Rain. Deer. A Swamp. Rain.

Did I mention the rain? Actually, I exaggerate. It didn’t rain all day. Not quite.

Pulborough to Amberley, West Sussex.

A walk along the Arun Valley, taking in centuries of history and spectacular countryside and wildlife. And rain.

Start: Pulborough Station TQ043186

Finish: Amberley Station TQ026118

How to get there: Both stations are on the Arun Valley line, served by Southern services from London Victoria to Bognor Regis/Littlehampton/Portsmouth Harbour/Southampton Central via Horsham, taking about an hour and 20 minutes from Victoria to Pulborough. Many trains divide at Horsham – make sure you’re travelling in the correct part of the train. At the time of writing, Southern are offering a number of internet-only, advance-booking fares for £3 single, so £6 return if you book the outward journey to Pulborough and the return from Amberley. Bargain!

I begin at Pulborough Station which, like many other stations on the Arun Valley line, is as you would expect a station serving a small but proud rural town to be: easily mistaken for the Town Hall.  Built by the London, Brighton and South Coast Railway (LB&SCR), it opened on 10th October 1859. Trains originally continued to Petworth and Midhurst (over the line which, as I will discover later, closed in the mid-60s) with the line to Amberley opening about 4 years later. Pulborough still retains semaphore signalling, now quite rare in the south of England.

Leaving the Station parallel to the railway, past an industrial estate (not quite the same rural charm as the station building), the path leads to a flooded Coombelands Lane. Before any passing traffic can drench me, I turn off up the footpath to Park Farm and on reaching the ridge, the Arun Valley opens out before me. Even in the drizzle, it’s a stunning view. And an ideal defensive position; the builders of Pulborough Castle obviously thought so. But not so strongly defended now – the site is on English Heritage’s At Risk Register.

Continuing along the ridge, through pine and larch plantations, the path drops steeply to cross the A283 at Stopham Bridge, a beautiful Elizabethan stone bridge, now a Scheduled Ancient Monument. Barges used to pass under here, heading for the Wey & Arun Canal. Like the adjacent White Hart pub, the canal is somewhere for future exploration, but for now it loans its name to the next section of the walk: the Wey South Path.

Across a flooded meadow, over the Arun, across more flooded meadow. It’s raining. Past a water treatment works (I’m wet enough already, thanks), down a farm track. More rain.

Then onto Hardham Junction, where the now-closed railway to Petworth branched off. The track bed is still there, and a permissive footpath allows the walker to follow it, but it’s not on my route today. However, a quick detour is essential to see what remains of the ‘Roman Station’ marked on the OS map. Huh? Did Romans get the 0940 from Victoria to here? Is my history confused? No, not that type of station, it’s a guard post: Stane Street, the Roman Road from Londinium to Noviomagus Reginorum (Chichester) passed through here. The railway engineers destroyed much of the Roman remains, but some traces in the landscape are still visible.

Several centuries of history in about an hour’s walking: Roman remains, a Norman (?) Motte-and-Bailey Castle, an Elizabethan bridge, railway remains from the mid 1800s.

The history lesson continues across the A29: a glimpse through the trees of what remains of Hardham Priory, an Augustinian Priory dating from c. 1250. The Grade I listed Refectory is now a farmhouse, possibly the oldest house in Sussex, and judging by the scaffolding and tarpaulin, undergoing restoration.

The path drops down onto the floodplain of the River Arun, narrowing to pass beneath, and sometimes through, the branches of a narrow belt of decaying willows. Mosses, lichens, ferns and fungi are plentiful, along with the first snowdrops I’ve seen so far this year. A glimpse through the trees of three Roe deer, one a pricket with unbranched antlers: seeing me, they slip away virtually silently. I think that’s the last I’ll see of them, but coming upon a gap in the tree belt, I creep towards the field edge to glimpse them again. We stare at each other for some minutes. Their unease at my presence seems to decline until they are content to continuing grazing, albeit nervously. Eventually they trot away across the grass and I watch their powder-puff tails disappear before moving on. Magical.

Over Greatham Bridge, Waltham Brooks SSSI is looking peacefully beautiful, but little in the way of bird life is visible against the low winter sun. Along the eastern bank of the Arun, then turning uphill the path runs along the edge of a wooded slope that drops steeply back down to the river. Through a rather derelict and unkempt farmyard, my route drops down again onto the Arun flood plain.

Amberley Wild Brooks, typical floodplain landscape, managed by Sussex Wildlife Trust and the RSPB, is a vast area of boggy grassland and birch/alder woodland of huge importance to wildlife. Reminiscent to me of the Fens, the soft green grass studded with clumps of darker rushes is criss-crossed by a network of ditches dug in the 1880s in a presumably unsuccessful attempt to drain the land. Arriving as I do from the north, the bog stretches away southwards, completely flat (and only 1-2m above sea level) until it hits the rapidly ascending chalk of the South Downs scarp slope. Such a contrast in topography, and seldom does the British landscape change so dramatically and suddenly.

The ground’s getting wetter underfoot, and, looking ahead, I see a herd of 30-40 deer in the distance, about 150 metres away. Roe again, but with darker coats than the smaller group I was entranced by earlier. Edging carefully forwards, they quickly become aware of my presence – there is little cover, with the exception of a few rather magnificent veteran oak trees. Heads lift, one by one, interrupted from their grazing, until the entire herd is staring my way.  I halt. We remain gazing at each other intently, neither sure of the other’s next move. A few decide my presence is too unsettling and begin to edge forwards across my path, left to right, until the entire group is walking nervously, stiff necked and alert, then running across the bog. They continue along the edge of one of the many ditches, until making a sudden 90 degree turn away from me and melting away into the rain.

I’m rooted to the spot, awestruck. What a fantastic experience, to come so close to such beautiful wild creatures.

Then forward, past a sign warning ‘Danger: Swamp’, between dense birch and alder woodland. Despite the duckboards that have been laid in places, the water and mud are up to my ankles, the rain has returned, but I’m enjoying this magical place too much to care. The Wey South Path is a wide but boggy track at this point and on the map is dead straight, but I zig-zag from side to side, trying vainly to find firmer, less slippery ground. Heading directly south, the Arun closes in on my left, feigning a kiss before disappearing westwards once more. Back on firmer ground, passing through Amberley Swamp (how many places in Britain can claim the official title of ‘Swamp’?), the track I’m on is like walking on ice: wet, off-white, chalky clay; impossible to get a grip. Is this what potters call ‘slip’? I can see why.

A short but steep climb takes me into Amberley village. I would like to take a look at Amberley Castle, dating from the 12th Century, but it’s a luxury hotel now and I suspect they won’t welcome me with half of Amberley Swamp clinging to my boots and trousers. More welcoming though is the Village Store, after a visit to which I’m happily munching on a locally made pastie, while making my way past gorgeous thatched cottages, looking so cosy and warm; meanwhile the rain tries its best to drown me.

Heading south out of Amberley, the road climbs steeply to meet the South Downs Way, before gently dropping back down towards Amberley station. Less gentle is the severe drop to my left: a worked-out chalk pit, now home to Amberley Museum, an open-air collection preserving south east England’s industrial heritage. It looks wet and deserted, but I think I’ll come back one day for a visit.

Amberley Station is less grand than its neighbour at Pulborough, but nonetheless is equally charming: the unspoilt and attractive station building in local stone, the original iron-lattice footbridge over the line, the semaphore signalling and the waiting room on the up platform (which appears to be an old goods van) all bestow on the station a sense of timelessness, as though little has changed since the LB&SCR opened it in 1863.

Quaint it may be, but that goods-van-waiting-room is basic and unheated and I’m glad when the modern electric train (which seems so incongruous here) pulls in and I climb aboard into its comforting warmth.