The North Downs Way from Chevening Village towards Surrey

Chevening, the picturesque small village north-east of  Sevenoaks, is an ideal starting point for an autumn yomp along the North Downs Way and the wonderful surrounding countryside of the Kent - Surrey borders. There is of course the added bonus of the possibility of catching a fleeting glimpse of our hard working Foreign Secretary, who may be residing, at our expense, at his magnificent 17th-century grace and favour mansion reputedly designed by Inigo Jones and set in a rolling 3500 acre estate. If there is an official reception in full swing be sure to stick to the designated footpaths to avoid the risk of  being wrestled to the ground by an over eager diplomatic protection officer,  lurking in nearby bushes.

The early days of a heavy autumn when the temperatures are still mild and the grass verges are heavy with dew long into the afternoon are ideal for walking. Parking up at the back of the pretty St Botolph's church, a path leads north from the church before rising up about 100 meters to the top of the chalk downs.  These days are the last for the blackberries and the first of the chestnuts though the full riotous colours of autumn are yet to reach their full glory. After an ascent through woods, the path intersects the North Downs Way and by turning left and heading west, Romney and I, both panting a little from the exertion, set off towards Surrey. The well signposted path is littered with copper coloured beech leaves and thousands of acorns crunch under my boots as Romney pursues pheasants in every field.

After almost 2km, the path crosses the road at Sunbridge Hill and if you are only looking for an hour or two of exercise you can turn left here, after the kissing gate and proceed downhill past Knockholt Lodge and then turn left past the pheasant hatchery into Park Wood. This will lead you back down through the Chevening Estate but you will need to keep dogs on leads near the hatchery as there are game birds everywhere.

For a dog with very limited cerebral capacity Romney is most studious when it comes to negotiating kissing gates. His first preference is to try and find a gap big enough to squeeze through but he gradually grows more confident at following me through the simple manoeuvre of opening the gate, sliding past and closing the gate behind  us.  In one field a gate was left standing isolated serving no purpose but Romney insisted on approaching it carefully and waiting patiently for me to open it for him even though there was a 20 meter gap either side of it for him to proceed through.

This beautiful countryside must be unchanged for a thousand years except for the height of the ancient oak trees and the distant hum of the M25 sounding the encroachment of modern humanity. Dense hedgerows are bursting with blackberries, rosehip, beech, ferns, holly and gorse. This wilderness  is so close to London and if you glance up to the left as you approach Kent by car just after the  Clacket's Lane services station on the M25,  that is where we are.

Just west of Joelands Wood there is a conveniently placed seat fashioned from rough logs and after sharing a cheese sandwich with Romney he enjoys a sudden spontaneous ecstatic moment, writhing in the wet grass like a love sick puppy rather than a corpulent eleven year-old dog with chronic flatulence. 

We leave the trackway after our sandwich and ecstatic moment and head north to try and make a circuit and follow a new sign that says Berry Green Circular Walk. This has been created by Bromley Council as a 7.5 mile walk starting at Cudham recreation ground. Tempted by the smart newsign, I realise we have left the North Downs Way a little too early and we pass an ostentatious newly built manor house and proceed over Grays Road into the curiously named Bombers Lane. The lane peters put into an attractive public footpath that proceeds through rolling woodland and fields to the Tally Ho pub.

Pubs always form part of the walking  itinerary these days because they allow the old dog to have a well earned rest and the old walker to enjoy  a decent Kentish ale which in this case was a superb Larkins Tradtional ale from the local brewery located at Chiddingstone. Only 3.4% ABV so no risk of  a serious navigational failure on the homeward leg but it's a lovely smooth tawny treat all the same, nicely augmented by a bag of cheese and onion crisps. We are close to Chevening but there is probably little chance of meeting the Foreign  Secretary holding court at the bar of  the Tally Ho despite their good reputation for seafood. Instead a retired lady reads out extracts from this week's Sevenoaks Chronicle to her husband and discusses property prices in Cornwall with the landlord.

" A man tried a lure a schoolgirl into his car near Borough Green." she tells her husband and "Blimey, that Martin Clunes is looking his age."

Romney sleeps peacefully on the faded floral carpet, which given its age, could also have been designed by Inigo Jones, while I enjoy the ale and the unpretentious ambience before we head off down the Knockholt Road and back towards Chevening.

Darent Valley Path- South Darenth to Chipstead (11 miles)

I suppose I was inspired to walk the Darent Valley path by my mother-in law who is trying to buy a large lake from a Baron. The purchase is not for her own amusement you understand but for the benefit of the community and the lake in question is a former gravel pit that was excavated on the banks of the River Darent in the village of Chipstead, near Sevenoaks in Kent. The Darent is arguably the third most famous river  to run through the county after the Thames and the Medway, though residents of East Kent might argue the Stour that runs through the beautiful cathedral city of Canterbury, should be attributed with that title.

Either way, like the Stour, the Darent still runs clear and both river valleys were chosen by the discerning Romans for their elegant villas and farms, some two thousand years ago. Despite being so close to modern urbanised London and its often dreary suburbs, the Darent Valley Path is a truly beautiful walking route that runs from the river mouth, where it meets the mighty Thames in Dartford and proceeds South, through some lovely Kentish villages to the town of Sevenoaks and then on to the source of the river on the Greensand ridge 330ft above sea level and about 1 1/2 miles south of the pretty village of Westerham.

Given that my faithful walking companion (Romney, my ancient cocker spaniel) and I are maturing more rapidly than we would choose, we restricted the walk to one day and set off at 8.15am on a beautiful June morning from the Bridges pub in South Darenth with the ambition of walking south to my  mother-in-law's house in Chipstead, some eleven miles away. It means we avoid the urban sprawl of Dartford and can retrace some of the spots around Horton Kirby where I had spent many contented hours as a young boy engaged in fishing. The path even takes me past the enchanting old brick road bridge where my brother and I once watched wild brown trout and where I took my own sons fishing with small nets.

From here the way also meanders under some of the busiest motorway routes in the south-east of England and just before entering the village of Farningham, the gin clear river about 10 meters wide, is  spanned by a huge stained concrete motorway bridge decorated with colourful graffiti. High above the river on the M20,  the roar of thousands of impatient motorists can be heard racing off to some unknown destination as though their lives depend on it.  You can't help wondering where on earth they are going in such a mad rush as you amble across the river on a small footbridge and enjoy the wonderful landscape over a water meadow to the spire of  St Martin's church and the village of Eynsford in the distance, looking just about the same as it must have done in medieval times.

This is not challenging terrain and most of the path hugs the banks of the twinkling river as it ripples and flows north to the Thames and there are usefully positioned pubs for those walkers who like to lubricate their outdoor activity with the odd tipple. Not surprisingly, The Bridges in South Darenth with its pretty hanging baskets of flowers was closed at 8-15am  but the Lion Hotel in Farningham is quite magnificent by comparison and if it is closed you can still sit in the garden next to the river on one of  their wooden chairs and check your bearings while admiring the recently restored stone cattle screen built in 1740, that still straddles the river.  It is another paddling opportunity for Romney who has always been extremely enthusiastic about personally verifying the water quality of English rivers. However, there is a slight hint of a Spaniel sulk as the path leaves the river at the Lion Inn and poor Romney, reluctantly agrees to go on his lead as we turn right and proceed uphill. We  pass attractive 19th century former shops on Farningham High Street before turning left into Sparepenny Lane, so called because travellers could once save money by using this back route in the days of road tolls.

From Sparepenny Lane you are presented with a marvellous view to your left down across the river valley and towards the end of the road, just before arriving in the village of Eynsford you have a great view of the fortified Norman house known as Eynsford Castle with its circular battlements. At a road junction a vintage fire engine, gleaming red and silver stops and turns right towards a rally being held at Lullingstone Castle. It is the only vehicle we have seen except for  Royal Mail delivery van and for  moment I am lost in time. The ford in the village is quite famous and a popular spot for tourists to test their 4x4 vehicles through the shallow water of the eponymous ford.

The path however leads to the right, away from St Martin's Church and the ford and past a Tudor mansion called Toll Bar Cottage and then away from the narrow road to Lullingstone and up to the chalk escarpment to the west of the valley. The narrow path cuts through sloping fields of green unripe wheat, spotted with red poppies and near the top of the escarpment we cross the railway line. Shortly after our crossing, an ancient locomotive pulls more than thirty rusting freight cars across Eynsford viaduct and north-west towards Swanley and south east London and it's a pleasing sight.

Romney is showing early signs of fatigue so as the path passes through a thick hedge into another huge field of unripe corn, I lift my light pack off my shoulders extract a rain jacket and throw it on the ground. We have been walking just over two hours but it's a warm day and it has been some time since Romney enjoyed a dip in the cool waters of the Darent.  I sit down, offer him a bowl of water and encourage him to rest. Instead within two to three minutes he is barking impatiently, urging me to continue on our way so we start our descent back down to the river near Lullingstone Roman villa.

The section of the walk towards Lullingstone Castle is possibly the most gorgeous. The path hugs the river again, there are fields of purple lavender, green hops, huge weirs and even the Lullingstone visitor centre does not blight the landscape. There are more walkers here, perhaps encouraged by the parking and tea facilities but they tend not to wander too far from the car park and seem mostly interested in immersing their dogs in the river.  From here the path leads to Shoreham and the home of the celebrated Victorian artist Samuel Palmer and even more importantly the Kings Head which is our lunchtime destination.

It's a beautiful warm, sunny afternoon and replenished with fresh dressed crab and chunky chips washed down by a Cornish guest ale, morale is at an extremely high point as we cross the road bridge over the river from which young boys are fishing and Romney enjoys a post-lunch cooling-off in the water.  We then gently proceed pass church of St Peter and St Paul and the Old George Inn before exiting the picturesque village of Shoreham on the main road and cutting right out of the road and through mature woodland, the golf course and the cricket ground where the home team is warming up with some catching practice. Be careful not to proceed too far and miss the right turn at the narrow road sloping down the valley to the right where you rejoin the path again on the western edge of the gold course. A group of girl guides resting in the shade of an ancient oak tree at the side of the road ask me the way to Halstead.

This is another stunning section of the path and we exchange greetings with a couple of golfers as they drag their trolley up an immaculate fairway in search of their tee shots. The arrival in Otford is also delightful as I follow a group of boy, aged about ten-twelve  years with their fishing rods, trudging  through the fields back home in the afternoon sun, with blue dragon flies flying sorties at the edge of the fields.

Apparently a local group are applying for funding to invest in the Darent valley and its path to improve its facilities and access to walkers but up to this point it's hard to see where they might spend the money, except on a few modest  improvements to signposts.  On arrival at Otford though, you can see room for some radical enhancements to the path. Despite this being a pretty village with a fascinating history, the path leaves the river and turns right up a busy main road for half a mile and only reveals a non-descript residential estate with a small shop selling ice cream. This road eventually leads into more corn fields but the feel of the valley and magic of the river has already been lost. It's not regained until the tops of brightly-coloured mainsails of sailing dinghies can be seen tacking across Chipstead lake, the subject of my mother-in-laws community ambitions and our final destination.