Stage 1: South Downs Waywards on their Way - Winchester to Exton


And we're off! It turns out that if you make a spreadsheet and put some dates in the calendar, things actually happen. To be precise, walking has happened: the South Downs Waywards are on their way. 

 


Last weekend was a washout so our original plans for tackling Stage 1 of the route had to be postponed. A rare 'upside' to Lockdown means that calendars are fairly empty right now; thus it was easy to rearrange for this weekend. 

Husbands were bribed for drop off and pick up, and we put our best feet forward for a 7 am start along Winchester's River Itchen. 

Rookie error: may have set off too early

It was not quite light as we set off; In her determination to guard against  any possibility of wandering the Downs in the dark, Hearth-mother may have over-estimated how long it would take to walk 12 miles (actually 13 by our count).

Wooded weald

The A272, the A31 and the A3 all cross cut the chalk ridge trail and the gentle hum they generate is barely perceptible but always there - a sense of old routes and droveways intersecting with the new. We even crossed right over the M3 in the early stages of the journey. 

SDW M3

What we are already discovering to be magnificent about the landscape of the South Downs Way lies in its variation: spongy grassland and chalk turf, wooded weald with its ancient trees proudly lining autumn leaf-filled avenues, patches of scrub land, chalky bedrock leeching into ploughed fields, coppiced paths and farmland hedgerow, eroding chalk paths, hidden twittens, and always the green - the intense green, of the wide sloping hills and valleys.

wide sloping valleys

ancient trees proudly lining autumn leaf-filled avenues
patches of scrub land

A mile or more in we met a cheery cyclist; in fact, it's probably fair to say that everyone we met along the way seemed to be in good spirits: joyful, even. And why wouldn't you be, on such a mild November day in this special part of the world? Our cyclist, resident in Winchester, shared his stories of traversing the length of the SDW, and wished us all the best for the months ahead. We passed him again on his return - he cheered and waved the 'Exton Girls'.

It was a stunning walk with too many highlights to recall. But mention must go to the little red legged partridge who paraded his vibrant plumage for us. 'That's a Bloated Filch Tit. Damn fine specimen. Pretty rare!' quipped my brother-in-law when I asked for ornithological confirmation of the species. It was very young - perhaps had fallen from its pear tree.

A partridge (not) in a pear tree

It's probably also worth mentioning our varied success with the implementation of Operation Shewee (necessary when all hostelries, with their lovely toilets, are closed due to lockdown). While Hearth Mother here perceived it to be a game-changer, SLL was less than impressed. 'It's going in the bin. Don't ever want to see it again. Am traumatised and stink of piss,' quothed she. It was a 'damp squib' on an otherwise marvellous day. (Though the odd rough hewn bench en route wouldn't go amiss if I'm honest.)

The odd 'rough hewn bench' wouldn't go amiss


The most breathtaking views, which came on the final, dramatic descent into Exton looking across towards Beacon Hill, were more impressive even than the more famous Matterley Bowl at Cheesefoot Head.


the green - the intense green



Alas, is there anything more depressing than the site of a shut up inn at the end of a wayfarer's walk? Luckily Strictly Lord Lloyd brought with him the gin and tonic (and ice) - that we would have happily purchased - ready for consumption on the return car journey.


Cheers!













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