Stage 6: Steyning to Pyecombe

This walk, on Sunday 19th February 2023, was spectacular.  And quite uncharacteristically bench-filled. 

It was a ‘shoutier’ walk than some of the other South Downs Way stages we have covered so far. This was partly because of more wonderful weather (clear skies meant we could see for miles) combined with rapidly-changing scenery: the familiar chalk path cut across fields and farmland, wended through woodland, veered via villages, spanned roads, crossed river and road bridges; all the while incorporating sight of the Jack and Jill windmills in the distance and panoramic views of the sea. 

But the main reason it seemed more arresting and spectacular than some other stretches of the walk was because it was crowned by the dramatic vista of Devil’s Dyke.

It began and ended with graves: the landmark family memorial to Walter and Mollie Langmead positioned on the spot of their favourite view, and ending with the Commonwealth war graves at Pyecombe’s 12th century Church. Markers of mortality serving as little reminders, should they be needed, of our small time and inconsequential stature on this earth.

 Family memorial to Walter and Mollie Langmead



The climb up from Steyning was steep – and we giggled as we remembered a champagne-filled descent last time around. Conversation meandered around work stresses, domestic distresses, menopause, and troubles with a mutual acquaintances. Everything seems better in the open air. More joyful was catching up on our respective half-term trips to the Swiss Alps and Eindhoven.

Bench number 2 today


We decided that memorial pebbles were a rather charming idea and might be a nicer contribution to make at a funeral than cut flowers that die off in just a few days. 

Bench number 3

Bench number 4

I think, all in all, we  counted nine benches today. Easily a record. Some were clustered near the start. And only one of them was in a spot where we were ready for one, but I'm certainly not complaining. The more, the merrier, frankly. 




The route began with the familiar path across green fields and hills. But it was an ever-changing landscape and we enjoyed seeing pigs, or at least their bottoms.




Not to mention the first of the daffodils as we passed 'Tinpots' and headed towards the village of Botolphs.





Oh look. A bench

Walking through the village we found - no prizes for guessing - another bench, a water tap, and also some pretty lambs frolicking in a meadow who seemed happy to pose obligingly for the camera.




Yet another bench


I should have been taking pictures of the beautiful scenery, but I became quite obsessed with the overwhelming number of benches; particularly given the dearth of them on some of the other legs. 


After crossing this bridge, we found a bustling little coffee kiosk (its proprietor very jolly in his work), before dashing across a busy road to head up Beeding Hill. It was quite a busy little stretch of the South Downs Way all round, with plenty of cyclists, walkers and joggers passing in both directions. 


Strictly Lady Lloyd avails herself of bench number six? seven? Lost count!

Strictly Lady Lloyd of course came up trumps with the now firmly-established granola slabs as a mid-morning treat, consumed atop Beeding Hill.

Views from Beeding Hill



We are still to master the art of the selfie


We also came across the YHA at Truleigh Hill which provided a welcome toilet break: another rarity so far on the South Downs Way. 



As we grew closer to Devil's Dyke, the colourful fabric wings of paragliders began to fill the sky. There was something quite joyful about their activity, though I have no wish to try it myself. This seemed like a picturesque lunch spot, topped off with Wispa bars as an indulgent pudding. All entirely justifiable if you are walking 13 miles in a day. 




The landscape became increasingly dramatic the closer we got: combes and corrugations rippling the downs. There was also another opportunity for a drink and toilet stop at the Devil's Dyke Pub before we reached the Dyke itself.



Devil’s Dyke. Even the name is enough to conjure a sense of power and supernatural might, and legend suggests that the 100metre deep rift was formed by Satan in a plan to thwart the spread of Christianity by flooding and drowning the churches in the surrounding Weald.

Thankfully for generations of Sussex residents since, while carving the giant scar towards the sea the devil was outmanoeuvred by a woman. Legend has it that Sister Ursula used Satan’s capacity to labour only under cover of darkness directly against him.

As a former theatre lighting designer, I love the luminescent creativity of her plan. She placed a candle in a window behind a sieve to create the creeping, splintered light of a (false) dawn before the Prince of Darkness could finish his dastardly digging. To make her cunning performance more convincing, she woke up her cockerel for a theatrical morning sound effect.

The devil, believing these signs heralded daybreak, fled before he could flood the valley, lamenting that his work was incomplete, but leaving the giant trench intact.

Happy days. 




For something so magnificent when you experience it, it's actually quite difficult to take a photograph at Devil's Dyke and do it any kind of justice. So a picture of a sign will have to suffice.


Possibly my favourite bench of the day - and there was some stiff competition

Distant views of Jack and Jill windmills



A friendly face on the walk

The final descent into Pyecombe seemed like something of a mirage. We could see the sign for the pub, tantalisingly close, but it felt like a long walk round to actually access it, again crossing a busy dual-carriageway, the A23, this time via a road bridge, after which we actually had to ask directions.




Graves to finish as well as start the walk today

We finished, of course, with a couple of well-earned pints when we finally found the Plough. Hearth Father was on pick-up duty, and discovered why finishing in a hostelry usually generates a more desirable support option than the early-morning drop-off.

Another 13 miles of the Way under our belts. Cheers!

Cheers!





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