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The South Downs Way By Downhill Jason

Introduction.

About three months ago, I had this wonderful idea to build up a second bike which was strong but light to use for long rides out and general messing about, as my Marin DH bike is no longer practical for such riding. This idea also spawned the first plans to ride the South Downs Way.

As a Northerner who hasn't been down South for that long, my riding has mainly been limited to riding around Croydon, occasional jaunts onto the North Downs, trips to Penshurst and many days of holiday entitlement used to return to the Lakes for some 'proper' riding. Recently, however, a number of people have raved about the South Downs, with its lung-busting climbs, long descents and miles and miles of uninterrupted bridleways. I thought it a bit far to go for one day's riding and didn't know any routes so what better way to experience it than by tackling the full hundred miles of the SDW at once?

Day one.

It was with fear and trepidation that my brother, Allan and I alighted from the train in Winchester on a dry but cloudy Friday at the end of September, our numbers already reduced by one due to Pete having a huge thumb print on the top of his head. We left the station forecourt with rucksacks on our backs and headed off through town to the start of the route which rather disappointingly is on a footpath on a slip-road for the M3, a temporary route for cyclists until a permanent one can be found. After riding along roads for about a mile, we reached a very steep lane heading eastwards onto the start of the downs; a real baptism of fire. The lane ended onto a well surfaced bridleway which then deteriorated into a wet grassy climb and further still onto nettle-strewn singletrack. Hoping that the whole way wasn't going to be the same, we crossed a main road and onto a well defined bridleway leading through tree-lined fields and into open countryside. This was more like it.

We got to QE Country Park a little weary but with huge grins and decided to stop for a lunch of burger and chips. Whilst letting dinner settle, I decided to have a nosey around the visitors centre and noticed a contour map showing the SDW's route through the park and a number of waymarked trails ranging from family-level to advanced. It so happened that the family route ended up at the same place as the SDW's route, which took in the advanced route's climb, dropped and then headed off in the direction of Harting Down. Nipping outside, I mentioned to Allan that as we'd had to ride muddy tracks all day into a headwind, I thought it fair that we got some payback by following the family track up and meeting the way at the top of the hill. After thinking about it for a grand total of two tenths of a second, he agreed and off we set, thinking it was going to be a doddle. All families around there must be olympic athletes, as the top of the family climb was the worst of the whole route, and (thanks to the lack of SDW signs) brought us out miles above and away from the turn-off, a point that we didn't notice until we saw the visitors centre at the bottom of the trail - we'd been right round the hill!!

After finding the turn-off, we continued on to Cocking village with no more mishaps apart from Allan having a low-speed off into a mud-bath. After I had stopped laughing, we continued to the final descent of the day into the village. It was through an open field then into wooded singletrack (sweet!!), onto a lane then ended opposite the B&B.

After washing the bikes and showering, the landlord of the B&B informed us that the pub across the road was closed for renovation (typical) and that the closest was two miles away. Did this stop us? Did it buggery!! We got on a bus and went up the road where we quaffed a fair few pints and a huge slap-up meal before returning by bus and crashing out for a well-deserved night's sleep.

Day two.

Day two started bright and fresh with the though of a monumentous climb out of the village and up onto Heyshott Down. Whether it was the beer from last night, the weather or some freak of nature, we seemed to have buckets of energy and were up the climb in no time and spinning at a very respectable speed through wooded bridleways and open tracks along the tops of the downs in scenery that reminded us of Claife Heights on the far bank of Lake Winderemere!! It was whilst riding this part of the way that we experienced our only taste of rain in the whole three days - a one minute shower that failed to deliver what it promised - thank god!!

The first real descent of the day off the side of Littleton Down was through the middle of a ploughed field then onto a chalky track that's surface seemed to have been coated with chip-fat; something that we were to come across a great deal more from this point on.

We followed the way onto Bignor Hill along well-surfaced wide bridleway and onto a huge downhill , over a mile from top to the bottom where the route crossed the River Arun by footbridge. On the other side of the valley bottom, we reached the halfway point, with signpost to prove it (Winchester & Eastbourne both 50 miles away). The climb up onto Amberley mount started with a metalled road (thank god) and then left onto an incredibly steep bridleway that saw us walking for the steepest part and for the first time so far. Our excuse is the beers from the night before!! From the top, the way once again used wide, well-surfaced bridleways as it dipped and rose through some of the most stunning vistas of the route - the North Downs on one side and the English Channel on the other.

Upon reaching the summit of Barnsfarm Hill, the way splits, with the most direct route for walkers and cyclists signposted left into Washington. We followed the trail to Washington through a stubbly field which led into an excellent singletrack bridleway which followed the edge of the fields and some woods and then turned into a slippy, steep metalled road. At the bottom, we 'sort of' went wrong and after following a path onto a common with excellent technical paths we realised our error. We came across a lad with two dogs and asked him which way the village was, and were answered by a very panicked voice saying that he was about to ask us the same thing as he'd been there for hours and didn't know where he was! Luckily enough, we had better luck than him and after consulting the maps, we found the village (and more importantly the pub) where we rested for dinner. The pub we found was full (it being a hot, sunny Saturday), but was a bit like the one in 'American Werewolf in London' i.e. everyone started at us like we were from Mars. We wolfed our dinner down as fast as is humanly possible, thanked our lucky stars we'd decided not to make this our first overnight stop and carried on.

We made the bottom third of the hill, walked the middle bit then rode the road section to the YHA, my back tyre picking up the largest dog muck in the world on the way. I reckon that Digby the biggest dog in the world must have been up there and had been eating something very potent!! We crashed out in front of the oldest TV in christendom, supped our ale and were crashed out by 9:30.

Day three.

I awoke on day three feeling a little stiff (not like that!!) and about an hour before breakfast so decided to go for a walk onto the tops to take in the splendid scenery we'd seen on the way up. I was greeted with a beautiful clear day and upon getting to the top of the hill, was rewarded for my early morning jaunt with the sight of the Adur valley and all to the north of it shrouded with low-lying mist - breathtaking.

After waking Allan and having breakfast, we set off for what we expected to be the hardest day of them all - and were not disappointed! This being Sunday, we noticed that there were a great deal more people out on the trails than the previous two days and hooked up with a couple of day-trippers for a short distance before their fresh legs carried them off into the distance. First real descent was through the gorse bushes and twisty tracks around the top of Devils Dyke and really woke us up! We then traversed West Hill, a steep little blighter, and on to the A23 crossing. From here, the Way climbs up to the Jack and Jill windmills on a boggy bridleway through the middle of a golf course, then turns right at the windmills and up onto the top of Ditchling Beacon. Resisting the temptations of ice cream, we pressed on at a surprisingly fast pace along the tops to Blackcap then turned right onto the worlds muddiest bridleway. Luckily, the mud didn't last for long and we were then on a seemingly endless downhill run through fields and twisty singletrack.

The descent off of Devil's Dyke

With our newly found energy and such a long descent, it seemed like nothing could spoil the moment when disaster struck - Allan's SRAM rear mech snapped across the pivot points (I told him to get Shimano!). It was now decision time; do we press on with Allan riding an impromptu single-speed, or does he retire and I carry on alone. His bike answered that one for us, as the shortened chain could not decide which cog it wanted to be on so with long face, he headed to Lewes and the train to Eastbourne while I headed off alone.

Unfortunately, Allan seemed to have taken my leg power with him, as the next climb onto Cold Coombes was the hardest climb so far and only sheer determination and the granny ring got me up to the top. Here, I came across a couple out for a day ride and stuck with them for a few miles where they turned onto a sweet-looking singletrack bridleway and I headed onto a concrete farm track pointing directly into a headwind. Sods law. The descent to the River Ouse was all metalled - just my luck - and wasn't exactly filled with thrills. I crossed the river, ate a power bar (yuck) then began the long, wind-blown ascent of Itford Hill which, as my earlier companions had warned me, steeper than it looked and progressively so towards the top. The Way here follows the tops of the hills for a number of miles before the descent into Alfriston down another greasy, slippy, rutted track.

Upon reaching Alfriston, I realised that apart from breakfast some hours ago and that Power Bar, I'd had nothing else to eat all day. The problem was how could I leave my bike unattended whilst I got some dinner. By taking my bike into the shop to the horrified surprise of the shop-owner, that's how. I had a hearty meal of a couple of Snickers bars then pressed on for the final two hills - Windover Hill and Bourne Hill. Windover Hill was a nice surprise, with the climbing on steady, well-surfaced bridleway and sheltered from the wind by woods on the top. It also led over and into Jevington on the best descent so far - a technical thin muddy bridleway through woods with exposed roots, massive drop-offs and tight corners.

Being in Jevington, I only had one hill to do and the knowledge that it was nearly all over. However, in contrast to Windover Hill, this climb was evil, with an incredibly steep ascent through woods on a rocky bridleway which I must admit to walking up. Reaching the top tired and sore, I was rewarded with the best sight I could have asked for, Eastbourne, the end of the route, nestling at the bottom of the hill under clear blue skies next to a beautiful blue sea. 

Looking down to Eastbourne

This was it, a last descent and I was there and what a descent it was - through open grasslands then into woods and a finish next to a sign bearing the full distance of my achievement and a patiently waiting brother who'd found a pub to retire to afterwards. I even managed a wheelie down the last bit!

Whilst having our celebratory beer (or consolatory for Allan), we discussed at great length the last few days. Our conclusions were of some of the best riding we'd done, of achievement, disappointment for Allan's mechanical and of promises to return again to this wonderful part of the country. Next long distance route planned is the Ridgeway, followed by the C2C next year. I'll let you know how we get on.

Jason.

Consoling

Celebrating