Walk 1 -- Bognor to Littlehampton

Ages: Colin was 56 years and 78 days. Rosemary was 53 years and 220 days.

Weather: Sunny and hot with a refreshing breeze blowing in from the sea.

Location: From Nyewood Lane, Bognor Regis to Littlehampton ferry.

Distance: 7½ miles.

Total distance so far: 7½ miles.

Terrain: Flat, some along proms and some beach walking.

Tide: In.

Rivers to cross: No.1, the Arun at Littlehampton.

Ferries: No.1 across the Arun at Littlehampton; cost 50p each.

Piers: No. 1 at Bognor Regis.

Kissing gates: No. 1 at Middleton.

Pubs: ‘The Crown’ in Littlehampton where we drank Banks’s Mild.

‘English Heritage’ properties: None.

Ferris wheels: None.

Diversions: Through a play park at Felpham because they were bringing in tons of huge rocks by ship to stop coastal erosion and had cordoned off the prom. Also along a Close behind some houses at Middleton because the tide was in which meant the sea was right up to the sea wall.

How we got there and back: We walked from home down Nyewood Lane directly to the sea, and then we started the trek.

At the end, we came back by train from Littlehampton Station.

At last we have started our walk around the coastline of Britain! We took a couple of photographs of ourselves outside the front door using the tripod and timer on the camera, and Colin managed not to trip over as he dashed round to stand next to me and grin inanely at the red flashing light. He packed the tripod in his rucksack, we said ‘Goodbye’ to the cats (because no one else was there to say ‘Goodbye’ to) and we set off. As we walked down Nyewood Lane we passed an old lady, and I wondered aloud how old and decrepit we will be when we eventually finish this marathon walk.

On to the prom, and we got out the tripod and camera again to take a couple of photographs of us actually starting the trek. As we passed the yacht club we saw that it was their annual open day which may explain why several yachts were out on display at the top of the beach. We discussed how both of us have always wanted to learn to sail, but we can spare neither the time nor the money so we probably never will now. We both have far too many other things we want to do with our lives, like walking round Britain for a start!

As we approached the pier we discussed the state of it. It is only possible to walk along about a third of it because the rest is unsafe, and very ugly it looks too. There used to be a little theatre on the end, and a small jetty so that paddle steamers like ‘The Waverley’ could stop to pick up passengers. But then it was destroyed by a storm in 1965 which left a piece of the end free-standing, and in the intervening years it has been left to deteriorate. The end became such a danger to passing swimmers / canoeists / jet-skiers that it was blown up in 1994. In 1998 a bid for lottery funds to do it up failed, so its future is still very uncertain. It houses a nightclub—Sheik’s. This was frequented by most of the troublesome kids I taught at school although they were all underage.

We forgot to walk along it! We are so used to just walking past it that it wasn’t until we got home that I realised that we have already broken rule 6. Ah well, rules were made to be broken! We both diverted to the toilets at the Regis Centre, and Colin got mildly annoyed because I insisted on retracing our steps to the exact spot where we had left the prom. We noticed that there were a lot of day-trippers from London and a lot of promotions on display like sun factor cream, etc. Then I remembered that it was to be the carnival procession this very afternoon and we were walking away from it. (Our grandchildren told us the next day that it was ‘naff’, just rank after rank of pom-pom girls, so we didn’t miss much.)

At Felpham we had a good look at the sea defence works. A ship was beached on the shore and it looked as if it was split open. There were two more such ships out at sea. They were being used to bring in huge rocks to shore up the beach, and they deliberately open them at the bottom to let all the rocks fall out. They wait until high tide so they can get as far in as possible, and this one was waiting for high tide because it had got stuck and one of the other ships was waiting about a mile out to tow it off the rocks again! Later on we looked back from Middleton and saw it sail out, so they had been successful. Apparently it had been stuck there for several days. We had to divert through a play-park because the prom was closed at that point, and we walked a little along the Rife to a footbridge and saw some tiddlers.

At the other end of Felpham the prom ran out and we had to walk along the shingle. This was quite hard going in places, and my arthritic toe began to play up. I tried to ignore it but it slowed me down. I contented myself with the thought that this was all good practice for trekking in the Himalayas or Peru! The tide was right in by then, and suddenly the beach ran out as well when the sea came right up to the sea wall. We walked along a Close behind a row of houses, and tried an alleyway half way along it but the sea was still right up. At the end of the Close we regained the beach again.

There were a lot of new buildings as we approached Elmer, pukka houses with a sea view. I wondered how much they were selling them for! We sat on an odd rock on the beach to eat our sandwiches, overlooking the Middleton rock islands—sea defences for Elmer which were completed a few years ago. Apparently they work very well and there has been no more flooding on the Elmer estate since they were constructed. Colin mentioned that if we called on Cecilia we would probably get a cup of tea, and I said that would be very nice but we probably wouldn’t get away for an hour and she may well have all her family there anyway.

So on we went along the beach top path towards Climping. A couple rode their bikes towards us, and we both wished we were on our bikes because we were getting a little tired and hot, but that is against the rules! Climping Beach is becoming much more commercialised than I remember it when we used to cycle there from Arundel back about 1950—nine of us on seven bikes! It now has tarmacked paths through the woods, a toilet block, a shop in the car park and a large new building was going up. My Dad would turn in his grave, and so would Grandad!

In front of the sand dunes the beach is now very stony and difficult to walk on. My toe really played up, it is such a nuisance. A lot of people were lurking in the dunes, but Colin sounded disappointed that he only saw one naked man and one topless woman! We never hear much about Climping Beach these days, I think its reputation as an unofficial nudist beach is fading. We did watch a rescue helicopter fly along from the Bognor direction and let down a winchman at the end of the dunes. We think it was only an exercise, there didn’t seem to be any real drama going on, and we were convinced that they deliberately swung the winchman over all the nudists hiding in the dunes before pulling him up!

Behind the dunes is Littlehampton Fort, a Napoléonic structure which is completely derelict and overgrown with brambles. It is fenced off and there is not much to see, but there is an information board about it. The other half of it used to be sited over the river on the mound where the funfair now stands—I never knew of its existence as a child although we used to visit this area (especially the funfair!) every summer from the year I was born.

The River Arun seemed very busy with lots of speedboats zooming in and out. They all looked spanking new, a lot of money about! Opposite was a huge crane and we realised it was bungy jumping! However, each participant wore a shoulder holster so they didn’t dive headfirst but jumped feet first. They didn’t go anywhere near the ground, either, so it didn’t look particularly spectacular—but I wouldn’t do it anyway! We walked along to the ferry which came straight across to us, a tiny boat with an outboard motor. I remarked that I’m sure we were rowed across when we were kids, and the ferryman said that they have only just given that up (liar!)

That ended Walk No. 1, we shall pick up Walk No. 2 next time on the east side of the Arun by the ferry. We returned home by train, having first slaked our thirst at ‘The Crown’ in Littlehampton town centre.

This is why we did it

My name is Rosemary Fretwell. I was a school teacher all my working life. My husband's name is Colin Fretwell. He was an electronics engineer all his working life. We have lived in Bognor Regis, West Sussex, since 1968. We have four children, born between 1968 and 1973. By 1997 our parents had all passed on and our grownup children had each fled the nest.

One day, in the Winter of 1997, I came home from school and said to Colin, "I have decided to take early retirement!" He replied, "Our contract's just been cancelled!" In the event he worked six days longer than me. In July 1997 we both took early retirement. I was aged 52 years and seven months. Colin was aged 55 years and two months.

For about a year we relished our newfound freedom, doing nothing very much. It took that long to recover from the strains of our mega-stressful jobs and become the people we really were. We were both very active, and needed a project for our retirement years. We had no family commitments except the occasional babysitting for our two grandchildren. We didn't want to vegetate in front of a TV screen and become couch potatoes. We both love walking and the outdoor life. We are both keen photographers and are interested in geology and wildlife.

It was my idea to walk the coastline of Britain. I had vaguely heard of someone doing it a few years ago, and the idea fascinated me. We had discussed it, not very seriously, many times. I wanted to be able to say, "We have walked every inch of the way! Yes, walked!" One day, about a year after we had retired, I said, "Come on! Let's get started!" So we made up a list of silly rules, donned our boots, walked down to the seafront and turned left. The reason we didn't turn right was because the sun would have been in our eyes for that first walk -- that was the only reason why we decided Anticlockwise is the Preferred Route -- (which is the original title before, with the help of our friend John in Hopton-on-Sea, we thought of the snappier heading Turn Left at Bognor Pier.)

Rules

1. We must circumnavigate mainland Britain in an anticlockwise direction from Nyewood Lane, Bognor Regis to Nyewood Lane, Bognor Regis by walking the nearest safe path to the coast.
2. We may take as long as we like to do this.
3. We must not leave any bits out, not even a few yards when we have diverted inland to go to the loo or something.
4. We must do it in the right order or it doesn’t count, no filling in oddments later.
5. If there is a ferry which crosses a river or an estuary, we may use it.
6. We must count the piers and walk the length of each one that is open.
7. We must count the kissing gates, and kiss as we go through each one.
8. We must seek out as many ‘real ale’ pubs as we can find and sample the beer.
9. We must take at least one photograph on each walk, no matter what the weather or lighting conditions.
10. We must visit every ‘English Heritage’ property (or equivalent Scottish or Welsh one) which is within one mile of the coast.
11. We must ride on any Ferris wheel which is within half a mile of the coast.

Additional rules we made up as we went along

1. If we miss something out or don’t quite take the nearest path to the coast, and it is a genuine mistake, we do not have to go back and repeat it. (We made up this rule after Walk 1 when we realised we had forgotten to walk down Bognor Pier!)

2. We do not have to walk down a dead end which involves retracing our steps if we don’t want to, but we can if we wish. (We made up this rule after Walk 4 when we were unable to get over some lock-gates in Shoreham – which was supposed to be a right of way – and ended up walking an extra four miles first east, then west, then east again!)3. We do not have to walk through an industrial complex if there is a short cut which misses it out. (We made up this rule after Walk 37 when we lost the footpath in an industrial estate in Sittingbourne, and ended up retracing our steps to get out.)4. We do not have to walk by the coast if there is no public right of way, but we can trespass over private land if it suits us. (We made up this rule after Walk 39 when we walked several extra miles inland trying to get to Eastchurch only to be told by a local farmer that it wasn’t a right of way any more. We ended up walking through a prison and along a busy road with no pavements, whereas if we had trespassed for a mere half mile we need never have left the coast and saved ourselves four or five miles!)5. An island connected by a bridge is part of the mainland and must be walked around. An island only accessible by ferry is a true island and can be missed out. An island connected by a causeway is not part of the mainland at high tide – therefore we can choose whether we wish to walk around it or not. (We made up this rule after Walks 39 to 43 to justify walking all the way round the Isle of Sheppey!)
6. If a place contains the most boring map square in the whole Ordnance Survey system, we do not have to walk there on the grounds that eternal tedium is bad for our mental health! (We made up this rule after Walk 62 because we were so tired and cold we just wanted to get away from Wallasea Island as quickly as possible!)7. If a ferry is marked on any of our maps, but when we arrive to use it we find it has been discontinued, we can still count it as functional and start the next walk from the other side of the river or estuary. (We made up this rule after Walk 62 when we were relying on the ferry across the River Crouch to save us about thirty miles of walking – it had been discontinued only a few months earlier!)

8. We do not have to walk on leg-shattering shingle or a soft sand beach if there is a path further inland with a firmer, kinder surface. (We made up this rule on Walk 79 when the shingle beach at a place called – appropriately enough – Shingle Street was causing us muscle-scrunching stress!)9. If it rains continuously for the whole walk, we do not have to take a photograph (main rule 9) because it is not worth the risk of ruining the camera. (We made up this rule on Walk 87 because it pelted down with rain until the very end – then the sun weakly came out and we were able to take a couple of pictures after all. We are wiser these days, we have ruined too many good cameras in the past, and it’s very expensive!)10. If the nearest safe path to the coast is a main road with traffic whizzing past in a speedy polluting fashion all the time, we may find an alternative quieter route further inland so long as there is a suitable one within about a mile. (We made up this rule on Walk 96 when the coast deteriorated into miles of marsh with no public footpath – trespassing was dodgy because we could have ended up being unable to cross an impenetrable barrier like a water-filled dyke – so we had to turn inland for a couple of miles anyway. We didn’t fancy walking alongside a bypass when there was a very pleasant parallel footpath through woodland along a disused railway, just a hundred yards or so further inland.) 
11. If it impossible to walk along the coast for any reason and we are forced to take an inland route, we may take the shortest way to the next access point which may not necessarily be the nearest to the wiggly coastline. We can avoid extra mileage when we are nowhere near the sea. (We made up this rule at the end of Walk 114 which had been very difficult due to an impossibly overgrown seabank—I’m talking eyebrow-high thistles here! When we discovered Walk115 would be mile upon mile of the same, we chose an inland country lane route which was boring enough without walking round all the loops to different farms with no access to the sea.)

12.        If we come to a steeply sided gully, we can walk round it on the relative flat rather than scramble down into the depths and have to climb out the other side. 

(We made up this rule on Walk 150 when we encountered our first rough Walk without proper paths in Scotland.)

13.        If the place we have come to very obviously was a ferry in times gone past, if the place has the word “ferry” within its name or if it is less than a quarter of a mile across the water, we can count the ferry as functional even if it ceased to exist many years ago.

(We made up this rule at the end of Walk 200 to save us walking ten miles round Loch Fleet for the sake of about a hundred yards of water.)

14.       If the weather is really bad and we’ve had enough, we can take the shortest route back to the car instead of wiggling round every indentation of the coast.  (We made up this rule towards the end of Walk 205 because we had just walked four miles in teeming rain and a high wind along a main road where we were dodging lorries every few minutes — and we were freezing cold!)

15.       If the coast is REALLY WIGGLY and we are fatigued to the point where we may not make it, we may take a short cut to miss out some of the wiggly bits.  (We made up this rule on Walk 207 when I suffered a bout of acute weariness in the middle of a Walk, and not for the first time either.  I didn’t know then, but nearly two years later I was diagnosed with an under-active thyroid, and one of the symptoms of this condition is ‘sluggishness’.)

16.       While we are still in Scotland, where the footpath infrastructure is primitive and unmapped for the most part, we will only walk along way-marked footpaths, tracks or tarmacked roads in the interests of safety.  No more vague footpaths nor walking across rough country.  (We made up this rule on Walk 245 when we had been seriously frightened while trying to walk a mere mile across rough country to join up two tracks.  We ended up descending a vertical slope, then rock-scrambling for about half a mile along a ‘beach’ before reaching safety.  I had also become ultra-exhausted when using mountain paths, and didn’t think I could cope with them any more — I certainly no longer found them enjoyable!)

17.       When we are tired towards the end of a long Walk, we can make up excuses for taking a shortcut.  (We made up this rule towards the end of Walk 279, which was 19 miles long, because Colin had a sore heel, I had a twinge of sciatica, and we were both fed up!)

18.       If it is getting dark and we are in danger of still being on a coastal path when we can no longer see where we are going, then we may cut across to the nearest road in the interests of safety.  (We made up this rule on Walk 290 when we found ourselves in just this situation due to the fact the Walk was several miles longer than we had anticipated.  This was because the Ordnance Survey are about twenty years out of date with their footpaths in Scotland, and we had walked a lot of coastal pathway which we hadn’t known existed until we got there!)