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Welcome to the “Georgia Wasp…”

This blog is modeled on the Carolina Israelite. That was an old-time newspaper – more like a personal newsletter – written and published by Harry Golden. Back in the 1950s, people called Harry a “voice of sanity amid the braying of jackals.” (For his work on the Israelite.)

That’s now my goal as well. To be a “voice of sanity amid the braying of jackals.”

For more on the blog-name connection, see the notes below.

In the meantime:

March 14, 2026 – The last post noted that on our next-to-last day of hiking the Pilgrims’ Way – Tuesday, August 26, 2025 – we visited All Saints’ Church, Boughton Aluph. (We Americans refer to “the PW” as England’s Canterbury Trail.) Later that day we passed Chilham Castle, on the way into Chilham itself. And I ended that last post by saying, “I enjoyed the town of Chilham so much that I figure it’s worth a lot more detail in the next post.” So here goes.

The highlight? We had dinner at The White Horse pub in Chilham, a three-minute walk down “The Street” from Woolpack Inn, where we spent our last night. More on the Woolpack later, but first more about the White Horse. It’s a 14th Century Inn in the heart of the “historical and picturesque village of Chilham.” It sits in the village square opposite Chilham castle, and has been featured in several film productions and television programs. For my last dinner on the Trail?

“I had a vegan pot pie, along with a salad and fries, as penance for last night’s Bangers and Mash.” Which brings up one of the best benefits of long-distance hiking adventures:

Each day is an ordeal and triumph. The sore-foot, mile after mile hiking is the Ordeal; the end o’ day pint, dinner and maybe a dessert is the Triumph. (Along with interacting with the locals.) One benefit of those long miles, the extra calories burned mean you can eat like you never could at home.

Another big point: If you’re ever in Chilham, The White Horse is the place to go. Then after the fine meal there I had a last pint and a slice of cheesecake at a place down The Street. (Unfortunately, I didn’t note the name.) But then I had to note as well, “I never eat like this at home!” But also that after tomorrow, “No more hiking ten miles a day with a heavy pack.” After two days off in Canterbury and then another two in London, I’d be back home and “back to my Spartan Kosher diet.” Meaning no more cheesecake at 7:30 p.m.

Meanwhile, back to the Woolpack Inn, offering rural chic in a traditional country pub:

This traditional country pub sits amongst the lush green fields of Kent and is surrounded by the well-known Kent Oast houses. Ideally located for exploring the historic city of Canterbury and picturesque Rye, this is a great spot to discover and explore this fascinating and beautiful area.

More important, from the Woolpack Inn we were only seven miles from Canterbury and the end of this year’s pilgrim hike. And as I wrote after the pint and cheesecake, “So ends our last night on this year’s pilgrimage. Tomorrow, we end up in Canterbury, Friday in London, and Sunday I fly back home. ‘Sheesh, where did the time go?’”

So much for the fun part of Tuesday, August 26, 2025. What about the hard part, getting to the Woolpack Inn and its charms from our start at the Conningbrook Hotel, Ashford? For starters, it wasn’t that hard. In the days leading up to it we had hiked 10.5, 11.3, 11 and then 12 miles, but on the 26th it was mere 8.5 miles. And there were a lot of interesting things to see. For example, after visiting All Saints’ Church, Boughton Aluph we hiked on, and then – two miles short of Chilham – we came on the weird-looking wooden-poled Coppice Oratory:

This four-metre-high wooden sculpture is a key lookout point on the North Downs Way, a space for reflection for modern-day pilgrims travelling along the route through King’s Wood, near Canterbury and Ashford. Positioned in the 1,450-acre King’s Wood above Godmersham at the point where Canterbury Cathedral becomes visible to walkers.

You can more pictures at Image Results, but about that “point where Canterbury Cathedral becomes visible.” My Pilgrims’ Way Guidebook has a note saying at 1:23 p.m. we got to a board – a trailside sign – “indicating a view of Canterbury Cathedral.” Or so they say. I took a picture of “that tiny thing seeming just above Carol’s head but really off in the distance.”

So much for our next-to-last day hiking, on Tuesday, August 26, 2025. In the morning I would have a hearty breakfast at the Woolpack Inn, berry pancakes with a yogurt topping. Then we would hike the last seven miles to the end of our 2025 hiking adventure, of which more on the next post. (Along with enjoying the sights of Canterbury and recuperating from our ordeal.)

And by the way, I recently had to remind myself that I’ve already done a post on My last day in London – 2025. That means that after this post all I have to do is fill in the blanks between August 27th and the 31st, when I flew home. And then I can write up a preview post on my next overseas adventure: Two weeks in May, in Ireland with lots of pubs to visit, along with a trek up to the top of Skellig Michael. (That’s assuming the Good Lord’s willing, the creek don’t rise, the weather cooperates and we can keep the end of world at bay for a while longer…)

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The upper image is courtesy of Woolpack Inn Canterbury England – Image Results. The page that came with it supplied some of the commentary.

Re: Good Lord’s willing, etc. I first heard that from Tennessee Ernie Ford, but there’s more. See, “If the Good Lord’s Willing and the Creek Don’t Rise” | USC Digital Folklore Archives, noting “this Southern phrase when making a promise or commitment. It served as a way to qualify their pledge, acknowledging that unforeseen circumstances could prevent them from following through.”

This Southern saying blends faith and realism, reflecting the values of the region. “The good Lord’s willing” conveys deep religious faith and trust in divine providence, while “if the creek don’t rise” acknowledges the potential for unexpected natural disruptions. Together, the phrase expresses both humility and an awareness of life’s uncertainties – recognizing that even with the best intentions to uphold a promise, external forces may intervene. By using this expression, the informant’s parents could make a commitment while also leaving room for circumstances beyond their control.

There was also the Jerry Reed song covered by Johnny Cash, see If the Good Lord’s Willing and the Creek Don’t Rise – Wikipedia. Who knew there was so much background on that simple saying? (That’s another reason I love blogging.)

Re: End of the world. See Stephen Hawking’s end of world prediction is coming sooner than we think. “By the year 2600, the world’s population would be standing shoulder to shoulder, and the electricity consumption would make the Earth glow red-hot. This is untenable.” BTW: It would be 649 years from 1951 – when I was born – to the year 2600.

The lower image is courtesy of Skellig Michael – Wikipedia.

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Re:  The Israelite.  Harry Golden grew up in the Jewish ghetto of New York City, but eventually moved to Charlotte, North Carolina.  Thus the “Carolina Israelite.”  I on the other hand am a “classic 74-year-old “WASP” – White Anglo-Saxon Protestant – and live in north Georgia.  Thus the “Georgia Wasp.”    

Anyway, in North Carolina Harry wrote and published the “israelite” from the 1940s through the 1960s.  He was a “cigar-smoking, bourbon-loving raconteur.”  (He told good stories.) That also means if he was around today, the “Israelite would be done as a blog.”  But what made Harry special was his positive outlook on life.  As he got older but didn’t turn sour, like many do today.  He still got a kick out of life.  For more on the blog-name connection, see “Wasp” and/or The blog.

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February 28, 2026 – In the last post we three hikers left Campbells Crib, Maidstone, last August of 2025. Our next stop – after hiking 12 miles on Sunday, August 24 – would be The Dog & Bear, Lenham. (Built in 1602, The D&B – visited by Queen Anne in 1704 – is a popular pub: “With exposed beams and open fires, the historic bar offers a selection of beverages and real ales.” Also, “cozy log fires, a courtyard terrace and cooked breakfasts.”) That would leave only three more days and 26.5 miles to Canterbury Cathedral and the end of our pilgrimage.

After hiking just over four miles that Sunday morning we stopped for a stamp at St Mary the Virgin Church, Thurnham. Then came a lunchtime disappointment: The Dirty Habit, a famous 11th-century pub in Hollingbourne, was closed that day for restoration. (Actually it was destroyed by fire in 2022 and won’t reopen until 2026, which I didn’t know that at the time.)

But as I wrote later, “On a pilgrimage you persevere. And eventually find redemption. (In the form of the Dog and Bear. ‘Thank you, Jesus!’)” Which is being interpreted: That evening I had a pint (or maybe two) at the D&B, to celebrate finishing that day’s 12-mile hike to Lenham. “Three more days to Canterbury, and a week from today I fly back home. Hard to believe.”

And while we figured after Sunday we’d have 26.5 miles left to Canterbury, Google Maps said it was only 18 miles. But I learned earlier on the hike – like on the one from Clackett Lane – that sometimes Google Map’s walking-ways can lead to a “series of near-death experiences, in the form of cars zipping by at high speeds with little or no room on the side of the road.” And that the people who made the Pilgrims’ Way – from Winchester to Canterbury – had no idea that someday there would be a Google Maps to help them get lost. (Or put them in harm’s way.)

We did manage to stop for coffee and a light snack at The Black Horse Inn, near St Mary the Virgin’s church in Thurnham. But we didn’t get anything heavy because we anticipated that nice lunch at the Dirty Habit. (Which alas, was not to be.) From there we had another four-plus miles of hiking to the Dog and Bear, mostly through mile after mile of fields of close-cropped, wheat-stubble grass. (And once again, to remind the reader: I was carrying a 20-pound backpack. Thus the “Thank you Jesus” for the refreshing pint (or two) at day’s end.)

On Monday, August 25, we hiked 11 miles to the Conningbrook Hotel, Ashford. Which meant hiking more mile after mile of fields of close-cropped, wheat-stubble grass. And somewhere heading close to Charing we got a bit lost, on a trail but not sure it was the Trail. Then a balding guy in khaki shorts and dark green t-shirt came by and ended up helping us find our way to St Peter & St Paul’s Church, Charing. It turned out he was a Canon at Canterbury Cathedral, right where we were headed. (A Canon is “responsible for administering a cathedral or certain other churches that are styled collegiate churches.”) But he had some alarming news. (To me anyway.)

According to him, five pubs were closing each week in the UK. Which led to me swearing to do my best to try and “hold back the tide,” like King Canute. (Hopefully with better results.)

On Tuesday, August 26, we hiked 8.5 miles to The Woolpack Inn, Chilham. (Though Google Maps has it as a 7.7-mile hike.) In the morning, we hiked up Canterbury Road, a busy highway with not much room on the shoulder for pedestrians. Heavy and high hedges kept us hemmed in. “Busy road, slow progress – and a lot of prayer. We had to get up to Boughton Lees to get back on the Trail.” That’s what I wrote, but we actually got back on the Trail at Kemp’s Corner, a mile east.

From there we hiked another mile to visit All Saints’ Church, Boughton Aluph. (I have a note in my Pilgrim’s Guide saying we got there at 10:39 a.m. on Tuesday.) Later we passed Chilham Castle, on the way into Chilham. (And our next-to-last day on the Trail.) But I enjoyed the town of Chilham so much I figure it’s worth a lot more detail in the next post. In the meantime, if you visit England this year or next join me and King Canute in “holding back the tide.”

The tide of pub closings that is, and maybe even bring The Dirty Habit back to life.

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The upper image is courtesy of Pubs Uk Closing Five Per Week Image – Image Results. As noted below, the range varies.

Re: Dirty Habit. See Dirty Habit reopening next year | Walking The Pilgrims’ Way, and Plans to reopen The Dirty Habit pub in Hollingbourne.

The link in harm’s way – Idioms by The Free Dictionary refers to a dangerous place or situation. A Google search will also lead you to In Harm’s Way – Wikipedia, on the “1965 American epic historical romantic war film produced and directed by Otto Preminger and starring John Wayne, Kirk Douglas, and Patricia Neal, with a supporting cast featuring Henry Fonda in a lengthy cameo, Tom Tryon, Paula Prentiss, Stanley Holloway, Burgess Meredith, Brandon deWilde, Jill Haworth, Dana Andrews, and Franchot Tone.”

On pub closings see UK Pubs Face Crisis: 8 Close Weekly Amid Rising Costs, The ‘heartbreaking’ number of UK pubs closing every week, and more recently, Every pub closed so far in 2026, with the headline, “Four pubs a day closing under high-tax Labour.”

From the King Canute link: “His achievements all but forgotten, Canute is now mainly known for a single misinterpreted story.” That is, while the tale is often used as an example of an arrogant king, it “actually celebrates Canute’s good sense and Christian piety.” He was trying to show his pandering minions that he was just a man with limited power. “The story is intended to illustrate his piety… He knows his power is nothing besides that of God.” Or see King Cnut and the tide – Wikipedia:

In the story, Cnut demonstrates to his flattering courtiers that he has no control over the elements (the incoming tide), explaining that secular power is vain compared to the supreme power of God. The episode is frequently alluded to in contexts where the futility of “trying to stop the tide” of an inexorable event is pointed out, but usually misrepresenting Cnut as believing he had supernatural powers, when [in fact it] relates the opposite.

The lower image is courtesy of The Dirty Habit Hollingbourne Kent Restoration – Image Results

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February 14, 2026 – The last post told of we three American hiker-pilgrims leaving our day-off lodging in Dunton Green – a small village in the Sevenoaks District of Kent – and ending up at The Tanyard, in West Malling. (Part of our multi-day, 130-plus-mile hike on the Canterbury Trail.) The next day, August 23, 2025, we hiked the 11.3 miles to Campbells Crib, in Maidstone.

About this time on the hike I stopped taking as many notes, either in cursive or on Facebook. (I’ve said in the past that if Hemingway was here today he probably wouldn’t scribble in a pocket notebook as he described in “A Moveable Feast.” He’d post notes and pictures on Facebook like I do, both to make the folks back home jealous and to use those notes for future books.)

Then again, I may have been too focused on just making it to the end of the hike.

In the meantime, the Tanyard was a two-minute walk southeast of Trottiscliffe, “colloquially known as Trosley.” And from there the Canterbury Trail heads way northeast to Upper Halling, only to then turn back south-southeast to Aylesford. That seemed like a lot of wasted effort, so we chose to go off the Trail and head more or less straight east on to Campbells Crib, Kent, using the London Road. Which led to an interesting lunch at the Fields at Aylesford. (A mile and a half southeast of Aylesford proper.) There we lucked on to the first WiFi since the Dunton Green guesthouse on August 20th, but there was a catch. You had to put in your date of birth.

Up came a calendar, for the month of August 2025. Turns out I had to scroll back 74 years, one slow thumb-month at a time, ALL the way back to 1951. That was one mind-bending experience, seeing all those months and eventually years scroll by, ever so slowly, one month at a time. Graduations, girlfriends, breakups, marriages, challenges, Yada Yada Yada. Actually, I should say it was kind of a psychedelic experience, watching all those months and years roll by backwards, the 74 long years it took to get back to my date of birth.

Or, thinking back maybe it was more like seeing your life flash before your eyes in one of those NDEs, where “people see their life history in an instantaneous and rapid manifestation of autobiographical memory. (Talk about travel broadening the mind. Then too, the life-review in Aylesford was anything but instantaneous.) In any event, lunch arrived in due course and I had the Fields’ Sunshine Salad and a pint of Estrella. (A Spanish beer popular in the UK.)

That calmed my nerves a bit after scrolling through all those long-past memories.

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Back to the hike. We got off the Trail partly wanting to shortcut a bit, but also from a dearth of suitable lodging on the guidebook route. (On that first, we didn’t want to hike way up northeast only to head way back southeast.) So, we ended up on mostly a suburb route, through towns with zooming cars whizzing by. But there were a lot of good sidewalks, and at one bus stop I saw a five-foot tall poster; huge baked beans all close-up, with the blurb, “It had to be toast.” A reminder that a classic Full English Breakfast includes baked beans on toast. (A treat I chose to forego all during my time in the UK, both on the Canterbury Trail and that mid-May “Recon.”)

Anyway, thanks to those nice, smooth and level sidewalks we made it in good time to Maidstone, a cute little college town sitting astride the River Medway:

Crossing over the Medway bridge, we saw two paddle-boarders enjoying the Saturday afternoon. Tomorrow – if my calculations are correct – we should get back on the Pilgrim’s Way to Canterbury, somewhere in the neighborhood of Hollingbourne.

The Campbells Crib apartment was quite comfortable, long and narrow with two bedrooms up front near the entrance, a substantial spread-out kitchen in the middle and a combo room at the far end, with a TV, dinette table, L-shaped couch – and eventually a mattress. I took a photo that night showing the edge of the sofa on the left side and the small dining table with one of three chairs stacked on top. It’s dark out through the back twin doors that led out onto the patio, and to the right was one of the twin mattresses dragged out from a bedroom up front. That’s where I slept. (We three take turns, and it was my turn to sleep on the floor.)

On the morrow, Sunday August 24, we would hike the 12 miles to The Dog & Bear Hotel (and pub), Lenham. Built in 1602, The Dog & Bear “offers cozy log fires, a courtyard terrace and cooked breakfasts… The cozy bedrooms at Dog and Bear were visited by Queen Anne in 1704, and feature a private bathroom and tea and coffee facilities.”

The popular pub restaurant serves a traditional British menu and seasonal specials using fresh local produce. With exposed beams and open fires, the historic bar offers a selection of beverages and real ales… The coast at Folkestone is a 25-minute drive from the hotel.

I hadn’t realized how close we’d get to that coast town with great communications to Europe, “home of the Eurotunnel passenger terminal taking freight vehicles and cars via the Channel Tunnel to Calais/Coquelles.” But from the Dog & Bear we would be a mere three days and 26.5 miles to our final destination, Canterbury Cathedral. Meanwhile, something to look forward to...

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The upper image is courtesy of Maidstone Bridge Uk Images – Image Results.

“Yada, yada, yada.” I knew the phrase from a Seinfeld episode, but the meaning has expanded. See Yada Yada Yada – Meaning, Origin and Usage – English-Grammar, on the way to skip over details, using an expression “meaning that you’re skipping over irrelevant details that no one cares about or needs to know.” But see also What Does “Yada Yada Yada” Mean in Hebrew? – vocesdeldesierto.com, which first notes that there the word “yada” in Hebrew means to know, and that “the repetition of ‘yada’ would imply a deepening of knowledge, a more profound understanding … with a stronger emphasis on the personal and experiential nature of knowledge.” Which is something I myself did not know, and why I love blogging. You keep on learning new things – if you do your Lateral Reading. (Also known as “Evaluating Online Sources.”)

Re: Life flashing before your eyes. The actual link is to When Life Flashes Before Our Eyes – Psychology Today. See also Life review – Wikipedia.

Re: Travel. See The Transformative Effects of Travel on the Brain.

I first acquired a taste for Estrella Damm, Mediterranean Beer hiking in Spain on various Caminos de Santiago. But it turned out to be quite popular in Britain as well.

I learned from a Comment on a Facebook post that Across The Pond the English pronounce it “Maidstn,” mushing-down the second syllable. (From a friend born and raised over there.)

Hollingbourne is a village and civil parish in the borough of Maidstone in Kent, England. The parish is located on the southward slope of the North Downs four miles east of Maidstone. The parish population is around 900. Also from Wikipedia:

The North Downs Way National Trail passes through the village, as does the Pilgrims’ Way, an ancient trackway historically associated with pilgrimage routes to Canterbury. The village has two large public houses. [Also known as “pubs.’]

Re: Folkestone. See Folkestone Terminal – Routes, Directions [and] Services.

The lower image is courtesy of The Dog And Bear Hotel Lenham … Image Results.

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January 30, 2026 – In the last post I hiked on alone on the Canterbury Trail, from Days Inn Clacket Lane to Dunton Green. (A small village in the Sevenoaks District of Kent.) There I met back up with my fellow hikers, brother Tom and his wife Carol. (She had just flown in from the States.) In Dunton Green we took the day off; Carol recovered from her jet lag, and we brothers took our second day off. (Since starting at Winchester back on August 12.)

On Thursday, August 21 we relaxed, shopped a bit and did laundry. On Friday, August 22, we got back to hiking, ten and a half miles to The Tanyard, West Malling. Once there, we would have only five more hiking days to Canterbury Cathedral and the end of our Pilgrimage.

Early in the morning we caught up with three guys also hiking the Trail, with day packs. It was nice to finally see someone else hiking the Canterbury Trail, and it would have been nice to chat a bit, but they had to hurry and catch a train. (They were doing the Trail one day-section at a time.) From there we stopped and got a stamp at The Churches of Kemsing and Woodlands, “two friendly Anglican churches just to the north of Sevenoaks. Kemsing is a village of about 5,000 people, and Woodlands is a scattered rural community of about 1,000.”

See also Wikipedia on Kemsing, which added that a local legend states that “the knights who murdered Archbishop Thomas Becket rode through Kemsing on their way to seek him out at Canterbury. Following his canonisation, Kemsing became a stop-off place on the Pilgrims’ Way.”

And late that afternoon we ended up at The Moat, Wrotham, of which I wrote:

“Thank you, Jesus!” Which is being interpreted: We finally made it to this place, with food and a pint – after a long six-hour stretch of hiking since 7:03 this morning. Which brings up one problem with the Canterbury Trail: Not too many places to stop and refresh. Today, only one other place, Italian, where I got an Americano coffee and chocolate canoli. (“Leave the car, take the canoli.” Google it.) So anyway, Mr. Google says we’re an hour away from tonight’s lodging. (The other good news.)

In other words, it was a long trek that day, with few places to sit and relax. (Not unusual for the Canterbury Trail, as we had learned.) But The Moat made up for it. Aside from beer there was “Great old-timey music… Right now, ‘Roxanne.’ Just before that, ‘Benny and the jets.’” Then Johnny Nash’s I Can See Clearly Now came on. (Which I’ve always considered a good omen. As in, “the Camino will provide,” a take on the Akedah, the-near sacrifice of Isaac in Genesis.)

From there it was a mere 47 minutes to our night’s lodging, The Tanyard, West Malling. Check the image below to see that on the outside it’s a bit quirky, if not weird. A sharp-angled roof that seems to start its angling a few feet off the ground. The first floor was wide open and comfy, but the second-floor loft – where I ended up – is way cramped. With the roof-ceiling angling in so sharp, you have to watch your head.

As for taking a shower, that’s definitely an acrobatic challenge. As you can see at left, there’s no shower curtain or anything else to keep the shower from spraying water all over the floor. And note the steep angles, on one side and up front where the faucets are. It definitely called for some limber athletic prowess. But in the fullness of time all three of us got the job done.

From there, later that evening – after the cramped on-your-knees and bent-over shower in the tiny tub, under the angled roof – we three repaired to THE GEORGE AT TROTTISCLIFFE, West Malling, for dinner, another well-deserved pint (or two) and some great ambience:

The George at Trottiscliffe is praised by many travelers for its delicious and plentiful food, with a wide menu and generous portions. The warm and cozy atmosphere, complemented by traditional decor, is inviting for families and special occasions.

In other words, then came redemption, in the form of this swanky restaurant right next door. Like the Tanyard it had no WiFi, but it did have another low-hanging entry way. (We saw a few patrons bonk their heads on the way in.) But the food was excellent, as exemplified by the shepherd’s pie I got. (Along with steamed carrots, broccoli and the obligatory prophylactic pint.) It turned out to be too much food, so I saved half for the next morning’s breakfast.

That’s one nice thing about these multi-week, mile-after-mile long-distance hikes: You burn up lots of calories, so you get to eat a lot better than you can back home. And that leftover shepherd’s pie was way better than baked beans on toast, a staple of the classic full English breakfast. “No thank you ma’am! I’ll pass.” Next stop, 11.3 miles to Campbells Crib, Kent.

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The upper image is courtesy of The Moat Wrotham – Image Results. The “Rose” in the title referred to The Rose and Crown pub and restaurant back in Dunton Green.

The link Binding of Isaac – Wikipedia notes that “this biblical episode has been the focus of a great deal of commentary in traditional sources of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.” Used here the key passage is Genesis 22:13-14, “Then Abraham looked up and saw behind him a ram in a thicket, caught by its horns. So, he went and took the ram and offered it as a burnt offering in place of his son. And Abraham called that place The LORD Will Provide.”

The lower image is courtesy of the link, The Tanyard, West Malling.

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January 21, 2026 – The last post I did on my August ’25 hike on England’s Canterbury Trail ended up at the Days Inn Clacket Lane. (In the Roadchef Motorway Service Area, Westerham.)

I had hiked 13 miles that day, mostly on my own; my brother Tom had taken the train from Merstham up to London to meet his wife, Carol. (She was flying in from the States and would join us for the remaining 45 miles of the hike.) Once I checked in at the Day’s Inn that late afternoon, I reveled in the big room, clean-sheeted bed and nearby amenities. (Which included a close-at-hand market where later that night I got two cans of Gordon’s Special Dry London Gin&Tonic for a nightcap.) I enjoyed that wonderful, relaxing evening in paradise, but “little did I know that evening in paradise led to an oft-harrowing hike on the morrow.“

And on that Wednesday morning, August 20, “the morrow” was here.

My plan for the day was simple enough. All I had to do was hike on alone the 6.25 miles to a guest house “somewhere in Dunton Green, ‘a small village and civil parish in the Sevenoaks District of Kent… It lies in the valley of the River Darent, 3 miles (4.8 km) north of the town of Sevenoaks.’” There I’d meet up with Tom and Carol, taking the train down from London.

I left the Day’s Inn at 8:07 that August 20. The morning was foggy and overcast, and it took 32 minutes to hike up Clackett Lane, through the tunnel under the M25 “interstate,” then head east on Pilgrim’s Lane to Betsom’s Farm. I got there at 9:19 a.m. To that point Pilgrim’s Lane was a narrow one-lane road with tall thornbush hedge on both sides. There wasn’t a lot of traffic to dodge, but then I came to a T-stop. (At what I found out writing this was Lord Chatham’s Ride, Chevening.) There were no signs telling which way to go, but the Pilgrims’ Way Guidebook said I should turn left to reach Chevening Hill, “tallest point on the Pilgrim’s Way.” That sounded like a Canterbury Trail highlight, so I turned left and chugged on slowly uphill a good 10 minutes.

Which brings up the fact that earlier on the hike – back hiking St Swithun’s Way – I thought it might be better to follow the Google Map way to the next destination…

Hiking uphill I checked my Google Map locator. I didn’t have internet but the locator gave me an idea where I was headed. And I was headed the wrong way, away from where I was supposed to be going. So, after hiking uphill a good 15 minutes and seeing no end in sight, I turned and headed back downhill. Then I started looking for a road or path so I could turn east. Google indicated I should hike up Sundridge Road. But, “Remember that back in my Bishops Sutton to Alice’s Looking Glass post I noted that I found St. Swithun’s Way, the first part of the hike, ‘weighed in the balance and found wanting? Neither well marked nor well kept, overgrown in many places?” (As opposed to the North Downs Way, the second and longer part of the Canterbury Trail.)

Meaning: Back on St. Swithun’s Way I thought it might be better to take the Google Map way to the next destination; the heck with the guidebook. Then I started hiking Sundridge Road.

That Google Map way led to series of near-death experiences, in the form of cars zipping by at high speeds with little or no room on the side of the road. “More of the tall thornbush hedge on both sides,” as in hedging me in. I despaired of making it to Dunton Green in one piece, as numerous cars zipped by on my left and right, as I gingerly changed sides-of-the-road looking for the widest shoulder. But then, out of the blue and at about 12:15 this place appeared, the Eat‘N’Mess. (The full address is Unit 4 Turvins Farm Dairy, Sundridge Rd, Sevenoaks.)

Eat‘N’Mess excels in offering a diverse gluten-free menu without compromising on taste or quality. Known for its fantastic coffee and delectable baked goods, this cafe is a favorite brunch spot in Sevenoaks. The welcoming atmosphere and accommodating staff make it a delightful place to enjoy a meal.

And what a relief it was, nestled among a farm compound as it was. Among other things it had WiFi, meaning I could find out the other good news: “Google Maps says the Rose and Crown is only 23 minutes away.” And Yu’s Guest House was just a bit beyond that.

In time I left the Eat‘N’Mess refreshed and got back on Sundridge Road. I headed northeast until it hit Morant’s Court Road, right where it changed names from Starhill Road. I passed over the A21 and got to the Rose and Crown, then kept going until I saw Elands Veterinary Clinic. The spreadsheet said to go through the gate across the street and head up the unmarked road.

Coming in to Dunton Green, after nearly getting side-swiped by zooming cars on the off-the-pathway highway sections, I passed the Rose and Crown. On to the vet place, then through the wood gate. Two “houses,” one a carriage house that looked institutional, the other at the top of the hill, up a long winding lane. Yu’s email said not to bother the private house, which I took to be the first one. But the house at the top of the hill – when I finally got there – had a trampoline and all kinds of kid’s play stuff and other evidence of private ownership.

So I hiked back down the long winding unmarked lane, and since the carriage house still looked institutional I repaired to the Rose and Crown to await further developments. (To ponder the situation and use their WiFi to maybe get word from Tom.) While there I also used the WiFi to post on Facebook. I described a picture I sent back home, showing “my second pint of Estrella and Today’s Soup, carrot and squash. (Not bad, actually.) Life is good.”

Feeling refreshed I headed back down Morant’s Court Road, and through the wooden gate. It turned out the carriage house was the place. It had three wings, three separate buildings. The instructions said, “The black door in the white building,” the one in the middle. So I tried the door and it opened. Once inside I saw a “big long place.” Two bedrooms along the front corridor and two couches and a day bed at one end of a long rec-room. Ping-pong and pool tables.

Later that day Tom and Carol arrived; we three were back together again. They checked out the apartment and Tom picked the day bed at the end of the rec-room. I got the private room close to the bathroom. (I’d gotten a couch or two in the last few days.) For dinner we hiked back up to the Rose and Crown. Next day we relaxed, did laundry and went to the grocery store down below the M26. Carol got adjusted from her jet lag, but mostly we just relaxed – and got mentally ready to resume the hike. On Friday, August 22, we’d hike ten and a half miles to The Tanyard, West Malling. Once we got there, we’d have five more hiking days to reach Canterbury.

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The upper image is courtesy of “view From Chevening Hill” Uk – Image Results. (The  “PW’s highest point” quote is on page 100 of the Pilgrims’ Way Guidebook.) The image came with a page headlined, “New tour on Chevening/Knockholt Walk.” It went on, “I’ve not tried it myself but delighted to relay the news that there is a useful detour on this North Downs stroll that means you don’t have to walk along Sundridge Road (although it is only a couple of hundred feet or so). So now you can follow a path behind Turvin Farm after Point 5 and rejoin the path back up the escarpment.“ I liked the part about not having to walk along Sundridge Road; I wish I’d known that at the time. 

The lower image is courtesy of the Yu’s Guest House link. I have no idea what the other two buildings hold, though I think one of them may be the owner’s residence?

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December 14, 2025 – The last post updated my August hike on England’s Canterbury Trail.

To review, on Monday, August 18, my brother and I hiked 10.5 miles from the Travelodge Dorking on Reigate Road to 2 Redstone Hill and the Travelodge Redhill. (A “thriving town” southwest of Surrey on the North Downs Way – and a main shopping destination blending “attractive Victorian buildings alongside modern architecture.”) Later that day, after checking in and laundry, we treated ourselves to a stop at a convivial English pub, the Garland in Redhill.

The schedule for Tuesday August 19 called for a 13-mile hike to the Days Inn by Wyndham Sevenoaks Clacket Lane, Westerham. The hiking forecast? “Another ‘restricted route or private roads.’ Mostly flat.” But there was a difference. This day I’d be hiking on alone.

Carol – brother Tom’s wife and a normal hiking companion since the 2019 Portuguese Camino – was back home in the States taking care of some personal business. But she was flying over on the 20th, so Tom planned to take the train up to London on the 19th to meet her early-arriving flight. Then we would all meet up on the 20th at Yu’s Guest House in Dunton Green. (A town that was home to the Rose and Crown Vintage Pub, according to my homework.)

Back to the hike on the 19th. Tom planned to take the train to London from Merstham station, but that was only two miles up from the Travelodge Redhill. So, he figured to hike on with me a bit, then backtrack to the station. (This was after we got another Pilgrim Stamp at St Katherine’s Church, Merstham, “which has existed for 1400 years.” It was a mere half mile up further, after we checked out the train station.) We ended up hiking on a bit and then parted ways at the outskirts of Chaldon, two more miles farther on. And then I was on my own.

My goal was the Days Inn Sevenoaks Clacket Lane, and Google Maps showed several ways to get there. I wanted to go by way of Oxted, for reasons I’ll explain in a minute, but first I had to work my way down below the busy M25 motorway, which led to this note later in the day:

Followed the North Downs Way until I had to shunt south to get below the raging M25 highway. Found the Old Bell pub, a definite highlight. Made it to the lodging on Clackett Lane by 5:00, after ten hours on the Trail, with “shunts” and breaks. Tomorrow a mere seven miles to Dunton Green. Then a day off, followed by six straight days of hikes.

I added that after reaching the Old Bell (“a cosy country pub in Oxted”) I’d finally found a “place with Wi-Fi (and a pint) after leaving the lodging in Redhill at 7:03 this morning.” Which requires some explanation – for those who may follow in my footsteps in years to come.

Both Travelodges we stayed at had free Wi-Fi, but only for 30 minutes. I thought that meant you’d get a new 30 minutes the day after you’d got your first 30 minutes, but no, that was 30 minutes period. If you stay at a Travelodge in that area for two successive nights, you get one bout of 30 minutes free Wi-Fi. (And they keep track.) That meant I had no Wi-Fi at all on the morning of the 19th, or anywhere along the Trail until I reached the Old Bell pub. Which led to the Facebook comment that according to the Old Bell’s Wi-Fi I had “four miles left to tonight’s lodging. And it is way hotter than I expected for nice and cool England.” And that I would add more later, “assuming tonight’s lodging has more than 30 minutes ‘free’ Wi-Fi.”

But first some information about the hike just after Tom and I parted ways. From Chaldon I hiked on two miles to a panoramic sign “Caterham Viewpoint,” showing “a few key points of interest which can be seen from here.” That included, off to the right (to the east) the Anne of Cleves House. (Given to Anne “at the end of her short-lived marriage to Henry VIII – although she never lived there.”) The last picture I took that day showed a sign for Hanging Wood Forest Farm, with another sign below it, “local raw honey” nestled among the foliage.

At 1:15 I stopped at another combo garden place with a cafe, the Knights Garden Centre, “just east of the junction of the A22 and the A25.” (The A25 is also know as Oxted Road.)

Set in the rolling hills of the surrey countryside, our Nags Hall centre has grown up around a beautifully preserved Victorian walled garden and historic woodland. Over 75 years it has developed from a traditional nursery into an award-winning garden centre and no visit is complete without enjoying a meal in our beautiful award-winning Walled Garden Restaurant.

There I got a salad and what passed for an iced coffee in the UK, with nary of bit of sweetener. (Back home I get RaceTrac iced coffee with French Vanilla creamer “added to taste.”)

I got the hefty salad because I wasn’t sure what lay ahead, food-wise, but after hiking another mile and a half I found the Old Bell in Oxted, and it was open. (As I hoped.) There I got a pint of Peroni – an Italian beer surprisingly popular in the UK – and a bag of potato chips. And posted some notes on Facebook for later use. (I’ve noted before that if Ernest Hemingway was alive today – and spending time overseas – he wouldn’t write out in pencil and cursive in a pocket notebook, like in that Good Cafe on the Place St.-Michel. He’d be writing out posts on Facebook, both to make his friends back home jealous and for later use in his books.)

After the Old Bell salad and pint I hiked another four miles, first on what became Westerham Road after Oxted, then turning left on Clacket Lane, for the last mile hiking. There I found the Days Inn was part of the Road Chef Clacket Lane M25 service area, and a great service area it turned out to be. I was able to check in by 5:00, “after ten hours on the Trail,” and found the place a veritable paradise. For starters, behind the check-in desk I could see a glass-fronted cooler with any number of cold drinks, including a good number of bottle beers. I had one to enjoy during the check-in process, then made the way to my room to unpack and shower.

I reveled in the big room and clean-sheeted bed, not to mention the just-finished beer. Later I went over to the food court and had a touch-of-home McDonald’s combo for dinner. Then a short trip to the close-at-hand market for two cans of Gordon’s Special Dry London Gin&Tonic for later. (For which I acquired a taste on the earlier mid-May 2025 “Recon.”) All that and a chance to sleep-in-a-bit made for a wonderful, relaxing evening in paradise.

But little did I know, that evening in paradise led to an oft-harrowing hike on the morrow.

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The upper image is courtesy of Merstham Uk – Image Results. It comes with a page, The North Downs Way > Merstham to Oxted, which has a number of photos of the Trail to Oxted, and commentary.

The lower image is courtesy of the Days Inn Sevenoaks Clacket Lane at Booking.com. See also O-Be-Joyful: Definition, Examples & Quiz – ultimatelexicon.com: “Historical slang from the American Civil War era referring to homemade alcoholic beverages, particularly moonshine or any crude or amateurly distilled liquor.” Or by extension “it can signify any form of strong alcoholic drink aimed at inducing a euphoric state of joy or celebration.” Like after a day of hiking 13 miles.

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December 1, 2025 – The last post was short in terms of time covered. Just over a day and a half if you include the August 16 day off that we spent at the Guildford Station apartments, 33 Farnham Road. (During which we toured the town and visited places like Guildford Cathedral.)

But if you count just actual Canterbury Trail hiking time, it covered about half a day.

That was because I really wanted to cover the “creepy walled-in Anchorite,” whose story we heard at St. James’ Church in Shere, a village 4.8 miles east south-east of Guildford and 5.4 miles west of Dorking. (Where we ended up at the end of that August 17 hiking day.) For the full story see the last post, but briefly a lady in Shere violated her Anchorite vows one too many times, and so she ended up literally walled in – trapped – in a tiny cell for the rest of her life. Which really creeped me out, but made me relish all the more my freedom in being able to take so many long-distance hikes. (Which since 2017 has meant that at the end of each hiking day I can look forward to a warm bed, hot shower and a cold beer.)

But back on the Trail. On that Sunday August 17 we hiked a total of 13 miles and ended up at the Travelodge Dorking Hotel, in Surrey. (Google Maps had it as 12.6 miles on the most direct route, but we had to detour a bit to find our lodging. “GM” also said the route has “restricted route or private roads,” but we didn’t find any problems.)

For some reason I didn’t write any more notes about that day’s hike, except for the creepy walled-in Anchorite part. Which means for more reader information I have to turn to the guidebook we used, the Cicerone Press Pilgrims’ Way Guidebook. For one thing it said Shere “has been called one of the most beautiful villages in England,” and that shortly after leaving Shere you’ll come to the Abinger Hammer clock tower. (Which for some reason doesn’t ring a bell as I’m writing this, metaphorically or otherwise.) But one thing I remember about the Travelodge Dorking – where we ended up that night – was the Tesco Express a minute away. That meant good access to a nightcap beer or G&T in a can. (Something of a specialty in the UK.)

And we had dinner at The Watermill, a short seven-minute walk up Reigate Road.

On Monday August 18 we hiked 10.5 miles to another Travelodge, the Travelodge Redhill Hotel, 2 Redstone Hill, Surrey. As the guidebook says, the hike was “Mostly flat with a moderate long ascent.” Google Maps put the hike at 7.1 miles, but the official trail heads up to Box Hill first, which adds some extra miles. (And shows the often-dramatic difference between the way Google says to go, and where the Canterbury Trail actually runs.) Anyway, we made the Redhill Town “Centre” in good time, by 2:30. “Not a bad over-ten-mile hike for two old guys,” but we got there before check-in, so we had a late lunch at the Poppins Cafe & Restaurant in the town center: pretty much a mall-like area less than 10 minutes from the night’s lodging.

And now for some highlights of the day. We left the Travelodge at 7:24 a.m. and got to Betchworth at 8:53. On the way, hiking up towards Box Hill, “a highlight of the Pilgrim’s Way,” we saw a flock of goats in a large field to our right. As Tom walked by, they all started clamoring toward him, maybe thinking it was feeding time? And once we spent some considerable time trying to figure out which signpost to follow in this part of the North Downs Way part of the hike. “They weren’t always clear – or legible.” After passing through Betchworth and entering Dawcombe Nature Preserve, Tom conducted experiments with some big chunks of chalk, spread along the Trail. For lunch we stopped at a Plant House Coffee Shop and I had two poached eggs on toast and hot coffee. “Very good!” It was an interesting place, part of a bigger garden and nursery set-up. Kind of a Home Depot with a cafe-slash-coffee shop attached.

I remember in the coming days stopping at least once more at a Plant House, maybe more?

After showering and resting a bit we went out to do laundry, and have dinner and a pint. My initial choice was The Garland Pub Redhill, mostly because it was right next door to the Redhill Launderette. It was a great pub but didn’t serve food, so as our laundry laundered we crossed Grovehill Road – where it meets Brighton Road – to the Flame Grill (and Kebab House) Redhill. And found a pleasant surprise: An actually-affordable dinner in England with enough left over to take home and enjoy the next day. (Which I did.) The Flame Grill got some lousy reviews on Tripadvisor but I thought it was great. My review? “I got a 1/4 chicken piri piri, a quarter chicken with salad and fries, all for 6.50 GBP. Best deal I’ve found so far. (Saving some for later.)”

After Flame Grill we went and folded our now-dry laundry, then took the clothes – and my leftovers – back to the Garland. I found it a “convivial all-locals place – except for we two – with soccer on TV and lots of hard-to-decipher English-accent animated conversation.” I only saw one woman in the place, the lady behind the bar. “Definitely an all-male sanctum sanctorum. A place for all-guy talk and blaring crowd noise from the soccer game on TV.” Then I went for a pint:

The barmaid said Leeds and Everton are playing. Only two guys in the place were actually kind-of watching the game. (I did glance up every once in a while. My great-niece Molly is really into soccer.) The rest of the patrons were talking local events. So as I ordered my second pint of San Miguel, I stood and drank in the ambiance of the place. That’s when it struck me that if Hemingway was alive today, he’d be scribbling his notes on Facebook, not writing in CURSIVE with a pencil and pocket notebook, as described in “A Movable Feast.”

But enough of waxing poetic, except to say that if you’re ever in Redhill UK, I highly recommend both the Garland and Flame Grill. And I’ll close with the photo below, of the inside of the Garland Pub, as we saw it but with a lot more noise, a lot more patrons and a cute barmaid behind all those beer-taps. And “Tomorrow we hike another 13 miles to Sevenoaks.”

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The upper image is courtesy of Box Hill, Surrey – Wikipedia. The complete caption: “Towards Box Hill Looking towards Box Hill from Betchworth Park Golf Course. The prominent house above the stand of trees is Boxhurst.” Approximately 19 miles south-west of central London, it is named “after the ancient box woodland found on the steepest west-facing chalk slopes overlooking the River Mole… An estimated 850,000 people visit Box Hill each year.”

The full cite to the guidebook, Pilgrims’ Way Guidebook – Winchester to Canterbury, by Cicerone Press, “founded in 1969, specialising [sic] in guidebooks for walkers, climbers, trekkers and cyclists.”

On Hemingway and scribbling in cursive. I try to take notes in a small, pocket notebook, but mostly I post on Facebook at the end of a day hiking, and sometimes during a particularly good lunch. Then I gather those Facebook notes for these travelogue blog-posts, and sometimes a separate book.

The lower image is courtesy of The Garland Public House, Redhill (Restaurant Guru). Also, in finding the photo I ran across this website, Walking the Pilgrims Way – Responsible Travel. (Very informative.) My original post had a picture I took of a sign we saw coming in to Redhill. But for some reason the publishing platform “disassembled” it, rendered it not-viewable. I originally wrote that the sign offered “proof positive that we really are on the Pilgrim’s Way – the hike to Canterbury – even though we have yet to meet another person doing the same pilgrimage.” I said that meant this hike was not at all like the Camino Frances in 2017 or the Portuguese Way in 2019, with a slew of fellow pilgrims saying “Hola, Buen Camino” every five seconds. (But rewarding nonetheless.)

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November 22, 2015 – Here’s what I’ve described so far in posts about my hike last August on England’s Canterbury Trail. (What locals call the Pilgrims’ Way.) That’s the “historical route supposedly taken by pilgrims … to the shrine of Thomas Becket at Canterbury in Kent.”

Officially it’s 119 miles, but detours to find suitable lodging made it 138 miles. At first I hiked with my brother Tom, and we left Winchester – at the western end – on August 11. (As detailed later, Tom’s wife Carol planned to join us on August 24.) After hiking five days – through places like Bishops Sutton, Alton and Farnham – we reached the site of our first day off – from hiking – in Guildford. (Silent “d,” the site of the upscale new cathedral shown above.)

More to the point, we finally got off St. Swithun’s Way (ptui!), the part of the trail that runs from Winchester to Farnham. We’d reached the much better North Downs Way part of the hike.

As the last post noted, on that fifth-day August 15 we “drag-assed our way in to Guildford,” after 12 miles, which we celebrated with a late dinner (and pint or two) at the White House pub. (On the banks of the River Wey, “this elegant yet cosy pub is said to overlook the very waters that supposedly inspired Lewis Carroll’s (Alice) Through the Looking-Glass.”) After dinner I collapsed into the living room sleeper sofa, followed by sleeping late and catching up on ZZZs.

On that day off (August 16) we visited Guildford Cathedral and got another Pilgrim stamp. The cathedral is way more modern-looking than I expected, but then it’s only been around a half century. (Said the pamphlet, adding that the unique building on Stag Hill was “built with bricks purchased for half a crown by thousands of ordinary people.”) And by the way, Stag Hill is a “prominent hill located in Surrey, England. It is situated to the southwest of Guildford, a historic town in the county. With an elevation of approximately 175 meters (574 feet) above sea level, Stag Hill is often categorized as a hill rather than a mountain due to its moderate height:”

The hill is renowned for its picturesque views and is a popular destination for both locals and tourists alike. From the summit, visitors can enjoy panoramic vistas of the surrounding countryside, including the Surrey Hills Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty … known for its rolling hills, dense woodlands, and charming villages, offering a tranquil escape from urban life.

And a tranquil escape from urban life – more precisely modern life, with all its “rush, rush, rush” – is just what we were after. (Along with a cold beer at the end of a long day.)

Resuming our trek on August 17, we hiked 13 miles – the longest day so far – from Guildford to Dorking, along the much-better North Downs Way. And had dinner and a pint at The Watermill, Dorking, seven minutes up the road from our place at the Travelodge Dorking.

But first, leaving Guildford we crossed over a footbridge on the River Wey, as people sculling rowed by beneath us. And for a long time we saw lots of Sunday-morning hikers; there’s a ton of hiking paths crisscrossing that part of the North Downs Way. That included a young couple with dad carrying a baby in a backpack-contraption that looked like something Rube Goldberg would be proud of. And about halfway to Dorking we got to the “small still partly agricultural village” of Shere. To get there we had to cross an old-time ford at the River Tillingbourne.

The ford consisted of a series of not-too-slippery rocks, which we gingerly tiptoed across. We got there just in time for light brunch at the Dabbling Duck. (A “vibrant cafe … situated in the picturesque village of Shere.”) Then, shortly after leaving the Dabbling Duck – Google Maps says it’s a three-minute walk – we came across St. James’ Church. There we found both a highlight and lowlight of the day. I’ll talk about the highlight in a bit, but the lowlight came during a guided tour given by a local church lady. It had to do with the “creepy walled-in Anchorite” in the title. Here’s what I wrote later about the “creepy hole in the wall” the lady pointed out:

It seems one Christine Carpenter wanted to be an Anchorite [in the early 1300s], dedicating her life to Jesus, by staying in this cubby hole in the wall of the church. The clover-shaped thing on the left was where she could receive communion. The other is where she could watch the church service. Then she changed her mind, but The People wouldn’t let her out. The church lady who related the story said nobody knows whatever happened to poor Christine, who wasn’t allowed to change her mind after that…

Which definitely piqued my interest. I checked Wikipedia, which said that by initially leaving her cell Christina violated her Anchorite vows and so was in danger of excommunication. She changed her mind again, but to make sure she didn’t change a third time, when readmitted to the cell her doorway was walled up. (The walled-up exterior is shown in my picture below.)

That church visit definitely freaked me out – shades of the Cask of Amontillado – but also made me think. And made me appreciate the heck out of my freedom to “walk free and own no superior.” Which brings us to the highlight of the day. While touring some other parts of the church I saw a poster with a saying attributed to St. Augustine, “it will be solved by walking.” (In Latin, “Ambulando solvitur.”) I did some research on this topic too, and found Solvitur ambulando – Wikipedia. (On the Latin phrase meaning “it is solved by walking.”) The term refers to “an anecdotal, practical solution to a seemingly complex philosophical problem. It is often attributed to Saint Augustine in a refutation of Zeno’s paradoxes of motion.”

But what does all this “book larnin'” have to do with the topic at hand? Just that ever since I started these long-distance Camino hikes in 2017 – think “Buen Camino!” – people at home have been asking me, “Why would anyone want to do that?” I could just answer, “Suit yourself, dumbass,” or give a more polite “Who wouldn’t want to do that?” But like any true aficionado I feel the need to spread the good word, the Good News of undertaking such a mission.

You know, besides the warm bed, hot shower and cold beer at the end of a long day’s hike.

I’ve found a number of answers that satisfy me, but that’s a bit like preaching to the choir. But that day in Shere led me to another answer, this one from a post on the Camino Quest website, Solvitur Ambulando: Is it really solved through walking? The writer said St. Augustine of Hippo may have used it in a metaphorical sense, “suggesting that some problems in life and faith can only be understood through action or experience rather than abstract reasoning:”

I find walking, hiking, and pilgrimaging all provide opportunities to solve life’s complexities (or at least contribute to solving). Walking the Camino is a journey unlike any other. Personally, I weave in and out of deep pondering and blank white space. Creative thoughts come at lightning pace. Smiles break out on my face, and tears sometimes flow. I am surprised by the range of emotions as my mind finds release from contemplating life’s challenges.

So I’d say St. Augustine was right, that walking really does contribute to solving life’s greatest mysteries, and that “It is also very good for our bodies and minds.” Which brings us back to that creepy walled-in Anchorite and the question I would ask Christine Carpenter, “Why would anyone want to do that?” I’d much rather enjoy the heck out of my freedom to “walk free and own no superior,’ which as Walt Whitman said “encapsulates the essence of true freedom.”

In the next post we’ll move on from the creepy walled-in Anchorite in Shere toward further adventures in Dorking, Sevenoaks and Dunton Green, our second day off and home of the Rose and Crown, Vintage Pub. Something I’m guessing Christine Carpenter never got to enjoy…

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The upper image is courtesy of Guildford Cathedral – Diocese of Guildford: The “‘Mother Church’ of the diocese with a unique and high-profile ministry. Relatively speaking, it is a modern cathedral, having been consecrated in 1961. Its construction could not have happened without the generosity and support of the local community.” As to that local support see Guildford Cathedral – Wikipedia:

The Cathedral Committee … launched the ‘Buy-a Brick’ campaign in 1952. Between 1952 and 1961 more than 200,000 people paid 2s 6d (equivalent to £5 in 2023) to sign their name, or the name of another person on a brick. Elizabeth II and Prince Philip both signed bricks, which are on display inside the cathedral, along with bricks signed by other members of the Royal Family.

It was built on Stag Hill, “so named because the Kings of England used to hunt there. Its solid red brick outline is visible for miles around. Whilst in 1932 this was far outside the town of Guildford, the growth since then has already begun to wrap around the cathedral to the west and south.”

The lower image is courtesy of Cell of the Anchoress of Shere – Atlas Obscura, which added: “Christine broke out of the anchorage after almost three years and attempted to rejoin society.” See also – aside from Wikipedia – Secret Surrey: The woman who chose to spend her life in a cell, The Anchoress of Shere, Christine Carpenter – Shere Delight, Cell of the Anchoress of Shere – Atlas Obscura, or Christine Carpenter – Surrey Cultural Lives. For more on Anchorites see Wikipedia: Such people were required “to take a vow of stability of place, opting for permanent enclosure in cells often attached to churches. Also unlike hermits, anchorites were subject to a religious rite of consecration that closely resembled the funeral rite.”

See also The Anchorite Tradition of Voluntary Incarceration and Devotion to God:

“An anchorite … was a person who chose to “live alone in prayer to worship God, unceasingly and without distraction.” Although other Christian ascetics share the goal of the anchorite, for instance hermits who lived in the deserts, there are certain features that separate the former form the latter. Generally speaking, an anchorite refers to one who was “walled into a small cell which was attached or ‘anchored” to a church or oratory.” The anchorite tradition was particularly widespread in the British Isles. (Emphasis added.)

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November 4, 2025 – In the last post my brother Tom and I finally started the Canterbury Trail.

Kind of.

Actually, our first two days didn’t meet the definition of Thru-hike. “Hiking an established long-distance trail end-to-end continuously.” That was because of a glitch in lodging; we couldn’t find a good place to stay between Winchester and Alton. (A distance of some 18 miles.) So the first day we hiked halfway, then took a bus back to the apartment in Winchester. (Which held half our stuff, for what should have been a lighter if not easier hike.)

So Wednesday the 13th we bused from Winchester to Bishops Sutton, then hiked the rest of the way, to the Alton House Hotel. (For the first time lugging fully loaded packs.) We ended the day with a touch of Heaven’s Kitchen – hot meal and cold beer – but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Back to Wednesday morning. We took full packs – mine at 16 pounds – and took the bus from Winchester to Bishops Sutton. (A mile east of Alresford – “Al’s Ferd” – where we stopped the afternoon before.) And home to a lot of watercress cultivation, “due to its chalk geology and the calciferous River Alre allowing it to grow in the beds of Chalk streams.” Meaning we saw lots of watercress “farms” (more hydroponic) that first full day’s hike from Bishops Sutton. And as noted last post, this was after we’d stopped that first “half-weight-day” for lunch at the Bush Inn, Ovington, in the process of having its roof re-thatched. So we began this day’s hike as well on St. Swithun’s Way, a path that I found “weighed in the balance and found wanting.” I found it neither well marked nor well kept, plus there were few places to stop; more on that in a bit.

But before going further, a preview of coming attractions. That Wednesday, August 13 we hiked from Bishops Sutton to the Alton House Hotel in Alton. Thursday we hiked a short 7.4 miles to the Farnham House Hotel in Farnham. (On Alton Road.) Friday the 15th we hiked 12.4 miles to Guildford Station – the “d” is silent – at 33 Farnham Road. We stayed there two nights for our first day off. (After five days hiking.) And now for some background details.

I’ll start with why I found St. Swithun’s Way “wanting.” Aside from a total absence of fellow through-hikers, the path was often overgrown; at times only six inches wide between brush and bramble on both sides. And the path markers left much to be desired; often missing and sometimes just plain wrong. Plus as noted, few places to stop and refresh.

An example of a rare place we found to stop: Somewhere between Bishops Sutton and Alton, a place called the Tack Room. (A “tea place,” meaning no beer.) We met two local oldsters – close to our age? – who took great interest in our hike and debated long and hard on how to get to Alton. And getting there we passed through more sheep fields – “watch where you step!” – then through another overgrown patch of trail. I didn’t write much about that day, our first with full packs, except to say hike should have taken six hours but ended up taking nine. “We drag-assed into Alton, then showered and had dinner at the ‘Heaven’ Mediterranean steak house down the street.” (Heaven’s Kitchen Alton.) And that I “collapsed into bed about 9:00 pm.”

It does usually take a day or two to round into shape.

That first full day’s hike did have some moments of beauty and solace. Like the fields of flocking sheep and “shades of Van Gogh” fields of wheat. Plus it was overcast and a bit cooler than Tuesday, which helped. (The UK weather had been much warmer than expected.) Also, right about that time the Pilgrims’ Way Guidebook started talking a lot about Kissing Gates:

The kissing gate is often the subject of chatter about the origins of its amorous-sounding name. Consisting of a semi-circular, square or V-shaped enclosure on one side and a hinged gate that swings between two shutting posts, it allows one person at a time to pass through but keeps livestock out… As for the title, the prosaic answer is that it derives from the fact that the hinged part touches – or ‘kisses’ – both sides of the enclosure rather than being securely latched like a normal gate.

So much for that amorous-sounding gate. On the 14th we left the delightfully retro Alton House Hotel – at 9:10 – and stopped for lunch in Bentley, after five and a half miles. That afternoon we ended up at Farnham House Hotel, another delightfully retro inn, but hard to find. (Part of the slow going, “mostly due to poor upkeep and ‘iffy’ signage.”) Google Maps said it was only three miles, but not on “St. Swithun.” The iffy signposts took us way north.

For example, later that day we found a sign pointing northeast; it said, “Farnham 4m – 53 km.” Which I found a perfect metaphor for the FUBARs on St. Swithun’s Way. We believed the sign but it took us the wrong way. “Had to backtrack a bunch, once again. And note, 53 kilometers is some 33 miles, not four. My advice: Hiking to Canterbury … go the Google Maps way. Which I’m sure Chaucer’s Canterbury pilgrims would do if they had Google Maps back then.”

The day’s highlight? A late lunch (and pint of Cruzcampo beer) at Farnham Royal Pub in Bentley. I noted, “Google says we’re three miles from tonight’s lodging in Farnham… But it’s slow going, mostly due to poor upkeep and iffy signage.” We eventually did make it to Farnham House Hotel on the 14th, “a delightful country manor house located on the outskirts of Farnham in Surrey,” no thanks to St. Swithun. (And after hiking through a pasture full of horses.) If you check Google Maps you can see that coming from the north – after being misdirected by signage – we had to take a left on Runwick Lane, then head south on Chamber Lane. Then hit Alton Road, take a left and then head back up north for ten minutes up that long driveway to the Hotel.

That was just part of the backtracking we had to do that Thursday.

Our hike on Friday the 15th started better. For one thing (as I wrote later), “Saw the first NDW sign at 9:15 a.m., after leaving the Farnham lodging at 7:50. 11.95 GBP for their breakfast but it was really good. Lots of fruit, juice, coffee and cereal. And so far the NDW looks a whole lot better than St. Swithun’s Way.” To translate: We had to pay extra – 11 British Pounds – for breakfast, but it was worth it. Then, hiking out of Farnham we saw our first sign indicating we were finally off St. Swithun’s Way (ptui!) and on to the North Downs Way. Which I found much more pleasant to hike on; better maintained, smoother well-kept trails and better signs.

We hiked through Runfold Wood, a 30-acre nature reserve east of Farnham, and at 2:20 we reached Puttenham, famous for “lots and lots of hops.” (From which they make beer.) In honor of that we stopped at the Good Intent Pub, with its “cosy atmosphere,” spacious beer garden and a menu “full of freshly prepared pub classics and seasonal dishes.”

Leaving Puttenham the Trail eventually goes through a tunnel under the busy Guildford and Godalming Bypass. Past that and the Watts Gallery we saw a long line of open fields to the left. The last one we saw – before turning left (north) up to Guildford – had its northeast corner bordering on the Ergo at Work Ltd shop, which we didn’t know at the time. What we did know was that the official Trail bordered one last long open field, which led to trouble.

The official trail was in deep woods, but parallel to it – bordering the open field – was a nice sunny smooth dirt path, open to the sky. For a while we hiked in the woods, then switched to the parallel dirt path. Between the smooth path and official trail ran a line of thick brush, much of it brambly, overhung with more trees. Looking ahead I saw Tom head off into the brush, what I thought was answering a call of nature. So I took off my pack and waited. And waited. After a bit of time I heard Tom calling. I yelled back but he evidently didn’t hear me.

That went on for a while, him calling but not hearing my response. (“Bedroom voice?”) I climbed back through all the bramble-brush to the official trail, but that didn’t help. In time I figured “No problem. I know the address. All I have to do is get to Guildford, find a pub with wifi and contact Tom by WhatsApp. Piece of cake.” So I set off east, heading toward Portsmouth Road, where I’d take a left and head up to Guildford (and a pub). That was a strange feeling, being alone and out of touch in this faraway land, but also a touch exhilarating…

In time I got to Portsmouth Road, where the Canterbury Trail keeps on toward Dorking. But just to make sure – before heading north – I hiked south a bit, then a bit east. Then from the west came a man on a bike who said, “Some guy a way’s back keeps calling out. I think he’s looking for you.” So I backtracked once again, and eventually met up with Tom.

The result? That August 15 we “drag-assed our way in to Guildford,” after hiking 12 miles (at least), but on the North Downs Way. (“Not St. Swithun’s.”) Which we celebrated with a late dinner – and a pint – at the White House pub on the River Wey. (“Perched gracefully on the banks of the River Wey, this elegant yet cosy pub is said to overlook the very waters that supposedly inspired Lewis Carroll’s (Alice) Through the Looking-Glass.”) After that I collapsed into bed – actually the living room sleeper sofa – followed by sleeping late and catching up on rest.

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The upper image is courtesy of Heaven’s Kitchen Alton Uk Image – Image Results. And a word about that “Sutton.” The name derives “from Old English elements ‘sūth’ signifying ‘south’ and ‘tūn’ indicating ‘enclosure or settlement.’ Historically, it denoted southern farmsteads or villages, playing a significant role in Anglo-Saxon England as agricultural hubs. Many places named Sutton evolved into manorial estates and local marketplaces documented in the Domesday Book.” (Meaning Of The Name Sutton.) So this particular Sutton once belonged to the Bishop of Winchester.

Some things I’ll put here so as not to disrupt the narrative: On the 12th we stopped and got a stamp for our Pilgrim Passport at St Swithun’s Church, Martyr Worthy. Then – speaking of iffy signage – one time on August 13 we missed a turn because the SSWay marker was covered with brush. We were changing from one paved road to another. Then passed through a long field of what looked like stunted wheat. Then a lot of sheep fields.

Another note: Our spreadsheet had the name of the apartment at 33 Farnham Road as “Guildford Station.” But more properly that term applies to the Guildford railway station, “one of three main railway junctions on the Portsmouth Direct Line and serves the town of Guildford, in Surrey, England. It is 30 miles 27 chains (30.34 mi; 48.8 km) down the line from London Waterloo.” (Wikipedia.) The station is a five-minute walk from “Guildford Station Apartment, 33 Farnham Rd.”

The full link: Kissing Gates: How Did They Get Their Name? | HistoryExtra. As for the prosaic answer to its amorous-sounding name: “That hasn’t stopped many clinging to a more romantic notion: that the first person to pass through would have to close the gate to the next person, providing an opportune moment to demand a kiss in return for entry.”

North Downs Way – Wikipedia adds that it’s a long-distance path that opened in 1978 and runs 153 miles “west–east along the North Downs, the range of chalk hills after which it is named, from Farnham in Surrey to Dover in Kent.”

The link Answer the call of nature – Idioms by The Free Dictionary provides a lot of in-depth history.

Re: “Bedroom voice.” Back in 1966 – I was 15 – my best friend’s girlfriend told me that. “You have a bedroom voice.” Which comes in handy sometimes, but not this day on the Canterbury Trail.

The lower image is White House Restaurant Guildford Uk River Wey Images – Image Results. See also White House | Restaurant Bar | , UK | DesignMyNight, with the full quote:

Perched gracefully on the banks of the River Wey, this elegant yet cosy pub is said to overlook the very waters that supposedly inspired Lewis Carroll… Step through the doors and you’ll find a space that feels both timeless and full of character – think glowing fireplaces, wooden floors, and an inviting buzz that makes every visit feel like an escape from the everyday… Outside, the riverside terrace is the real show-stopper. On sunny days, it’s the perfect spot to sip a chilled glass of rosé or a pint of Fuller’s Frontier while watching the river drift by – you might even half-expect the White Rabbit to hop past. 

We enjoyed our fish and chips (plus pint) on that show-stop riverside terrace, watching the River Wey as it glided by, and as four local ladies chatted away and the sun set in the west.

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