Not quite the A.T. ( A walk form Eridge to Home)

This time last year I was travelling alone across France to the little town of St Jean Pied de Port in the foot hills of the Pyrenees. I was about to start my walk across Northern Spain on the Camino de Santiago de Compostella. Four of the American friends that I made during my journey along the way are just starting out on a three week walk along part of the Appalachian Trail in Georgia and I am incredibly jealous of them. They did invite me to join them but unfortunately I have too much on this year to spare the time or money. But I will be with them in spirit and hope to hear about their adventures when they get home.

The sun has been shining all week and thinking about the A.T. I am again getting itchy feet. So there's only one thing for it, I need to go for a longish walk to shake off the cobwebs and get some fresh country air into my lungs. Easter weekend is already mapped out visiting friends and family so I only had one day to spare for walking and that was yesterday. Rather than drive some place and walk in a large circle I felt that a nice linear walk of about twelve or thirteen miles was in order. Little dog was to accompany me and at her age this is probably the maximum distance that I felt was good for her, as long as we took it easy with plenty of rest stops (or am I using her as an excuse for my own aching knees).

Often when I've driven Mrs C to work in Tunbridge Wells I have been curious as to what the countryside between there and Home is like, so Little dog and I were about to find out. With my small day sack packed with map, compass, fleece, lunch and a brew kit, Mrs C dropped us off near Eridge which was approximately thirteen miles or twenty Kilometres from home. Little dog was shivering with excitement as she usually does at the start of a walk, or was it trepidation (did she know how far it was back to her bed).

The countryside between Eridge and Crowborough was stunning, the leaves on the beech and birch tree's were a vibrant green and the masses of bluebells were covering the woods with a carpet of purple flowers. We crossed over several small streams all of which were stained a rusty red colour, this is due to the high concentrations of iron ore in the ground. During the late medieval and tudor ages  this iron ore was mined and smelted in small furnaces powered by charcoal, to make cannons for the Army and Navy (not the Department store! Mrs C). The industry died out in this area during the Industrial revolution when it became cheaper to smelt the iron in large furnaces in the Midlands fuelled by coke from the coal fields of Nottingham and South Yorkshire.

Our route lead us into Crowborough Warren passing close to the Army camp and along the bridleway to the old Packhorse bridge where we stopped for a short break, before climbing gradually up to the top of the Forest. The sun was shining and there was a slight breeze which made it ideal conditions for walking. The path now lead us down hill to the village of Fairwarp, where with great difficulty I managed to avoid the Pub and we stopped for lunch in a field adjoining some woodland. Today I didn't have to fight Little dog for my lunch as I had bought a Peppered steak pastie, she took one piece of it and promptly spat it out. She did eat most of the biscuits though.

Revived by lunch and a brew of tea we carried on through the woods and up a steep hill into some open fields full of sheep and new born lambs all sporting bright red numbers on their flanks. Normally sheep are timid creatures and run a mile from Little dog (who is always kept on a short lead in their presence) but with lambs to protect they were getting quite stroppy and kept stomping the ground with their front hooves to warn us off. This warning appeared to work as Little dog was in a bit of a hurry to get away from them.

Our next stop was on a bench placed in a sunny spot next to the crossroads at Coopers Green where we spent a lazy twenty minutes sun bathing and preparing ourselves for the last few kilometres to home. It was now about 2:15 pm and we had been out and about since 8:00 am and my feet were feeling a bit hot, little dog looked no different and appeared as if she could go on for a few more miles.

We slowly pulled ourselves up and dragged ourselves wearily home through the streets of 'Royal' Uckfield which as we all know are paved with gold. As we walked up hill on the last two hundred metres of our journey Little dog started to show the first signs of being knackered, however on recognising our road she picked up her pace and bolted for the finish line. Within ten minutes of being home she was snoring soundly in her bed while I enjoyed a well deserved cup of tea.