A (slightly) cooler walk.

28th July 2013

    Only Mr Robin Redbreast sang as I woke.
    Dee and Maisie joined me this morning at Kilndown for another Lamberhurst - Hook Green walk. It was decidedly cooler after the previous night's rain and I wondered whether I should have worn a fleece. Dee said, good grief! There was a strong breeze also, and the chill could be felt going down through Kilndown Woods toward Scotney. At the little River Bewl, the Flag is finished, but Great Willowherb is on each bank and it was very peaceful there. The fields were occupied with sheep of all sorts. And black lambs which protested at Maisie's presence. At the top, horses shared the field, including a Clydesdale (I think), with its feathers trimmed. A very quiet and gentle boy.
    The path to the Tiese was quite different from a couple of weeks ago; there were great clumps of Rosebay Willowherb and Great Willowherb, but not together, and masses of yellow Woad. There were huge brambly bushes, with immature blackberries (yum). The Giant Hogweed was brown and wilting, not standing proud as before. It would be useless as an umbrella now. The Indian Balsam was even more intrusive. I don't believe it can be controlled; it's too late. It is a very attractive flower though. I ate some beans from the bean crop - not too bad!
   There were plenty of golfers about at the golf course at Lamberhurst church, but we passed safely. The Meadowsweet along the Tiese is sadly ending and going brown, losing its delicious perfume; the only Vetch was yellow and the Bracken was taking over the banks. But the Honeysuckle persisted.
   Breakfast was on the green at Hook Green, under a young Oak. Maisie was on the lead, and she wandered around the tree and tied us up! It was just 20C by this time, quite comfortable and a very pleasant break.
    Over at Blue Cats farm, the Corn Camomile had exploded over the bridleway and was the preferred place for butterflies of every hue, including Peacocks. The Rape was all set and now must dry out. Large Whites were busy over it, laying eggs. Mr Buzzard visited us for some time and we watched him through our glasses as he wheeled and soared, then flew off toward Bewl Water. The water at Bewl was very choppy and made me feel quite nauseous at the thought of boating. A strong breeze came across from Wadhurst, and the dinghies fairly flew! The temperature increased considerably as we went through.
    Along by the water under the trees, Dee tripped spectacularly, and later slid down on her bum to the water's edge. I couldn't help chuckling, and I apologised. The next cup of coffee was under the great Beech in Chingley Wood, and peace and quiet (there is a carving in the bark on this tree dated 1920). Then we went out to the beautiful meadow where more Peacocks and Browns flitted among the Centaury and grasshoppers chirruped. The Blackcurrants looked almost ready to eat, but I resisted! I satisfied myself with some wild cherries, but as they were from the ground, Dee refused: in case a dog had peed on them!
    We crossed the A21 with ease at The Post Boys and struggled over the stile into Cats Wood, and followed the footpath to Combwell Priory. Here, Maisie touched an electric fence and got a bit of a shock. Yelp! Into Shearnfold Wood, a Roe Deer crossed our path. A wonderful sight, as I hadn't seen deer in these woods before. She leaped away with her white arse bouncing through the trees!
    At the Quarry in Kilndown, one more coffee was drunk and it was time for home.

With a little moss
On the clay,
Add a little water,
And you're away!

Misty morning

21 July 2013

   It was so cool at 6.30am and the Sun was struggling to appear from behind the cloud and mist. At the Bourne Mill, the water ran over the weir and glistened silver as it fell. A Song Thrush sang a complicated tune as I walked through. I took the path through Hadlow College grounds toward Poult Wood, fighting through a forest of Hogweed, Great Willowherb and purple Thistles pricking my legs. On the Poult Wood golf course path, in a small meadow at The Poult house, a Fox cub with spindly legs, hunting alone, came toward me and stopped. He was perhaps twenty feet away. He looked at me, and I looked at him. We both stood stock still. Then, I said, 'hello', and he scarpered - right between two rabbits, who were startled and panicked, not knowing which way to escape. No worries, Reynard junior was gone!
   At the golf course, I dodged a flying ball from the left and went through, to laughter from the golfers (ruining a good walk, to paraphrase Mark Twain), on to Grange Farm. The farm buildings there had been fenced off and the path diverted. All the tiles had been stripped. A conversion was in progress: the eponymous oast house dwelling.
   On to Horns Lodge and Coldharbour. Two kilometers of tarmac and stony track. Wealthy people live along here; out of the way, amongst peaceful farmland and wooded places. Off Riding Lane, the meadows had been cut for hay. It is very difficult to walk across the bundles waiting to be bailed.
   At Underriver Farm a Buzzard took off from the field as I went over the stile, leaving behind whatever he had caught for breakfast. I reached Underriver, at around 9.30, and I prepared myself for the climb up Kettles Hill. At the base, there is a clear spring which flows over stones and pebbles. Chaffinches, Goldfinches and a Blackbird were bathing and were startled as I came to them. Then I climbed up and up, without stopping, as Dee and I used to when training for the Coast to Coast. I was very proud of myself at the top, but extremely breathless! I carried on to One Tree Hill for breakfast, overlooking a misty valley, far into the distance.
   I came off the Greensand Way at Willmot Hill into the meadow which showed a lot of evidence of deer; footprints and droppings. And down the bottom, the apples in the hedgerow were swelling splendidly! Going into the woods at Budds was a relief to be out of the Sun. I went off the path to have a pee and beside me were the richest, tastiest cherries ever! I took a hand-full before the foxes did. And then out into the blazing Sun to St. Giles' Church at Shipbourne. Another cup of coffee revived me and I went on to Home Farm and then to the River Bourne via Dunks Green. In the fields of Rape, the air was thick with Cabbage Whites, fluttering and flitting in a confusing dance. At the confluence with the mill stream, slender blue damselflies settled on the Hazel.
   The last kilometer or so was hard under the hot Sun and home and the cool of a shower, very welcoming!

  

Hot mid-week special!

17th July 2013

   Marden is flat. So a walk from here is challenging, but the only way is up! I left Marden at 9am, and cut across toward the River Tiese. The footpath was dotted with glossy red wild cherries, like drops of blood. The cherries are sweet, but not fulfilling. Out in the fields, along the track, Fox poo was crammed with cherry stones, his main diet! At Little Cheveney farm, I came out onto a lane over a stile and was met by workmen repairing the road. They looked extremely hot working their pneumatic drills in the Sun. The day's heat was increasing, but there was some shade along the paths and tracks by the river.The path drifted away from the Tiese and followed a dried-up brook for a while. In a short distance, the path took me up toward Haymans Hill and the orchards there. I walked along a windbreak avenue of Lime and Hazel, with some shade. And then into Horsmonden, to stop on the village green for lunch, under an Oak.
   My thermometer read 29C in the shade. A lone swift searched for insects above, and the only birdsong was a Collared Dove and House Sparrows. A Small White fluttered by, and plump ladies waddled across the green calling, cooee! to friends out shopping. After coffee and some nibbles, I set off again for the return journey to Marden via Swags Farm. The farmhouse there is a beautiful old black and white building in the valley, and the old barns have been converted into dwellings. These barns would, of course be lost, if it wasn't for the money spent on renovation, but it is sad that they are lost to the working farm and the farming industry. The remnants of a pear orchard survive along the track leaving there; saved as a decorative feature to delight the visitor. The fruit was filling out well; It would be more delightful if they were ripe.
   I took an ancient track north, at Yew Tree farm (notices up - planning permission sought to convert old barns), down, through vast fields of pale blue Linseed. At The Poplars, a Kestrel alighted the top of a pole and was not concerned about me watching him from below. From August Pitts farm, the footpath was badly marked, overgrown and obviously not frequented. I took an age to find the route, and the Sun beat down, the grass seeds worked their barbs through my socks and pricked my ankles. The path led me along three kilometers of open farmland. My thermometer read 32C; it was a joy to reach The White Hart at Claygate!
   A short rest there and I was away again for the last leg alongside the railway track. In spite of the heat and discomfort, I could enjoy the flowers which grow all along the hedgerow: bright yellow Woad, lovely pink Centaury, Vetches of all colours, and by the River Tiese, the Field Rose, tumbling and dropping onto the water, pure white petals and golden centre. In the sky above the railroad, a Buzzard cried and took the currents of air beneath his huge wings, to glide effortlessly, higher and higher.
   I was finally brought back to Marden and drank the last of my water. That was a hard walk. But I am a VIKING!

Another day with Poppy Dog

14th July 2013
   I woke at 12.30am and Altair was sparkling through the bedroom window. The Universe is so beautiful.
   It was already warm when I left with Poppy Dog at 6.30am. Poppy Dog very conveniently, did her business under the poo-bin, on the way out of the village. The Sun was sending shafts of misty light through the thin cloud, onto the green fields of Oxen Hoath. Around thirty Greylag geese were resting in the bottom field as we walked by. Poppy didn't see them; she was only concerned with rushing to the kissing gate. And then squeezed under it, as she wouldn't wait. There were no cattle in the lower field, so Poppy stayed off the lead, until we reached the parkland proper. The Walnut trees showed some fruit. Hopefully, the squirrels would leave some for me!
   At the orchards, under the polythene, Loganberries were ripe and tasty. Such a breakfast I have been longing for, all year! I filled a container with water from the water-butt in the apple orchard, for Poppy Dog, and she drank the lot.
   It was with relief that we entered the wood at Gover Hill onto the Weald Way. The valley below, from where we came, was misty: a light, ethereal green; an enchanted valley. Through Hurst Wood, A bright green dragonfly sought me out and encircled me. Blue-green, with delicate wings, it stayed with me for a short while, until we left the path to enter the Chestnut woods, which were sprouting their wiggly flowers. The footpath was bordered with Foxglove, Red Campion, red Woundwort and Enchanter's-nightshade, with their delicate white flowers. As the Chestnut had been coppiced here, the flowers could thrive. The Walnut and Cobnut orchards are showing their fruits; the Cobnuts did not look so promising. Breakfast was on Doris's bench in the hot Sun. Poppy Dog had a drink from the water trough there. The Rapeseed across the valley was set and there was just a little colour left. I had a drink and a rest but Poppy Dog wanted to get going and grumbled until we did.
   We joined the River Bourne at Basted Mill. The Indian Balsam had been cut back but was making a come-back. It was cooler there by the river under the trees. At the mill ruin, there is a small sandy beach where Poppy Dog paddled and drank.
   We went into the Brambly orchard where the apples were swelling, and Poppy lost me. I whistled as best I could with lack of practice, and a broken tooth. She ran up and down the rows until finally, she saw me at the bottom of the orchard. She was happy to see me, she said: oh, there you are!
   I re-filled Poppy Dog's water bottle in the brook by the little bridge and the Sweet Briar under the shade and we carried on, up to Yopps Green and Scathes Wood and our second break at Raggedy Robin's bench.
   Then we went through Ightham Mote and on to Shipbourne, past the church while people were leaving their prayer and Poppy had another drink on the Green. The meadow leaving the Green was a sea of pink with tall Rough Meadow Grass, fluffy; waving in the breeze. We went into Dene Park Wood and the relative cool under the trees. Another drink was taken there at the small brook. Near the car park we met a dog of the type which one knows is nasty just to look at it: black and grey, snarling and teeth bared. It attacked Poppy Dog and I put myself between the dogs. The woman said sorry, but didn't mean it. She looked like her dog.
   We had another drink, the last, in Clearhedges Wood. Then we were out -  into the blazing, relentless heat, through the wheat and bean fields, until we reached home. Then Poppy dog collapsed onto the cool tiled floor. And I had a shower. Oh, Sól!
   Poppy Dog and I are good friends.

In the Sunlit wooded glades and rides,
Where Speckled and Meadow Browns have danced,
The lordly White Admiral commands the light
And wonder is brought to this fair place.

Paradise found

6th July 2012

   I put on a fleece when I arrived at Kilndown as it was a little chilly, though the Sun shone and the sky was clear and there was no wind. I went into Kilndown Woods, past the old Beech with my teenage carvings in the bark still visible; past the Scots Pine plot, which has been thinned out and is less foreboding now and out into a field of wooly black sheep to the River Bewl. Yellow Flag were still by the little bridge and the clear water passed under gently. The walk to the top of the hill warmed me and I considered removing my fleece, but not yet! I took the footpath to Lamberhurst, downhill to the River Tiese, and at the bridge, Indian Balsam chokes the flow. My fleece came off for the climb to the church at Lamberhurst and I walked through green, sweet-smelling wheat. Across the golf course, players were out early and I kept my eye open for any hooked balls.
   I took the course of the river down Brewers Street and into the woods. It was very warm and a relief to be under the trees. Along this track huge parasols of Giant Hogweed grow, deep red Hedge Woundwort, the wonderful perfume of Meadowsweet; candyfloss on a stick. The hedgerows were full of Honeysuckle; sweet and inviting, but be sure to check that the flower is not occupied before putting one's nose in!
   Breakfast was under an old Oak, with low boughs in a marshy meadow; at the bottom of a valley. Each side of the valley taken over by Bracken. From this secret place I watched Goldfinches on thistles, pulling apart the flowers, searching for food.
   Along the bridlepath at Bluecaps Farm, through a field of ripening rapeseed, Corn Chamomile was the favourite flower for Meadow Brown butterflies dancing from flower to flower. The path leads directly to Bewl water, where I walked along the dam. The water was busy with dinghies and sailboats and fishermen in hire boats dotted about. Number 23 cast a fly as I went into the wood on the eastern shore. There was the sound of water lapping gently on my right and birdsong on my left as I searched for the footpath leading uphill through Chingley Wood.
   My second break of the morning was under an ancient Beech in the wood. I sat in the roots, a perfect seat, under an inscription carved in the bark: MKM 1952. I wondered who this person was, of the same age as myself. From there, I went into a beautiful meadow of grasses and flowers of every sort expected. There were small blue butterflies (what type?) feeding on Black Medick or Hop Trefoil and Small Tortoiseshells. Above me, a pair of Buzzards were calling. A wanderers paradise!
   After an age trying to cross the A21, I entered Cats Wood and the climb to Kilndown overheated me! I was glad of the extra water I brought. I drank one more cup of coffee at the Quarry in Kilndown; the water was still, with Yellow Flag at the pond's edge and Spotted Orchids on the bank. Then home.

The heat of the day dominates the senses,
And must be disregarded,
Or thoughts trickle away;
Sight and sound are down the drain.

A hot last day of June

30th June 2013

   The Moon was sliced in half in the blue sky this morning and it followed Dee and I on our walk on the Greensand Ridge. It was already very warm at 7am and any breeze was welcome. Along the Ridge, many of the spring flowers were gone; Queen Anne's Lace is brown and burnt, the Ransomes seed pods are an explosion of triple balls, like the Big Bang! Blackberries are flowering; an Autumn gift. It was pleasantly cool under the tree canopy, as the climb to Knole was hard, hot going. The breeze in Knole Park which can sometimes chill to the marrow, was unusually warm, and we sought some shade under an ancient Chestnut tree for breakfast, with the Parakeets calling above us, unseen. Bracken was chest high and there are Foxgloves everywhere. Of course, it is well known that foxes put the flowers on their toes to creep into chicken houses quietly!
   There was an elderly lady laying prostrate, flat on her back on the grass in the Sun, dressed in thick trousers, coat and hat. She did not move, and Dee suggested I poke her with my walking pole, just to check that there was life. Then she spluttered; we were relieved to know that she was sleeping. The deer were staying away from the heat and were under the trees, keeping cool, maybe this lady should do the same! We crept away sniggering with black humour.
   It was a blessed relief when we entered the wood to Godden Green; a chance for us to cool down. Along the sunken medieval path to Bitchet Green, we wondered whose feet from ages past had taken this way. There was Common Mallow, White Mustard, Yellow Flag, Vetch and Herb Robert to lighten the uphill struggle. And at the top a small, muddy puddle for Maisie to drink from.
   There was a welcome break back on the Ridge at the Beeches, with a light breeze. Then down toward Budds, back in the baking heat of the Sun. On the side of the hill, we watched a Kestrel through our glasses hover and bank, hover and bank, with glistening chestnut plumage. The heat had brought out Red Admiral, Meadow Brown and Speckled Wood butterflies, bouncing and fluttering from flower to flower, not still long enough to appreciate their beauty. And in the hedgerows, Dog Rose, Sweet Briar and apple, the fruits swelling. We wondered what type they were, too bitter to taste. And then back into the wood at Budds, so much cooler. In there, Speckled Wood butterflies were abundant in the speckled light, and a Robin followed us for a while.
   At the end of the wood, we faced the long walk in the full Sun through the great wheat field to Shipbourne church. The heat bore down on us relentlessly until we reached the woodland close by Ightham Mote. Then back to the car and home.
         Then in the afternoon in Molly's garden in Paddock Wood, a pair of Peregrines above!