I left for Coldrum Longbarrow at 2.45am with Máni looking down at me mockingly through thin cloud, then he hid from me. Although quite dark, I could see enough detail to find my way. Tawny Owls hooted from over Clearhedges way. I got a little warm and put on my head lamp to pack my jacket away. Moths and Crane flies were drawn to the light and fluttered about my face in droves until the lamp was switched off. Looking down from Gover Hill, the valley was in shadow; just a few twinkling lights of cottages dotted about. My lamp went on again as I entered the gloom of the wood. All was quiet there but for my footfall. The beam of my lamp hardly pierced the misty dark. At the stable near Crouch, the cockerel was unusually silent. At Platt, the traffic of the M26 motorway could be heard two kilometers away. On Gallows Hill, the noise increased and became insistent as I approached the M26/M20 intersection. My light reflected a foxes' eyes; he decided to make a detour and turned to watch me once or twice. The footpath went under the motorway and up again to Ryarsh Wood where the traffic noise gradually abated. Then into the darkness under the trees and the lamp went back on.
I arrived at Coldrum Longbarrow at 5.45am to quiet and calm. No-one was there to greet the Sun but me. I sat with my back against a sarsen stone and drank tea while I waited for Sól. These stones were placed six thousand years before I sat there and wondered about those people who put them there. A stone at the mound entrance appeared to have a face in the emerging light; two eyes, and a large nose. I said, how do you do? Sól rose behind cloud but the peace was compensation and I stayed to enjoy the mystical atmosphere. A Little Owl keewicked loudly above me in the Beech decorated with ribbons and ritual tokens. Then a Robin sang a welcome to the morning light. And a Buzzard cried.
The way back included the climb up Gallows Hill; always tough the second time, especially when one has walked all night! Some Greengages were taken at Pigeons Green and Damsons too. The cockerel was awake at the stables, making up for lost time (I did wonder if he had been eaten) and I had a cup of tea by the edge of Hurst Wood, sitting on an old log among briars, facing a Cobnut orchard (a good crop this year).
On through the wood, then down through Oxen Hoath. In the fields, as I walked, thousands upon thousands of Crane flies took to the air as I disturbed them; a great feast awaits our autumnal migrants. The resident Peregrine Falcon of Hadlow Tower crossed in front of me going somewhere important. Then, back home and tired after the 27k walk, another cuppa and a short kip!
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