Walking in Kent. Kev Reynolds
grass, elbowed aside the nettles and gathered blackberries. In autumn we’ve scuffed dried leaves and picked sweet chestnuts. The changing seasons have been marked by what we’ve seen in the hedgerows; welcoming spring’s celandine in meadow and bluebell in woodland shaw; summer’s dog rose and elder in flower; autumn’s old man’s beard and softening sloe.
And every day out has been a joy.
One summer Saturday our walk took us through a churchyard where guests were gathered for a wedding, all after-shave, shiny shoes and Ascot hats. Out of the churchyard the path led across a series of sheep-grazed meadows where we were followed by the quintessential country parish sound of a peal of bells. Two miles later the bells could still be heard as we strolled through an avenue of stately lime trees in whose shade heavy-fleeced ewes lay panting.
Kent is a beautiful county, and walking the footpaths reveals it at its best. Not only the countryside, but its buildings too. According to Kent County Council there are more than 20,000 historic buildings that bless this county of ours. Twenty thousand! There are two cathedrals, many castles, numerous stately homes. There are Wealden hall houses, the weight of the centuries etched in every beam, and tile-hung cottages adorned with rose and old-fashioned clematis. There are splendid half-timbered pubs revived from coaching inns, and farms dating from the fifteen- or sixteen-hundreds that have passed from one generation to another.
A few days ago we checked the final walk for this collection. It just happened to be my favourite – as well as one of the closest to home. I don’t know how many times we’ve walked it – or variations of it – over the years we’ve lived here, but it never ceases to surprise with its beauty and sheer variety.
Midway through the morning we emerged below a woodland to a panoramic view as vast and exciting as any in all of Southern England, and there we rested on a seat erected in memory of a local farmer; a charming, generous man with a passion for nature and an environmentalist’s attitude towards the husbandry of his land. (I found it hard to believe it’s 20 years since I attended his funeral.) Several miles and a couple of hours later, we came by chance upon his son who took over the farm from him. We’ve known each other since he was a teenager (he’s a grandfather now), and we were soon chewing the cud, discussing his crops and sharing his father’s passion for the countryside as we talked of the heavy-leaved trees, the long feathery grasses, and the meadows patched with ‘common’ flowers. And we both agreed that it’s too easy to take the beauty of such everyday plants as daisy, stitchwort, the yellow ragwort and even the massed ranks of cow parsley for granted; for each one is a miracle of nature, as exquisite and worthy of attention as the rarest orchid.
Shortly after parting with a handshake, we found a log in an elm tree’s shade, and perched ourselves on it to eat our picnic of home-made bread with cheese and salad from the allotment, drank a flask of tea and basked in the gentle warmth of late July. The head of a green woodpecker appeared from the meadow grass. Then it disappeared to attack something unseen by us, before rising with a yaffling cry and flying away towards a line of willows with that familiar riding-the-waves swooping flight we’ve seen so often on our walks.
There was not much in the way of birdsong; summer is too far advanced for that. But the air was thick with other sounds – the soft buzz and hum of insects that are all too easily dismissed as ‘silence’. There was the summery smell of the countryside too; warm grass and honeysuckle, almost – but not quite – overpowered by sheep dung. (This is a sheep-grazing county, after all.) And there were no distant views to be had from our log seat; just a half mile of meadow, then a block of trees to deny us the hills we’d walked along in the morning. But we were happy, and we knew it. We needed nothing more.
During the year that we’ve walked and re-walked the routes in this book we’ve recorded a number of changes. Some have led to the re-routing of a short section of footpath; one or two have led to the creation of a major variation. In a few cases, orchards described in the previous edition have been grubbed out, while others have appeared where before there might have been a meadow, or they’ve been replaced by a vineyard, say, or a field of soft fruit. One walk crossed a golf course the last time we checked it a couple of years ago - not any more, the golf course is now farmland.
The demand for housing has enlarged some villages, and one or two towns are encroaching into Kent’s countryside. We found a few country pubs that have closed, but we’ve also discovered a small café resurrected in a village high street, and in one notable case a Community Shop has opened, serving tea or coffee with a view to linger over. But most of the changes have been where stiles have been replaced by kissing gates – and I’ve welcomed each one. (In an earlier collection of Kent walks I said that if I ever made a fortune I’d replace every stile in the county with a kissing gate. Now it looks as though KCC is doing it for me!)
So here we have a collection of 40 of our favourite walks, revisited and largely rewritten since the previous edition was put together a decade ago. As you walk them, you’ll come to understand what a richly varied county this is. But wherever your footpaths lead, I hope you’ll gain as much pleasure as my wife and I continue to do every time we go walking in Kent. Enjoy every step, and treasure each new day as the gift it is.
Kev Reynolds
Summer, 2017
Orchards above Hunton and Yalding on the fertile greensand hills (Walk 18)
INTRODUCTION
The diverse nature of its landforms makes Kent a wonderland to explore on foot, and with more than 4200 miles/6876km of footpaths, bridleways and byways criss-crossing the county, the walker is spoilt for choice. Every natural feature has its own particular charm, and every season its own brand of beauty.
Sunburst on a misty walk adds a touch of magic
The North Downs
The chalk ridge of the North Downs stretches right across the county in an extensive arc reaching from Westerham to Dover. Covering almost a quarter of the county, the Kent Downs region was designated an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty in 1968. Though one side of the ridge slopes gently to the Thames and Medway estuaries, or off to the Swale or low-lying Thanet, its ‘front’ makes an abrupt, steeply pitched wall that acts as a natural boundary to the Weald. Far-reaching vistas from the scarp edge provide a bonus to explorations, while secluded hamlets nestle in folds of the back-country to underline their apparent isolation. The chalk being overlaid in places with clay and flint makes this a fertile land, and in both the back-country and on the broad downland crest, large arable fields and sheep-grazed meadows act as springboards from which larks rise singing. Step lightly as you explore, for deer may be seen straying from cover; there are fox-runs and badger trails, and wildflowers that adorn meadow and woodland alike – especially the orchids and cowslips that are so characteristic of the Downs.
In early summer wildflowers bring colour to the meadows
For the long-distance walker, the North Downs Way keeps mostly to the scarp edge on its 130-mile/208km journey from Farnham in Surrey to Dover, with an alternative section that breaks away near Wye to visit Canterbury before curving round to the coast. The Pilgrims Way, however, traces a route along the base of the Downs, but as this is tarmac road for most of the way, it’s lost much of its appeal for walkers. Not so the broad crest, the scarp edge and the inner valleys where abundant opportunities exist for walks of varying lengths; delightful half-day rambles or full-day walks, some of which can be found in this book – from Lullingstone, Shoreham, Camer Country Park, Stansted and Trosley and Wye.
The greensand hills
The greensand hills act as an inner lining to the North Downs. But the ridge which shadows that downland wall is much narrower and more clearly defined than its better-known neighbour, and the views arguably even better from its crest. Overlooking