From Yapton to London on foot for charity

Here is his account:

In June 2022 I had succeeded in walking from my home in Yapton to London in a single day. Adding on the walk from Barnham station back to Yapton at the end (I’d decided against walking home from London again!), I calculated my total mileage to be 63.14 miles. It was the furthest I had ever walked in 24 hours.

The achievement, however, had been tainted in two ways. First, I hadn’t chosen the most direct route, and actually twice found myself walking away from rather than towards my destination. Second, the walk had ended in anticlimax. I’d hoped to get all the way to the Abbey Road Studios, to tie in with my recital of the Beatles songs from memory I was due to perform the following month. But I was overtaken by exhaustion as I reached the side entrance to Buckingham Palace and found my way forward in front of the Palace blocked as a result of the Platinum Jubilee celebrations. I’d ended up simply backtracking to Victoria station and collapsing into a heap on my homeward train. It seemed a rather tame way to end. I decided I would like to repeat the walk in 2023, but using a more efficient route (which meant I wouldn’t be trying for another “personal best” mileage attempt) and finishing at Piccadilly Circus right in the heart of the capital.

The route variations needed checking beforehand as I did not want to leave anything to chance on the day. So in March I travelled to Betchworth, between Dorking and Reigate, and incorporated a stretch of North Downs Way which was much prettier and much safer than the (unpaved) road I’d used before. In April I created a new link between Morden and Chelsea Bridge, including the delightful riverside Wandle Trail, much nicer than the grim walk between South Wimbledon and Wandsworth which it replaced. Then in mid-May, I needed to do a night-time recce of a “new”footpath section I’d be doing right at the start of the walk, again in the middle of the night. With all these variations in place I undertook a 40-mile training walk in late May, satisfying myself that I was up to another long-distance challenge with no fitness concerns.

I’d planned on doing the walk on the 14th June, but that was always going to be subject to the weather. Knowing how unreliable long-range forecasts could be, I deliberately waited till six days before the planned event before checking the BBC Weather website. And it wasn’t good. Temperatures were forecast to reach 25 or 26 degrees in London with sunshine throughout. Fine if you were wanting to sunbathe, but to try and walk all day in that heat would be, if not exactly suicidal, certainly setting myself up to fail, and fail spectacularly. I was forced to postpone a week only to learn that more of the same was forecast. By now I was resigning myself to having to wait weeks, if not months, for a cool window. But to my pleasant surprise, a casual glance at the forecast towards the end of the following week revealed that temperatures were dropping to a much more comfortable 20 or 21 degrees, with cloudy skies and a following south-westerly breeze: perfect! Having a free day on Friday 30th June, I decided that was to be the day.

I had to think about when to start. Last time I’d got going at 3am and made it to Victoria just over an hour before the last train left. I decided I had a choice of starting out a little earlier, 2.15am, meaning I would only be walking in the dark for the first hour and a half and have a bit more slack later on, or setting off at 5pm, walking through the night but reaching London in daylight and arriving in the centre mid-morning. The problem with the latter was that there would be far fewer places open for hot food and drink, and I would be vulnerable to night-time traffic on unpaved roads, and may find it less easy to get help at night in the event of an emergency. So 2.15am had it. I hoped to reach Piccadilly Circus between 7.30pm and 8pm.

The evening before I got my equipment together, dozed on my settee for a few hours, then was up and about again soon after 1.30am. It didn’t take long to get dressed – a long-sleeved top, tracksuit bottoms, anti-chafe socks, Converse trainers and hat – but it took a while to carefully pack all the supplies I’d need, purchased from Asda the previous day, and I needed to fortify myself with a couple of bananas and a coffee. Then, at exactly 2.15am, out I stepped into the Yapton night air. My walk to the end of our road was the ONLY bit of walking that was to take me away from London rather than towards it! There then followed a somewhat tentative walk along footpaths between Yapton and Ford: this saved a good half mile from before, although much of the time supposedly gained was cancelled out by the need to tread carefully and avoid stumbling. My torch was an invaluable companion. At length I reached the road – right by Edgcumbes Café, one of my favourite haunts. How inconsiderate of them to be shut at this time! There was a delicious calm not only on the footpaths to this point but along the road on to the A27 underpass and Arundel with just two cars passing me in each direction. Arundel itself was completely deserted. I then struck out along the road leading to Swanbourne Lake and Offham with its popular Black Rabbit pub, and kept to the road as I passed below Arundel Park and followed an undulating course to South Stoke. The first traces of daylight were slowly appearing, and the surrounding countryside, with the contrasts of the steep downland and the flat meadows of the Arun valley, had an astonishing richness and tranquillity. Another footpath section awaited me between South Stoke and North Stoke and I had just enough daylight to negotiate it – even with a torch, this would have been tricky at night. It was a relief to reach the splendid Gurkha Suspension Bridge, knowing I hadn’t strayed. Slowly the darkness dissolved into day, and it was an easy walk on from North Stoke along roads to reach Amberley, crossing the South Downs Way. Amberley, again deserted, looked at its most magical, with its fine timber-framed and brick cottages complemented by colourful gardens and a particularly impressive line of hollyhocks. As I left Amberley and headed eastwards towards Rackham, I saw two deer walking in the road, and through this early dawn time, 4.30am-5am, I saw rabbits and squirrels in abundance. Easy road walking took me to the Pulborough Brooks Nature Reserve: one particularly memorable sight was tall fir trees rising up from a green pool of bracken. And it was still so calm. More footpath walking took me through the Reserve and past Wiggonholt, where I stopped for a picnic breakfast just over 12 miles in. It was now 5.25am and I had been going for just over three hours.

The walking became fiddly as I negotiated a section of the A283, crossed the dew-laden fairways of Pulborough Golf Club – no early morning golfers – and after a meadow crossing, partially flooded when I’d checked this section out in December, picked my way along roads through West Chiltington Common. By now the sun was visible and shining. I saw my first dog-walkers of the day here and we wished each other good morning. A hazardous unpaved winding road took me from the picturesque windmill at West Chiltington to the start of Broadford Bridge Road, and from here it was to be road walking all the way to Horsham. It’s fair to say that as far as Christ’s Hospital the walking was unexciting and somewhat mechanical, as I followed a succession of minor roads, thankfully light on traffic, via Broadford Bridge, Coneyhurst (where I crossed the A272) and Barns Green. I amused myself by singing Abba songs, getting through over 50 of them. I stopped at Barns Green for the rest of my thermos coffee, which gave me the strength to tackle the unpaved road climb to the shoulder of Sharpenhurst Hill. A welcome descent followed round the edge of Itchingfield, with views to the Surrey hills ahead, and on to Christ’s Hospital where I crossed my beloved Downs Link. Beyond the imposing school buildings there was another climb along an unpaved road but my reward was my first view of Horsham, which was just four miles shy of halfway. The presence of roadside paths helped ease my passage into the town which I reached at 9.15, with just over 26 miles walked. I’d been going seven hours. I rewarded myself with a Greggs bacon roll and Belgian bun – nice to be able to scoff these with a clear conscience – then used the very clean and well-maintained facilities in the shopping mall to top up on water (from the drinking water dispenser there) and have a good wash! As well as a coffee I drank at Greggs, I also purchased another which I poured straight into my thermos, aware that hot drink opportunities might be limited further on.

As I left Horsham I was very aware how much there was still to do. It took a long time to get free of the suburbs of the town, and I looked forward to the more rural unpaved road leading from the A264 outer ring toad to Rusper. This unfortunately was much busier than when I’d previously walked it, and I didn’t enjoy it, especially as there was one very steep climb. It was great to reach Rusper, one of the prettiest villages in this part of Sussex, with a charming brown stone church and some very attractive old cottages; I was now officially halfway and still going strong. Just beyond Rusper I crossed the border into Surrey. The road surface was very uneven and for the only time in the day I stumbled, on a large lump on the road surface (goodness knows what it was!), fortunately doing no damage to my Converse or myself. Thankfully the traffic didn’t seem as heavy now Rusper was behind me. Where there was a lot of traffic was in the sky: I was very close to Gatwick Airport and numerous planes could be seen taking off or coming into land. Beyond Rusper there was an attractive wooded section, evidently popular with the timber industry from the signs I saw, and then things opened out, with the North Downs now tantalisingly in view. I was getting weary and with 34 miles now on the clock, stopped at the straggling village of Newdigate for an early (12.15pm) lunch. The early sunshine had, as forecast, been replaced by thick cloud and a few drops of rain. It was to remain largely cloudy and sometimes drizzly all the rest of the way, with what proved a most helpful following breeze. I was delighted: the conditions were every bit as comfortable as I’d hoped. Duly refreshed, and with first a good stretch of pavement and then an attractive rural road that wasn’t too busy, I made easy and enjoyable progress beyond Newdigate, working my way through The Pirates Of Penzance as I walked. I spotted and took a public footpath short cut across a cricket pitch taking me to the twin villages of Dawes Green and Leigh, and a charming (although unpaved) country lane, took me to Betchworth. The North Downs were getting very close now. Betchworth is one of the prettiest villages in Surrey, arguably its prettiest spot being the crossing of the river Mole with its profusion of water-lilies. This proved to be a key moment in a somewhat quirky respect: there was to be no more unpaved road walking! Last time out, I’d stopped here but I decided to press on this time, crossing the A25 and the Reading-Gatwick railway line in close succession, and snacking on a bench just beyond Betchworth station. It was 2.10pm. I’d been going exactly 12 hours and covered just under 41 miles.

The next section involved crossing the North Downs. Previously I’d stuck to the road which climbed steeply from here to cross over the M25 at Walton-on-the-Hill, and it had been absolutely hateful – unpaved, no verge, very busy and very steep uphill. So I’d planned an alternative this time that struck out eastwards from the road along the North Downs Way and then climbed onto the escarpment. And what a brilliant experience it turned out to be. The traffic noise was replaced by a lovely calm, the surroundings were gorgeous and although a very steep climb was needed, it made a good break from tarmac crunching. The views were tremendous, stretching across a huge swathe of Surrey and Sussex countryside. It was a very special moment in the day. Sadly I had to return to the road and it was then a real slog, crossing the M25 then following the B2032 past Walton Heath Golf Club and the woodlands between Walton-on-the-Hill and Tadworth. I reached the A217 and had it confirmed from a signboard that Sutton, my next scheduled stop, was still 5 miles away. I wasn’t sure I could manage this without a further caffeine injection, my thermos now nearly empty. Thankfully after two of those five miles I reached a roadside service station where I was able to get a large coffee. It was the most enjoyable drink of the day! I had taken immense care to keep drinking water from the very start, so as to avoid thirst, but sometimes only a hot drink will do. The process of buying and consuming the coffee did cost me some time, to the extent that I found I had “lost” well over 30 minutes on the time taken to get here previously. But by now I was determined that however late it was, I would get to the end. It would be unthinkable to fail to do so, after the efforts I’d made to get this far.

The coffee gave me renewed impetus, and I was also encouraged by the sight of the “London skyline” directly ahead. The delicious downhill sweep past Banstead Downs brought me to Belmont, and after a further descent I reached Sutton, just over 49 miles in, at just gone 4.50pm, 14 hours and 35 minutes after starting. I’d planned on a longish stop here but in fact just paused to buy further liquids – including another coffee to go into my thermos – and have a brief sit-down, then got going again. I needed to avoid stiffening up. I knew, from the recce I had done in April, that it was another three hours to Victoria including a further coffee stop, so I couldn’t afford to allow lethargy to set in. Having left Sutton I followed the B2230 past Rosehill, going forward along the A297 past St Helier and Morden. The tranquillity of the North Downs, never mind Pulborough Brooks, seemed so far back. There really was now a sense of having arrived in London, with suburban housing all around me, and red London buses passing me every few minutes. There then followed a delightful interlude as I left the main roads and followed footpaths through Morden Hall Park and past Deen City Farm, crossing the Croydon-Wimbledon tram link and walking beside the attractive and lively river Wandle using the Wandle Trail. Navigation could have been tricky but as it was less than 3 months since I’d checked this out, I remembered it all pretty well and duly emerged at the main road again, going forward to join the A24 at Collier’s Wood. It was the A24 that was to take me much of the rest of the way.

For the next 45 minutes or so, between 6.20pm and just gone 7pm, I followed the A24 north-eastwards – one long suburban street with its mix of terraced housing, flats, shops, bars, eateries, industrial units, churches and medical centres. I passed a succession of Northern Line stations which enabled me to monitor my progress: Collier’s Wood, Tooting Broadway, Tooting Bec, Balham and Clapham South. I really was now getting very weary indeed, although there was no muscle of foot pain. My Converses and anti-chafe socks had done me proud! My main problem was that each time I drank from my water bottle, my insides felt as though I’d just gulped down a pint of the stuff. I had suffered similarly to that towards the end of previous long walks. I managed to reduce the “gulping sensation” by just taking small sips. The walking had become quite mechanical and I simply didn’t feel I wanted to stop, certainly not for any length of time. The hardest part was stopping at crossings where I actually felt I had to lean on the light poles for support! Beyond Clapham South I joined a path across Clapham Common – that would have been a no-go after dark, I decided – passing the very impressive bandstand and going forward to cross the A3. I’d believed it was only a short walk on from there to the river Thames but it was a great deal longer than I remembered, passing under the rail lines going into Waterloo and Victoria. It was a relief, and a joy, to finally cross the river by way of the magnificent Chelsea Bridge. I knew it wasn’t far from here to Victoria.

On I went then into the heart of the capital. I passed coaches heading for Plymouth and Nottingham – I’d have slept well on either of them, I decided – and found myself passing Victoria coach station and railway station. Beyond them I could see road closure signs and thought “not again” but mercifully pedestrian access was preserved and it was with a sense of thankfulness that I carried on, passing the spot I’d had to turn back last time, and going right past the front of Buckingham Palace and into Green Park. For the first time since leaving home 18 hours ago, I could say I knew I was going to make it. I’d done the walk from Buckingham Palace to Piccadilly via Green Park so many times but never having just walked fifty-nine miles! In a few minutes I reached Piccadilly and made my way past the Ritz, Fortnums, my former employers Hatchards, and Waterstones which was still open and which I couldn’t resist a token browse in before reaching Piccadilly Circus at just gone 8.35pm, 60.25 miles and 18 hours 20 minutes after starting. The scene that greeted me was absolutely wonderful. There had obviously been some celebration, possibly a wedding, and Eros was covered in green vegetation and wild flowers. There were hundreds of people surrounding Eros and in the immediate vicinity; the atmosphere was simply breathtaking. I suppose I should have found it excessively noisy or even disagreeable after the hushed beauty of the Sussex countryside and the North Downs, but I loved the contrast. It really did feel like arriving. I flopped down on one of the steps below Eros and having offered a silent emotional prayer of thanks I sat taking in the surroundings and reminding myself that I really had made it. I’d got from home to this point entirely on my own two feet.

I treated myself to the luxury of an underground journey to Victoria, and then waited for the next train back to Barnham, arriving there at 11.10pm. With no taxi available, I ended up walking the 1.8 miles home, making a total of 62 miles. Not bad for a 63-year-old. To be fair, I had prepared myself thoroughly, trained hard and had considerable experience of distance walking, or I don’t think I could possibly have done it.

Would I do it again? I somehow can’t see it. I had absolutely everything going for me on the walk: I looked after myself and equipped myself as sensibly as I could, there was nothing whatsoever I would have done differently, and I remained accident and injury free. But it was still an immense effort, demanding huge reserves of determination and resilience. For me in future to try and exceed what I did on this walk would risk huge disappointment and anti-climax. To me this was the perfect challenge – a continuous walk to a well-known and recognisable destination in a single day, using what was really the optimum route. I am thrilled that despite my years I managed to rise to that challenge and am now able to look back on it as one of my greatest personal achievements.

I wish to dedicate this walk to Eric and Eunice, the two students we are sponsoring in our linked diocese of Nyahururu in Kenya. If having read this and walked with me – in a virtual sense! – you would like to donate some money to support their education, the easiest way to do it is by bank transfer:

ALDINGBOURNE BARNHAM & EASTERGATE PCC

Account 47392400

Sort Code 09-01-55

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