I managed to knock off an eight mile section of the North
Downs Way last Sunday. This followed me joining a
group of local CAMRA members on a rather muddy walk to a classic old country
pub, nestled on top of the downs; a pub that will sadly close its doors for
good this coming Friday, (today!).
The pub in question was the Rising Sun at Cotman’s Ash; not
to be confused with the Rising Sun at Twitton,
just the other side of Otford. Now I intend writing a separate post
about the Rising Sun, but my mention of Otford was deliberate, as the village’s
railway station was the starting point of our walk.
The North Downs Way
passes through this pleasant village, which nestles in a gap in the chalk
hills, formed by the River Darent, and after agreeing to accompany my friends
on this hastily arranged walk, the possibility that I could complete a further section of this long-distance trail, began to take shape in my mind.
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Our small walking group was made up of just five hardy souls
who met at Tonbridge station, before taking the train to Sevenoaks. We then
changed onto the Darent Valley Line, before alighting (always a strange term) at the aforementioned Otford. A
short walk east of the station leads to a path which begins a long ascent up
the aptly named “Otford Mount.”
At first the path is sandwiched between some rather posh
looking houses, but these are soon left behind as it continues to climb towards
the 204 metre summit – what’s that in old money? I first walked up this path,
some 20 years ago, back in the days when we had a family dog. The surrounding
area seems much more overgrown than I remember it; evidence of how the
advancing scrub-land can easily takeover.
Later on, we came across a group of volunteers, equipped
with brush-cutters – industrial-size strimmers, who were cutting down the
advancing bushes and infant trees, preventing them from becoming established
and converting the grassy chalk downland into the beginnings of a forest.
The terrain levelled out, once we reached the summit of the
mount, but we were then faced with the challenge of sticky mud. After one of
the wettest autumns and early winters on record, the ground remains saturated,
even on top of the normally rapid-draining chalk hills. Fortunately most of us had heeded the advice
to wear stout walking boots, but these intermittent muddy areas still managed
to slow us down.
For me though, it was just great to be back out in the open
countryside, after being cooped up indoors for three weeks, because of man flu
and/or inclement weather. It was mild for mid-January, making walking pleasure,
despite the muddy conditions underfoot.
We eventually reached our destination, finding the attractive
Rising Sun pub, almost hidden behind a hedgerow. Constructed from a mixture of
brick and roughly-hewn local flints, the pub sits in what looks like its own
small-holding. A couple of dogs came out to greet us, before we stepped inside.
The interior was like stepping back in time, but I’m going
to leave the description of the pub for the separate article, as there’s much
to tell. More to the point, there’s another four miles of walking to cover,
before we get to the end of this particular section of the NDW.
We didn’t stop long at the Rising Sun, primarily because the
pub had run dry. Our party of five were served what turned out to be the last
pints of cask left. With closure planned for Friday, the landlady was trying to
run down stocks. Consequently there was no more cask waiting to come on tap.
Our original plan had been to stop for a couple of pints at
the Rising Sun before heading back. A different
return route was mooted; one which involved missing the muddy fields and
woodland, by walking along the lanes which criss-cross this part of the downs.
The village of Shoreham,
which is the next village along from Otford, also nestles in the Darenth
Valley, was mooted as a suitable
destination. It has its own station, along with three pubs.
With this plan in mind, we’d all purchased return tickets to
Shoreham and, were it not for my desire to complete the North
Downs Way, this would have been the ideal place to
end our walk, before taking the train home. To my mind though, the miles put in
by partially re-tracing our outward route, could be put to better use by
continuing eastwards, along the NDW to the village
of Wrotham.
For me, Wrotham, with its nearby rail connection at Borough
Green, would be a far better place to end the walk, as not only would it mean
completion of a further four miles of the trail, it would also provide a
suitable starting point for the next station.
I’d already explained my idea to the walk leader who, having
completed the NDW several years before, fully understood the thinking behind it.
I therefore bade farewell to my companions, and set off towards Wrotham. It was shortly after 2pm,
so I was certain of reaching my destination before dusk. There was also a
reward awaiting me at the end of the walk in the form of the Bull Hotel. This was
the only one of Wrotham’s three pubs I
had not set foot in, but one which looked particularly appealing so, armed with
my OS Guide, off I went, passing through a mixture of woodland and open
countryside.
I am quite happy walking by myself, as I can set my own
pace, stop for a drink from my water bottle or nip behind a suitable tree to
get rid of the excess. I kept up a reasonable pace, finding the trail
well-marked and easy to follow. After approximately a mile and a half, the
route suddenly descends from the hilltops, by means of a steep path. It then
continues in an easterly direction, along the bottom of the escarpment, along a
rough, but quite firm track, all the way to Wrotham.
Although the views were nowhere near as impressive, the firm
going underfoot allowed me to make good progress, and true to form I arrived in
Wrotham before the light had started to fade.
The lack of impressive scenery, meant there was no need to stop and take photos. I was also keen to
press on, especially as an annoying light drizzle has started to set in. I
found my way to the Bull, making note along the way as to where I needed to
start the next section of the NDW, whenever that might be.
The Bull is an imposing and well-appointed hotel, parts of
which are said to date back to the 14th Century. Today, it has a
good reputation for food, but is also known for stocking a reasonable selection
of beers, often sourced from small breweries. With this in mind I was a little
concerned about the state of my footwear, even though I’d managed to remove
most of the excess along the second part of the walk.
I needn’t have worried though, as there was a stone floor
running from the door towards the well-stocked bar. Even more comforting was
the presence of two Old Dairy beers on the bar, Red Top and Über Brew. I opted
for the latter, pale in colour and refreshingly hoppy in taste. It was well
worthy of a 3.5 NBSS.
The best seats in the pub were occupied by two groups of
drinkers, some of whom had dogs with them. The latter is always a good sign
that the establishment is not too pretentious. I asked if it was OK to sit in
the dining part of the pub, and was told it was fine, apart from at the one
large table with the reserved sign.
I settled down to enjoy my pint, congratulate myself on completing
this section of the trail, and then use my phone to check the train times from
Borough Green and the time it would take me to walk there. There was sufficient
time to finish my pint, but not really enough for another.
I therefore set off, but not before dinning my waterproof,
as I could see through the window that
it had started to rain quite heavily. Fortunately the road out of the
village, as well as the main A227 was well-lit with a proper footpath for
pedestrians. I reached the station with time to buy a ticket and catch the
train back towards Otford.
I received an enquiry regarding my progress, via WhatsApp, from the group of friends I’d
started out with. I sent them a photo of the Bull and also a picture of my pint. They were
ensconced in the second of Shoreham’s three pubs and judging by the photos, getting stuck
into the beers. I was on a nice warm train, heading back home, secure in the
knowledge that son Matthew would be waiting in his car, outside Tonbridge station, ready to pick me up at .
It had been an enjoyable walk, but I’m glad there wasn’t
that long slog up the hill, towards my house, to end it off.