I woke up at 5 and it was pitch black.

My body said no but my mind forced me to get up. Time was tight.

I readied myself and my gear, filled my water bottle and zoomed on the Santy D bikes to Victoria to catch my train to Seaford.

I was very excited to hike the Seven Sisters.

An Eerie Start

Seaford seemed nice aside from the horrificly gray fog that surrounded everything.

I hadn’t had breakfast yet and was feeling the wind bite, so stopped by a cafe to get some tea. As soon as I mentioned that I was going to hike the Seven Sisters the exuberance of the staff dropped to an awkward “oh… good luck” (which I interpreted as YOU’RE FUCKING CRAZY).

This moment made me ponder (in retrospect: not enough). I took it personally that she was shocked – “surely she’s just not into outdoorsy activities” I said to myself. “Yes it’s windy, but it’s not like there’s a storm or anything?”

The houling wind, the waves crashing violently against the rock, and the birds struggling to take off proved otherwise.

Today Is NOT the Day I Die!

I was at awe at both rock and wave. Raw and powerful, and I tender and fragile.

I pushed against the wind to get to the bottom of the first hill to climb. There I rested for some time to have my breakfast.

As I gulped down my proteiny overnight oats, I saw an actual crazy person: Some white dude running down the hill in shorts! I felt much better about how the lady at the cafe had reacted, and then I took to admiring the strength of the guy. To fight the cold, and to have the legs to go up and down such hills at such speed. Impressive. Maybe one day I’ll be like him.

I continued on, and as soon as I got to the bottom of the hill I noticed that everyone was going back down.

“Perhaps I should too?”

“No. You’ve come all the way here. No weak wind will stop you”

And so stupidly I continued on.

The storm picked up. The wind gusts were so strong that I had to crouch at times to hold myself still.

I stayed as far away from the ledge as I could, and was grateful that that wind was blowing inland…

Soon the rain picked up and I was getting drenched. My waterproofing was starting to fail and to fight the cold, I walked as fast as I could. The harsh droplets sharply hit my face like bullets.

I fought one gust, and then another, but the third blew my glasses away! I was momentarily blind in wind and rain, and panicking.

Is this where I die? Alone? With no one around?

I crouched and immediately collected myself. I looked for my glasses and luckily found them… with one temple snapped off!

And so I marched on with one hand holding the glasses to my face so that they don’t fall off.

I looked out to the ocean and shouted at God for the first time: “Today is not the day I die”.

Soon after I was overlooking the valley, blown away by the scale of the waves.

Colddd

The stormed calmed down a bit and my chances of survival went up.

But I was cold.

I wanted to cross to the other side and finish the hike fast but the high tide prevented me from doing so.

And I wasn’t crazy enough to swim.

And so inevitably I had to go inland, and then back out to continue the trail.

This portion of the hike proved to be tough, not because of the storm, but because the trail was difficult to follow due to all the mud! I was not sure if the path I was taking was going to be a dead end, and I didn’t want to get some nasty disease from muddy water!

My phone was dying.

I put my faith in the path in front of me, and even though I slipped a few times, I finally made it out of that nasty mess.

I tried to take refuge in the Cuckmere Inn but they fucked me: I was thirty minutes too early. Annoyed at their lack of help in my desparate situation, I decided to move on.

I followed a treacherous country road with a non-existent sidewalk and feared that after my battle with nature it was going to be the stupidity of man that kills me.

Luckily no such thing happened, and I was grateful to find shelter from the storm at Saltmarsh Farmhouse.

I ordered a few teas, got myself more food, and stupidly went in and out of the bathroom at least 10 times in a futile attempt to dry my undershirt. I definitely overextended my stay there, and towards the end I was not even feeling warm.

I seriously considered heading back to London, but with no easy access to either Seaford or Eastborne, giving up wasn’t a choice: I had to finish the second leg of the hike.

Two Strangers Conquering the Elements

I left the cafe still cold, but the storm was still quiet so I was able to warm myself up with quick movements.

As I started my walk I passed by a horse (or perhaps a mule?) that stood strong against the elements. I thought to myself that I didn’t care to be that man running down the hill with shorts. I wanted to be the horse instead.

Still amongst chaos. Calm. Strong. Conquering the elements.

There is much that I admire about that animal to this day. Staying strong in times of chaos is something that I strive towards, though perhaps these days I make more of an effort to be a little less gray about it.

Soon after, I approached a path that was leading back towards the shore… and I finally saw other hikers. I felt a bit of relief that this leg of the hike actually had people on it, though this didn’t prompt me to make any friends.

I tried to pass as many as I could because my mission was to get to Eastborne so that I could get back to London. Simple and stupid.

But then I noticed another solo hiker overtake me, moments later I overtook them, until they overtook me again, and on and on went this dance until I turned around and said to her: “Hey, wanna hike together?”.

It was nice to share platitudes though there were many awkward moments. She was strange: no proper raingear, no proper hiking footwear (she was wearing vans…!) and also hiking on her birthday as a celebration??

I really got the sense that she wasn’t comfortable with me, or that she didn’t trust me, though she stuck to me for some reason. Perhaps she saw in me some sort of stability, as she was so small that the wind could almost blow her away!

And I guess I stuck to her… perhaps because I didn’t want to face the elements alone again, even though I was ready to.

We continued until we got to a point in the hike that was PACKED with tourists, mostly Chinese. They had all taken a bus for the viewing point, and the asshole in me was cursing the damn cheaters!

But really those curses should have been targeted at me: I CHOSE to continue hiking given the conditions! No special brownie points for suffering!

After that bit, the weather turned quite foul again, and the gusts started hitting us hard. My companion was scared, and she clutched on to me and I almost fell with her. She told me that she wanted to go inland and find an alternative route to Eastborne. I told her to do that if she wished, but that the fastest way was to continue for the last few miles. We were quite close to the final descent. That convinced her, and together we trudged on.

We stopped to have some food before the final leg. I was very happy with my sandwiches, and she with her energy bars. We pushed for Eastborne.

One Last Fuck You

The descent was quite windy but we were driven by the high of completion.

On arrival, the ice that was starting to break was set again as she awkwardly said that she was leaving for London, like NOW. I let her be and decided to explore Eastborne.

But my desires were put down by another bout of rain, and so I took it as a sign to call it a day. I camped at a strange Italian cafe serving British food. I enjoyed my tea and cream of asparagus soup.

I made my way to the train station, cold and wet but didn’t leave without taking a few photos of the architecture.

I then wrote the following poem, which has nothing to do with the hike:

Conquering the elements

My coat’s size is small

It’s black and ready to brawl

A morning storm unexpected

And it’s hydrophobic: I hope I don’t smear it

Because a part of me is tired

The allergens aside

My mind is deep fried

From consuming junk

No wonder my appetite… sinks

Because a high tide stinks and also shrinks

The sharp edges of the Seven Sisters

I won’t harp: my pledge is to leaven the blisters

And march on till the endurance race is meaningfully finished.