Coronation Weekend loomed. The nation was to enjoy an extra bank-holiday and I noticed that the prices one hotel chain was charging were at their cheapest that Monday. But where to go? I decided to reprise my Medway Valley Walk of a couple of years ago.
What follows is simply an image heavy account of two days beside the river Medway. I went into greater detail on this 30 mile walk in two previous posts and links to those are below.
Day One: Tonbridge to Maidstone
I arrived at Tonbridge by train and walked up the High Street a little after nine in the morning. I had been counting on a sausage roll from Greggs for brekkie but that was closed so settled into a cafe opposite for fancy expensive bacon baguette and a mug of tea. I exited to find a second Greggs a hundred metres further on was open. Such is life. Then the obligatory selfie at the start of the Medway Valley Walk, on the Great Bridge, in the shadow of Tonbridge Castle, then off, down a familiar bankside. I exited town quickly and was soon trying to pick my way through flooded waterside meadows. Wet feet was the result. No problem, trail shoes dry out quick enough.
That was my mornings walk. Past locks, though shorts tracts of woodland, swishing through the wide meadows, past crumbling wartime pill boxes, raising a hand in greeting to paddlers on the water, struggling with my plant I.D., accompanied by birdsong, trying to avoid the muddier sections and generally enjoying a decent spring walk.
Two collies ran down the path toward me, the younger stopped and studied me with indifference, the older not so, it approached, rapidly, hackles raised and snarling, a stand-off resulted. I had nowhere to go on a half metre wide path bordered by rank vegetation and nettles on one side and a river on the other and didn’t want to retreat with my back to the animal. Eventually an owner appeared. She looked equally as cross to see me and reluctantly trampled into the nettles and hauled her charge slightly off the path for me to pass. The dog looked at my bare ankles with too much attention I felt.
I reached Branbridges Leisure a little after midday and stopped at their cafe for lunch. I noted that they had recently opened a campsite and enquired about their facilities with the site manager. I asked what their price was for backpackers and was told £25 per person per night. I expressed my surprise and was confidently informed that they had carried out extensive research and were charging the average.
The afternoons walk was different to the start. A little more (expensive) habitation was passed, yet greater numbers of people were out dog-walking and running. I began seeing more rivercraft. There was less in the way of pastoral meadows and grazing and more in the way of agriculture, bordered by unkempt rank vegetation. Though locks and weirs were kept pristinely manicured.
Reaching Yalding I realised I was going to have to get a move on if I didn’t want to get caught in the forecast torrential rain. If the path had been easy enough so far, it became even more so, wide grassy wides or stretches of gravel, and I knew that tarmac would take me the final couple of miles into Maidstone. It was very obvious that a great many people were out enjoying the coronation bank holiday. Families and couples were walking the banks, cyclists passed me frequently and I began to see increasing numbers of boaters doing what boaters do most, sitting down on or beside their stationary boat. Other than these people, I saw few mammals over the two day walk. The occasional rat scurried around the odd boatyard and I doubted I would catch sight of what was purported to be the largest mammal on the river, the Otter. I later found out that there are none of this elusive animal anywhere on the Medway. Though I did have a surprise just before reaching Maidstone. An unconcerned Seal lay on a paddleboard, no doubt sleeping off a bellyful of fish.
I went under, over or by medieval bridges. Busy pubs began to pop up though I refrained from stopping as I was full from lunch and had no need of an over-priced ice-cream.
A young family were spread out along the riverbank, Mum and Dad each clutching handfuls of hundreds of their children’s picked Buttercups. I sighed inwardly and considered informing Dad of the results of this unwise act. Thinking I would soon find myself in the river if I did, I refrained from doing so and ruminated on my decision for miles afterward.
I reached my Premier Inn in Maidstone ten minutes before the heavens opened. My overnight halt comprising of a hot shower, a decent steak in the restaurant accompanied by a couple of Brew Dogs and bottle of Shiraz, a film and comfy nights kip, followed by breakfast before setting off again around nine in the morning. About ten minutes after it had stopped raining.
Day Two: Maidstone to Rochester
Maidstone was heaving with cars and people as I walked down to the rain swollen river. I was fortunate indeed not to have to be working and rejoined the river, passing and being passed by those walking to work, down-and-outs, cyclists and far too fit looking scullers on the water. Just about every expensive mooring was occupied by expensive looking houseboats and cruisers and it wasn’t until Allington Lock that I started to come across far older and well maintained industrial craft. Further on these were joined by todays working boats, as maintained by the Environment Agency.
The last time I walked this way, two years ago, I stopped to view the expensive works underway at Allington Lock. I was astonished to see they were still at it. I chatted to Neil, the Environment Agencies site manager, and found out that much of the completed work was actually being redone as it wasn’t to spec. What a colossal waste of money. The two of us chatted about all things River Medway and the trials of Health and Safety supervision. Despite the job satisfaction, there was resentment in the workforce and I was unsurprised to hear that this is yet another public sector that is undertaking strike action.
The route to the west of the river at Allington was closed due to a landslip so the path was rerouted back on to the original route on the east bank, but even that is now forced inland slightly to handrail the road into Aylesford. I didn’t stop long here, just long enough to wander up to and admire the lovely medieval stone bridge, then up and out of the village, passing the entrance to the Friary as I felt no need to seek out the cafe inside and then through the extensive land surrounding the sewerage works, sorry, water treatment works. It sounds awful but is a highlight of the walk. Acres of scrubland and watery woodland carr are a haven for birdlife and I heard at least two dozen Nightingales on my walk through. As usual, stopping to try and see one and, as usual, failing to do so.
By the time I reached the forgotten hamlet of Burham, now Old Burham, I had begun to meet pilgrims following the Pilgrims Way, in the opposite direction. My timing was fortuitous for one as she had been unable to open the door to the Church of St. Mary. Brute force sufficed on a stiff bolt and we viewed the simple interior together before she set off in one direction while I continued in the opposite. Through the new Peters Village, where an equally as new Co-op provided a tuna sandwich for lunch later.
In to and back out of Wouldham, turning right out of the village to begin the steady climb up the chalk slopes to join the North Downs Way that overlooks the River Medway in the valley below. I stopped for a brew-up, to accompany my sarnie, watching the High Speed trains hurtling through cuttings at Nashenden toward the continent.
It is a bit of a messy, unsatisfying finish to the Medway Valley Walk. The route goes here, goes there, labours through grubby outskirts, skips round the back of houses, hugs playing fields, tracks a road, skirts newbuild. There are things of interest, and the town has done a decent job of putting many informative noticeboards up to tell a little of the history, but it is really only with the final half mile, with the 12th century keep of Rochester Castle looming overhead to the right, that a sense of purpose and completion is realised, up to that point it is dodging nettles and ensuring the loss of waymarks (why is this so prevalent in towns) doesn’t lead you astray.
I stopped to peer up at the walls surrounding the castle, then crossed the road to the bridge across the river. One of the lions at it’s end gazed impassively over my head as I touched the final signpost. 30 odd miles done. A good two days. From there, it is just a few minutes walk to Rochester station and a train home.
The River Medway is the largest of Kent’s rivers. It has endured great hardship. Poisoning from industry and farming run off, falling water levels and dumping of rubbish amongst them. Some problems are resolved, or getting there. Little Egrets and Herons are specialising in Chinese Mitten Crab as a prey species, if not eradicating this invasive species, then at least keeping it in check, for now. Other issues are not going away. Himalayan balsam is now found on its entire length and there is little that can be done to get rid of it. The otter has gone, even from the few quiet stretches, it may yet return one day.
Despite being the playground of swimmers, paddlers, rowers, anglers, leisure craft and the periphery suppliers- tea rooms and leisure providers, it is also a working river. A two day walk down much of its length had revealed just a bit of it. I’ll no doubt return in another couple of years.
Links to my previous two days on the Medway Valley Walk, back in 2021, below:
Three Points of the Compass 