again.  Finally I get through - to find the plane does not in fact go from this terminal.  More waiting, another bus, and finally I'm at terminal 3.  Just time for a couple of beers before a tiresome 5 hour flight, and, oh joy, a freezing bike ride back to London.

Rock cut tombs.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Shevil Israel, Day 8

Farewell to the Israel National Trail.

Only eleven miles!  The plan was, if I lost a day for any reason a short last day would mean I could still make my flight.  As it is I can take things easy, so after climbing the Sataf I grab some breakfast - it is still Shabbat, but no problem getting a coffee, or even a beer here.

Before long it is time to say goodbye to the Israel National trail, which keeps on South all the way to Eilat - one day maybe.  Hello though, to the Jerusalem Trail, a twenty-five mile or so circular walk reaching from the hills beyond the city, where I am now, to the Mount of Olives east of the Old City.  It makes for a pleasant walk anyway, though I do spend a while stuck behind a group of students.  Feet feel a bit better today too.

Hills outside Jerusalem.

I'd hoped to pay my respects at the Yad Vashem Holocaust museum, it is shut however so instead I head up the informational path to Mount Hertzl.  This provides a stirring history of the Zionist struggle against first the British administration, then the nefarious Arabs.

From here it is a winding and hilly route through the parks and residential streets of the modern city.  I pass the Knesset - more machine guns - and the starting gate for the Jerusalem marathon, which took place this morning.  Had hoped to get lunch hereabouts but it is all shut, so I push on to my hotel.  Nice to finish walking in daylight, also very nice to have a shower.  I celebrate arriving in the Holy City with several beers and a 'Jerusalem Mix' - beef, chicken and merguez, grilled.  No holiday is complete without merguez.

The Knesset.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.