Backpacking on the North Downs Way

NORTH DOWNS WAY

SOUTH EAST

WALK

WILDCAMP

Backpacking on the North Downs Way – Thurnham to Wye

Sunday 17 March 2019

Day Two: Thurnham to Wye

I woke a few times during the night. Every couple of hours or so the wind would really hit the tent and the roar of the wind and sound of the fabric going taught would wake me up. I am pleased to say that the tent didn’t flex or shake and seemed very stable. I would look at the time on my phone and just roll over and go back to sleep. I seem to know when I still have some sleep left in me and when I don’t.

That was about 4:50 am. I woke up to silence. Well, it seemed like silence. The wind had stopped and the continuous, deafening noise with it. In fact, after a few seconds, I realised that the birds were singing. There were quite a few bird calls that I have never heard before and didn’t recognise but I could hear, very distinctly, skylarks and an owl. It’s a combination that I have never heard before and that fact that I could hear skylarks at all while it was still dark confused me a little. I have always associated them with warm, sunny days on Dartmoor and the like.

My bladder told me it was time to get up and go outside. I had planned to be up for 5:30 am anyway so that I could watch the sunrise hoping that there would be one. I unzipped my sleeping bag and sat up. Everything hurt!

To be fair, camping and sleeping on the ground is probably not the best activity for someone who suffers from arthritis and rheumatism but then, often I get the same pains and stiffness of the joints when sleeping in a normal bed so what can you do?

Outside it was just becoming light. I could see dew on the ground and on the tent and toward the east, what looked like it might be a nice sunrise. I looked back at my tent was pleased that I had managed to get one with the dark green flysheet. A grey one would have really stuck out and been more noticeable.

The sunrise looked like it was going to be a while so I set about boiling some water for coffee and porridge. It was great sitting outside, watching the light creep up and listening to the dawn chorus while having breakfast and I felt really relaxed and at ease.

I started to pack up while keeping one eye on the sunrise and by the time it arrived I was ready to go. I could hear a dog walker calling to their dog over on Detling Hill and was pleased that I hadn’t camped there after all. Nobody had seen me here at the castle ruins and now, with everything packed up and back in my pack and me ready to leave, nobody would.

I found the viewpoint without any problems and I also found somebody already sitting there. A large wooden sculpture of a shepherd titled ‘The Shepherd’. I found him strangely fascinating to look at. His eyes seemed sad and full of sorrow and yet his face seemed hard and miserable. The view out was nice but for some reason, I was more interested in him.

It was easy to rejoin the North Downs Way, as had been promised, and it didn’t take very long to reach the next distraction. “Beware of the bull,” said the sign on the gate. But the really muddy and slippery path on the other side of the gate said: “like you have any chance to run anywhere anyway!”

I moved slowly through the field. Small bushes partially lined the path on either side and so obscured my view. I could be ten feet away from the beast and not even know it. After a few, tense minutes of walking nervously through the slippery mud, I could see the fence at the other side of the field. I figured I would be safe in just a few more steps but as I cleared the last bush I could see that the gate into the next field was missing and on the post, another sign read “Beware of the bull”.

“Two fields? How big is this damn bull?” I thought to myself.

So imagine what I was thinking by the time I got to the third field and there was still no gate and yet another sign.

Eventually, I reached the safety of a fence with a style. I never actually saw the bull and that’s probably because there wasn’t one. If I was any good at this writing malarky I would probably be able to weave in some sort clever metaphor about fear being worse than reality but I am not.

Just to the north of Harrietsham I found The Pilgrims Rest. A large wooden sculpture of Brother Perceval resting on a bench. Nearby, a picnic table. It was too early for lunch but I couldn’t just walk on by so I decided it was a coffee time.

Then, on I continued. The path took me to the north of Lenham, below a large, chalk, memorial and on toward Charing but just before Cobham Farm, I was very nearly run over by a man on a motorbike. Well, actually four of them!

It was a particularly muddy and narrow section and on a bend. I could hear the motorbikes approaching but I was already trudging my way through the mud when they rounded the bend. I put my hand up and shouted to the first rider “Wait!” but he just didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down. Within a split second the front wheel of the motorbike was within inches of my legs and all I could do was jump into the hedge. To add insult to injury, so to speak, the motorbike splashed me as it went by. The rider accelerated away.

A few seconds later, another motorbike went by. He looked at me but didn’t stop either and his motorbike splashed me too. Two more motorbikes went by with two further splashings. At first, I was so angry at the dangerous behaviour of the motorbike riders but as I reached Cobham Farm and stopped to clean myself up I calmed down. I didn’t want those morons to ruin my whole day so I just let it go. I wondered if twelfth-century pilgrims had to jump out of the way of morons driving their horse and carts like, well, morons.

Almost at Charing, my path was blocked by another fallen tree. This time it was a big tree and it had fallen along the path rather than across it. There was no easy way to get past the fallen tree and a quick look at the map told me that it would add several miles to backtrack and find another way into Charing. I decided that I would climb over it and ‘through’ it. Well, try anyway. Luckily, I managed to do exactly that.

I had hoped for a bench or somewhere to sit and eat my lunch at Charing but there was nowhere suitable on the path and I didn’t want to walk in to Charing. I was on my way out of Charing when I saw a little spot, under a tree, at a junction on the lane. The was shining and I decided it was as good as anywhere and so sat down to rest. A few bites into my cheese roll a woman, walking up the lane, saw and said ‘hello’. She asked me how far I had cycled and so, bizarrely, I found my self explaining that I did not have a bicycle with me and that I too was walking.

It was 4:15 pm when I reached the station at Wye. The next train would be the 4:55 pm train so I had just enough time to visit the Tickled Trout Inn and sample some local ale.

The green flysheet was more inconspicuous in the dim light of dawn.

Finally! The sunrise is here. Now I can go.

Back on the North Downs Way heading to Wye

‘The Shepherd’ Ignoring his flock and looking a the view.

Great! Keep a bull on a popular National Trail. Perfect!

“Pilgrim bound by staff and faith, rest thy bones” – Handy place for a coffee stop.

Memorial to the dead of two world wars at Lenham.

Just one more field to cross to get to Wye.

The Route

Distance : 19 Miles

I parked in Station Road, Cuxton and walked for two days until I reached Wye where I caught the train back to Cuxton via Paddock Wood and I wild camped above the village of Thurnham. This section was 19 miles long and if you wanted to make this a day walk then you could catch the train to Bearsted and then catch the train back from Wye via Ashford. The route is a mixture of different trail types but, being Kent, there is a lot of sticky mud. A lot!

Click HERE for a GPX file of the route.

David Welch – View Profile

Are you tired of being stuck in the office? Bored of being chained to a desk? Counting down the days until retirement?

Me too!!