Vole Explosion

Wednesday 16^th November 2022

NEWHAVEN TO BRIGHTON

   The other man in the dorm gets up early and leaves as suddenly and silently as he arrived. The lights come back on at exactly 5.30am and I happen to already be awake. I get up to switch them off, as well as a tap in the bathroom that has been left on and is suddenly gushing noisily. I then go back to sleep for a couple more hours. Once out of bed, I make myself a coffee then go for a wander around downstairs to look around this hostel in a converted farm. It’s still raining. In the café I’m offered a free breakfast by the manager, which of course I accept. Free taxi, free breakfast, I’m loving all this free stuff.

   The trains are stopping at Southease now, so I catch one back to Newhaven and start walking. The rain has stopped for a while and it’s only a short day today, as far as Brighton. I start by crossing the River Ouse and walking down the western bank, past some sculptures of Cormorants and a strange monument commemorating Ho Chi Minh’s arrival in the UK in 1913, when (according to Wikipedia) he worked as a pastry chef on the Newhaven to Dieppe ferry.

   Talking of the ferry, here it comes now, sailing into the mouth of the river and pulling up to the dock. I don’t think I’ve ever used this ferry route and I had originally intended to make a short hop to Dieppe, like I did to the Hook of Holland when the Coast Walk took me through Harwich, Essex, but I don’t really have time. Maybe if I walk the South Downs Way I can factor in some time for a couple of days in France.

   I walk as far past the river mouth as possible, but it looks impossible to continue much further without the risk of getting trapped against the cliffs by the tide. When I first decided to walk around the coast all those years ago, the one thing I promised myself is that I’d try not to drown in the sea. I find a spot where the cliff has slipped and scramble up some slippery mud to the top, just in time as a huge rain shower blows in from the sea and soaks me in zero seconds flat. The strong wind over the cliff top is blowing the stinging rain horizontally at me. Further along I cross a small wooden bridge over a gully where the onshore wind funnels the crashing waves up and over me like a fire hose, serving me a double drenching.

   Fortunately, the sun soon comes out and, along with the wind, it dries me out a lot as I walk along the clifftop path past Peacehaven. I pass a monument which marks the spot where the Prime Meridian from Greenwich passes through the coast on its way south. I am now in the Western Hemisphere of the planet. A couple of days later I’m kicking myself for forgetting to do the one-foot-in-each-hemisphere thing.

   I spot a Stonechat in a small clifftop garden. I’ve never seen this open country bird in a garden before. I wonder if the homeowners know or care.

   Walking along the clifftop involves a bit of topographic undulation, so at Saltdean I descend to the promenade at the foot of the cliffs for about a mile of level walking. At some point here I cross the border between East and West Sussex. No visa required. Apart from that, there’s not much to see down here and I feel like I might miss something on the clifftop.

   At Rottingdean I stop at The Coach House pub and enter just in time as the heaviest shower of the day suddenly blows in from the sea – absolutely tropical quantities of rain, turning the street outside into a river running down to the beach. I enjoy the sight of all that water from behind a window, while nursing my pint like I’m Florence Nightingale and enjoying the pub’s excellent soundtrack of late 70s/early 80s New Wave.

   The rain stops as suddenly as it started and I move on, but only as far as The White Horse next door, where I’m forced to have another pint (rules is rules).

   I continue along the clifftop towards Brighton. The rain has stopped but the sky is damp and leaden, and the sea is rough and brown.

   I pass a huge building that looks like it might be some kind of posh school. Then I see the sign and realise it’s Roedean. So, yeah… quite posh. Somewhat incongruously, there are an alarming number of rats scurrying around on the clifftop here.

   I then pass high above Brighton marina before arriving in the town itself and walking along the high level prom as far as the pier, along which I take a stroll. There are a few people on the pier, including some overseas tourists, but the weather is miserable, the town looks depressing, and the pier has a strong atmosphere of Scooby Doo abandoned fairground. I stop for a beer at The Sunset Garden on the pier and I’m served by a monumentally grumpy barmaid. And there’s me thinking Brighton was famous for its gaiety, or have I misunderstood?

   The pier has a Starling murmuration café, serving refreshments and providing information about the Starlings. They even have a giant cut-out Starling outside. No actual Starlings in evidence yet – probably too early.

   Leaving the pier, I go for a final drink in the Charles Street Tap. This is a gay bar I think, and the toilets are labelled ‘Butch’ and ‘Femme’. The Butch ones are out of order, so I guess we’re all Femme today.

   I have a private room booked in the YHA hostel nearby and I head there now. My room is basic and spartan, but decent enough, but the private bathroom is much nicer than you usually get in a hostel. I clean up, hang some clothes up to dry, and read for a while.

   Later I go out for dinner. I can’t decide what I want to eat and wander around for a while in ever-increasing rain searching for inspiration. I drop into The Quadrant for a drink – a really nice little pub with a seagull motif going on. I like their seagull pint glasses and I’m tempted to pinch one, but I don’t.

   After a bit more wandering around I finally see it: A Wendy’s! I love Wendy’s, and I haven’t eaten at one for years. Actually it was April now I come to think of it, but I didn’t think they still had them in the UK. So that’s dinner sorted.

   When I leave, I find the weather has gone haywire! It’s raining harder than I’ve seen in a long time and the streets are starting to flood. I’ve wandered around so much I’ve no idea where I am now and, thanks to the sheets of rain, I can barely see where I’m going. I instinctively walk downhill expecting to arrive on the seafront where I can use the pier to re-orient myself. This works, but I’m much further west than I expect and, by the time I make it back to the hostel I couldn’t be more drenched if I had walked back via the sea. I havn’t worn waterproofs, but at least I had the presence of mind to bring a couple of freezer bags out with me, into which I put my phone, wallet and camera. I get changed and hang more clothes up to dry alongside the clothes from earlier. According to the weather forecast, the two days of rain have passed, and the rest of the walk should be dry.

10.3 miles; 16.6 km; 6.5 hours

YHA Brighton (£30)