Megan Carmichael enjoys a classic coast walk
THIS CHALLENGING but captivating walk has been undertaken by East Sussex Scouts every first Sunday in January since before 2008. That was the first year I joined them as a fresh-faced 14-year-old Scout, walking my first organised hike.
Much has changed since then (I am now a worn-faced Scout leader, walking this route out of pleasure rather than necessity for once), but everything looks just the same. I park at Exceat on a late May morning, having flashbacks of pre-dawn risings and icy paths.
They called it the cobweb hike, so named as it was used to prepare for the
upcoming hiking season. I have walked this route in every weather imaginable, be it snow, rain, sun; however, this is the first time I have walked it on the cusp of summer, so my bag feels worryingly light of layers.
This hike starts in the shell of the old village of Exceat. It does not exist anymore, having first been decimated by the plague, then finished off by French raiders. Further on, Friston Forest brings a welcome peacefulness. I can hear birds singing in the trees and smell the natural scents of the forest. Sadly, they have removed a lot of the trees down here, with more looking to be culled soon. I fear the next time I come; it will be completely different again.
The walk to Birling Gap is short but gives the landscape time to stretch out like a dog after a long sleep. Each step provides more of the glistening sea. I see a gaggle of hikers, grouped around an ice cream van. By their faces, I can tell they’ve finished their seven ascents before I’ve started. A viewing platform provides the perfect vista over the cliffs, which are often used in media to portray the famous cliffs of Dover. Allowing coastal erosion here means they don’t have the same mossy affliction as their more famous counterpart.
As I start over the undulating cliffs, I am walking alongside a man in a distinctive blue coat. We pass each other during short breaks; I overtake him when he stops for water, he slips by shortly after, and so on. I try to name the bumps but soon lose count. Rough Brow or Flat Hill? Is this the one that doesn’t count as a full Sister?
On the last brow, the bluecoated man is ahead of me. He jovially waves as he disappears over ther horizon, solidifying the bond we have formed during our walk.
Descending into Cuckmere Haven, I remember we had the choice as youngsters to go up to the beach to explore. Thirteen years on, it doesn’t sound as appealing, so I start along the river back to Exceat. I am grateful for this decision moments later as the familiar rain comes pouring down. I dig out my waterproof and wrap myself up, smiling to myself as I arrive back to the non-village. This is more like it.