Day Five

Sunday 25 October – Borough Green to Swanley

As I left the station at Borough Green, the advertised sunny day was being interrupted by some threatening dark clouds, almost squeezing the blue sky out altogether. I walked the (unbusy) main road across the M26 to Wrotham. I was now inside a triangle of motorways (M26/M20/M25) in which I would spend most of the day. It wasn't as bad as it sounds!

Wrotham, an attractive overgrown village with a large number of pubs, was dozing peacefully on a Sunday morning. A lady struggled past with her heavy Sunday newspaper; a few more ladies were parking cars and heading for the 10am service at the church.

A brief walk through a housing estate brought me to a footpath heading North; this led to the North Downs Way, which would take me a few miles West towards the Darent Valley. A metalled lane was succeeded by an unsurfaced byway. Deep ruts indicated that motor traffic uses this route. Sure enough, I was passed by two motorcyclists. I have to say straight away that they were going very slowly, and we exchanged cheery greetings. The fact remains that these ancient routes can't cope with motorised vehicles, especially in wet weather.

The North Downs Way, now mercifully a footpath, headed up the steep scarp slope of the Downs. Just before I entered the trees which cloak the top of the hill, I stopped for a breather, and a look back across to the dome of the Weald, across which I had walked on my previous trip. As sun and clouds fought it out, I climbed steps through the woods to a road, where I had to turn East for a few yards, before picking up a woodland footpath which swung round to the West and levelled out. This was the top of the North Downs.

A strange phenomenon went with walking a National Trail – other people walking past me on a Sunday morning. It's not what I'm used to!

Another strange encounter was with a horse and a cow communing silently through a gate, while others of each kind stood around. And rare things came in threes: above Otford, I entered some Access Land, which I usually associate with places much wilder than this.

As the North Downs way continued West to Otford, I turned North of West along a quiet lane. The North Downs are cut through by the Darent Valley, and I used the lane and a connecting bridleway to reach the valley at Shoreham Station. A little beyond the station I turned North and joined the Darent Valley Path. Almost immediately, I left it to enter Shoreham Churchyard for an important engagement, my lunch.

Hunger assuaged, I left the churchyard and walked into Shoreham village. Artist Samuel Palmer, a follower of William Blake, lived in this village from about 1826 to 1835. Blake used to visit him here, and it is alleged (without, as far as I know, any supporting evidence) that Blake drew his inspiration for Jerusalem from these surroundings. England's green and pleasant land? Well yes, it certainly seemed that way on this now sunny and increasingly warm day.

The route North passed the house Palmer lived in, alongside the shallow, sauntering Darent. Leaving Shoreham for the fields, the Darent Valley Path was taking some pretty heavy foot traffic, and why not? It's a marvellous walk – level, with few stiles to climb, and in lovely countryside. Palmer, Blake and the other Ancients would probably still recognise it.

When I reached the cafe at the Lullingstone Country Park visitor centre, it was too soon after lunch for coffee and cake, but I had some anyway. A bit further on I passed Lullingstone Castle, recalling the television series about the rather desperate attempts of the owners to make it pay as a visitor attraction. I have to report that it was not very busy.

To avoid a road in the valley bottom, the Path turned left and climbed sharply. The reward was a great view back across the valley, with the railway viaduct and Eynsford in the middle distance.

Where the Path dived back into the valley, I left it and headed West on a series of private roads (doubling as public footpaths) and bridleways towards Swanley. I passed the Bird of Prey Centre, explaining the procession of people with hooded birds I had seen a few minutes earlier. Further on, I broke out of the motorway triangle by passing under the M25, which was (surprise! surprise!) very busy. Crockenhill FC's Sunday afternoon match was in progress.

Crossing the A20, I entered suburbia with a vengeance. Swanley was sleeping off Sunday Lunch. This was just two or three miles, as the crow flies, from the Darent Valley, but it was a different world. Thank goodness for the Green Belt - but how long can it last? Helpful signs guided me towards the station and as I walked in, the train to Victoria was announced.