It was time to return to the Southdowns Way, to finish what I started last year which was Winchester to home.  Now, it would be Eastbourne to home, going east to west instead of the normal west to east – it would mean the threat of a constant head wind against me, but I favored that over the hassles at the end of a ride that Southern Rail might give me from Eastbourne.  Indeed, I had planned this ride last weekend, but the trains were planned to not be running, which put an end to that.

I caught the first train to Eastbourne which meant I was ready to start the ride at 08:00.  Not a morning person had meant I had only been able to force a small amount of breakfast when I woke up at 06:30.  For some reason I got lost within Eastbourne and missed McDonalds and a better second breakfast.   I found myself on the seafront which allowed me to turn west and head towards the start of the Southdowns and the Southdowns Way.  It would be quite hard to miss, the hills raise up at quite a steep rate, you either go over it or go the long way round inland.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Having driven in a low powered car many times in the past from Eastbourne up to the Downs, I knew it was all going to start with some of the steepest hills until I got to the top, in a short amount of space.   Driving classic cars up the switchback roads to the top was fun, riding the mountain bike up was not so.  The start of the journey then began with mostly a walk to the top, with an impressive view back down to Eastbourne and the low sun behind me.

 

Already out of breath before even really starting, I came to my first trig point and dew pond as I levelled off at the top and recognised the Southdowns as I knew them – cliff tops and rolling hills.   When starting off in Hampshire last year it didn’t seem real until quite a long way into the journey,  it was just a load of hills but not what I knew as the Southdowns.  From the Eastbourne direction you start on iconic Southdowns straight away which you never leave.

It shows up the Southdown’s cruel ways to those on bikes and for walkers.  It is not so much the series of hills that you have to go up and then struggle down, the cross winds and low cloud in bad weather.  It is instead the way that the path winds its way along the top of the hills following them as they twist through Sussex, the sea one side and the relatively flatness with the Northdowns in the distance the other.  When you get to a hill top, maybe there is a radio mast, you see it miles off in the distance as you approach which is nice to see.  Once you get past, every time you look behind you it is still there, getting smaller in the distance, but still there all the same.  You can bike for hours and miles, take a glance over your shoulder and there it still is.   The Southdowns gives you a final knocking blow as it snakes about a bit.  Sometimes you find you no longer need to look behind you to see past milestones, they appear on your left or right at an almost touching distance it seems even though it was hours ago, the snaking path takes you almost back.   While you are still down, you see a distant town below you, another milestone, another such milestone that will be with you for hours as the hills surround it.   Sometimes you think a day with bad weather and low cloud might make you feel better.

 

 

 

 

All the up hill struggle was rewarded as I got a great view from the top and could see my hill top route in the distance that would take me most of the day.   I soon came the pleasing downhill section, although with the flint and chalk tracks I took is slow, steering round the worst bits and making good use of the brakes.    It look me into Jevington, a small village that you wouldn’t normally go through, and yet it has world recognition.   I knew it as one of the few places in Sussex that had a Tapsel gate in the church yard, but it was the blue plague on the wall of one of the houses that reminded me about it’s true fame.  Who would had thought it, the banoffie pie was “invented” (can you invent a pie?) or indeed “evolved” within The Hungry Monk restaurant.  The restaurant has since gone, but the plague is there to remind people that the American Blum’s Coffee Toffee pie (hard to perfect) was turned into the banoffie pie by the chief at the time in the 1970s when everyone was inventing with food (Angel Delight really was the nice synthetic bright pink that we loved and miss today).  Word got around, others copied and it is now worldwide and a favorite for many.  People think it is just another American import, but it’s a true Sussex classic (well maybe not).   You can find the actual real recipe here.   All we need to know now is the proper spelling….

 

 

I don’t like banoffie pie that much, which seemed a pity as I started cycling upwards and out of the village.  I soon had to get off and walk as the small mud path started upwards at quite an angle.   I was quite happy to see a group of three men up ahead who were also walking and I was catching up with.  As I walked past they commented to me how I seemed more prepared than them, I had bottles of water while they looked like that had got their bikes out of the shed in the morning and were going for a quick ride about.

We started talking as we all made our way up slowly.  The all important question of “how far are you going” soon came up and I told them Lancing, expecting them to return with amazed looked and envy in their eyes for someone going halfway along the route, what a massive achievement they must think of me.   “Oh, we’re off to Lancing as well, we could had given you a lift to Eastbourne if we had known” they answered.   A slowed down and we started to talk some more.  While not neighbours, we all knew the respective streets that we all lived in and this chance meeting resulting in us joining up as one group for the next miles.  It seems on the Southdowns Way, you always make friends – it happened last time too.   They were all good blokes on normal bikes out for a day’s biking.  I felt a little bit over prepared with water, food, headlights, GPS.   The eldest bloke was 65 and was leading the way, stopping with me at the top of hills to wait for the other too.   We got to Lullington, a village I had never seen or heard of before, nestled in the middle of the Downs out of everyone’s way.   While they stopped off at the cafe for a bite to eat, I said farewell and continued on  – throughout the rest of the day I wondered if they made it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After the bumpy ride downhill it was only ever going to back uphill and out of the river valley.  A little bit of more pushing as the tarmac turned into a track which then turned into fields.  I rode along the edge of fields with horses sharing the same space and all looking up to see who was coming past.  It never really leveled out, I kept on a slight upwards climb as I rode through each of the fields.   I had a great view on the left of the sea, Newhaven was down there and I was lucky to see the twice daily ferry leaving for France.  I even had a glimpse of the Rampion wind turbines out at sea in the distance.  It seemed like home was not far away, being able to see familiar local sites.   But then, everyone on the south coast seems to think the windfarm belongs to their location, the coast bends around making this impressive offshore site seem local to everyone.

 

 

 

 

I stopped for a break at Firle Beacon, a handy trigpoint and dewpond seemed like a good place to have a breakfast of cold sausage that I had bought along.  It was a welcome stop after a lot of hill climbing.  I kept an eye out behind me to see if I could spot my Lancing friends, but they never showed up.  The radio masts had been in front of me for some miles and now I was right up with them, a visible landmark from down on the ground.   I had also seen a small group on mountain bikes in front of me about a mile away, constantly moving and never seemed to slow on the hills.    I did manage to kept them up briefly, said a quick hello and noticed they were all electric bikes moving slowly but steady.

 

 

 

 

 

Having got to the top, it was time to enjoy some miles going down, with Newhaven getting closer, the A26 and the River Ouse at the bottom.   One last trigpoint before the descent in what looked like a wide open green field.  As I got closer I noticed it was fall of cows all minding their own business as they watched me zoom past them to the bottom.

Waiting at the bottom was the ‘new’ footbridge across the A26.   When we used to drive to Seaford many times in the past, this bridge never existed, I didn’t even know the footpath existed.   In 2006 it seems they built this bridge to help walkers and cyclists get over the busy road.  I had only driven down this way once or twice since 2003, I wondered why there would be a footbridge in the middle of nowhere – now I knew.

After the bridge I was soon at Southease train station, having gone past the Youth Hostel and the walkers cafe (I didn’t stop, but it looked inviting).  I had never seen this small station, but I know about it again from many road trips to Seaford in the mornings when you would see loads of cars parked up on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.  After a while I discovered that there was a station here, one that was clearly a good place to commute from, free parking and a train up to London via Lewes I wondered?    The station itself is minimal, no real buildings and nothing really there.  It was built to serve two villages, and for a while there was a racecourse, which seems hard to believe now.   Interestingly, there is a level crossing but it is manually operated.  A gate and a green/red light for pedestrians (look left and right before crosing, watch out for trains), and a key operated barrier for cars.  This would seem like quite a nice escape route for the A26, a quick diversion to get you back to Lewes quickly – but only if you have a key for the crossing.  I expect, just one or two tractors and works vehicles are permitted.

Straight after the railway, via the old racecourse (no trace of it now), a small wooden bridge and then the village of Rodmell.  The second river valley, and the start of the next section of the trip.

 

 

 

 

 

The climb back up was delayed as I rode towards what looked like a vineyard but as I got closer turned out to be corn on the cob.  Loads of it, with little bits separated by small patches of ripe looking pumpkins.  A vegetable that loads of people buy each year but I doubt many actually eat, the insides scooped out and scary faces carved in.   There was a scary hill up ahead, and an even scarier handmade brench with spider legs, not the sort of thing I was expecting!

The hill looked impossible, I struggled to push the bike up.  I stopped often, stopping to talk to walkers coming down, exchanging pleasant words.  I was looking forward to the top, I couldn’t even see it, immediately to the side a sheer drop to the valley carved out below.   The top did eventually come, a sign post confirming I was still going the correct way, a sign off to the right pointing towards the pub.  Tempting….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fantastic views back down the hill and deep down into the valley, it made Devil’s Dyke (a place I would ride through later on in the trip) seems quite small.   At the top, Mill Hill.  No sign of a windmill, I expect this went many years ago, just large gates and high fence, keeping everyone out?   Countryside living, joining in with the community, maybe not.  High fences and gates in the middle of nowhere, black Range Rovers parked on the other side.

A quick ride inbetween the high fences and a suprise to find myself on the meridian timeline.  Why go to Greenwich to take a photo an invisible man made line, you can place a stone here, before it goes through Lewes and makes its way up to London.   On the western side, I continued to bike, soon coming to a concrete road.    I don’t know about this one, but the Southdowns are littered with concrete roads build by the Canadians during world war 2 in order to drive their tanks along up to the fields to practice.  These tank roads are used by farmers now, this one was long and straight, and had a very slight uphill slant making it quite hard going.

 

 

 

 

 

Once a the top, my view siting of Lewes, looking back I could still see Firle Beacon which was a bit off putting after what seemed like many miles and many hours.    A nice ride at the top, I couldn’t see the sea but I could see down the other side and it was a long way down, a windmill in the distance shining white in the sun.   I soon started the downwards journey towards the next valley, no river this time, just the A27.  It felt like I was almost home.   I passed under the railway line that I had traveled along hours before in the train towards Lewes, over the dual carriageway service bridge and ready for the next section.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At the other side of the road I was met by a steep stepped path.  A bit of a sign as I would be going mostly upwards all the way up until I stopped for lunch, thinking I could simply not go any further unless I have a rest and bite to eat.   I was tempted to just stop as I made my way along the side of a turnip field, but the smell of turnips was putting me off.   It was a long slow ride up not that much of a steep hill, but an ongoing and endless incline designed to sap the remaining energy out of you.  I got to the top, I sat down next to a signpost and I had lunch.  A scotch egg, some cereal bars, and a rather dodgy looking cheap (25p!) energy drink that tasted like a thousand refresher sweets all boiled down.   That, plus a general sit and chilling out looking over the hills and enjoying the peace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I didn’t quite know where I was now, there were hills all around.  I knew Brighton was to the left and that at some point I would come across Ditchling Beacon, but I couldn’t see much ahead and nothing really to the left and right.   At points I saw Brighton in the distance, but it all all just hills and farmland.  The familiar Southdowns feel had gone and I wondered how and when it would come back again.  I had a feeling I must be getting near to the Beacon as the path got busy with casual walkers.  I until now, the only walkers were those wearing special walking clothes and special sticks and map holders.  Now I was starting to see normal people, families, dogs on long extendable leads.   More people on bikes, I caught up with a bloke towing their child on one of those bikes that attach to the back.  The child is meant to turn their peddles too, but for now she was happy for her dad to take the strain.    Mind you, I thought I would soon overtake them, but I never did, he managed to keep going and I followed all the way to the beacon.

 

 

 

 

It all changed once again at the beacon.  On a sunny autumn day, this favorite tourist spot was full of cars and bikes, and an ice cream van.  It got a lot busier here, not only families out for an afternoon walk but also lots of sheep, millions of sheep.  I was making good progress at quite a speed and I soon learnt that it was wise to keep your mouth closed for when there are so many sheep that you simply cannot avoid running over sheep droppings – poo was flying off the wheels all over the place as I made my way through.

This was really familiar ground now, it felt like I had made it home already and I was now on a little trip.  My weariness of early had gone, the cheap fizzy energy drink must had done something, or maybe it was the scotch egg, you can’t go wrong with eggs.  When out on a long ride I once thought it was a good shortcut to go across the Downs instead of around, and so I took the touring bike across.  It coped very well, although was heavy on the brakes, and touring bikes aren’t really made for constant braking (well mine isn’t).  As I found out, it isn’t all flat at the top. At least this previous experience meant I knew what was left on the ride which would be two more big valleys and then all downhill to home.

It was now a really nice warm day.  If there is any part of the Southdowns that define what the Southdowns are, it is really the bit between the Beacon and the Adur valley.   To me, it is pure Sussex landscape, you’ve got sheep, sheepdogs, and shepherds,  dewponds and wind swept trees, small villages at the bottom with friendly looking pubs.  You have the village of Fulking down below at a later point,  Sussex on a plate.   I was actually enjoying myself here, the previous miles had gone from my mind, I could spend all day up here.

I carried on, zooming through the sheep poo.  After a while bit more Sussex came into view in the shape of the Jack and Jill windmills.  This was the sign that I would soon drop down to the A23 and back up the other side, the second to last bit valley dip.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Up until now I had not got lost once, which shows just how well it is all signposted.  I got a bit over excited at this point, tarmac road going downhill, I zoomed down with a welcome cool breeze.  I missed the sign pointing slightly backwards and I didn’t notice until I got to the bottom of the hill and onto the busy Clayton Hill road.  I thought it seemed straight to put people onto this busy road with no pavement, a quick look on the map showed my mistake.   I wasn’t going to go back up the hill, so I started along the busy road, taking the first right and my second wrong turn, it should had been the second right which would take me back onto the path.

The cars had already had to stop to let me across the road, getting back out of the junction was going to be hard.  There was a new signpost pointing in the right direction showing it was a “permissive bridleway”.  I wasn’t quite sure what one of those was, but thought I would follow it anyway down a steep muddy bank, a well horse trodden path through the trees going alongside the road.  After a short while I got to the end and met the Southdowns way once again.  A bit of a muddy diversion, but that’s what the mountain bike is meant for.

 

 

 

A quick cross over the very busy A23 via the road bridge, along a segment of the old A23 before getting back to the track and a long slow climb up a steep hill.  A couple of walkers held the gate open for me and they wished me luck for the hill, they surely didn’t think I was going to actually ride up that?!   I did a bit of walking at this point, for what seemed like a life time for such a little bit at the top until I started back down hill again.  At least I knew it was the last valley, and I knew that after a small steep bit of hill the ride up to the Dyke was something I have done many times.

The path doesn’t take you right up to the Dyke, but you climb upwards with the ditch to the right of you for quite a while.  You wonder how different it all looked 100 years ago when the area was one big theme park with railways and cable cars, fairground rides, even a mainline train station (which stopped a bit short of reaching it, but got you most of the way).   Now, nothing left but a cheap and tacky pub, which seems a bit sad.  The train line went before even Dr Beeching could have a say, now it is just a double decker bus or a car (or bike) that will get you here.  If you are lucky, in the summer you can get an open top bus to the top.  Today, I sat and watched the massive traffic jam being caused by a car not wanting to pull in and a bus trying to get passed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I passed my last trigpoint and got my first view of Southwick power station down below which meant I could also see my house, if I could see through trees.    The beacons at the top of Truleigh hill would be my next stop and it wasn’t too far away.   It was all chalk tracks here, up and down but nothing bad, just an enjoyable ride.   I passed the best electricity pylon ever, halfway up the hill with the cables running back down at an extreme angle.  I wondered if there was a website for “extreme pylons”, I pondered for it for a while as I slowly climbed back up.   There isn’t such a site I found out later, maybe there should be.

Truleigh Hill can be quite interesting.  You see the radio masts for miles around, at night time you know you are near home as you see their friendly red lights at the top.   Because you always see them from a distance, they seem massive when you are right next to them, and feels a bit creepy.    Nothing like that today, too many people about, the zombies that were there were keeping themselves hidden.   The discovery of a couple of boats was a bit of a surprise though.

Another part of the hill is the nuclear bunker that sits underneath the common looking cold war guard house modeled on a standard design.  They might as well put a bit sign up at these bungalows saying “secret bunker below”, they are so easy to spot.   This wasn’t really a bunker but instead a radar station from the second world war which was then turned into a ROTOR station to detect nuclear bombers.    The underground part was at one point turned into a nightclub (it says here), which was short lived.   A lot of these sites have long gone, this one seems to be left alone.  It has radio masts which are no doubt owned by one of the many communications companies.

 

 

 

It would all be down hill now, back along the last bit of the Downslink and back home.   Not before I bumped into the London to Brighton offroad bike ride which I didn’t know was going on today.   Something worth checking for, the Southdowns way has so many events on it, biking, running, walking, hoping etc.. that if you time it wrong you find yourself fighting through the crowds and really it is better to give up and come back another day.  I didn’t know the off road route this organised ride took from London, I expect it hits the Downslink at some point before making it’s cruel way up this hill and back down the other side and into Brighton.   A bit of a pity as I hit smooth tarmac downhill road here, but found myself having to go slow the whole way so I could avoid the many mountain bikers making their way up slowly taking up most of the road.  I was so mesmerised by it all that I took the wrong turning and started down a very rough narrow path down the hill, completely filled with bikers trying to get up (mostly walking).    I felt I had to stop riding and would have to walk down the hill, I started to think that actually the downhill part of the Southdowns Way into the Adur valley doesn’t look like this.  A quick check on the map and I was going the wrong way.  I turned round and joined in with the others slowly walking back up, I even had my photo taken by the official ride photographers back at the top!

At the top, I found where the path veered off to the left and started downhill through fields along a path I recognised better, with no-one else around.    I got to the bottom and joined the Downslink and made my way home.  The second part of the Southdowns way was complete, and I actually quite enjoyed it.

 

 

 

This second part was always going to be different.  In my eyes it was what I know as the Southdowns, the sea one side, the Sussex Weald on the other.   It was always going to feel local, I know the locations and I knew what would be coming next.  I had lucked out on the weather, only a slight breeze from the south, and the sun was out for most of the time.   In the first part, from Winchester to home, everything was brand new and unknown, a bit more of an adventure.  I felt like I was following old ancient roads, and indeed I was passing through settlements that had been the hub of activity thousands of years ago and was now no more.   The second part, I didn’t feel the history, I felt the work of the farmer, the sheep, the horses and cows, the landmarks, the villages and rivers in the valleys and the many small Sussex churches.

 

 

 

Number of miles: 53

Moving time: 6 hours

Number of trigpoints: lots

Number of dewponds: even more

Number of sheep poos: too many, most of them flying off my bike

Number of secret bunkers: 1

Number of zombies: too sunny for such things today