Go out for a walk they said, so up on the South Downs they said, it’s a lovely afternoon for taking the dog for a walk.
It was; which was why we were heading for the Jack and Jill windmills. They weren’t as busy as the Ditchling Beacon car park, which for the last three attempts to take the dog out there, had been completed full when we’d arrived and we’d had to divert off elsewhere for a walk.
However, unknown to us, this particular Sunday was an open day at the windmills, so the Jack and Jill car park was rammed, as was every inch of grass verge halfway down the hill. It was failure number one. We headed for Ditchling Beacon instead, in the hope that if the world and their wives were at Jack and Jill, there would be space at Ditchling.
We only got to the bottom of the hill to find the road up to the top closed to vehicular transport. It was the London to Brighton charity bike race / event. Rather than try for a third place somewhere on the downs we abandoned the car in the car park at the bottom of the hill.
The footpath up the hill was discarded in favour of the road. If it was shut to traffic it would be safe enough to walk up. We let Charlie off the lead, mainly due to not having roller skates, so pulling me up the hill wasn’t an option.
A lot of the cyclists were pushing their bikes up the hill. I didn’t blame them, if I’d ridden from London I wouldn’t be attempting to walk up the damn hill, it’s steep as fuck. An occasional cyclist would pass us, not going very quickly, but determinedly grinding their way up the hill to say that they cycled the whole route. There were signs at various points up the hill to motivate the cyclists. If I’m honest the one half way up saying “you are halfway” is rather demotivating, as you just think, “Shit, I’ve got the same amount to climb again”. I think that some of the cyclists felt the same, especially the ones Charlie ran in front of.
Although the road was officially closed, it didn’t apply to the support vehicles, which surprised us a couple of time silently gliding down the hill, meaning we had to try and get hold of Charlie.
No matter how many times I looked up to my right, the top of the hill never appeared to be within reach. And then all of a sudden you round the penultimate corner and there it was. A hubbub of cyclists who had already made the top were hanging around to wait for others from their particular groups to reach the top. Cheering them and any other cyclist up to the final turn and the high point of the climb.
It has to be pointed out that the only cyclist that passed us going up the hill at any rate of knots appeared not to be wearing a race number. It was reminiscent of the recent TV advert where the lycra clad Brits are crawling up the hill dragging their top of the range bikes, crying, as the local Frenchman rides past them with ease on an ancient bike.
At the top of the hill Ditchling Beacon car park was pretty much empty, apart from a couple of support vehicles and a line of portaloos. Disappointingly there was no ice cream van. Someone had missed a trick there. Eight thousand cyclists up a bitch of a hill would be crying out for cold refreshments at the top. I certainly was and I’d only walked up the hill slowly.
On top of the downs Charlie could chase the ball to his heart’s content, but he appeared much more interested in hiding the damn thing in the deepest grass he could find. Most of it was deep enough to hide himself as well.
Once bored of playing find the damn ball we headed back to the car park and back down the hill. Cyclists were still slowly making their way up the hill. Their questions of “how much further to go?” were either answered kindly by Helen with “not much further”, or sadistically by me with “only another six miles to go”.
Despite this we made it down the hill unscathed. Both by irate cyclists or the sneaky support vehicles coasting up behind us only to beep and make us jump out of our skin.
Next time, we really do need to check if there is anything going on before we head to the downs. Or I need to learn how to stay upright on roller skates so that Charlie can pull me up the hill, and then I can roll down myself.
We did get an ice cream, but it was in a packet and from the Sainsbury’s local in Hassocks. Not quite the same.