May 18, 2004: East Croydon to Woldingham

A month or so after a somewhat frustrating (and, for me, painful) adventure on the London Outer Orbital Path, the Lees and I struck out on a new route –The Vanguard Way. LOOP sections, we reasoned, should really be saved for the winter months, when the shorter days make it convenient to walk locally. The Vanguard Way, which goes from East Croydon south to the Channel (where it turns right to end up in Newhaven) had been among those London-based country walks that I had been considering for years ­– and now seemed to be the appropriate moment to undertake the first of its six stages.

We chose a beautiful sunny and warm Tuesday for this return to the trail but there was a problem with this choice since I didn’t want to take Fritz (chiefly because of road walking and rush hour tube conditions) and Dorothy was herself heading for Paris at 8:00. The solution was offered by my neighbor Hanna, who had suggested that we could use her place as a puppy creche whenever we wanted. So, pack on my back, I left the house at 7:45 and we completed part of the dog’s morning ritual in the park before reaching Hanna’s door at 8:00. She was still in her jammies when I turned the Schnauzer over to her.

I had agreed to meet the Lees at Victoria at 8:30 and they were waiting for me near the ticket line when I arrived – Harold had by this time forgotten the name of our return station, which he had written on a scrap of paper the night before. We got in line. In fact we shouldn’t have had to buy tickets at all – our freedom passes certainly stretching to East Croydon, but these travel passes were good only after 9:30 and the Lees wanted an earlier start so they would have plenty of time before a theatre curtain that evening. We now paid £9.00 each for returns to Woldingham – but before looking for our train I went to the local sandwich shop and got some stuff for lunch. I also bought an extra bottle of water, since temperatures were expected in the mid-70’s. Tosh wanted to make sure that I wasn’t going to be charged for my candy bar (they were having a special offer) but the reply was, “He is being charged for the candy bar since he also has a packet of crisps.”

The Lees had already purchased their sandwiches but they stayed behind to get something else and I sloped off to buy a cappuccino and an almond croissant. Trains go to East Croydon with great frequency and we now lined up for the 8:53 – but just as we were about to go through the barrier Harold discovered he was missing one of his outward-bound tickets and in a flap he charged off to buy another one. Two minutes later Tosh discovered the missing ticket at our feet. “Run after him,” she said, “He’ll be very upset.” I found the agitated traveler just before he reached the front of the queue and we dashed for our train, making it with just a minute to spare. I drank my coffee and ate my croissant while Tosh buried her nose in the newspaper.

At about 9:15 we reached East Croydon (which we had also used the previous September at the start of a LOOP excursion). Today we disdained the taxi rank – since the Vanguard Way actually starts here – and we got underway by crossing the busy main road with its tram tracks and heading south on Altyre Road. We were pleased to see a Vanguard Way sign here; indeed the route was much better marked than I had anticipated, especially the near-London sections.

Naturally I was very apprehensive about my legs on this day and even carried my walking stick collapsed in my backpack (I could see its shadow in the sunlight). But neither the right calf muscle (which had caused so much trouble on the last walk) nor the right hamstring seemed to be troublesome at this point.

We passed the Croydon Park Hotel and some law courts and at the end of Altyre Road used a zebra crossing to continue south on the Fairfield Path. A delightful suburban stretch followed (with a bit more up and down than I expected – a statement true for the entire day) as we used walkways and back alleys and leafy lanes to approach Park Hill – where the girls were having a sports hour on fields dominated by a water tower. A local chap in shorts asked us when we expected to reach Newhaven. “In about six days,” I replied.

Gardens were resplendent with spring blooms as we reached Lloyd Park. I was using the old Sheet 187 OS map and Colin Saunder’s guidebook; the latter was seven years old but it proved to be very useful still. Saunders now directed us to follow the hedges surrounding a bowling green and to head southeast across the grassy park (with little evidence of a footpath) using a distant copse as a guidepost. I never spotted any of the promised green ring-necked parakeets here, but we did pass a children’s playground, with some craterous depressions, and found a faint path that brought us out on busy Coombe Road.

Here we turned left, passing the Geoffrey Harris House (I went to high school with a Jeff Harris, but probably not the same one) and, passing the Coombe Lodge motel on our right, located Conduit Lane, also on our right – dashing across to a little public garden and continuing forward on a woodland lane that soon lost its tarmac as it headed south.

This was delightful walking and, like much of today’s route, well protected from the sun by tall trees. I never felt the need to put on sun blocker and my brand new three-in-one walking trousers remained pants rather than shorts. We climbed up for a while, then descended to a junction where an antique sign (and lamppost) signaled a left turn along the Addington track. Tosh and Harold each disappeared for a loo stop in the woods as I plodded on, reentering suburbia, and searching about for a place to have bit of a rest.

I plopped down on a curb just as we reached another busy road at 10:40. We should have had more of these rests and more water, which I managed to dip into now, but the Lees, usually out in front, never paused for such niceties. I was quite pleased with our progress (mine especially) and I now suggested that we could perhaps make it to a pub in time for lunch after all. The Lees agreed to this plan, and I estimated a 1:00 arrival at the Bull in Chelsham Common. “What are we waiting here for?” I then asked.

We continued through another patch of affluent suburbia, heading south on Crest Road and, after crossing the Crowham Valley Road, heading up a steep path into Littleheath Wood. I was following the instructions in Saunders carefully, with advice about crossing tracks, etc., and got a bit behind. Also I found an interesting piece of flint that I pocketed for later identification by Tosh the rock lady.

At the bottom of the hill our route was joined by the London Outer Orbital Path, our companion for the next two miles. It hadn’t been that long since we had done this section but none of us could remember anything about it. You’d think I would at least recall the shocking hill we now had to climb, but it all seemed brand new to me.

The Lees were advising me on how best to plan a trip to India (something my wife Dorothy and I were contemplating with our friends the Factors) as we returned to civilization at the Selsdon Park Addington Road bus stop. Here two teenage girls were waiting for a bus (Tosh just barely resisting the temptation to ask them why they weren’t in school).

Footpaths behind back gardens next brought us to the Selsdon Wood Nature Reserve, where we faced another hill. On the other side (London having been left behind for Surrey) we descended to Baker Boy Lane, where green fields surrounded by woodland provided an authentic countryside atmosphere. The Lees were sipping from their canteens, Tosh beginning a litany of, “So where’s this pub?” – with me responding each time, “It’s not 1:00 yet.” In fact it was only 12:15 as we climbed up the lane and reached a golf course where a yellow Surrey version of the VW waymark directed us along a rather muddy track parallel to the golf course access road.

We passed through another stretch of woodland and emerged at a road junction where I paused to study my guidebook – my head swimming a bit in a bout of dizzy disorientation. “Where’s this pub?” Tosh asked as we used a path to reach a barn and, soon thereafter, Farleigh Court Road. Here we were sent left into the hamlet of Farleigh, turning south again to pass the ancient, charming precincts of St. Mary the Virgin church.

To tell the truth I was not in the best shape. My legs were holding up well enough – nothing more than the occasional spasm in the calf muscle ­– and the sore spot at the top of the right hamstring was not a problem. But my left hip often gave me trouble and the base of my spine wasn’t very happy either. Furthermore I continued to feel a bit light-headed.

We walked along the edge of a wood and took a path past the Warlingham Park School in Chelsham Common. We crossed a street and turned right, looking for a path across the “common.” There was a path through a bit of woodland here and so we used it to cut a corner and sure enough we emerged at the head of a street opposite us. I knew what to expect next but I kept this news well hidden from Tosh. “Look to your left now,” I said. We had arrived at the Bull at 12:55.

The Lees disappeared into the loos and I bought myself a pint of lager. The lunch menu was on the blackboard next to the bar and I soon had to get up to make my choice. Even after only five minutes in a banquette my back had stiffened considerably. The Bull seemed a friendly enough place, with an Irish theme in its decorations. Harold had his cod and chips, Tosh a plain omelette and I had a steak and onion baguette with chips. We had plenty of time and we had reached the six and a half mile mark in three hours and thirty-five minutes. I expected only another two and a half miles to go (a mistake, it transpired) so I was happy to sit in the pub for an hour.

At 2:00 we departed, a VW waymark sending us into a field where there seemed to be no path at all, nor any way forward. I felt we needed to go left along a road that marked the southern end of the field and soon landmarks corresponded with the guidebook directions. We turned south on a track and followed it for quite some distance, woods on our right, fields on our left. It wasn’t quite as sunny anymore, though still very bright, and things were rather humid.

We reached the B269 in Worms Heath and turned right on the busy road. I had another dizzy episode here, wiping my brow before crossing to the other side in search of a track through the next section of woodland. Houses off to our right encouraged me to believe that we had taken the right path. There was a VW waymark on a stile at the foot of a large grassy hill and, once across this, Tosh asked me if I wanted to sit down. I did.

I had some water and tried to figure out the source of my discomfort. One theory had to do with my prescription sunglasses. These don’t really suit my eyes anymore (if they ever did) and I had been straining in the darkened woodland to make my way forward. I now exchanged them for my regular glasses and I think things improved thereafter.

At one point I pulled my handkerchief from my pocket to wipe my brow again. The Lees soon noticed something strange on my back. “It’s really large,” Harold said. “It looks like a bone,” Tosh added. I tried to shake the offending object from the back of my t-shirt but Harold had to come and lift it off for me. It was a bone – or at least a bone-shaped dog biscuit that must have flipped out of my pocket when I pulled out my hanky.

After five minutes or so we continued forward on Nore Hill (never catching sight of the advertised chalk pinnacle) and heading for a cottage on the horizon – which I assumed must be the one mentioned in the guidebook – Surrey having lost interest in any useful waymarking hereabouts.

Some men were training an Alsatian how to be an attack dog as we reached the end of a field. I wasn’t eager to penetrate this scene but I could see a signpost behind a generator at the corner of this field and I needed to reassure myself that we could now descend a steep hillside, following a hedge on our left. Tosh stayed behind to question the men about the dog and, knowing that we would soon be back in civilization, to take a pee.

There were several stiles to clamber over hereabouts (not easy on hip or back). We reached the hill bottom and climbed up the opposite slope (this time with me lingering behind for a pee). At the top of a small hill we caught our first glimpses of the rooftops of Woldingham, a sprawling village whose train station was our ultimate destination this day. We followed a track south for a while and just as a road that paralleled our track made a turn to the right we left the Vanguard Way (which headed up the next hill) and took to tarmac for a long journey (longer than the guidebook suggested, I would say) to the train station.

Our road soon began to climb steeply past one suburban pile after another; it was endless and the Lees were soon far ahead of me. Dutifully they waited at a crossroads and here, at the hilltop, we turned right on Lunghurst Road, forsaking it for a left turn on Croft Road, one that brought us out to the highway at the corner with the Woldingham church. Saunders suggests that one must keep straight ahead here, but this is true only if one is just crossing the highway, which now descended a long mile or so to the right (at least there was pavement) finally reaching the train station at the bottom. It was 4:15, we had walked some 10.5 miles, and I could see just how wise it would be to return to the Vanguard Way next time by taxi.

There was, indeed, a taxi company situated in the station parking lot and Tosh got a business card for us. We had about a fifteen-minute wait and then we also had to change at East Croydon for the stopping train to Victoria. Here our train sat outside the station for five minutes before being allowed to land. Every time I had to move from my sitting position I had an almighty struggle to unbend.

The Lees went off to eat their sandwiches and change their clothes before the theater. I tried to find a bus to Maida Vale, failed, and took the tube. I reached Hanna’s flat at 6:00, happy to see that her own Spadge was home from the hospital. Fritz had obviously had a great day. At home I took a shower, lathered my sore parts with anti-inflammatory cream, took three ibuprofen, had a whiskey and ate my own sandwiches.

I was gratified to discover that I would have been well enough to walk again the next day – though still somewhat lightheaded – and hoped that I would at least get a second chance at the Vanguard Way, which had proved to be quite delightful, prior to our next big walk in June. The Lees didn’t seem to have many opportunities left before their next trip to the States, when they would witness 35 year-old Amy’s Massachusetts union to her longtime girlfriend in a Wiccan ceremony.

To continue with the next stage of our walk you need:

Day 2: Woldingham to Edenbridge