A surprise free day- especially a free day when the sun happens to be shining- is always welcome in my books. Since the pandemic began, I had discovered a new appreciation for all the beauty that can be found on my very own doorstep; hours and hours of trekking across the South Downs and along beaches within a few miles radius of my house had turned me into a true fan of my little corner of East Sussex. That sunny day in June, I sprang out of bed, shoved some supplies into a backpack, and headed on out the door. I was staying with a friend in Willingdon, on the outskirts of Eastbourne, and that is the perfect place to begin a walk from Eastbourne to Alfriston.
(This is also one of the best long walks from Alfriston, so don’t rule out walking back from Alfriston to Eastbourne if you happen to be staying in the quaint Sussex village.)
The seaside town of Eastbourne lies right at the foot of the South Downs National Park, which has a cobweb of footpaths running across its entirety, so there are plenty of potential routes you can take to walk from Eastbourne to Alfriston. You also might not feel like walking the entire stretch, which took me about three hours with a couple of stops en route- in Folkington, and at the Long Man of Wilmington. I’ve divided this post into sections of the walk, and each section is an easy place to begin the hike to Alfriston from.
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Willingdon and Wannock
I decided to head out from the back of Willingdon, through Wannock and into the fields beyond, which is to all intents and purposes: Dog Walker Territory. Willingdon was once a tiny village, which is easy to see from the little church, cottages and tiny Wheatsheaf pub. (It’s also said to be the real-life home of Animal Farm, by George Orwell; I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but it’s definitely interesting.)
In contrast, the roads and cul-de-sacs that spread outwards and into Wannock, are mostly bungalows housing retirees and families, with concrete or gravel driveways and shiny cars in pride of place out the front. Gardens are well-manicured with well-trained roses and herbaceous borders, and a dawn chorus of lawn mowers and hose pipes can be heard here on Saturday mornings throughout summer. Dogs meet on the rec, dragging their owners behind them as they merrily swing doggy bags on their strolls.
A gate leads out from a cul-de-sac of bungalows, onto open fields sloping upwards towards trees and hedgerows, and dipping down into miniature valleys. You’ll run into plenty of sheep around here, but they tend to scatter if a human gets too close, so fear not, dear hiker! The pathways through the fields are visible as well-trodden chalky lines through the grass; veer slightly to the right to head towards Alfriston, or slightly to the left to weave your way towards Beachy Head. Obviously on that particular day I was feeling the right-bearing pathway, and scaled a big gate into a field of crops and eventually out on to a narrow country lane which was completely silent except for the intermittent sound of a grasshopper. Just the one.
Folkington
At this point I was mostly just delighted that after such a long time of being grounded in England, I had stumbled upon a (very pretty) lane I’d never walked down before, in my very own backyard! I followed the lane in the opposite direction of Eastbourne, hoping for the best.
The village of Folkington is less of a village and more of a hodgepodge of three or four houses assembled in the countryside. There are no shops here, or even a village pub, in fact the first sign of civilisation I stumbled across was a doorway in the middle of a brick wall. Alice in Wonderland sprung to mind; I opted out of spying through the keyhole in case the garden behind it was too tempting.
I carried on up the hill and into the churchyard of a tiny flint church filled with cow parsley and ageing gravestones at jaunty angles. The church of St Peter ad Vincula is one of the prettiest churches I’d seen in a while, and is several hundred years old. Nearby is Folkington Manor, which was built in the 1800s- so not quite as old, but equally as pretty as the church. These days the manor house is a popular wedding venue, although it was also used on Made In Chelsea as the set of the ‘country home’ of one of the characters. (Spoiler alert, most of these reality TV stars do not actually have real life country homes to hang out in, so they hire lovely places like this to give an illusion).
The Long Man of Wilmington
Leaving Folkington, I headed off the country lane and up onto a tree-lined dirt path which climbed uphill. Things got a little cooler and mosquito-spotted around here, and the air smelled like damp soil and tree bark. I was somehow still rather confident that I must surely be heading in the right direction, mainly because paths on the South Downs rarely lead to a dead end. Even if they lead to the cliffs, they run parallel to the edge, not directly off the top. I was calmly confident.
It soon became evident that I’d actually made it up quite high into the hills, and I could make out the fields around Wilmington through the brambles and branches. This pathway leads all the way along from Folkington to the feet of the Long Man of Wilmington, a 235ft chalk figure carved into the bright green hillside above the little village of Wilmington. Nobody quite knows how this jolly giant got here, but he’s been definitely been here a while; for a long time he was presumed to have been on the hill since the Iron Age, but recent investigations concluded his birthday is more likely to have been in the 16th or 17th century.
If you need a break from the walk at this stage, head down the hill and into Wilmington. This idyllic hamlet is really just one street of extremely old and extremely pretty houses; the beautiful old church is at one end, and at the other is the Giants Rest pub and the Wishing Well Tea Rooms. I once lived in a cottage here- it was freezing cold in winter but without a doubt one of the cutest houses I’ve lived in. The most intriguing thing of all, to be honest, was the posses of pagans who would walk up the hill to the Long Man during summertime, dressed in all the feathers and leather waistcoats.
England is a quirky, quirky place.
On this particular day in June, I had all the supplies I needed, and instead of heading downhill into the village I sat near the giant, eating my fruit and Babybels and cereal bars in jolly good contentment. I finally spied a few other people around, although it was the middle of the week so there weren’t many families and hardcore hikers marching around the hills along with me. Just good old picnickers. The view from these hills is expansive, an aerial map of Sussex, and after walking on a little bit I spied Alfriston’s telltale church spire and white bridge over the river. Time to head down.
Alfriston
Those visitors to Alfriston who are simultaneously in the know about the car parking situation, and quite like a little country walk, often opt to park outside of the village on Chapel Hill, and follow the South Downs Way across the fields. (It’s worth knowing if you want to skip the long walk from Eastbourne to Alfriston but you still want to enjoy one of the most beautiful villages in East Sussex. Sometimes people just aren’t up for a three hour hike to reach a place, and I completely understand that sentiment, let me tell you. )
I followed the road past the little lay-by where a few cars were parked, swatted off a few bumblebees, and headed on into the fields. I was down onto the same level as Alfriston, and although dark clouds were starting to roll across the sky from behind me, the sun was still warm and glowing in front, and crossing the white wooden bridge over the river was a downright lovely feeling. I sat on the Tye with a punnet of strawberries and a coffee, loving life.
Find out why I love Alfriston so much by reading this.
It had taken me about four miles to walk from Eastbourne to Alfriston and although that’s not particularly hardcore I was quite frankly rather proud of myself. The pandemic was still at the forefront of life in England, and days like this not only helped me to appreciate the place I’d become stuck in, but also to feel like I could still accomplish things that I had never done before. It might only have been a few hours walk, but it’s something I never would have done a couple of years before. I hope, it’s the kind of thing I’ll keep on doing in the years to come. Good one, me!
Did I walk back, from Alfriston to Eastbourne? Absolutely not. My legs had turned to rocks and it was beginning to rain. My pal Marky came to meet me and we had a lovely glass of wine under an umbrella in a pub garden. Life is all about adventures, pals, even the miniature adventures like this one.
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