I had a loose arrangement to meet some of the guys at 9am in Falmer yesterday. I almost didn’t keep it as I had been up later than intended the night before reading, but somehow I managed to make it on time. No-one else turned up and after watching a local on his bike circling the pond a few times, following his dog, who was watching him intently over his shoulder to make sure he was following, I headed out.
I had enjoyed the hills on the route that we did on August 2nd and had a vague sense that I would now be writing about doing the same route, on my own and hopefully slightly faster. I love exploring though, so having run up the path alongside the Falmer Road and then left towards the copse, I couldn’t help but follow the path that turned right and led directly up to the top of the ridge.
In a much earlier blog I described being amazed to discover a path running up Ditchling Beacon, just downslope of the road, when I thought I knew the area really well. Here was a similar feeling and from the top of the hill I surveyed the deepcut valley of the Castle Hill Nature Reserve which I knew lead to the, now buried, town of Balsdean and on to the sea which was clear in the distance. I tramped the paths around here as a youngster, as a Scout and most recently on a Jogshop 20 mile race five years ago but it was still like a new land. I opened the gate and ran down the hill, ready to discover some new routes.
Largely covered by grassland, the valley of Falmer Bottom winds around beautifully as it makes its way slowly to the sea, with occasional remnants of its former, more intensely farmed heritage in the form of derelict farm buildings. In order to get to the sea though, I had to run up on to the hill above Rottingdean, passing as I did a magnificent country house of a pumping station in the valley below to my left. From the top I could see the familiar villages of Woodingdean, Ovingdean and Saltdean and I spent a good while thinking of the friends and family that live in each of those places.
Then I was running down through the prosperous town of Rottingdean, where even the shop that sells plastic buckets and spades has an air of exclusivity. At the one-hour point, I found myself standing on a pretty, remodelled Undercliff Walk with glorious views.
Running to Saltdean on the flat, past the Lido and then through the park at the entrance to the valley, I realised that my legs were really tired and the thought of the long drag back up to the top of the ridge was now daunting. At Pickets Hill Farm the path splits and since there was a runner half way up the steep High Hill to my left, I chose this way to go in order to have a moving target. Though I seemingly made no ground on them on the hill itself, I had caught them by the time they reached the next gate.
Faced then with a drop back down into the valley and the steep track at its head, I opted for the slow gradient of the path that hugs the eastern edge of Woodingdean. It was simultaneously like a new path and an old acquaintance and odd memories of growing up in Woodingdean kept dropping into my mind.
At the Falmer Road I turned right and headed up to Newmarket Hill, the highest point around and then back to the top of Castle Hill Nature Reserve, before retracing my initial steps back down the hill to Falmer.
The 12.8 mile round trip had taken me 2 hours 17 minutes and aside from the pain, I thoroughly enjoyed every retraced step of it.
