Riding Sustrans Route 21

Last night's ride home from work was interesting. I've been wracking my brains as to how to avoid White Hill Lane, a huge, steep hill on the return journey and it's always a trade-off. It can be avoided if I take lesser but still arduous climbs, but it also means more traffic elsewhere or a dangerous roundabout to circumnavigate. So, I'm on my way home last night, resigned to the fact that hills are coming and I see a sign for Route 21, a Sustrans route and it's heading to where I'm going. Why not? I decided to bite the bullet and give it a try.

Gravel pathways, surrounded on either side by trees and bushes, stretches of trails with sand dune sand sending the bike's rear wheel all over the place, gravel tracks causing the tyres to slip and slide and rooted pathways through dense woods, up hills and down, making life on the saddle very challenging. There were short stretches of country lane - and I mean short - because before I knew it I was back off-road and wondering when it was all going to end. At one point I found myself in the middle of a wooded area with paths to the left and right and one straight ahead of me. Instinctively, almost, I opted for the latter and miraculously I managed to stay on Route 21 throughout. There were places where there were no signs and I had to gamble, but every time I gambled correctly and sooner or later another Route 21 sign would appear. At one stage I met a couple of walkers and they assured me I was on the right track. I called Andy and he later confirmed that I was heading in the right direction. Tupwood Lane. I remembered that name from reading a map book a few days ago, it looked as if I was heading into Caterham, but even when I reached the suburbs, which I assumed were lurking somewhere, the route suddenly plunged me into the deepest countryside again (or so it seemed). Towards the end of the ride (and wow, what a ride!) I found myself within the grounds of the very grand Woldingham School, which was alive with school sports. A road that dissected the school grounds went on forever, but eventually I emerged close to a golf club on the outskirts of Warlingham and turned left, following the road towards Slines Oak Road, an old and familiar friend. At this stage in the ride I noticed another cyclist who, I'm guessing, was more familiar with Route 21 than I was. When we reached the golf club he veered off left and headed for the hills. I followed him, but when I saw the hill ahead of me and realised that the gravel path would mean dismounting, I turned back and stuck to the road, eventually climbing Slines Oak, as I had done over the weekend, and riding along the 269 towards home.

My journey time had been doubled and the mileage had increased from the expected 24.67 miles to just over 31 miles. Not bad, and in a way I'm glad that I got some extra miles under my belt, but I doubt I'll be riding home that way again, it was far too much of an ordeal for a ride home from work. My aim had been to avoid White Hill Lane and Tithepit Shaw Lane, but at what cost? The White Hill Lane route is a short, sharp shock, three punishing hills in total and a ride time of just over an hour. Yes, it's hard, very hard (on the return journey); so hard that I find it very daunting as I ride along Springbottom Lane anticipating the climb ahead of me. But once it's over, it's plain sailing and it never takes more than one hour and 10 minutes. I reach home invigorated and ready to stuff my face with anything that's available. Last night, I was amazed to get home at all - I was reminded of The Footpath to Dunton Green - and still stuffed my face like there was no tomorrow, but the journey time had doubled and I must have walked through the door around one hour after I would have returned had I braved the hills. So a lesson has been learnt: the hills home are bad, but they're doable (should that word be hyphenated?) and for that reason alone I shouldn't seek out longer, more complicated routes, like Sustrans Route 21. That said, I was amazed that I could get home from Redhill all the way virtually off-road. Even now as I write this thinking back to being in the middle of the woods, reliant only on a small sign with the words 'Route 21' written on it, I'm thinking how incredible it was to be 'out there' like that, no roads, no cars, no people. Incredible how these routes exist and that, by and large, they work. Perhaps not ideal for the commute home, but for a weekend ride? Perfect. I must tell Andy.

The heat continues as we head to Westerham and find a new route...

The plan was to ride to the lake, but, as always, time is precious and we never seem to have much of it. One of these days we will ride to the lake again, but let's not forget the heat. After last week's rain and cold breezes (last Sunday was truly awful and we aborted) the heat is back with a vengeance and showing no sign of abating. It's oppressively hot. Even sitting in the back garden is not pleasant. It's so hot, everybody is feeling lethargic and as for driving the car, well, it's best avoided, although it's also too hot to 'stay indoors' so the cuntry is caught between a rock and a hard place. Still, the heat is better than the cold, far better, and I would like this weather to continue for as long as possible. It's too hot to mow the lawn, but the grass ain't growing so what's the point? Everybody's debating whether 2018 is hotter than 1976 and I'd throw my hat in the ring and say yes, it is, but let's hope it will continue; if we can get to October I'd be over the moon and might even welcome a proper winter.

Sunday, around 0800hrs, in a field with great views. Pic by Andy Smith.

We met at the green and after debating the lake we decided to get our heads down and head for Westerham. We rode along the 269, something we haven't done for a while and for one good reason: traffic. The ride was good and we arrived in a sunny Westerham and made our way to the green where we found a wooden table and chairs outside the Grasshopper on the Green pub with its England flag betraying, perhaps, a Brexiteer in residence.

On Saturday we rode to Westerham. Pic by Andy Smith.

A woman with an Australian accident – she might have been from New Zealand or even South Africa – approached us and asked if the cycle shop was open. We said it was normally (implying with that word 'normally' that we're always in Westerham when we hardly come here) and she walked over to check. Dressed head to toe in Lycra and accompanied by a dropped bars bicycle, she told us her chain had snapped. Her luck was in: the walked back across the green without her bike and headed for the Costa Coffee shop to sit and wait for her machine to be fixed. We drank tea and munched chocolate BelVita biscuits. It was hot and very very pleasant and we could have sat there for much longer than we did. Neither of us were relishing the ride back up the hill. It's long and tedious and continues all the way to Botley Hill. But, as always, we manage it without too much grief and soon it was time to say goodbye. Andy branched off at The Ridge and I rode back along the off-road path all the way to Warlingham and then continued along the Limpsfield Road towards sunny Sanderstead.

Halfway up the hill Andy stopped to take a photo of his bike leaning against a fence and I took the opportunity to check out the footpath on which his bike was standing. It turned out to be the North Downs Way. It looked perfect for the bikes and we resolved to come back Sunday to check it out. We couldn't figure out where it ended up, but we knew it would have to cross White Lane on its way towards Titsey Hill.

Into the woods and heading for White Lane on Sunday... pic by Andy Smith

Sunday was another hot day and we were running late, but eventually headed off from the green just before 0800hrs. We hit the 269 again and Andy got chatting to a Lycra monkey from Oxted Cycling Club as we rode along. He chatted about 'recovery gels' – something we know nothing about. We prefer to rely upon tea and biscuits.

We passed the bus stop and sailed part way down the hill until we found the footpath and then headed back in the direction of White Lane and Titsey Hill, but off-road. A walker wearing headphones stood in our way. We dinged our bells, but he didn't hear us until the last minute and was then apologetic for holding us up. The path wasn't for bikes. There was a gate ahead of us and we had to lift our bikes over it before we continued. Beyond the gate was a field on a slope and it was fantastic, offering views across the Surrey countryside into Sussex and beyond. We looked down at green fields dotted with trees and the M25 purring quietly before us. In the distance the hazy outline of the South Downs.

Andy's bike in the field and a great view beyond. Pic by Andy Smith.

"This has to be the place to stop for tea," I said, laying the bike on the soft carpet of dried grass and reaching for the flask. Andy agreed and set about taking a photograph of our newly discovered tea stop. It certainly beats the Tatsfield Churchyard as a place to stop on a sunny day. As we sat there admiring the view before us we spotted a hawk gliding through the air, a sight to behold, we thought, taking it all in. After almost a decade of cycling through Northern Kent and Surrey, it was good to think that there was so much still to uncover; and while the path was for walkers and not cyclists, sitting in the field and looking out across Surrey and Kent and Sussex, made us feel good. I could have sat there all morning, but we had to continue along the track, into the woods, to find out where we'd end up. We could clearly see woods and another gate over which to haul the bikes.

The woods were full of protruding roots, which made riding difficult, but we eventually found White Lane and crossed over into more woods. We encountered another gate and some steps that led us down to a track that ran parallel with Titsey Hill. It was full of large tree roots, which were even more difficult to ride on than those previously experienced, but we managed it and soon found ourselves at the roundabout just beyond Botley Hill.

The roots had put us off, but we decided that riding to the field for tea and biscuits and then retracing our steps and rejoining Clarks Lane for the ride home would be best in future. Andy parted at The Ridge and I continued along the 269 using the off-road path, heading home.

It was another oppressively hot day, but who could really complain?

• All pix by Andy Smith.