My Camino de Santiago (In the footsteps of Napoleon)

At about 8:20 a.m. on Saturday 20th April 2013 my great expedition began, with me posing for a photograph under the clock tower by the Porte D'Espagne (Spanish gate). Earlier during my  leisurely breakfast I got into conversation with a little Frenchman with a thick white beard, who looked about seventy years old. He was dressed like me in walking clothes and I thought to myself he's going to struggle over the next few weeks. I enquired if this was his first camino to which he replied "No my second, I've already been to Santiago and now I'm walking home to Grenoble".  That completely shot me down in flames. But if he can do it I'm sure that I can as well.

Armed with my John Brierley guide book (the most popular one) and checking my direction at the first sign post I set off up hill into the Pyrenees. It is a 30 kilometre climb over the mountains to Roncesvalles (Valley of thorns) my first destination in Spain, although there is an alternative lower route. I chose to take the high path via the Route de Napoleon, used by the French army to enter Spain during the Peninsular war. This is the recommended path in good weather as although it is a strenuous ascent, you are rewarded with stunning views. The mist of the previous days had cleared and it was a clear crisp day, perfect for walking.

Snow was clearly visible on some of the high peaks and this being my first day I wanted to break myself in gently to avoid injury. Therefore I decided to break my journey and spend the night at a private albergue at Orisson only nine kilometres from St Jean. The ascent turned out to be easier than I anticipated on quiet country roads and  I reached Orisson by 10:30 a.m. much too early in the day to stop. So a quick refreshment break and with the second sello in my credencial, I carried on up into the mountains.

After a while the road veered away from my route and I now followed a rough grass track for the next few kilometres, past some wayside shrines, to the frontier with Spain. The sun was shining and Gryffon vultures were circling over head as I reached the highest point, the Col de Loepeder at 1,450 metres. From now on it was all down hill to Roncesvalles and the albergue, a converted monastery which I could see in the distance below.

It was a beautiful spring day as I descended through Beech woods to the valley of Roncesvalles and its magnificent Abbey and Monastery. Lying at an altitude 950 metres above sea level and with a resident population of less than 100 this is a major starting point for Spanish peregrinos. The old 110 bed dormitory as seen in the film 'The Way' has been replaced with modern bunk beds set  in cubicles of four, with excellent facilities. The old dormitory is now only used for overflow accommodation in peak season. That night I had an excellent peregrinos meal complete with red wine in the adjoining hotel before going to sleep. If anybody was snoring I was much too tired to hear them.

Note: 'I am not a complete Billy no mates'. During my camino I walked with peregrinos from all over the world and made some great friends. I talked about them in my original Facebook blog. However for this serialisation I have decided to write as if I was travelling alone in order to concentrate on my adventures and the places that I visited.

Here be Rabbits

Remember Monty Python's Life of Brian and "What have the Romans ever done for us". Well  apart from building roads, aqueducts etc they introduced rabbits into Britain for food. They were bred in captivity and were apparently considered a delicacy. After the Romans left, the rabbit population declined, as the native Britons and later Saxons weren't that keen on eating them; They much preferred the richer taste of venison and wild boar.

The year 1066 wasn't a good one for the Saxons, as we all know, William of Normandy came to visit with his band of merry Normans. Being a fair and reasonable king, one of the first things that he did was to ban the Saxons from hunting deer and boar. No wonder he was known as William the bastard. The Normans did however re-introduce rabbits or coneys to England which they allowed the Saxons to farm for food instead.

To this day in the Ashdown Forest there are still many local names with a rabbit connection. Places such as Crowborough Warren, Hindleap Warren, Wrens Warren and Broadstone Warren denoting a place where rabbits were bred in captivity for food. These man made warrens often consisted of a cigar shaped raised bank, twenty metres or more in length which can be seen marked on contemporary maps as 'Pillow mounds' written in Gothic script.

Pillow mound near Crowborough Warren (The raised green bank at the top of the picture)


The interior of the pillow mounds consisted of a series of  tunnels or burrows as accommodation for the rabbits, which were often lined with stones or brickwork. Rabbits can't swim so the banks were surrounded by a water filled moat to prevent them from escaping. A wooden fence was erected on the outside of this to stop predators getting in. The rabbits were caught by netting off several of the entrance holes and then sending a ferret down the tunnels to chase the rabbits into the nets.

Pillow mound with moat near Ashdown Forest Visitor Centre


In the middle ages the pillow mounds would probably have been quite an impressive sight as several of them were often grouped together on the open hillside. I was curious about these pillow mounds so Little dog and I went to look at some. These days though, the mounds have fallen into disuse and are not much to look at, in fact you would probably walk past them without realising what they once were. Even the rabbits don't appear to make use of them anymore, much too little dog's disappointment. The only rabbits she will be chasing today will be in her dreams.

No rabbits to chase here. Little dog rolls in leaves in the old moat instead.

The Raiders of the Lost Dam

Since discovering the remains of the old dam with Pete and Steve I was fascinated by it and wanted to explore further. So like a modern day Indiana Jones, wearing my old Tilley hat and armed with my camera and thermal mug of tea, I set off on an expedition to deepest, darkest Crowborough Warren.

Looking around from the stream it is very difficult to locate the remains of the dam as much of it was destroyed in the 1950's when it was breached during a storm. The damage is very extensive and you can't see the other side. However by standing at the foot of the broken dam and following its natural sweep across the missing section, I surmised that any further remains had to be in a north easterly direction on the far side of the valley. Visibility is very limited as the valley is now densely covered in tall trees.

I followed the footpath north for approximately 50 metres then crossed over the stream and bushwhacked my way through the thick undergrowth in an easterly direction. After another 50 metres there in front of me appeared the dam consisting of a large brick supporting wall with a series of arched alcoves in it. The whole dam was quite a substantial piece of Victorian engineering, now decaying and covered in ivy, moss and ferns.

I took a trip to my local library to carry out some historical research and found a book called 'Forest Camera' written by Peter Kirby in 1998. In the section on Crowborough I discovered that the valley was dammed in the early part of the nineteenth century by the landowner Edward frisby Harris (possibly Howis). He created a large expanse of water called New Mill pond, surrounded by parkland. Water from the pond was used to power the mill, which in 1840 was used to grind the flour to make Queen Victoria's wedding cake as the Miller was related to the Royal Baker.

 The water wheel which stood twenty feet high was removed from New Mill during  world war two for scrap and  the mill which had become derelict was pulled down. Builders took 5,000 tons of stone from the mill to use for local housing.

Throughout its history New Mill pond was used by the local residents and soldiers from Crowborough camp for swimming. Tragically over the years there have been several incidents of drowning, as the water was deep and very cold. The pond was eventually drained after being breached in the storm.

My Camino de Santiago (St Jean Pied De Port)

St Jean is one of the main starting points for modern day pilgrims undertaking El Camino De Santiago De Compostella.  Most people arrive here in the evening and set off on their trek the following morning, without taking time out to explore this delightful little town. I had planned to spend a day here to see the sights and make final preparations for my 820 kilometre stroll to Santiago.

This bridge and clock tower is the starting point on the road to Santiago

The following morning I went to the pilgrims office where I purchased my pilgrims passport or credencial, stamped with my first sello (stamp).  A credencial is your most valuable document on Camino as it allows you admittance to the pilgrims hostels (Albergues) each night and also provides proof of your journey. You guard it with your life and get it stamped at least once each day with a sello, obtainable from albergues, churches and bars.

When you arrive at the pilgrims office in Santiago with your completed credencial you are given your compostella (certificate) denoting that you have fulfilled your pilgrimage.

My Credencial complete with first sello (written in French)

St Jean Pied De Port (St John at the foot of the mountain pass) is a medieval walled town within the Basque region of the French Pyrenees. It is very pretty and well worth a visit, however the word little sums it up.  After getting my credencial I set off to experience the delights of the town. Two hours later, after visiting the town museum and walking the ramparts I was back in my hotel room wondering how I was going to fill up the rest of the day and evening.

View of St Jean from the Citadel

I used this time to make final adjustments to my kit including attaching a scallop shell to my pack, this is the symbol of peregrinos (pilgrims) walking the Way of St James (Sant Iago). The rest of the day was taken up drinking coffee, writing postcards to family and friends and sleeping. Tomorrow I have a long walk over the mountains.

My Hotel from the town ramparts.

Three go exploring

Yesterday Little dog went to Grandma's for the weekend where she will be spoiled rotten. I joined two of my mates Pete and Steve for a walk through 500 acre wood (100 Aker wood in the Winnie the Pooh stories) and Crowborough Warren. Shortly after entering the wood we  disturbed a herd of about twelve Fallow deer and I was lucky enough to get one fleeting photograph of them from a distance before they ran off.

Fallow deer in 500 acre wood


None of us is that familiar with Crowborough Warren but I was aware of an old Pack horse bridge which is a good location for photography. We found the bridge fairly easily but it was difficult to take good photographs of it, as it is set in a steep sided gorge, covered in vegetation and surrounded by fallen trees.

The old Pack horse bridge in Crowborough Warren


In the past this valley had been dammed to create a large pond which supplied water to power a mill. However the dam had failed sometime in the 1950's (apparently) and the pond had drained away. We were like three explorers on our Boys own adventure as we walked up stream looking for remains of this dam. Thinking that we would only find the odd stone we were surprised and delighted when we came across the dam which stood about five metres high spanning the steep sided valley.

The old mill dam

Nature has reclaimed this valley for it's own. It  is now covered in trees forming a green canopy over the rusty red stream, more evidence of the old iron industry. This valley is a hidden jewel in the Forest. After taking loads of photographs, we ate our lunch alongside this tranquil stream, making plans to return and carry out further explorations later in the year.

The hidden jewel of the Forest


We returned to our cars via Wrens Warren valley with it's large skies and views northwards towards Kents Greensand ridge and the North Downs.  A really great days walking in good company.

My Camino de Santiago (Decision and planning)

"I'm going to walk the Camino de Santiago next year!" This is not the best way to tell your loved one that you would like to give up your job and walk across Spain for several weeks. I know this from personal experience (you tend to spend quite some time in the dog house). Having spent twenty five years in the Police Service using tact and diplomacy on a daily basis I should have for seen the probable consequences of announcing my wish in this manner.

Luckily my wife is very understanding and after a lot of time spent watching reruns of 'The Way' and explaining calmly and rationally that this is something that I have wanted to do for many years she says "You've never mentioned it before" but gives me permission me to go anyway.

The next few months are spent on long training walks over the Forest and Downs carrying a heavy rucksack in company with Little dog (who has never had so many long walks). I read every book that I can find about the Camino, carry out research on the net, learn basic Spanish, buy new kit and make my travel arrangements to St Jean Pied de Port.

The South Downs looking towards Firle Beacon on one of my training walks.

Tea drinking training in Snowdonia (The Americans don't understand the importance of this)

As my planned departure date draws near I start to have second thoughts and doubts about my ability to undertake such an adventure in a strange country. But it's to late to chicken out now, we've told all our friends and family and I've handed in my notice at work.

Departure day is here at last. My wife travels up to London with me and sees me off on the Eurostar at St Pancras station. I head off to Paris and she goes to work. After twelve hours of travelling across France by train I arrive at Bayonne for the local connection to St Jean. We have to get a replacement bus service as the train is not running. Some one has stolen all the copper cabling for the trains electrical power supply. It's just like back in the UK. An hour later I book into my hotel and go straight to bed.

View from my Hotel window in St Jean Pied de Port towards the Pyrenees

The Forest of Ashdown

The Ashdown Forest is the largest area of open countryside in the Southeast of England, situated 30 miles to the South of London in the County of East Sussex. It is bordered by the villages of Forest Row and Hartfield to the north, Crowborough to the East, Maresfield to the South and Nutley in the West. Although it contains large areas of woodland the forest is mostly made up of open heathland covered in gorse, bracken and heather.

It gets its status as forest from the Normans to whom the word meant an area subject to forest law. Commoners had certain rights such as grazing, which carries on to this day. However it was illegal for them to hunt deer on pain of death, this was the right of the King.The forest was in effect a Royal Deer Park surrounded by a 35 kilometre long 'Pale' or ditch and embankment with fence to keep the deer enclosed within its boundaries.

Local place names still bear witness to this use such as in Hartfield, Hindleap, Chuck Hatch and Chelwood Gate. A Hatch was a small entrance for pedestrians through the Pale and a Gate was a larger one for wheeled vehicles. On many of the hills there are stands of Pine trees called Clumps. These were used by the Royal hunting parties to shelter until the deer were driven towards them out of the woods in the valley bottoms.

Today the forest is still used for agriculture but a million or more people also visit each year for recreational purposes.

                                   
  Cattle grazing below Friends Clump

My Camino de Santiago (Introduction)

In my first post on this blog I mentioned a recent trek that I had taken across Northern Spain. My wife suggested that I should serialise my adventures here for the enjoyment (or not) of readers who may not have seen my previous diary on Facebook.

It took me five weeks following the Camino Frances (French Way) from St Jean Pied de Port in the French Pyrenees to Santiago de Compostella in Galicia, a distance of 820 Kilometres on foot.
The Camino Frances is one of the routes that make up The Camino de Santiago or Way of St James which was the third most important Pilgrimage destination after Jerusalem and Rome.

In Medieval times a person could have all their worldly sins forgiven by undertaking a Religious Pilgrimage. This is like a 'Get out of jail free card' giving you direct entry to Heaven without all that time spent hanging around in purgatory. If you were rich you could even pay some poor old peasant to undertake the pilgrimage on your behalf. Travelling in Medieval Europe was very dangerous so the advantage of this is that the peasant suffers all the hardships and you get the benefit from the comfort of your Manor House.

The Camino has become increasingly popular again over the past few years and it appears on many a persons 'Bucket list'. People undertake it for a variety of reasons including religious, cultural or just fancying a long walk.  I have wanted to walk it for about 15 years and due to changing personal circumstances had the opportunity to do so in April and May this year.

Modern map with the Camino Frances high lighted

Medieval map on Cow hide

The Misbourne Valley & Airman's Grave

The hot weather is getting to Little Dog and she is becoming restless and grumpy, so we decided to go for an early morning walk on the Ashdown Forest (well 8 a.m. actually).
We walked down the Misbourne Valley between Nutley and Duddleswell which is my favourite part of the Forest. It is very peaceful with panoramic views towards the South Downs.
At the bottom of the valley there is a small stream with a plank bridge crossing it. The water is a rusty red colour caused by iron deposits leaching into it from the surrounding soil. As usual Little dog runs straight into the muddiest part to cool herself off, followed by brisk shaking, covering me with dirty water in the process.

Across the stream and up a short rise we came to the Airman's Grave. On every visit I take a few minutes to reflect and pay my respects. However it isn't actually a grave at all. It is a memorial to the crew of a Wellington Bomber from 142 Squadron. All six airmen died when it crashed here early in the morning of 31st July 1941 whilst returning from a bombing mission over Germany.

The sun was getting higher in the sky and it was getting hotter as we returned to the car park. Even the sheep were taking advantage of every bit of shade to stay cool.

In the land of the South Saxons

I live in East Sussex somewhere between the Ashdown Forest and the South Downs and I love walking and Landscape Photography. On most of my forays into the countryside I take 'Little Dog' with me, hence the blog title. She is an elderly Springer Spaniel and is a cross between a Tart and a Grumpy old lady. She flirts with every man that she sees and gets extremely grumbly if I stop for to long during our walks. This makes it extremely difficult to compose and take great photographs so she gets left at home occasionally.
I've never written a blog before until  very recently whilst trekking in Northern Spain where I kept my Family and friends informed of my adventures by blogging on Facebook. They all said that they enjoyed it which has inspired me to have a go at real blogging.
This blog will be a diary about our walks and adventures including photographs, general thoughts and ideas about nothing in particular. Hopefully I won't bore everybody with my efforts.

Here are a couple of photographs of my country to show you how beautiful it is.

Footpath on the South Downs looking towards Firle Beacon

 Looking North from Firle Beacon 

Ashdown Forest towards Friends Clump