WHEN WALKING

Hampden Park to Newhaven: 29km

Familiar Territory

So, this is the big one. A 2,000km walk originally planned for Spring weather, postponed to the record-breaking heat of summer.

All preparation has been dominated by thoughts of this heat. I have toyed with cooling shoes, planned shorter contingency days, allowed for extra water, and been stricter than ever with rucksack weight. And here I am with no warm clothes, three hats, and a route guide with half the pages ripped out.

Having given up my home in London for the year, it is hard to decide which home to walk from. I have walked from Crystal Palace to Eastbourne and Newhaven before, so I settle on Eastbourne as the starting point. It is after all where I once took my very first steps to anywhere.

Yesterday I walked the short distance to our old family home, just in case that felt like the right place to start, but it was someone else’s home now. Returning to my dad’s new flat, where my sister was loudly booking the family holiday while dad relaxed in the comfy chair, there was no doubt this was the family home now.

At 7.45am I set off. Dad has been up since 6.30 to see me off. Janet wakes up briefly for a sleepy goodbye. The day is perfect and my load is light.

I walk the old familiar route up onto the Downs; past my friend’s house, where we would retreat as 12 year olds to indulge in sweets and stickers; up the steep path through the woods, where the children swang from the trees; up to the trig point with views all around; and down to Jevington, the one-time favourite cream-tea destination for walks with family and friends.

It is walking out of Jevington, on the hill where my friend’s dog once attempted to mount the headmaster’s daughter on the school sponsored walk, that I have my first proper walking encounter with the lovely Dan. He is coming down the hill with a sensible hat and a largish backpack, so seems promising.

Dan has recently returned from the Portuguese camino and is now just finishing the South Downs Way. I congratulate him on taking the less popular inland route and ask what made him choose it. He responds in dismay that he thought he was on the other one and had been wondering where the cliffs were . What I really wanted to ask him is how he managed to stay so clean. Dan and his kit are immaculate. I already have filthy legs and suncream on my t-shirt.

Up on the top, there is a perfect breeze and distant views down the northern scarp side to the Sussex Weald, and to the south to the sea. As the path crosses above the Long Man of Wilmington, more walkers appear, among them Barbara, Paul, Ivana and AJ. Spotting camino arrows on their packs, I stop for a chat, and have the great pleasure of walking down with them into Alfriston, somehow fitting in conversations on religion, philosophy, walking (obviously), AI, and the state of modern education.

As I have been making good time, with no need to refer to maps on this familiar ground, I make a slight detour with the group to tiny little Lullington church, where I find my very first stamp for the camino from home. We part on the village green, with Ivana wishing me well in Spanish. I struggle not to respond in French, which I have been speaking in my head for the last few days, in preparation.

I pop into Alfriston church for another stamp. The church is full of blue-robed celebrants and the organ is playing. I ask a blue-robed lady coming in if it is a special occasion. She looks bemused and answers with a curt “No!” I had forgotten it was Sunday.

On the high street, Szilveszter is waiting to join me for the second leg. By chance, he is camping in Alfriston over the weekend and he is up for a walk. We carry on over the bare and breezy tops before the steep descent to the Youth Hostel at Southease, where the family are waiting in the courtyard cafe for lunch.

Bonnie and Bo are happy playing with my sticks. Bonnie takes us on a trek to Africa (a fine walker in the making), teenager Junior quietly enthuses about his school activity holiday, jumping off cliffs, battling on paddleboards and staying up all night. I am so busy, I take no pictures to mark this farewell meeting, so Becca obliges on her journey home. This I will miss. I have six weeks to get to Biarritz to join them for the family holiday. Family is integrated into this trip.

But with family gone, and changed into my old faithful shoes, brought to lunch by Janet (all that faffing trying to find the perfect cooling walking shoe was pointless, as I knew within the first hour of leaving Eastbourne, the fancy new shoes would have to go), Szilveszter and I set off again. The plan is to complete the leg to Newhaven today, so I can have a lie in until 6 and repeat the journey by train tomorrow.

We walk along the banks of the tidal Ouse, where families, teenagers and wild swimmers are enjoying the waters, and I am enjoying a rucksack-free stroll. We arrive in Newhaven late afternoon for a quick drink and a long wait for my train back to the Youth Hostel as half the trains are cancelled due to lack of drivers. You can’t really blame them for not turning up on a day like today.

Back at the Youth Hostel, I find my cosy bed in the long barn dorm, and have a brief chat with a cyclist from Wakefield on her way to Paris. She is up at 5 and asleep by 9, so I happily follow her example and take advantage of what will probably be my last proper night’s sleep for a few days.