Hills, Vines & Old Man’s Beard

Breathtaking views and….er….breath-taking climbs

Box Hill, Surrey – An almost circular walk

An early finish at work allowed me to escape to Dorking for a beautifully sunny afternoon on the National Trust’s Box Hill Estate and the surrounding countryside. My route took in the largest vineyard in England, involved some strenuous climbs and followed, in part, the North Downs Way, one of the country’s Long Distance Footpaths.

Start: Dorking (Main) Station TQ170504

Finish: Box Hill and Westhumble Station TQ167518

Length: 7 miles/3-3½hours

How to get there: Both stations are easily accessible from London, either by Southern from Victoria via Sutton, or by South West Trains from Waterloo via Wimbledon, both of which take around 50 minutes. Not all return trains call at Box Hill and Westhumble however. Although I travelled to the main station in Dorking, unsurprisingly known as Dorking (Main), it’s also possible to travel to Dorking Deepdene or Dorking West, both on the North Downs Line served by First Great Western services from Redhill to Reading via Guildford.

An interesting fact: Dorking was originally called Darking until the Ordnance Survey spelt it wrongly on an early map, and the name stuck. Well, that’s what I’ve always been led to believe, but, although there are references to ‘Darking’, I’m unable to find any evidence for this specific claim on the internet. And if it’s not on the internet it can’t be true. So this fact may not be so. Anyway……

Looking north across Denbies Vineyard

I begin by crossing the noise of the A24, and, heading north along a well-tree’d side street of large and expensive mock Tudor houses so typical of Surrey stockbroker belt, I’m soon greeted with a fine view across Denbies.  This is Britain’s largest vineyard at 265 acres, which produces 300,000 litres of award-winning English wine per year. (Apparently English wine is made from grapes grown in England; British wine is made in Britain from grapes grown elsewhere. So now you know). The topography and geology (chalk hills) are what make this such a suitable site for viticulture, and it is this topography and geology that make this part of the country so distinctive, particularly in terms of plant life, as we shall see.

When is a tree not a tree? When it's a mobile phone mast.

The gentle slopes of the vineyard provide a good vantage point for what is to come; the land to the east stretches away across the Mole Valley to the steeply rising slopes of Box Hill itself, in a way not dissimilar to the view across Amberley Wild Brooks. A brief but steep climb takes me to join the North Downs Way, which heads down slope through woodlands and under a rather attractively ornate railway bridge and back across the A24.

The route now enters the National Trust’s Box Hill Estate, 94 hectares of which were purchased for and donated to The Trust in 1914 by Leopold Salomons, the owner of nearby Norbury Park which I shall pass through later. Box Hill itself has been a notable landmark for many years; in 1655 John Evelyn wrote:

I went…..to Box Hill to see those rare natural bowers, cabinets and shady walks in the box coppses…..here were such goodly walkes and hills shaded with yew as render the place extreamely agreeable, it seeming to be summer all the winter for many miles prospect

(An aside: as any Forestry or Arboricultural student will tell you, Evelyn wrote what is recognised as the first textbook on silviculture (I’ll let you google that), entitled Sylva, or A Discourse on Forest-Trees and the Propagation of Timber in His Majesty’s Dominions, first published in book form in 1664 and, remarkably, still in print)

Other writers have also been inspired by Box Hill: English poet John Keats, who completed Endymion during a stay at the Burford Bridge Hotel at the foot of Box Hill; Daniel Defoe, writing in 1720 tells of

Here every Sunday, during the summer season, there used to be a rendezvous of coaches and horsemen, with abundance of gentlemen and ladies from Epsome to take the air, and walk in the box woods; and in a word, divert, or debauch, or perhaps both, as they thought fit, and the game increased so much, that it began almost on a sudden, to make a great noise in the country

while Jane Austen, who visited Box Hill while staying with relatives in nearby Great Bookham, sends her heroine Emma Woodhouse on a picnic on Box Hill. Emma describes Box Hill as “not Switzerland”.

The Stepping Stones across the River Mole. As not used by dogs.

Box Hill became a popular destination for picnics and other leisure activities with the coming of the railway in 1867, and remains so (becoming a Country Park in 1971) although in more recent times visitors are more likely to arrive by bike or on one of a thousand school geography or botany field trips.

And there is plenty for the botany student to discover: Box Hill is nationally recognised as an important site for wildlife, statutorily protected as part of the Mole Gap to Reigate Escarpment Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI) and Special Area of Conservation, as well being part of the Surrey Hills Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty (AONB). The area is noted for numerous chalk grassland species including over a dozen species of orchid, as well as the Box (and Yew) woodland that gives the area its name. For entomologists, there are a wide range of insect species present including 40 out of the 58 native British butterflies.

Crossing the River Mole using the Stepping Stones that give this part of the estate its name, spring seems to be tentatively thinking about making an appearance after the coldest winter for 31 years, with the fresh green new shoots of Ramsons or edible Wild Garlic carpeting the woodland floor.

The path makes an abrupt turn towards the vertical as the assault on the west face of Box Hill begins. Steep steps twist tortuously through the woodland, the scent of Box leaves becoming more apparent. Aside from Box, the vegetation here includes Yew and Old Man’s Beard with its distinctive fluffy seed heads that give it its common name. Together with an abundance of brambles, the Old Man’s Beard is trying (and succeeding) to strangle all that surrounds it, forming an impenetrable tangle. There are relatively few tall trees here – the thin soil that prevents deep rooting and the exposed location mean that any tree that dares to stand tall is soon blown over. Nonetheless, the numerous Ash seedlings are making a determined effort skywards.

The view from Box Hill looking south east towards Betchworth and Gatwick Airport

Having stopped to catch my breath more than once (thank you, Box Hill, for reminding me how unfit I am), the path leads through a grove of Yew trees which, despite the tenuous hold they appear to have on the chalky slope, have survived for long enough to form fine mature specimens, the smooth, almost water-worn bark of the stems and branches contrasting with the twisted straining roots which, through erosion and the footsteps of thousands before me, are sprawled across the path.

Emerging from the woodland shade at the summit, southern England stretches about before me. The magnificent view from Box Hill on a good day encompasses Dorking in the foreground, Leith Hill in the near distance, across Surrey and Sussex as far as the South Downs. Towards the south east, planes are taking off from Gatwick Airport at an alarming angle. What is not visible, however, is London which is to the north as I point out to a young couple when asked.

Pressing on, the path heads across the slope at which point having one leg shorter than the other would be quite handy. The chalk grassland here in places is showing signs of encroachment by hawthorn and blackthorn – the National Trust have a management plan to preserve the grassland through grazing which hopefully should keep this in check.

Passing through a narrow opening into woodland, my route drops steeply downslope to meet a sunken lane, a sign that people have passed this way for millennia. This ancient track meets the modern tarmaced road adjacent to a pub. A beer would be nice but a ‘wild west’ themed pub is not really my cup of tea, so I cross the road and head on. Initially level, the path passes some fine specimens of Yew, Beech (another common chalkland tree specie) and Hazel coppice, then, after a quick check with map and compass, I head downhill into Juniper Bottom – I’m unable to see any Juniper though (which is a shame as spotting wild native Juniper could get me a free bottle of gin). Immediately the air feels cold and damp; the dampness is hinted at by the feathery green moss that covers the woodland floor and trees. It feels a magical and slightly mysterious place; the roe deer that runs across my path and disappears into the undergrowth adds to that feeling.

Between the valley sides the air feels cold, but way up above my head the sun’s rays are beautifully gilding the foliage of the yew trees on the higher ground. And, despite it still technically being winter, there is a surprising amount of colour to be seen: the green shades of yew, and of the bluebell foliage just emerging beneath the beech trees; the creaminess of birch bark and the chalk; the pale yellows of last year’s grasses; the gold catkins of Hazel, like rain caught by a slow shuttered camera; the bright crimson stems of Dogwood (so named because the slender stems were used for making ‘dags’ or skewers); the wonderfully vivid orange of Xanthoria lichen on the Ash and Beech stems.

Hazel neatly bissected by a fallen Ash; reminiscent of an Andy Goldsworthy sculpture

Crossing Headley Road, having headed downhill the path then follows another set of very steep steps back uphill following a well-defined boundary between an area of dense, dark yew groves on one side, and more open deciduous woodland on the other. Further on, this becomes more clearly marked by the remnants of an old parkland fence, some ornate yet rusty iron gate posts and a low flint wall. Someone tried to delineate nature, but nature’s not having it. Sitting on a fallen beech trunk for a peaceful moment, there’s a too-loud-to-be-a-squirrel rustling through the trees and I catch a fleeting glimpse of more deer.

Carving on the Lych Gate of St Michael's Church, Mickleham

Dropping steeply downhill through a phenomenally dense amount of ash natural regeneration, I arrive in the village of Mickleham. St. Michael’s Church is a curious mix of architectural styles with both a squat, dumpy square tower and a short, round tower, reflecting changes made since the church was first established in Saxon times (including some dubious “restoration work” carried out in Victorian times). I would like to stay longer to explore both the church and the very inviting Running Horses pub over the road (named for the ‘Dead Heat Derby’ of 1884, but the light is fading and I need to press on.

Through parkland with elegant mistletoe-laden lime trees, dodging the traffic on the A24 brings me to Norbury Park. Owned by Edward the Confessor at the time of the Norman Conquest, the estate was given to Bishop Odo of Bayeaux by William the Conqueror, then passed through the hands of many landowners until its purchase in 1874 by Leopold Salomons. The estate was acquired by Surrey County Council in 1930 to protect it from development and is now a working farm (including a sawmill), managed by Surrey Wildlife Trust.

It’s a fascinating place that I’d like to explore more (by ‘explore more’, I really mean ‘taste the cheese‘), but the light is fading fast, so stopping briefly to say hello to the Highland Cattle, I hurry on across the River Mole alongside the railway, to Box Hill & Westhumble station and the train home.