Crowlink To Beachy Head – 27th December 2018

It’s the day after Boxing Day, and we are walking alone.  It probably has an official name, but for us it is Walking Day.  We’ve now rather got the bit between our teeth.  This year Boxing Day was ‘sit-at-home-in-a-torpor day’, but today we need some fresh air.  Besides we’ve decided to walk the whole of the England and Wales coast, so we’d better get on with it. 

So we’ve returned to the Crowlink car park we passed through 2 days ago, intent upon continuing our eastward march along the chalk cliffs, hopefully as far as Beachy Head.  A few dog walkers are around, but judging by their lightness of dress, I suspect they will only spend 10 minutes emptying their over-indulged hound, before returning to a nice warm house.  Sausages laid, they hurry back to their cars, leaving us to trek in peace down to the cliff edge. 

The cold and the brisk sea breeze conspire to poke icy fingers into every available gap in our clothing, so we are dressed to the hilt.  That’s what we love about winter walking, you can always strip a layer off if too much heat is generated.  During the summer months, all you can do is sweat. 

Four of the Seven Sisters, with Belle Tout lighthouse in the distance
– note the recent cliff fall

From Flagstaff Point we turn eastwards towards Beachy Head.  There is still the odd serious walker out, but this mere trickle of humanity soon swells to a flood, as we approach Birling Gap.  Most people have been locked away with their Christmas turkey for the last four days, but today they too have decided to blow it all away with a bit of festive exercise.  A 100 yard excursion from the car to the cafe should just about do it! 

The National Trust know all about how to extract a tidy sum from urban visitors – parking charges, meals, souvenirs, membership recruitment.  We rural locals however, are a bit more circumspect with our cash, knowing where to park at less cost and bringing sandwiches with us. 

We feel it is a little early for lunch yet, so decide upon a minor Christmas indulgence – a cup of coffee, with the mandatory ‘sticky bun’.  We take our refreshment alfresco, not minding the chill wind, as long as we can get away from the cacophony of noise that emanates from the eating and chattering masses. 

Ten minutes is our alfresco eating limit – before we are frozen to our picnic table.  It is just as well we don’t get too comfortable at such times, otherwise we may never complete our scheduled walk.  We take a brief look around the immediate environs of the cafe, which has pleasant, if Spartan gardens.  Some considerable thought has gone into some interesting hard landscaping, using local materials, as well as good use of sculptural objects.  I like Birling Gap, but not on a busy day.  It will make a good destination, should we ever get round to running the gauntlet of the tide, walking from Cuckmere Haven to here along the beach. 

We decide to investigate the access to the beach, which is an impressive modern steel-girded structure, resistant to the depredations of the stormiest of seas.  Interpretative boards advise us about being mindful of our safety and inform us about the structure of the chalk cliffs here.

Birling Gap – sculptures by man meet sculpture by the sea

Along with numerous other poor souls, driven into the countryside by the risk of Christmas stir-craziness, we head eastwards and upwards, towards the Belle Tout lighthouse overlooking Birling Gap.  I’m sure we must stand out from the crowds shod in their sleek, pure white sneakers, since we appear to be the only ones wearing dirty old hiking boots.  They probably feel sorry for the poor elderly couple who did not get the latest in fashionable footwear for Christmas. 

Many of these are young urban parents, struggling as they push red nosed toddlers in tractor-tyred buggies.  It won’t be long before solar-powered, four-wheel drive versions are ‘de-rigeur’.  The turf here is Wimbledon short, thanks to the attentions of grazing rabbits and the incessant trampling of thousands of sneaker-shod feet. In places the trampling is so intense that the National Trust have had to cordon off badly eroded areas with high-viz tape. 

Reaching the lighthouse appears to satisfy the vast majority, who promptly decide to turn back and indulge in that ‘well-earned’ cup of coffee at the cafe.  Everyone appears to be happy with this arrangement.  The masses subsidise the work of the National Trust, through their purchases, who in return carry out reparations to the damage to local flora, caused by the trampling feet of visitors.  The challenge is getting the balance right between visitor pressure, nature conservation and economics. 

Those of us who want to escape from the crowds, are able to do-so after a couple of hundred yards of walking.  A significant number continue the walk beyond the lighthouse, intent upon reaching Beachy Head, the highest chalk sea cliffs on the south coast.  Many will doubtless end up in The Beachy Head pub, which welcomes walkers and their canine companions all year round.  The walk back can be avoided by catching the 13x service bus, which conveniently stops at Birling Gap. 

Beachy Head has a darker side to it, being one of those places that a few disturbed individuals gravitate towards, looking for a permanent solution to their personal problems.  The appearance of three ‘day-glo’ clad figures training binoculars along the cliff line, are a grim reminder of the reality of this problem.  Initially I take them for members of HM Coastguards looking out for seafarers in distress.  It is only when they pass us in a car marked “Beachy Head Chaplaincy”, that I realise they are dealing with a totally different form of distress.  A bouquet of flowers confirms that our ‘day-glo’ guardian angels are not always successful in their vigil. 

Beachy Head’s 162 metre cliffs tower over the Beachy Head Lighthouse

As we take advantage of a nearby wooden bench, we note that it coincidentally bears the name of Betty’s brother.  Hopefully the ‘remembered’, was one of the many people who enjoyed Beachy Head for the pleasure it brought them, rather than one of those more desperate souls.  

Stopping for any length of time, inevitably requires a significant amount of walking to return circulating warmth back to our bodies.  A visit to the public toilets helps also.  A mile or two further gives magnificent views down onto Eastbourne and across Pevensey Bay to Hastings.  Some 950-odd years ago, a startled Saxon must have been enjoying a similar view, only to discover several hundred Norman long-boats drawn up on the beaches below.  The UK has not been the same since, although the current Brexit farce threatens to return the country to a collection of independent nation states, much like those that existed in pre-Norman times. 

Having achieved our goal, we begin the return journey back to the Crowlink car park.  The bus is not for us, preferring to extend our walk via the much quieter back lanes further inland.  This is a much less windy walk than the cliff top alternative and eventually brings us back to Birling Gap, before we head away from the sea to East Dene.  This is a lovely little village, offering the respite of an alcoholic reward at The Fox.  The final mile or so back to Crowlink car park takes us through a small grassland nature reserve, although there is little by way of flora or fauna to observe on this mid-winters day.