Start - Sole Street
Finish - Borough Green
Geocaches - 16
Pubs - 2
Previous Stages - Stage 1
Stage 2 on the London Countryway, with most of the walking on good paths in the Kentish Downs along the Weald Way.
Alight at lonely Sole Street, and straight into the Countryside to meet the beasts of Kent.
|Beasts of Kent|
One of the advantages of the London Countryway sharing more established Long Distance Paths is the high count of Geocaches. Most are micro film pots but very occasionally, you get a Cache Owner with a deep imagination and the daring to execute something that would perplex the average Muggle who happened to stumble on their work.
|Cache of the Day|
|Unlike the Barrows in the Cotswolds, this one is fenced off|
|The views from the top of the Long Barrow|
The rest of the way to civilisation is mud, quarries, geocaches and motorways, crossing under the M20 near where it merges with the M26.
|Last of the Scenery|
A choice I get hopelessly wrong.
Blue Anchor, Grange Road, Platt, Timothy Taylor Landlord
This could be winner of finest Greene King Pub in the land. It's quirky, full of nick nacks, has a fine hand written menu of home made delights and has Timothy Taylor Landlord, as a relief from their eponymous IPA. Friendly land lady, who's only stipulation for service is the leaving of muddy boots outside. Which is where I leave mine, in the hope my Meindls don't get nicked and leave me with a problem to complete the last mile.
|A lovely Greene King|
|View from a bar stool - I went left, even if the glass suggest right|
I really should have settled in for my post walk meal, but its slightly too early and there's distance to go. I'll see what culinary delights await at the pub over the road from the Station.
The rain is hammering, so I am in full waterproofs when I burst through the door of a boozer which I initially mistook for being closed.
Its not, there are three punters, perched on the end of the bar listening to heavy 70s and 80s rock. I'm not sure if its the drop in conversation as they spy me, the one light bulb out of three working in the overhead lamp or the single real ale on that makes me question the outside proclamation of "Your Friendly Local Pub".
It's a sit at the bar, deep contemplation of whether you are meant to be able to see through Doom Bar and a nod along to Deep Purple in the home of making friends.
Impossible to spread this out for 90 minutes, I make a dash for a train that my reservation does not necessarily cover and hope for lack of diligence from Southern Rail Ticket inspectors.
|33% as welcoming as it should be.|