March 21, 1982: Farnham to Guildford
Watt’s Memorial Chapel
I had wanted to begin a walk on the North Downs Way for some years, but I had waited in vain for the appearance of an official HMSO guide. Two other guides had turned up on the shelves of Stanfords in Covent Garden, and these proved useful supplements to a set of OS maps of the route published in booklet fashion by the Countryside Commission. Therefore on Sunday. March 21, 1982 – only a few weeks after my completion of the Ridgeway – I was ready to test the March weather. Telephone and TV reports called for dry and partly sunny skies (if chilly temperatures) so on this grey morning I decided to take a chance.
The streets seemed quite deserted. I got all the way up to the L’Artiste Assoiffé before remembering that my rain cape was still hanging on a hook back at 190 Kensington Park Road. I had to go back for it. Twice I almost caught a 52 bus on that hill but each time I ran out of luck. In the end I walked to Notting Hill Gate, where there was a long wait for a Circle Line train. Another interminable pause occurred before the Northern Line picked me up at Embankment in order to take me under the river to Waterloo. I had my next run of the morning through this station. There was no queue and I succeeded in buying a ticket and dashing to platform 7. With two minutes to spare I collapsed in a smoker, the first seat available, and caught my breath as the 9:30 train began its milk run to Farnham. I was walking alone today.
An elderly couple wearing National Trust pins anxiously checked the puddles at each stop for evidence of fresh drops. They departed shortly before Farnham, having pulled on their rain pants. I did the same before leaving the platform of my station, somehow managing to get my cape on too. Obviously it would not be a completely dry day after all. In the booking hall I bought a few snacks and peeked outside. The mist seemed to be coming to an end. I got a bearing on the A31 and in a few yards I was at the starting point of the NDW. There were no plaques like those at the start of the South Downs Way, but the day’s waymarking was to be, on the whole, excellent. I was about to take my first steps toward Dover in a fifteen-stage odyssey (my South Downs Way and the Ridgeway totals combined) – one that would bring me much pleasure and many adventures.
The earliest part of the walk was a bit too suburban for my tastes and at one point I was menaced by an Alsatian – who wanted to defend his turf against this flapping green intruder. Things improved as I rounded the turn below Culverlands (not above as Allen and Imrie in their little guidebook would have it, unless “above” means “north of”). My delight in a field full of Shetland ponies was ended abruptly when a bare-legged jogger overtook me in a wet stampede. It was very muddy underfoot until I reached the road over the river by Moor Park College.
Then it was up a steep hill and over a stile into a field, with the trod heading due east, the path’s general direction for many a day. Here I was joined by Bill, a small back Labrador, whose master wasn’t at all convinced that I was wise in taking off my rain cape at this point. Nevertheless it did not rain again on this day, though it was often extremely dark and cold and the views somewhat limited. Because of the wet footing I kept my rain pants on.
After some grassy field walking I entered a small wood and turned south. There were a few Sunday trippers about. A moment of hesitation came as I reached suburbia again and found the road to the Sands. Road walking took me by a golf clubhouse and then the course itself – here too there were Sunday foursomes ignoring the uncomfortable weather. A nouveau palace with swimming pool and hanging gardens brought a touch of Saudi Arabia to Surrey. I crossed the Seale Road and walked around a lovely pinewood before a descent to Hampton Park. The Hog’s Back, not far to the north, paralleled the NDW for several miles today.
There followed an ascent of Puttenham Common and a correct guess (left) at an unmarked division of the track on top. I had timed my arrival in Puttenham perfectly, arriving at The Good Intent pub at about 1:15. I had a pint of lager and ate my snacks while teenage snooker players competed behind me and the local gentry whinnied at the bar rail. I should have had a longer rest – because I was quite weary and not making very fast progress. But after half an hour of noise I went back into the cold, stopping to take a snap of the pub sign – a most curious representation of Oliver Cromwell at prayer!
There was another golf course on Puttenham Heath (no puns, please). I walked around it and along forest roads to the A3 underpass. Two crosses on the viaduct were reminders that the NDW coincides in many sections with the famous Pilgrims’ Way to Canterbury. After a few yards I turned away from the route to walk south along the Compton Road to the nearby cemetery. In it there was a beautiful memorial chapel decorated with the designs of G.F. Watt and a mortuary that also bore art nouveau artistry. The major structure, covered with terra cotta reliefs, enjoyed a wonderful setting on its little hillside. I wandered among the graves – with the first spring flowers poking their heads into the grey. A caretaker was putting creosote on the fence posts below – otherwise there wasn’t a soul about. It was a wonderful extra excursion on this day’s route.
I chose not to visit the Watt picture gallery (in my boots and pack) – located back at the junction with the NDW and, instead, ascended Sandy Lane to the east. There had been a good deal of sand underfoot today. It absorbed a lot of moisture but it was not easy to walk through. Then there was a road descent through rural squalor via Piccard’s farm to the Guildford Road.
Actually I missed the continuation of the route down Ferry Road to the Wey – probably because a car turned into it just as I reached the spot myself and parked on an offshoot while a bitchy mom turned around to scold her children in the back seat. Trying to get away from this scene as quickly as possible I came too close to the ruins of St. Catherine’s monastery and was thus faced with the problem of descending to the river over the steep cliff. After one false start I skied down the sandy face of the hill, picking up a final glutinous adhesion for the boots –which, two weeks later, were still covered in dust.
Along the river my progress was slowed by innumerable Sunday strollers but I plowed ahead hurriedly, heading north in pursuit of the 4:14 train from Guildford. After the Yvonne Arnaud theater I had to follow a maze of underpasses in search of the railway station. I arrived, after a twelve-mile day, with about five minutes to spare and had time to shed my muck pants on the platform before the Waterloo train pulled in. I believe I slept most of the way back to London. It was still light when I completed that long walk from the Notting Hill tube stop shortly before 6:00 PM.
To continue with the next stage of our walk you need: