Supping coffee at one of Guildford’s many upscale chain cafes, I looked out from under the shop’s awning at the unplanned rain lashing the streets.
It was not an auspicious start to a 70km gravel ride in the Surrey Hills, south west of London.
Around me, my travelling companions for the day clearly felt the same. Hot drinks to hand, the collective opinion was to play 'catch-up' a bit later, once the rain had stopped.
Few things are more miserable than starting a ride wet, and with our route linking two of Surrey’s most famous hills, Box and Leith Hill, off-road, we wanted to at least start well.
Connecting the two hills off-road was made possible in 2021, when, thanks to the vision of the Surrey Hills National Landscape, the Leith Hill Greenway was opened.
Credit must go to Denbies Vineyard, which allowed a previously gated tunnel under the Ranmore Road to be opened to the public, thus allowing for a more or less 14km, traffic-free route between the two summits.
Despite living in Surrey for a number of years, I’d never linked the two hills off-road, always visiting them individually.
Our group planned to take on the wet and mud of Surrey’s wine region.
I’d first met Jordan on a pandemic-era ride of Cycling UK’s West Kernow Way in Cornwall.
The fact that he hadn’t done much riding since the previous year’s Atlas Mountain Race made me hope I might stand a chance of keeping up with him on the hills…
Similarly, I’d grown to know Jonathan when working together on the aforementioned Cornish route with my erstwhile employer, and the following ones in Kent and Norfolk as we used up the last dregs of EU funding in post-Brexit Britain to create three long-distance bikepacking routes.
Harking from Canada, he was no stranger to poor weather and riding uncomfortable terrain on gravel bikes.
Rounding up our crew was Ian, my first riding companion when I moved to Surrey 10 years ago.
As well as being one of life’s true gentlemen, he’s also the only person I know who can pull off riding with rim brakes on sketchy terrain.
Plus he’s an amazing baker, providing the sort of goodies mid-ride that keep spirits up and legs turning.
The rain had begun to ease and coffee cups were empty. The route beckoned, and with it our first of many off-road stages.
Chasing our tailwind
You couldn’t say we weren’t warned. A dog walker, looking as though they’d just emerged from losing a fight with a blackberry bush, wished us luck on the trail ahead.
It was clear why as we began battling through the jungle of bracken, brambles and nettles that sees handlebars and derailleurs become experts in topiary.
I’d only passed along this route a fortnight before, and all had been fine, but there’d been a lot of sun as well as rain since then, helping the plants to thrive.
Fortunately, the drizzle meant we’d kept our waterproofs on, so it was only our legs that took a lashing, and developed that nettly tingle familiar to all off-road riders.
As Jonathan paused with a mechanical outside Chilworth Manor vineyard and we took in the sodden alpacas and lost Duke of Edinburgh hikers, we realised we were somewhat behind schedule.
However, we were soon zipping down the hill past Chilworth’s Gunpowder Mills, built by the East India Company nearly 300 years ago, then powering up to Blackheath Common.
This dry lowland heath is a Site of Special Scientific Interest, which meant we stuck to the established rights of way, rather than heading through the open spaces, even if they looked much firmer: Blackheath is a notorious sandpit.
The rain had helped by compacting the sand, but it was still tough going, especially when the rights of way weren’t exactly undergrowth-free.
In the end, we escaped the woods and rejoined the road in Albury, where we forwent the delights of the trail to make up time on the tarmac.
It was dry now, and with a tailwind, we flew to Abinger Hammer, along the old road that used to connect Kent to London before the M25 relieved some of that pressure.
At this point, we joined NCN 22. Say what you like about the National Cycle Network as a series of routes for commuting but, in my experience, it provides some excellent gravel routes, and this ranks high as one of them.
Working our way past the newly planted hedgerow on National Trust land, which in time will provide nature corridors to encourage diversity and keep livestock in, we looked up to White Downs, thankful to skirt its ridges and not make the full climb.
The NCN 22 between Dorking and Gomshall might be a rubbish commute on a hybrid, but it’s pure fun on a gravel bike. Clear lines of sight enable you to rip along its empty stretches.
It was starting to feel a bit like summer, until the rain returned, forcing us to seek shelter under the Dalí-esque Witches’ Broom in Abinger Roughs.
This 300-year-old beech tree, its branches propped up by crutches and tangled trunk, has surely witnessed many strange sights, including four grown men supping on the Pocket Coffee sweets Jordan had procured.
For the next hour, we played hide and seek with the rain. We acknowledged the Wilberforce memorial with a swift glance in the rare sunshine.
This marks the spot where the famous abolitionist’s grandson Samuel Wilberforce, Bishop of Winchester, had a tragic accident falling from his horse.
We found it was less the rising gradients above Dorking that separated our small group and more the amount of shelter the canopy in England's most wooded county provided.
If the weather was less than ideal for riding, it certainly favoured the Roman snails, which began to emerge on the damp tracks.
These large, distinctive gastropods are almost big enough to take in the views looking down to Dorking through the wild orchids.
They’re also a protected species peculiar to the chalky downlands – so watch your wheels.
A hill too far?
Pausing at one point, we looked to the south at a pocket of sunshine lighting up Leith Hill Tower, prominent in its distinctive gap between treelines.
By my original (optimistic) plan, it was a bit more than halfway on our route, and had been a possible lunch stop… but it was 3pm and Box Hill was still to come.
Steam evaporated from the road leading to Box Hill’s famous Zig Zag Road as we passed Ryka’s Cafe.
Despite being hungry, we all knew it would be best to eat on the way down rather than the ascent.
Box Hill is famous for its steady climb and tarmac switchbacks carving up the hillside. This, however, was a gravel ride, a British gravel ride.
It was about the grass up the middle, mud, sand and slippery chalk, like the old military road that leads to the overpriced National Trust cafe at Box Hill’s summit.
We let the tarmac roll us down to burger heaven at Ryka’s. The giant TV blasting out motorbike antics didn’t encourage us to stay though, and, just as the migrant swallows did, we were soon darting among the vines of Denbies.
Look out west from Box Hill, and you’ll get a glimpse of the scale of 265 acres of vineyard, making up one of Surrey’s best-known wine producers.
Denbies is not just about wine, as evidenced by their willingness to open up the Leith Hill Green Way.
There’s also an excellent coffee roasters, Chimney Fire Coffee, plus a top bike shop and hire, Just Pedal, with reported plans to increase its offering as a cycle hub with more parking and a solar-powered ebike stand.
But the clock was ticking and Jonathan had to leave us, so only three of us pushed on to the top.
Ian shared some nuts with us, which proved a saviour because it felt we’d picked a hill too far for the day. However, we were determined to reach Leith Hill.
Taking the slow, easy-ish climb to Coldharbour via Wolvern’s Lane, we ignored the call of the Plough Inn and tackled the 11 per cent average, and skittish, terrain up to Coldharbour Cricket Club’s grounds, the highest (and tiniest) pitch in the south east.
The last stretch to Leith Hill tower is brutal. The tower rears above a steep, heavily eroded and rooty track, defying all but the most determined of gravel riders. That was clearly not us.
We pushed, braked, and panted our way to the views from the second-highest point in the south east – the tower being the highest.
At this stage, we’d been on the trail for close to nine hours: far longer than we’d intended. Evening commitments dashed our fellowship’s intended goal of riding the 30km back to Guildford.
Instead, we turned tail back to the train station in Dorking, reaping the benefits of our labours up Wolverns Lane by dashing through the gloaming, as evening sunshine soaked the Downs in golden light.
It felt a fitting view for a glorious if ultimately unsuccessful day out.
Local knowledge
Distance: 71.5km
Elevation: 1,010m
Download the full route: Komoot
Getting there: Guildford has regular connections to London Waterloo and Portsmouth with dedicated bike spaces – booking is required. A smaller stopping train also runs from Reading and Gatwick.
Where to eat: Grab a coffee anywhere in Guildford before heading off, and have a burger (veggie options too) at biker haunt, Ryka’s Cafe at the bottom of Box Hill. Coffee aficionados will enjoy Chimney Fire Coffee (Denbies), while the foolhardy can fill their bellies ahead of the steep stretch to the top of Leith Hill at the Plough Inn (Coldharbour).
Homeward bound, the Red Lion in Shamley Green and Jolly Farmer in Bramley offer good beer and fare for the weary rider coming to journey’s end.
Bike shops: The Old Clunker Cafe (Dorking) has coffee, spares and mechanics. Just Pedal (at Denbies Wine Estate) can help with repairs, e-charging, and loans of Specialized gravel (electric too) bikes.
Otherwise, the Bike Hub in Peaslake is en route.
