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Blechingley Bike Ride 13th April 1999

• 18.7Km (11.6Miles)
• Participants:-

The Mountain Bikes:	The flash git racing bike:	The Crappy old bikes:	Bicycles of special Historical interest.
Mr Paul Farimond. Dicky Partridge. Jon Harvey Dennis Crampton Plates Andy Dawson.	Mr Mark Rainbow	Teastain Thompson Dave Tilling	G.Bradley.


 

We assembled at Paul Farimond's house in Bletchingley.

The weather had improved since the hailstorms of lunchtime and muttered excuses had also dried up, so ten bodies were counted as present.

The ten of us had arrived in eight cars, so that took care of any possible environmental benefit straightaway.

Mr Farimond allowed the nice cars onto his drive and told the rest to park on a dubious housing estate round the back.

Cycling is better than walking in that it allows more potential for faffing at the start.  Those with clean feet were allowed in to change; most had relatively normal outfits so Mr Partridge took the opportunity to outshine all with the latest in Halfords fashions.

Mr Farimond had devised a route to test and exercise both the old fashioned narrow wheeled bikes and the mountain bikes. And a very pleasant route it was too. Away through Bletchingley village and northwards down the hill, before effortlessly sailing through farmlands and past country houses. This gravitationally assisted idyll was halted when we turned south and encountered a steep uphill.  We ground our way back up to Bletchingley before crossing the A25 and heading south.

It then became apparent that in a previous incarnation Mr Farimond had devised assault courses to train commandos on. At last the mountain bikes could come into their own as we picked our way down a steep
muddy track that had a choice of different animal's "output" to fall into should one become unstuck. Which no-one did, not even at the cunningly placed steps at the bottom of the track. we then had a few hundred yards along a road before swinging left and downwards again onto another muddy track. Tricky Dicky Partridge ahead of me was having a wonderful time slithering all over the place. He was having to go so quickly to keep up with Mark Rainbow who didn't seem to be slithering around at all. As we worked our way eastward along the scarp face of the Greensand ridge we were faced with yet another steep descent through a steep bumpy muddy field. Bravely, skilfully and with very little regard for own our safety we descended and paused briefly at the bottom before being urged on again. A familiar problem of trying to keep up with Andy Dawson manifested itself. We joined the Greensand Way Long distance path for a short way before we came to a road. However exhilerating it may be to hurtle downward into the unknown, with very little control over one's own destiny, it must be said that a respite on smooth tarmac was very welcome. We even had glorious views to the south.

Though it was hardly possible, things got even better as we joined a long country lane that headed DOWNWARD, and at a sensible gradient too. while Mark Rainbow attempted to reach terminal velocity those of a more sensible frame of mind such as Dennis, Plates and Teastain Thompson assumed a more elegant and sedate composure and sailed gracefully along.  It was great, there was a good surface a helpful gradient and no traffic.  It was never going to last, so when the path gave out at a particularly pleasant group of houses it was no suprise, but after a short trip across fields we were back on the roads again at Lower South Park farm, before joining the Tilburstow Hill Road where the A22 also joins.  It was flat to begin with, but then the gradient got steeper against us as the road climbed Tilburstow Hill. However, all was not gloom and doom as we were allowed a brief stop at the pub. I don't think I'll be rushing back there again; maybe it was the company.  Arriving at the pub we'd heard a strange noise which turned out to come from the pedals of Jon Harvey, who pedalled quickly enough and in a high enough gear to achieve an audible frequency, though it
could have been aliased. Entertainment at the pub was provided by Richard who had a puncture.

He demonstrated enough tools and gadgets to suggest that Plates has a contender in the gadget stakes.
After our refreshment and with a distinct threat of rain we headed briefly uphill before turning left into Rabies Heath Road and followed the ridge back towards Godstone. We stopped at the viewpoint on top of Tilburstow hill. Plates, though happy to bring a camera and photograph us all, did not have a bracket to fix the camera to his bike for a timed photo. Hopefully this omission will soon be corrected.

After that we returned to Mr Farimond's house where he excelled himself by providing a baked potato for each person. A mellow pint at the Prince Albert rounded off a brilliant evening, and an excellent start to the season.

Thanks to DT for the text, Photos will follow shortly!

Ashdown Forest 4th May 1999

• 10Km (6.2Miles)
• Participants:-

Steve Booth Plates + Tribe Dave Tilling

Rob Brown Neal Zimmermann

Greensand summits from Ewhurst 25th May 1999

• 10Km
• Participants:-

Steve Booth Plates Dave Tilling (organiser) Paul Farrimond

Graham Bradley Denis Crampton Simon Barnes

We trudged out west from the village along a lane leading to an equestrian establishment, hoping to intersect a Roman Road which we would follow north to the Greensand escarpment. Dave expected us to dig deeply into our imaginations in this regard, a process that became more difficult as we floundered about over ditches and through hedges only to be confronted by a field of cattle and a virtual armed farmer who would extend no mercy. Steve would have to lead us in trespassing elsewhere as we headed meekly along a parallel footpath beside a sterile horse paddock. Dave fantasised again over a Roman building on the map and we briefly transgressed an unwelcoming boundary in an abortive search of classical columns in the woods.

There soon followed a brief but spirited ascent of the south face of Pitch Hill. Views of the Low Weald and the surrounding hills are great here, and probably best in the evening light. No visit here is complete without a trip to the windmill (not the nearby Inn: a real one converted to a dwelling). Here we were all greeted by an over excited spaniel, and we contemplated how sails were installed in years gone by.

Over Pitch Hill (again) where some of us climbed by an even more precipitous route, and on to Holmbury Hill via the immaculate grounds of a Prep school. Cattle and sheep were plentiful in this tract and DT was visibly rattled by the delays caused by people feeding them.

A choice of routes got us all on to Holmbury Hill. We shared the summit with parties of mountain bikers, but since we were on a walking expedition, we smugly assumed the high moral ground. The descent to Ewhurst involved negotiating nettle alley - an obstacle noted by those in pink (and other coloured) shorts during a previous visit. Paul was still suffering in the pub later (until Plates announced a cure was available in his car). Incidentally, Paul was wearing more subdued purple shorts; is it just possible that the original ones suffered disasterously in the washing machine??

The pub seemed less cosy than the usual establishments in the area, and the service was bad, but no doubt our group dynamics transcended this. Why we all trooped right round it before we went in was never resolved. DT was worried as to the whereabouts of his wallet, so he bought neither beers nor crisps for anybody. He found it later in the office!

Bradlg is to be congratulated on a timely piece of prose

Horsham 15th June 1999

• Participants:-

Neal Zimmermann (organiser)  Dave Tilling

Denis Crampton Simon Barnes

We hadn't left the Park and Dave was already enthusing, having just passed the rather nice bandstand. Unfortunately the walk then took us through the town centre, also very nice but has yet another bandstand, always good to have a spare sniggered Dave, as he comfortably settled into his critical mode of conduct. The oldest street in town, leading to the 13th Century Parish Church, the old cricket pitch and the start of the Arun Riverside walk couldn't wrestle a good word from him. Having passed Chesworth Farm he managed a rather tongue-in-cheek "nice field". The man was in need of a hill!
It was left to Denis to inspire us, with talk of why the English succeed in archery and shooting yet fail in team sports. Denis also explained what to do if confronted close up by an intimidating cow, unfortunately he wasn't called upon to prove his theory. The sheep and cows in far away fields were all left behind as we headed through some rather nice housing estates, although Denis was all for avoiding these and starting a break away walk based on footpaths he claimed to have found on his map. His map was called upon for trying to locate a Roman road, an essential part for any plod Dave informed us. Simon took advantage of the stroll through the housing estates to look for a detached house for sale (noisy neighbours have driven him to such things).

Fortunately the walk came into its own when a hill - Doomsday Hill, just past Doomsday Gardens and Little Doomsday Cottage  - was found for Dave. Before long we were entering the borders of Leechpool Woods and picking up the Horn Brook. Gentle lapping of the stream is all we heard for the next hour or so as we crossed through the valley of the thousand bridges, such was the meandering nature of the stream. Neal tried to wrong foot the team by getting them to cross a log across the stream and then declare a mistake and crossed back again. Simon was a bit tentative on his return but any potential amusement was scuppered by Denis' instruction to speed up, Simon's momentum returned and Neal had missed his chance. The Woods also offered ponds and open areas with ferns aplenty. The backside of a fox and rabbit were the only wildlife spotted by the time we had reached Owlbeech Woods, which links Leechpool Woods and St Leonard's Forest. At this point we were inclined to head back to the pub rather than venture further (Neal's only venture into Owlbeech before saw him get miserable lost as darkness settled) . Reunited with the dropped off cars we headed for the park again and made our way to the Black Jug but not before rescuing buckets and bags from the boot of Denis car. 

South Downs or "Nine Men and a Dog" 6th July 1999

• 12Km , 7.5Mi
• Participants:-

Simon Barnes (organiser) Neal Zimmermann Dave Tilling

Denis Crampton Steve Metcalfe Steve Collier + Heinz

Andy Dawson Paul Farrimond Mark Rainbow,

Early on the route passes the immaculate greenscape of the Pyecombe golf course. Somehow as a walker one always feels improperly dressed for golf, like a tradesman caught sneaking over the front lawn on his way to the back entrance of the manor house.
Mr Zimmermann became disconcerted on realising that we would not have pavement all the way, though one or two small barns could have been mistaken for bandstands if viewed in the dark.

Heinz was a star, displaying an obedience, even when faced with livestock, which most dog owners can only dream about. His appetite for cowpats must be viewed with concern, however, and may account for his early departure from the walk, accompanied by Stephen and Denis, at Piddingworth Plantation just over the Ditchling road. A dew pond, once lined with clay and used for watering animals, offered a natural stopping point nearby.

The remaining stalwarts hurried on, through woods and along a quiet road, lured by the promise of ice-creams in the picturesque but malodorous village of Stanmer. Sadly the shop was shut so, unrefreshed, we had to begin the gradual ascent back towards the ridge. This is an attractive area, the folded grain-covered landscape highlighted by the late evening sun.

Back on the ridge there were hazy views of the weald to the north and the sea to the south. A cloud obligingly shielded us from the glare of the westering sun during the stroll over Ditchling Beacon and back to the car park, arriving at 8:20.

At the appointed hostelry, the Jack & Jill pub a mile or two north on the A273, we were joined by Emmanuel Sciara and Axelle for a very agreeable hour.

Gravetye, Weirwood and Environs 27th July 1999

• 8Km
• Participants:-

Mark Rainbow (organiser) Steve Collier + Heinz Steve Metcalfe

Graham Bradley Jon Harvey

Neal Zimmermann Simon Barnes Steve Booth +

A short trip down the field brought us back to a road and back to the lead for Heinz. Bitterly disappointed at the restriction, he strained to reach the front and probably built up a bit of resentment which he expressed later.

But a short while later having crossed the end of the reservoir via Willet's Bridge, we were on the footpath up to Stone Rocks and the steep gradient made chasing the stick up it just too much to bother with. We gained the rocks and speculated variously about origins life expectancy (of rocks and climbers) and how much DT would have enjoyed a scramble up them.

Following the wooded path along the top of the ridge we emerged to open fields and stopped to admire the view across the valley to Coldharbour Manor. It was Jon who first heard Heinz barking at what sounded to be a considerable distance. John and Stephen set off in hot pursuit shouting Heinz. The rest of us dawdled on down towards the nursery, but were forced to return when there was no sign of the intrepid three following. Finally we were al on our way again, crossing the Bluebell line on our way to Birch Farm Nursery. An ear to the rail failed to detect any traffic on the line and pressed on doing a minor detour for a cursory inspection of the Alpines in the nursery.

On up steadily rising land through fields and into Hastings Wood. The landscape was continually changing and as we neared Gravetye Manors Lower Lake the rather scrubby plantation pine woods gave way to a cool darkness of much older open deciduous woodland. Enjoying the change, we skirted the lake having done nothing to help a lost and rather scared heifer with a damaged eye. Graham managed to restrain his farmer's instincts in the interests of catching up the fast disappearing posse ahead.

Steve's unusual uncertainty of our precise location gave us an opportunity to explore a complex sluice and dual bridge structure where the stream entered the lake. Heinz managed to wet his pores and we all moved on refreshed to climb through fields up the hill to Shagswell Wood. The lowering sun turned the grass in the field golden as stopped at the top before entering the wood and turned to admire the view North to East Grinstead. A flagging Heinz enjoyed the rest ignorant of the knowledge that it was downhill from here.

The trip from Shagswell down to West Hoathly and the Cat was uneventful. But arrival at the Cat signaled the start of phase two of the interesting events that characterised the day.

Turning the corner into the Cat we discovered SRMB enjoying a drink and a laugh with the lovely Katia. In the animated discussion of where's why's and hows we nearly forgot to buy any beer. But with that remedied we settled to reviewing the eventful immediate past. Steve called Caroline to order the beer for the ensuing BBQ. Foiled by an engaged tone he hung up only to have the phone ring again immediately. The long lost Simon and Neal had completed their tour of their lake and were in Sharpthorne boosting BT's profits on their search for Steve's mobile number. Neal, rather surprisingly, agreed to meet Steve at a place he had never heard of.

Graham, Steve and Jon left for the rendezvous leaving Mark to enjoy another beer with Steve and Katia before being ferried home in Steve's car to make an early start on the cooking.

10 minutes later, Neal (neally there) and Simon walked round the corner. Confident that Steve would have given up on the rendezvous by now, a minor faff brought us quickly to the decision that we should all leave for the BBQ venue in both cars.

Somehow, Simon's keys reached the inside of a locked Simons's car. More money to BT and a very lucky strike with a knock on the door of a semi professional car thief and we were all on our way, greatly simplifying the complex plan that was hatching to call out GreenKEY card?, get them to leave the keys in the pub and return later to collect it...

Meanwhile a brisk walk via West Hoathly Churchyard to admire the view and the picnic site to (not) find Neal & Simon, then across the railway again and through the Blackland Farm campsite, running the gauntlet of lots of giggling guides we arrived at Naylands farm in time to see the arrival of the beer. But no sign of Mark! - SM

So the late arrivals to the BBQ found the Metcalfe tribe had arrived and a hive of activity. Attention focused around as rather reluctant and windswept BBQ. Shielding was not working and nor were the firelighters. Mark took the executive decision to judiciously apply a little petrol and some hot air courtesy of Black and Decker. A fire under the oil tank caused a little concern, but this was quickly dealt with and the chicken went on. We just hope that Steve will not curse Mark too much for setting such a bad exam0le to his kids!

The usual full complement of advice form multiple cooks produced some excellently cooked chicken for us to enjoy in the gathering darkness. Steve's home brew was disappearing at the same rate that spirits were lifting at the prospect of eating something. To combat the lack of light and falling temperatures, Steve M used his height to place a light high in the tree and initially jumpers, but later blankets and hats were provided for the scantier clad/weaker constituted. Various Clint impressions have been recorded on film along with hopefully some more embarrassing shots.

The party disbanded about 11, apparently contented with the evenings adventures.

Pooh Bridge  26th August 1999

• 7Km
• Participants:-

Steve Metcalfe (organ grinder) Graham Bradley

Simon Barnes Steve Booth

Jon Harvey Paul Farrimond

Feel free to follow the links to images in the text....

The omens were not looking favourable for this walk right from the start. It had already been posponed two times due to lack of numbers and bad weather forcasts. And now at the third attempt, the gang were assembled in the foyer staring out at torrential rain and thunder. The leaden sky was matched only by the leaden faces staring at it.

The enthusiasm of Paul and srmb to get soaking wet was suitably dampened by the gloomy "Dont really fancy this"'s from coming from the rest of the plodders. This resulted in a 5 minute period of total indecision. However, with the arrival of Plates, and the spotting of a tiny slither of brighter sky in the far west, the walk was declared "ON" and the  faffing duly began .

The proposed meeting place at Wren's Warren car park seemed a sensible choice at the planning stage. Unfortunately though, it turned out that there were at least three car parks that could lay claim to the name. By some random process, though, all cars eventually ended up in the same car park and so with the faffing over the walk started.

At an easy pace, we set off down a bridleway in the direction of Pooh Bridge. The more forward thinking members of the team took this opertunity to mass various sticks for a game of "Pooh sticks" at the bridge. (Though I'm not certain what game Simon intended to play with his 5-foot branch.) On arriving at the bridge we were greeted by a sick and  dishevelled robin  that looked like he was hopping about on his last legs and wouldnt see the night through. While Plates was on his mobile, (I thought phones on the walk "wajid mush qwais"?) the poor robin recklessly hopped between Plates' legs, unaware the danger posed by two size 14 boots. Or maybe he was just trying to end it all there and then! At this point in time various games of   "Pooh sticks"  were attempted accompanied by predictable bickering. The games came to an end with bradlg insisting he had won because his  tiny leaf stem  qualified as a stick!

So it was goodbye to the bridge until another time and goodbye to the robin until another life.  A walk along a lane followed, passing what was undoubtably the  local Mafia HQ  A mile further on the platoon ground slowly to a halt when it became apparent that  our guide had got lost . A quick about turn was ordered and we then enjoyed a pleasent walk through a  cow meadow . Then into a horse field which most of the party negotiated without drama. As usual, though, the  horses seemed to find bradlg irresistable.

Now on to the old iron forge at Newbridge. Here SirJon and srmb made a poor attempt to cross the  waterfall . With the acrobatics over, it was back on to the Forest for the long drag up to Gills Lap entertained by Paul's tales of being tied up and blindfolded by his Scoutmaster!

The peaceful walk up was interupted by a strange "flap flap" sound which turned out to be  srmb's boot which has decided to part company with its sole. This was the result according to SirJon of toxic water at the waterfall. Hmmmm.   Good sunset though.

Having bagged Gills Lap (204m) we stopped for the  official walk photo . Then a gentle walk down to the "Enchanted Place" where we were treated with an atmospheric view of mist settling in the valley. Discussions of Brigadoon followed in the fading light back to the cars. A surprisingly  short time later, the convoy departed off to the bradlg's for a BBQ. The five cars arriving at the house were expertly shepherded by bradlg into his drive/pen (without any assistance from the resident sheepdog) and the gate closed. (10 points awarded)

bradlc then gave us an entertaining tour of the house, including several descriptions of "jobs that Graham has to do one day".

Whilst bradlg stoked up the BBQ, the less fortunate of us were entertained by the Great Paulus Farimondi and his amazing  bar tricks . It soon became apparent though that the tricks were merely an excuse for Paul to drink the Bradleys out of whiskey.

An absolutely slap-up  BBQ  followed and all the visitors eventually parted in good mood and with bellies full.  A successful conclusion to the walk that almost never was.

 Full Picture Gallery

Box Hill 28th September 1999

• ?Km
• Participants:-

Graham Bradley(organ grinder) Steve Metcalfe

Simon Barnes Steve Booth

Paul Farrimond Neal Zimmermann

The route chosen was a direct ascent of Box Hill, unfortunately DT was unable to attend. A pause was made to admire the view from the lookout by the trig point and a couple of members were querying their decision to wear shorts as the wind was strong and the sun behind clouds. So off down again to the Mole Valley.

A look at the river by the stepping stones and a quick prod with my stick quickly persuaded us that the preferable crossing was by the nearly footbridge. even SRMB's new boots could not have coped with stepping stones a foot under water!. Once over the Mole and A24 we passed along past Bradley Farm, so that's why Graham chose this venue! and up towards Ranmoor Common.

A pause to admire some Buck Deer on the way slowed the pace a bit and when the Church was reached it was decided to head back towards the cars. The woodland was a bit dark with plenty of boggy bits to catch those with less robust footwear.

Soon light of habitation were seen in the form of Westhumble. A short way along the road the lights of a hostelry was spotted and a decision made to venture inside, having complied with a notice regarding removal of muddy boots. Paul surprised himself, and amused everyone else by the size of his snack. While Neal provided the entertainment in the form of blowing a coin over a glass.