North Downs Way: Day 4

I fear the distant drone of traffic today, swiftly crossing the A22 before disappearing into the shushing woodland up Winders Hill.

Someone loves their classic cars. Three gleaming Morris Minors, last produced in 1970, sit outside a small cottage. I feel a twinge of shame, having neglected our old Viano warhorse, moss growing along the base of the windows. I took it to a car wash once, and the wide-eyed manager warned there were limits to what they could achieve.

A column of cyclists passes at a junction, and I turn down the road they came from, entering the attractive grounds of Woldingham School, blessed with its own vineyard. I doubt the grapes would have survived at my old comprehensive.

Oh oh! I need to check my map more often, as I’m way off the trail, which explains all the cyclists. Still, it would be a shame to miss such a beautiful valley, climbing back out through a sea of daisies bobbing in the breeze. I’m half expecting the Teletubbies to appear over the hilltop.

Emerging from the trees, the sweeping view tells me I’m back on track.

One moment, atop the downs, the next below on the Pilgrims’ Way, the golden fields belying the roar of the M25 nearby.

After a long stretch along the sides of fields, it’s time to ascend once more, before a short break at Coccolith, inspired by the creatures that, 65 million years ago, formed the foundations of the North Downs Way.

There’s a shortage of water, but Mole and Ratty seem happy enough.

I find my first official distance marker.

A couple with a King Charles Spaniel cross a field of cows ahead of me. Despite taking a wide berth to avoid the calves, the mothers are agitated, gathering speed as they give chase. I’m impressed by the chap, who turns and spreads his arms wide, slowing their progress, so the trio reach the safety of the tiny kissing gate in the corner. This, of course, creates a problem for me as the excited herd block my exit.

I’m normally not too bothered about cows, but I don’t fancy trying to move them, taking the long way round and climbing over a fence at the other end of the field.

Dashing up a narrow lane with tall hedgerows, I reach what should have been my exit. I think I made the right call!

The official path continues on the far side of the road, but a rather sinister-looking welcoming committee waits there too. I give up and walk along the road until I find a gate to climb over to rejoin the path.

Two groups of teenagers file along the hedgerows, one sporting yellow rucksack covers and the other red.

A little later, I reach a woman sitting in a chair with a clipboard, who is relieved to hear that her last two DoE groups are on their way.

Near the end of the ridge, the “Keyhole” cut in the trees, designed in 1777, beautifully frames Chevening House, the official country residence of the Foreign Secretary.

On the final descent into Otford, I’m too busy watching a family ahead, thinking what a fine shot they would make against the skyline, tripping over a fallen branch and toppling flat on my face. No damage done, just to my pride. When will I learn?

I link up with the Darent Valley Path for the final mile into the village. I sometimes attend a folk club here, so I know The Bull well, a perfect place to cool down and wait for the train home.

Date of walk: Saturday 13 June 2026.

Walk distance: 17 miles.