November 4, 2001: Hayes to Hamsey Green

Over a month had passed since the Lees and I had completed a London-based walk – that sodden afternoon in late September when we had finished up in the rain at Nutfield station on the Greensand Way. The next stage of that walk, on to Hurst Green, remained one possibility for our next walk (the Saxon Shore Way having been completed on September 16), but there was no convenient pub stop midway and transportation problems were complicated by the Sunday schedule – so I proposed (as we had dinner with the Lees after seeing War and Peace at the English National Opera the night before) that we return to the LOOP. This will explain why we all emerged from the same Jubilee Line train at London Bridge station on this gray Sunday morning.

It was just past 9:00 and there was plenty of time for a cappuccino in the main concourse before heading over to platform 1 for the 9:30 to Hayes. The platform was crowded, perhaps because there were so many late trains. Ours was about six minutes behind schedule but at last we were off, having just a thirty-minute journey to the end of the line. We had been promised a repeat of Saturday’s radiant good weather but it was certainly gloomy enough outside. There wasn’t too much school gossip left to chew, since most of it had been digested along with the food at Joe Allen’s the night before.

At Hayes we re-crossed two busy streets and I paused to get my guidebook and map case out and to let another small walking party pass us by. It was 10:15. Then it was up Station Road to Hayes Common as we began a half-mile journey back along undulating Pole Cat Alley in order to return to the LOOP at Gates Green Road. The route seemed less strenuous this time, but perhaps there had been more uphill on the journey to Hayes.

There was some brightness in the sky as we crossed the A32 to reach our corner at the foot of West Wickham Common. Here I changed pages to the chapter of the guidebook that would get us the remaining eight and a half miles to Hamsey Green.

We travelled southeast on Gates Green Road only a few feet before turning southwest (our dominant direction for the day) on a tarmac path between houses. This lead us along a suburban alleyway and out to Church Road, which we took to reach a playing field where a stone marked the position of the Greenwich meridian. Harold wanted to use the loos here but the only gents open was located in the changing rooms (lots of Sunday soccer about) and so he gave it a miss.

We then passed the grounds of Wickham Court (where Schiller University had a presence) and through a parking lot up to the lych gate of the West Wickham parish church, St. John the Baptist. A service was in progress here as we continued on to a viewpoint in the churchyard under very heavy skies indeed. A chap was here with a baby carriage and he and I agreed that rain was imminent. Then we returned almost to the lych gate and turned left to drop down to a gate by which we exited the churchyard, heading due north to a roundabout at the bottom of a steep hill. David Sharp insists that this church path has existed since Saxon times.

We edged across the A2022, Addington Road, and Harold spotted a LOOP sign just visible in the foliage above a hedge on Corkscrew Hill – where a narrow slit gave us access to the extensive playing fields of Sparrows Den. We walked just inside this greensward for a bit, then crossed it diagonally on very wet grass past a rugby match in progress and found the continuation of our route at the corner of Spring Park Woods. We began a climb up the eastern edge of this woodland (finding cover at last for the first pee of the day) and reaching a southwestern turnoff at the top – for the first of many wooded sections on this day’s route. Most of the trees still had their leaves, but they would all be down, one could tell, in the next few weeks.

We were accompanied by a number of dogs and their walkers on this stretch, including a large Dalmatian (though the Alsatian was the favorite dog of the day). Our undulating route reached a marker stone celebrating the dedication of the LOOP path in 1996; it was already chipped and covered in green moss. Spring Park Wood gave way, imperceptibly, to Three Half Penny Wood.

We climbed slowly to a playing field on top, or I climbed slowly – considerably bothered by a sore back that was not fully recovered from lifting luggage in Venice two weeks earlier or from the physiotherapy I had received as recently as the preceding Monday. Marion Trelawny, my physiotherapist, had told me that my hamstrings needed stretching. I asked her if such stretching was just an exercise to help me with my current back problems and she said that in my case these muscles are somewhat contracted at the best of times – at last I had an explanation for why my stride is so much narrower than the others and why people like the Lees always seem to be out in front, particularly on hilly stretches! At least the chronically damaged middle toenail on my left foot wasn’t giving me any trouble today.

We were in no hurry anyway, as I was trying to slow things down a bit so as to arrive at our noontime pub just at midday. A family was playing tag on this section of Shirley Heath, the older generation complaining that the younger never gave up the safety of a tag-free post. We crossed over the middle of a grassy field, with houses off in the distance, and followed more woodland tracks north and west. In this fashion we reached posh Shirley Road – whose pavements we followed in a northwesterly direction for some time.

We crossed to the opposite side of this busy artery to continue through a short stretch of suburbia before turning left into Pinewoods. We followed metal tracks around a school ground and back into a brief bit of woodland to emerge on a quiet street of Upper Shirley. At the crossroads ahead, as promised, we reached the back door of the Sandrock pub. It had just gone noon.

We sat down – several times as a matter of fact since none of us liked the way the Sandrock’s banquettes treated our backs. It was good to sit for a while. I had half a lager and barbecued chicken and chips. The food services came under the Sizzling banner and everything on the menu seemed to arrive in an iron skillet. My chicken was indeed sizzling but it wasn’t barbecued – it merely had a bit of sauce dumped on it at the last moment.

We left the pub at about 1:00 and took Oaks Road straight ahead, turning off this into the woods for a steep but short climb up to a viewing platform on the Addington Hills. There were lots of people and their dogs about and even a horsewoman on a giant white beast. There was a topograph on the viewing platform and, indeed, visibility was improving and grey skies were giving way to autumnal sunshine. It was chilly throughout this day but at least all threat of rain had been lifted.

We passed a restaurant and entered woodland as we continued in a southerly direction, guessing just a bit as we escaped the woods to reach the Combe Lane station of the Tramlink line, one of the spurs of the tram system that Croydon is so proud of. There were platform signs indicating that a tram was only three minutes away so we decided to wait (I sat down on a bench) to have a look. Soon a jolly two-car vehicle came trundling along. We saw a second tram as we continued southeast on a road that paralleled the line. Just before a traffic signal we darted across the street to continue into Heathfield Gardens.

Here we descended some steps to a pond and turned right to begin a steep climb up to a parking lot and then down a lane that continued as a track along Bramley Bank, a London Wildlife Trust nature reserve. There were some distant views to the east here, but I never found the “irresistible little log bench” that I would have been happy to sit on.

At the end of the bank we reached suburbia and here there was a bench – where we paused to consider our next move. Tosh, who was marching in disapproving circles, aghast at the local litter, found a LOOP sign on the other side of a metal rail. It says something about my back that I walked downhill a bit so that I wouldn’t have to duck under it. Then it was metaled paths leading into Littleheath Wood, from which we descended to a grassy enclosure where LOOP signs led us on a pathless traverse of a wet field and back into the woods. Britain was now back on winter time and it seemed as though we were already walking into a setting sun – even though it was only 2:30.

On the opposite side of the field we re-entered woodland, rising and falling before making a descent, using frequent signposts as we neared civilization again. (I said that I objected to the London LOOP logo – since, as the L in LOOP itself stands for London, the sign, more accurately, should have to read London OOP.) At the bottom, however, we had to guess where were meant to leave the wood – having arrived at a suburban street that offered no clue. Tosh headed one way and I another. I was sure I had found our route when I found a huge electricity pylon opposite a grassy strip adjacent to the road (both mentioned in the guidebook) but as we walked beneath the pylon the way forward was unmarked and we reached a T-junction without any clue where we were.

There were some urchins from the local estate (including eight year-olds puffing cigarettes in somebody’s garage and a gaggle of black pre-teen nymphets) and they wanted to know where we were heading. We tried out several of the street names mentioned in the guidebook but none seemed to be familiar to this gang. They had lots of questions for us – “You mean you walked from Hayes?” but they were of no help and so I decided that I had better take a bit of my own advice, having recently worked on the chapter on getting lost in my Walker’s Alphabet (that is, if you are truly lost retreat to the spot where you were last sure you were still on route – and start over again).

So we passed under the pylon and turned up the street and went back into the woods and followed our path uphill until we reached the last LOOP sign. I sent the Lees back downhill while I had a pee and fished out my compass. I could now see two things as we descended this woodland path a second time. A sawed-off post at the bottom must once have contained a LOOP badge, with a right hand arrow. Vandals had destroyed this vital waymark and littered the woods with spent fireworks (this being the month for making big noises in London). In turning into our estate we were heading more northeast than southeast and so now we continued in the latter direction, a road on our left, and marched through some overgrown scrub at the bottom to pass a second  (the real) pylon and emerge, as we were meant to do, at busy Selsdon Park Road.

We crossed this and entered a street called Ashen Vale, leaving it soon for a series of paths into Selsdon Wood. We climbed up into it on a broad track and dropped down on the other side to take a right hand turn onto Baker Boy Lane, here marking the Surrey-London boundary. There was a steady ascent on this rural track, but the gradient was gentle enough and no one was winded. At the top we neared a corner where a road lead into a local golf course and we were meant to take a bridle track that paralleled a major road on our right.

Sharp warns that the track is often muddy and so it proved to be today. We hadn’t come 100 yards when the Lees decided to abandon it for the adjacent highway, climbing over a rail fence to do so. Not in the mood for climbing I retraced my way to the golf club entrance and reached the grass verge of the highway in this manner. The Lees were well ahead of me and had already crossed to the west side of the road but I caught up when they failed to see a LOOP sign right in front of them – having re-crossed the highway only to see a sign directing them back to the spot they had just vacated.

We were now entering the precincts of Elm Farm and soon we had a steep descent into a narrow grassy valley and a steep climb on a curving road up the opposite flank. A line of trees lead us forward to Kingswood Lane and this we used to reach the first houses of our terminus, the village of Hamsey Green. I had toyed with the idea of continuing on to a train station at Whyteleaf but I was in no mood for more walking. It was getting darker, the sun really was setting at 4:00, and we had walked nine miles.

In front of the Good Companions pub there was a bus halt and I headed here to see if we could take a bus to Croydon – if not we would have to summon a taxi – using the phone in the pub. In fact buses, even on a Sunday, were running every twenty minutes and so I settled down on a bench in the cold and waited the fifteen minutes for the bus to West Croydon to arrive. Tosh tried to get some coffee at the pub but they wouldn’t let her leave her cup at the bus stop, as they had in Winchelsea. A bunch of lads came running around the corner at 4:15 – which was a sure sign that a bus was due and, sure enough, one appeared the next minute. Still using my all-day travel card I was soon in the warmth of this vehicle, happy to be off the trail at last.

Some locals advised us not to ride all the way to West Croydon but to get off downtown and walk the 300 yards to the much busier East Croydon station. They showed us how to do this and so we were soon striding among the high-rise buildings of a minor city, arriving at the station at 4:43. I know the time because the travel board was just showing a train for Victoria scheduled for this hour. We dashed down to platform 2 and threw ourselves into the first car and we were off.

The train was very crowded but, except for one woman who used a seat for her luggage, I must say we were treated very generously by the other passengers. An Indian gentleman let Tosh have one seat, while he stood as far as Clapham Junction, and at the end of the same carriage people moved around to accommodate Harold and me (one little girl from Cumbria stood as well now). Thus – the rewards for longevity.

We arrived at Victoria shortly after 5:10 and we descended to the Victoria Line platform but an impatient Tosh, not wanting to wait three minutes, marched Harold off to the District Line instead. I was home before 6:00, where I filled a hot water bottle, took two Advil, drank a whiskey and went to bed at 8:45.

Our next day on the route was:

Day 5: Uxbridge to Moor Park

To continue this account from Hamsey Green you need:

Day 6: Hamsey Green to Banstead