Short on time but wanting a big adventure? I read a lot about micro-adventures: a short, local adventure that doesn’t take up too much of your precious leisure time but gets you outside of your routine. I’m definitely a big fan of seeing what’s on your doorstep, but what if you’re hankering after an epic adventure but can’t afford either the time or expense that goes with such a big-ticket item? A two-day hike along the historic 1066 country walk route might be just the thing. Let’s call it a mini-adventure, it only costs you a weekend but it reciprocates in spades, castles, sea views and some of our island’s most potent history.
The Plan
It’s a 31 mile walk between Pevensey and Rye in East Sussex that is perfect for splitting into two even hiking days with an overnight stay in Battle. It loosely traces the route that William the Conqueror took, landing at Pevensey and onwards to his historic battle defeating King Harold on Senlac Hill, where Battle Abbey now stands. I imagine it is glorious in spring or summer, a gentle meander through bucolic scenery revealing a smattering of wooden sculptures by the artist Keith Pettit along the way, all inspired by the Bayeux Tapestry. A route of medieval drama and country charm.
However, in the interest of making my mini-adventure less charming, I plumped for a February hike. Don’t ask me why, perhaps I was just fed up with being cooped-up over the long, dark winter months. So, February it was – after a pretty bad bout of winter rain. I’d calculated my walk rate (it’s roughly 4km an hour along relatively flat terrain), that there was enough light in the day to make it 16 miles with break stops and somehow managed to persuade a friend this would be a fun thing to do. The lure of a weekend outside of London was probably all it took for her, I’m not sure she thought it through any more than I did.
Loaded up with our weekend possessions in rucksacks (rain gear, a change of clothes and a few snacks) we rendez-voused in Rye. Before my heroic friend arrived, I spent a lovely afternoon mooching in the gift shops, admiring the quirky shingled buildings and cobbled streets. It’s a handsome town and definitely worth a full exploration for the sense of history alone. I zipped down to Camber Sands in the car, but after a couple of minutes of the sand whipping in my face whilst I watched the kite surfers, I retreated back inland to calmer air.
There is a train between Rye and Pevensey & Westham, making it easy to get to the start of the hike and then work our way back to the car at Rye. What is less easy is the relative scarcity of accommodation at Pevensey if you want an early start on Day One. With the short days in February, we needed to maximise daylight hours so arranged an airbnb along Pevensey High Street, arriving apprehensively through the eerie castle grounds in the pitch black and drizzle, wondering what the hell we’d got ourselves into. Luckily we’d stocked up in Rye, otherwise we’d have been starting our weekend without dinner. Pevensey was quiet, very quiet.
Day One: History Gets Personal
Day One and the route was very well signposted from Pevensey Castle, which looked decidedly less sinister in the daylight. There is an excellent guide to the walk at visit1066country.com listing what you’ll see along the route as well as any food and drink stops. We set out across the Pevensey levels, which is a wetland meadow and Site of Special Scientific Interest. It’s also the place we realised the route might be a little wet and muddy. We encountered the first of many gates, stiles, roads and crossings that were pooled with water and needed picking carefully through or finding a nearby alternative to remain dry footed. The rain started to fall and we started to take a little longer to pick through the ever increasing puddles, stopping occasionally for a drink and a moment to work out the best way through the flooded fields, trying to keep ourselves as dry as possible. We soldiered on, via Herstmonceux Castle & Observatory (making an illicit run for it up the driveway, after begging the security guard to let us walk on the dry gravel rather than the boggy footpath) finding that we had to pay to use the cafe and loos, we continued on after taking a couple of snaps of the incredible observatory domes – it is beautiful, just not very walk weary friendly.
We arrived at The Bull’s Head too early even for coffee. It was firmly shut, I hope they didn’t mind us sitting on their outdoor benches for a snack from the limited rucksack supplies (thank you airbnb hosts for leaving us with some extra snacks which we snaffled for the wayside). Still no loo stop and I was not relishing the wild in the wet weather. Finally we made it to the Ash Tree Inn where there was a fire roaring, a loo and an opportunity to take my socks and shoes off, they were never going to dry, but they would be less squelchy. The pub couldn’t have been more welcome and welcoming. Just what two soaking wet women needed, a small bit of comfort after several miles of boggy, slippery wet walking.
Tent Hill was particularly poignant on a wet February afternoon. It’s where the Normans camped on the night before the Battle of Hastings. I couldn’t imagine for the life of me, what conditions must have been like in 1066 on the side of that hill. I’d been struggling with a lack of snacks, loos and inclement weather in my gore-tex; how did soldiers live, eat, sleep, prepare for battle in that very same location a millenia ago? It was incredibly evocative surveying the scene in the damp – and something that will stay with me for a long time.
The rain continued, as did we, on towards Battle, a bus stop providing sweet relief from yet another downpour along the way. Our five minute reprieve was enough to rally us for the last leg of Day One through the remaining flooded fields and pathways. When Battle came into view, we were beyond delighted with the prospect of a shower, dry clothes and a hearty pub meal at the Chequers Inn. We’d made it just in time, the daylight was running out, the muddy conditions severely hampering our progress, our legs weary from slipping and sliding around. No wonder we hadn’t really seen another soul all day, they were dry inside while we stoically enjoyed our lashing down mini-adventure.
Day Two: Biblical Proportions
We had to leave the pub before the start of breakfast service on Day Two, scoffing the remainder of the airbnb and Rye bought snacks. Both our sets of shoes were just about dry but giving off wet dog vibes. I’m not sure why we even tried, as we made our way through Great Wood on the south east outskirts of Battle, the rain became biblical and the ground so soft and swollen with floodwater, we became seriously concerned for our safety. After navigating a treacherously flooded path next to an overflowing river, we decided to re-route where possible via roads, whose blind bends seemed infinitely safer in the wet than the boglands we had just survived. I don’t know how long it takes to get trench foot, but I was eerily sensing those soldiers’ lives again, my feet seriously starting to wrinkle and slosh around my soaking boots, my thoughts going out to the men suffering it out in the battle trenches. I knew comfort would be coming at the end of the day.
We couldn’t avoid Harold’s Marsh – a completely flooded lowland plain in the Brede Valley, so we needed to find a way through it. By this stage, we were pleased if the water only lapped over the top of our boots a little bit, Harold’s Marsh was proving to be more calf level. By luck more than judgment, I picked a reasonably steady course through the worst of the flooding. My friend, however, tried a different route, got blocked by a wide and full stream and had to pick her way back. What we hadn’t realised was that my route must have tracked a bridge over the stream, which she completely missed and plunged straight into the deep water. She managed to cling to a metal post and throw her rucksack onto the drier ground, while I found a way to reach her and pull her out. It was terrifying and could have easily ended in disaster. She was soaked through and in shock. We got her out of her wet things and straight into the unbelievably still dry ones she had in her bag. Once dry and calm, I was astounded how quickly her humour recovered and off we set for Winchelsea, mini, rather than maxi, adventurers once again.
The Homecoming
Winchelsea is a pretty town set around a church square, we didn’t pause for long though, we were on a mission to get the job done. We’d been through the wringer and wanted to be dry and seated in a pub in Rye. Given our recent mishap, when we surveyed the final stretch from the height of the village and saw further flooding, we took the decision to walk along the main road rather than the footpath into Rye. It was long, loud and boring. I’m not going to lie, my friend was on the verge of calling a taxi for the final stretch. I wouldn’t have blamed her.
We limped into Rye and the sun came out. Fetching clean clothes from the car, showering and putting on dry shoes was a special pleasure after 16 miles of rainy slog. The beers and the room at the The Ship Inn, Rye felt like absolute luxury, oh to be dry, safe and warm. Heaven.
The Verdict: Epic in Miniature
The walk was gruelling in the winter wet, but in the summer I think it would have been a breeze. Most of our energy was spent on staying upright, navigating floods and stopping ourselves from slipping. Would I have changed it? Not a bit – completing a hike in awful conditions feels more than twice the adventure of strolling it in the sun. We faced our mini adversity and came through it with laughs and friendship still intact, it’s a memory we’ll never forget. A short weekend out of our lives, but a huge reminder that a mini adventure can be an epic.
