The Pilgrims' Way: Merstham to Oxted

Well, today certainly had an unexpected ending in the best possible way. The contrast between yesterday evening and this evening is like oil and water. But I’m getting ahead of myself just a little. We should start at the start. 

The stay in Merstham was quiet and passed without incident. My dinner was comprised of all the leftover chocolate from the hike that day, plus half the flapjack generously gifted by the church, plus a bag of Doritos from the Esso garage, plus three cups of decaf tea. A well-balanced meal that set me up for some excellent rest. 

The morning was slow to start, in that it took me a while to fully begin following the route. I doubled back on myself to report on Quality Street (of chocolate tin fame) and doubled back again to walk past Merstham church on my way back to the route. Much like the second day, I took an extra half hour to walk in a circle. 

Yet I could afford to do so, because I had no obligations. There was no one to meet, and a straight path stalking the M25, so I decided to slow down. I took time to sing the Halo theme in the tunnel under the motorway and went another half hour out of my way to visit the church at Chaldon, which turned out to be one of the best decisions of the trip so far. 

The church at Chaldon, also called St. Peter and St. Paul’s Church, is clearly very well cared for by the community. Outside was a large pride flag declaring all are welcome, something I have not seen anywhere else so far on this trip and perhaps not anywhere else at all. Inside, the medieval wall art is the most striking sight. It depicts purgatory and hell as a series of small scenes intermixing with eachother. For instance, the “hell” scene has the Tree of Knowledge along with different representations of the seven deadly sins, and the “purgatory scene” has a pilgrim pleading with an archangel to recognise the devil tampering with the scales measuring his soul. It truly is fascinating to see something that detailed so well preserved in a tiny village’s church.  

While the mural did take some time to absorb, just as much time was spent talking to the other visitors. The first was a man visiting from London, who used Chaldon church as a place of peace to focus his mind, away from the negativity of the city. He had been scared of the depictions of demons on the wall as a child. He was keen to hear about my charity walk, and gave him my details, so I hope to hear from him soon. 

Second was an older gentleman, a former funeral director at the church, who had more than a few stories to tell. My favourite was this: he and the church’s then-vicar were at a mutual friend’s house, sharing some tea. Seeing that her cup was empty, he looked at her and said, “more tea vicar?” flashing a cheeky smile in the process. That was the beginning of his flirtation. Later, when they were walking back to the church, they were discussing a new movie that was in the cinema they both wanted to see. 

“Well, do you want to watch it with me?” the funeral director asked. 

“Are you asking me out on a date?” replied the vicar, mouth half open in surprised amusement. 

“Maybe I am...so, fancy going?” Unfortunately, it seems he was turned down, which he mentioned was probably to the relief of his wife (I wasn’t able to clarify if he was already married when the moment happened).  

He also had some heartfelt comments about the plight of children in war-torn parts of the world and highlighted how children suffer even at home – let down by insufficient support networks. He prays every night that children most in need can be saved. It was quite touching to hear how diligent he was about it. He wasn’t able to write in my journal due to arthritis in his dominant arm, but he was able to sign what I had transcribed for him. I hope him and his troublesome great-grandsons remain well into the future. 

Chaldon Church really was the highlight of today’s stretch of the Pilgrims’ Way, but it wasn’t the only place I visited. The Harrow is a pub outside Chaldon that was at one point the headquarters of the Home Guard during the Second World War. I enjoyed a pint of cider despite wishing I had bought a half-pint only, before eventually setting out again for the rest of the day. In the process of putting my bag on, however, I tore my bracelet apart, sending the little balls flying all over the floor. I had also forgotten my water bottle at the church hall, so I was down one sentimental item and dehydrated for the rest of the walk too. A devastating twist. 

Fortunately, the walk was not too strenuous. The view south over the countryside almost tricked me into thinking I was looking at the sea at times. I moved through woods and fields and hills in short, rolling order, until at last I was overlooking Oxted; the end of my trip for the day. 

But as I said, the ending was unexpected. I believed that, since I was being helped by the local church again, I would be sleeping in a makeshift spot either in the church itself or in a room nearby owned by the church. Instead, I was effectively adopted temporarily by an extremely generous couple, who went so far as to do laundry for me, cook dinner and dessert, and allow me to sleep in their spare room! And I could shower too! Never in my wildest imagination would I have created such a twist. For tonight, I am elated beyond measure. 

Tomorrow, however, will be a much longer walk, around seven hours altogether. Fortunately, there are no real distractions enroute, so I should make good time. I only hope it’s cold enough that I don’t sweat to death in my bulky coat again.