Stage 9: Alfriston to Eastbourne

This was it: the finale. Friday 1st September 2023. The culmination of three years of covid-interrupted walking and planning. The last, spectacular stage of the South Downs Way. The cunning plan was for us to be dropped in Alfriston, then Strictly Lord Lloyd would travel on to deposit our bags at a seafront hotel in Eastbourne ready for our triumphant descent. Perhaps there would be bunting and fanfares...

Except that driving to Alfriston took place in near-monsoon conditions. The pace of the windscreenwipers on Lord Lloyd's car was a disturbing indication of what was to come. Marti Pellow sang in a band that best describes how we felt during the first couple of hours. It was 'light rain', true enough, but the drenching kind of light rain that quickly soaks one utterly.

A thing that looked good in the wet

There was navigating of puddles to be done. Conquering of cows. A longish stop at the Cadence Cafe in Litlington a mere mile or so into the walk in order to see if it might 'let up'. (The hand-dryer in the toilet doubled as a clothes dryer if one's acrobatic balance was good enough.)

Hanging about the Cadence Cafe

Anyone familiar with the blog will know about the much-discussed dearth of benches along the way. The quote of the day came quite early on. I'm not sure what the collective noun is, but there were a number of them by Friston Pond. 'Look at that,' remarked Strictly Lady Lloyd with more than a trace of annoyance. 'Five of the bastards, all nestled together!' Her frustration was in part due to the fact that the lashing rain made using the sudden proliferation of benches impossible.

'Five of the b*stards....'

Pond life

There was quite a climb after Friston Pond, up some steep steps necessitating pause for breath at the top. There we met a man and his dog, the dog cheerfully dragging a stick three times its own size. But soon we'd reached the Seven Sisters Country Park where it was time for a quick change out of wet things ready for the highlight of the walk.  There are stunning views into the Cuckmere valley, across the meander loops that have now created just ox-bow lakes, cut off from the main body of river.

Next career as a jockey?

The walk along the Seven Sisters, beginning with Haven Brow, was every bit as spectacular as we'd imagined. It was worth every mile that had come before it. 

We found a quiet place to have lunch, just after Brass Point, where I realised that I'd left my OS map behind somewhere in the Cuckmere valley. Oh well, easy come, easy go. I only had it in my possession for a walk and a half in the end. Worse, I realised that it was not just the map; I'd also mislaid my bank card. Cancelling it was not a job I'd anticipated having to do at the top.

What a glorious bit of coastline: dramatic, wild and beautiful. Waves boomed against the white cliffs as though warning not to step to close to the edge. The undulating nature of that stage of the walk meant that the going was quite slow; all the more time to soak up the sights. 

The skies were heavy with cloud, but at some point it did, finally stop raining, lighting up the cliffs.

We fantasized about staying at Belle Tout lighthouse, used in the filming of the iconic Life and Loves of a She Devil. 

We sat on a long bench looking towards Beachy Head in all its magnificence, knowing that we were nearing the glorious conclusion, the final of the spectacular Seven Sisters. We felt privileged. Lucky. So lucky that we began planning what we'd do with a lottery win (my dream would involve build a theatre in the local village...I even selected the building for such a project).

Soon enough, the end was tantalizingly in sight. We could see the lovely downward descent: the culmination of our adventure. We could taste the sea in Eastbourne. We could almost feel the crisp linen of hotel sheets, and smell the bath salts of the wonderful bath that lay ahead to ease weary muscles. We skipped downwards. Until we spotted that the lovely downward descent was not, in fact, the end. There was a big 'up' bit to come. We should have known. 'Downs', after all, come from the Anglo Saxon word 'dun' meaning 'hill'. And, being the Downs, it had one more 'downer' in store.  

A (large) pint in the Pilot was called for, outside in the garden because the sun had finally come out in earnest. 100 miles is thirsty work. 

There was the rare treat of staying in a charming seaside hotel, with a view of the ocean.

And, what a difference 24 hours makes. In the morning there was no sign of the previous day's monsoon. Nothing but blue skies above, the sun shining high, and the sea was calm - making an early morning dip a joy.

So - congratulations to us, Strictly Lady Lloyd. It was a fitting end to a wonderful walk. Nothing for it but morning tea on the terrace.