May 6, 2000: Wotton to Betchworth
Day 4 of our walk on the Greensand Way took place on a lovely spring day.
There had been a gap of fourteen years in our progress on the Coast-to-Coast Path, but for a London-based walk this record must certainly belong to the Greensand Way. Gavan and I (accompanied by Karin Marcus on the first stage) had walked on this route on three occasions in the summer of 1991, and I had – in the back of my mind – thought of it as Gavan’s walk. But since it had been many years since the lad (now 28) had made it to this side of the Atlantic for any walking, it was just as well that I recalled this route now, for only five days earlier the Lees and I had finished another London-based walk, the Green London Way. We did have a few more stages on the Saxon Shore Way to complete, but this would necessitate a two-hour train journey (with changes) each way – and the weather report for this Saturday called for thundershowers. The Lees also wanted to be back at a decent hour, so my decision to revive the Greensand Way was most welcome.
We didn’t need a particularly early start and so we agreed to rendezvous at 9:45 in Victoria. I used my senior rail card for the first time to buy a return ticket to Betchworth and waited for the Lees to arrive (Tosh had forgotten her rail card). Soon they joined me in waiting for a platform number for the 10:03 to Dorking. (A young lady threw up on the busy concourse in the meantime.) It was past 10:00 when a platform was signaled and then we had to walk past two other trains on the same stretch of track to reach the one we needed – so we were a few minutes late in getting away. The train made many stops but I was just getting started on a summary of my workweek when we arrived at Dorking at about 10:45.
We each used the loos and then found a convenient taxi to take us to Wotton, where Gavan and I had finished last time. Tosh took against the taxi driver, who was on the intercom most of the trip, complaining about his business problems to some unheard auditor. I remembered pretty much what the corner looked like where Gavan and I had left the Greensand Way – so it was easy to reach the exact spot. The ride cost £7.00 (“You shouldn’t have tipped him,” Tosh hissed.)
I got out my (anonymous) guide to the Surrey portion of the route and we even spotted a GW sign on a little metal disk – but we were misled by a yellow arrow pointing back the way we had come in our taxi to a path that accompanied the edges of a field of rape. We turned away from the latter at a farm road but nothing seemed to compute – “I’m floundering here,” I told the Lees. An elderly gent was working on his front yard and he wanted to know where we were heading. I took against him when he said he had never heard of the Greensand Way (a remarkable instance of local ignorance) but when I told him we were heading for Westcott he offered some gestures with his arm and, no doubt glad to see the last of us, watched as we returned to our original spot. Here we discovered a thin trod on the south side of the rape field and headed east on it – launched at last. It must have been 11:20.
The day was very warm and I walked in my t-shirt from the outset – and I wished I had brought my shorts as well. We entered some woods and turned north to descend rather steeply, while a group of geriatric walkers headed uphill against our flow. At the bottom, Rookery Drive, we were plunged into the first of a series of marvelous flowery front yards. At the outflow of some large ponds a waterfall crashed down beside a thatched cottage and a mother duck was standing on some steep steps, waiting for a large brood of ducklings to jump up to her level. Several slipped backwards a few times before making it.
We walked back almost to the A25 before turning uphill on a sandy path next to an abandoned quarry. It was our first experience with real uphill in some time (spoiled by the fairly level Green London Way) and we were gasping when we reached a lane on top. Our route dipped a bit and then climbed briefly before descending to Parsonage Lane. A chap had just chopped off a tree limb and was dragging it away from the footpath as we emerged into this burgeoning cul-de-sac. Tosh was carrying a small flower in her hand and stopped two local women to ask them to identify it. “We used the call them windflowers,” an old lady responded. Her younger friend invited Tosh into the house – since she had a book that would identify the specimen, but Tosh complained that her leader (me) wouldn’t let her stop. As we continued I retorted, “You’ve been asking how far it is to the pub for the last half hour and I get blamed for not letting you stop?”
After a walk along a road (nice bits of shade) we were faced with a second climb, this time up the hill known as The Nower. There were wonderful views from the summit. Dorking was below us and I could identify the church steeple on Ranmore Common and other North Downs Way sites. We sat gasping on a bench at “The Temple” on top and then continued east, mostly level for a while, and then, steeply downhill to a grassy field on the outskirts of Dorking itself. We rounded a corner and headed down Nower Road but the waymarking (which was a bit on the inconsistent side) let us down here – especially because the telephone call box that should have been our clue had disappeared. So we ended up walking two blocks more than we intended along Nower Road (never wasted on the Lees, who kept mentally adding passing plants to their own gardens) and then retraced our steps (past a taxi from a firm called Absolutely Cabulous) to head east on pavement and paved path down to a busy road junction in Dorking.
We were ready for our pints and our lunch and as our route passed The Queen’s Head we tried this first, encouraged by the Hot and Cold Food sign outside. But none was on offer and several customers recommended The Cricketers, 200 yards to the north. So we ended up here. The pints of lager did go down extremely well on such a hot day. Tosh had a bacon and egg sandwich while Harold and I had cod (overfried), chips and peas. Sky Sports brought us the end of the Spurs-Man U match, after which there was a ceremony on the field during which members of the northern team took turns lofting the league championship cup and their own toddlers. David Beckham had cut off his hair. Posh Spice was there – and I heard one of the customers ask, “Did you see baby Brooklyn?” The Lees had to send back their stone cold coffee, but the publicans were very nice about it and shortly after 2:00 we toddled off into the hot sun for part two.
We returned to the Queen’s Head and took a paved path in an easterly direction, with a few more blocks of Dorking suburbia to cross. I didn’t feel that great. My lungs were sore with the unaccustomed efforts of the last few hours and my meal sat heavily on my stomach. I was covered in sweat, some of which dampened my blue-green t-shirt, and my head, protected by its Bruin cap, was hot. As we began to climb our next hill Tosh began to complain about her lunch lying heavily as well. There was a steep pull up to a bench, where we all flopped for a few minutes, moving on only when faced with the humiliation of being overtaken by a little old lady on a cane. We entered the shade of Glory Wood and slowly inched to the top. I can’t remember now on which of these Dorking Hllls we were walking when we spotted a poignant monument to those killed in an air raid in January, 1944.
We contoured our hill and descended to the roar of the A24, which we crossed in two goes – using a traffic island. Then it was into the woods on the opposite side for a final ascent. At the top we flopped down on the grass for a nice rest and a little water. I was still not feeling too great but my energy was okay and the worst was now behind us. After our rest we descended on the tarmac of a lively bit of suburbia, with lilacs in blossom and tulips and wallflowers fighting for space with the invading bluebells, which were also resplendent in the woodlands on this day.
In more open country we headed down the farm road to Park Farm, the last of the hills behind us for the day. There was a nice breeze here, one that kept the temperatures at a decent mid-afternoon level. We crossed beneath a railway line and continued forward along field edges, but it was necessary to pause every now and then for instructions from the guidebook because GW markers were only in place about two thirds of the time on this day. With the village of Brockham in sight we headed north along a streamlet and climbed a stile into a lane that led directly into the village.
On the green we could see a choice of two pubs, both open, and we chose the nearest, the Royal Oak. I had just a small Diet Coke as I tried to figure out whether we could make the 4:43 train. Tosh got into a conversation about earrings with a tattooed lady sitting at the bar. After we had all used the loos I decided to move us on, just to see if there was time to reach the train, but after we had crossed the cloudy Mole (no stepping stones here) I began to have my doubts and we slowed our pace a bit as we approached the village of Betchworth. I suggested we might as well have another drink and wait for the 5:22 – so we were soon fighting our way through the shooting club on our way to a table in the back of the Dolphin. More Coke followed – this time in a pint glass with lots of ice.
We left here shortly before 5:00 but the station was still a mile to the north. Fortunately I spotted a paved path, behind houses, and this made progress a bit more comfortable, but the last stretches had to be on road – and I was using the OS map here for navigation. We really had to put on some speed and I noticed that Tosh, who is always ahead on uphill stretches, was lagging. We dodged around a roundabout and reached the level crossing of Betchworth station at 5:17. The bar came down and the signal came on only a minute after Tosh had joined us! At least the 5:22 for Redhill was on time – all the other Connex trains seemed to be running late today. We took a delayed East Croydon train and were misdirected to the wrong platform by its driver when we went hunting for a delayed Victoria train – having to cross over the platform twice as a consequence. We arrived back in London at about 6:30 and I was home by 7:15 – after a lovely but strenuous day.
To continue with the next stage of our walk you need: