Folkestone Circular - 8.2 miles

I guess we're entering the countryside! Should we follow the hedgehog or kestrel?



This week's walk was much shorter but it offered a lovely route along the cliffs off the picturesque coastline of Folkestone. From the station, it very quickly felt like summer with the bright sunshine and a burst of colours from these marigolds.



But before we could enjoy the coastline, we first had to wind our way through the seaside town of Folkestone. The town has a rough, fishy side, with an overwhelming sense of seaweed, sand and stale fish and chips.





This is the kind of place you can buy a pint of prawns. Which can be appealing, in that prawn cocktail sort of way.





The British do love a good seaside bath. I used to think it was amusing that they described their seaside activities with 'bathing" and "paddling". Why didn't they just call it swimming? Now I know it's because the British beach too rocky or pebbly or the water is too cold or mucky.



It started to get more mellow as we found our way towards the cliffs. There's something hypnotic about looking out at the sea.





We climbed up towards the top. The steep climb felt good in the sun.



Along the top, a group of nuns, or at least I thought they were nuns, were wandering about with butterfly nets and headscarves. One of them fell asleep, facing the sea near to the edge of the cliff. I really hope she didn't roll off.





Along the cliffside walk, was a World War II memorial. There is definitely something dreamy and timeless about staring at the sea. I would have quite happily sat down and joined him.

Battle Circular - 11.8 miles

I've got a bit behind on posting as things got really busy suddenly. All of a sudden, I've got a backlog of stuff to blog, receipts to file, stuff to get back to people about.

I was really looking forward to this particular jaunt as it started at the monumentally historical site of Battle. The most ignorant yokel in Britain will at least have heard of 1066, the Battle of Hastings, which many refer to as a major turning point in English history.

As the ol' story goes, when Edward the Confessor died, he named Harold as his successor, even though he might have promised his crown to a distant cousin, William of Normandy. Harold was King briefly, until William arrived, and after a bloody battle at Hastings, Harold famously took one in the eye and William hereafter became known as William the Conqueror.



The battlefield itself wasn't very large. We spent a couple of pleasant hours walking around, listening to the historical retelling of the battle. It was exciting stuff, complete with a combat analysis of how the battle was won.



After the battle was won, William built an Abbey near the site to atone for the many deaths.



What took me by surprise was the slant of the tale. According to the English Heritage Trust, Harold was handsome, dashing very brave and loved. William was ambitious, bullied and just kinda smart. There was undeniable regret in the storytelling voice that the course of Saxon history had changed forever.

You'd think after all this time, what was done, done, and what became, is, and that event is part of all there is at this moment. After all, the great English Heritage castles were built on the command of William, as outposts to guard the land.





In character of the day, we stopped to catch a demonstration of falconry before we left the site.





Check out this owl doing the Exorcist. What a hoot!



We had a quick lunch at the pub, but were eager to get a move on the walk as it was already 2pm when we got moving.

We quickly entered a forest, and it was a relief to get away from the more inhabited tourist areas.



We soon emerged to cross a series of fields, which led us across valleys and hills.







Through a gate, we went...



As we went deeper into the afternoon, the countryside took on a slightly unreal quality..

In a large wide field, a herd of cows crowded together head to head, as if working up a conspiracy...



As we turned around a large clump of bushes, we were startled to encounter three cows hiding behind a shrubbery. What the...it got a little Greg Larson...



Since we didn't get going till rather late, the sun began to sink, and we got that lovely quality of light which happens just before the sun sets.







We ran into a little babe...



and a swan right out of a scene from Hans Christian Andersen..



And all too quickly, the sun went down in a blaze of glory.

Boxhill to Leatherhead - 7.1 miles

We were somewhat disorganised this week. Dr J was away, Dr. Phil missed his alarm and so Ali and I were left to our own devices. The forecast of the day wasn't great either. It was a somewhat grey start when we began from Boxhill.

This region is very old. Right from the start, I saw traces of ancient stonework. We walked past an old archway and gateway but took neither path.









Instead we made our way through overgrown fields to cross the River Mole, which is thought to have got its name from a tendency to disappear underground in dry weather near Dorking, by using its stepping stones. Thankfully, the water had not swelled to cover the stones either, which would have caused a detour.



Not long after, we began our first ascent. The first hill was fairly steep at the start, and then slowly leveled to a more gradual uphill walk. I kept my eyes peeled for box trees, from which Boxhill was named. Box trees used to be in demand for making woodcut blocks and mathematical rulers, but more interestingly, box wood is heavy and does not float in water.

Without Dr Phil, I was somewhat clueless. I did note several fallen tree trunks that seemed more dense than usual, but I couldn't be sure.

Soon we reached the top of Boxhill, which offered wonderful views across valleys and towns. According to the walking guide, Boxhill is 172 metres above sea level and contains Bronze Age burial mounds. It has also had some literary significance - Daniel Defoe described scenes of drinking, dancing and debauchery on Boxhill; Jane Austen placed the picnic scene in Emma here; John Keats climbed Boxhill by moonlight whilst composing Endymion.





There was a marker in place top give a general orientation from the hill top to other hills. I was curious - what is Devil's Dyke? Perhaps I'll find out at some point during one of our walks.



From this peak, we followed the Happy Valley path northwards and descended below Lodge Hill and Juniper Top (a valley of moss and lichen-covered trees).



All too soon, we began our second ascent. This climb up to White Hill is much steeper, I definitely felt the struggle, which made this little smirk from some wiseass somewhat infuriating.



After this invigorating climb, we descended down to Mickleham Downs. St Michael's Church in this old town, has Saxon and Norman origins and was renovated by the Victorians.





Lunch at the Running Horses pub was a huge roast beef and yorkshire pudding. Thankfully, after lunch, the walk was much gentler.



The path led past some cow farms, which was a little unpleasant - unlike the usual few cows out to pasture in the fields we've visited so far, these fields were full of cows, swollen and uncomfortable with milk. The road and pathways did not just have the usual cowpats, but the earth seemed to have a layer of manure.



We crossed some fields and were supposed to follow the rest of the river to Leatherhead. Unfortunately, the riverside walk was under works, so we had to take a parallel but not so picturesque path.



We arrived fairly early in the ancient town of Leatherhead. Of Saxon origin, Leatherhead appears in Domesday Book of 1086 as Leret. We sat in the pub for a drink while waiting for the train.