Jack and Jill

Today was organised as a 20 mile practice team walk on The South Downs Way. We walked from Upper Beeding to Lewes, essentially stages 7 through 9 of the Trailwalker itself. A linear walk, cars were left at each end to allow options for most outcomes. As luck would have it, the foreacast was for the hottest  day of the year (until the next one, that is). There was a heat haze that traduced the scenic photo contrast. It was unusually still, if the number of windmills is indicative of prevailing conditions.

We were seven. Snow White, Doc, Grumpy, Bashful, Happy, me and a guest, S walked along the banks of the Adur under high factor sunscreen, discussing the different strategies to avoid blisters and worrying about water. We passed the Rising Sun pub and then the upended fishnetted legs of a manequin in a field - perhaps we were not the only mad folk in these parts - a thought that may have propelled us to the top of Beeding Hill.

The chalk hills of the South Downs here are covered in flints and cherts that make a visitor think about a lack of water which makes the greenery seem all the more impressive. As did the appearance of more golf courses than I would have expected. And poppy-edged fields of wheat and broad beans with their glaring chalky-white peaking furrows. Horse gallops. Dense stands of trees with high crown closures. All must need a lot of water. And fertiliser.

We passed across the Fulking Escarpment (sic) and down the Devils Dyke, eventually going through Pyecombe. Paragliders and zorbers distracted us. Fast moving mountain bikes, slow moving horses and numbered relay runners all used the same paths as us. Enthusiastic and somewhat dictatorial stewards shouted 'Runners coming. Move to the right', blind to the rights of others. Our time will come in July.

We reached Jack and Jill after about 15 km. Two windmills perched above Pyecombe, this is where we will rest a few minutes at the end of stage 8 in forty days. And we lunched here, shoes and socks off in the heat. Pity the family who brought their wonderful looking Red Baron triplane and Tiger Moth biplane kites but couldn't get them aloft in the still air.

We crossed Blackcap and the tracks worn by a millenium of sheep drivers (or so a sign alleged). We carried on to Ditchling Beacon where jokes about Eddie Izzard rehydrating on beer and ice-cream had us wanting an ice-cream too. Like a mirage, a car park appeared over the next ridge and in it, an ice-cream van. Grumpy dug deep and generous. The 99 was fantastic and while it lacked the raspberry blood or chocolate sauce of our hallucinations, it encouraged us not to avail of the 79 bus that turned up to take people back to Brighton.

And so, we reached Lewes, the last kilometre perhaps the hardest because it was unexpected; we weren't quite at the car park when we reached Lewes. Doc could have been the happiest, sleep deprived not just by the open-windowed, humid night, but also by a neighbour who discarded an alarm clock the day before. What would it take to make you go through a neighbours bin in the middle of the night? Not even an alarm in his case.

We did 29.8 km in just over 7 hours which puts us on better than 24 hour pace for the full 100 km. Walkmeter reports it took me 1800 calories. I can say I drank 4.5 litres of various liquids including 2 of a super high protein-carb mix, ate three bananas, two apples, two pears and five high nutrition bars. Double socked, blisters covered by compeed and a patch of epitact, I sustained no more damage. I hope it was as good for everyone else; perhaps we'll hear more on Monday.

PS It was a lot hotter than the 22 C recorded for Brighton.

Thank you Anonymous (I think I know who you are)!