walking path · iii · over the down
The chalk path climbs the down behind the long field and crosses it at the summit before descending the other side. The path is white — almost luminous after rain — because the chalk lies an inch beneath the turf and the feet of a century of walkers have worn it through. The crest of the down is reached in twenty minutes by anyone with breath and forty by anyone without. There is a single hawthorn at the top, much disputed in its age.
Walkers see, from this path: the whole valley as if from the air; the long roof of the building, small and slate-coloured; the harbour, on a clear day, a thumbnail of sea; and, on the descent, the village beyond. The wind on the crest is a different wind from the one in the valley. In summer there are skylarks; in winter, nothing. The path is walked by those who want to see far, and, less often, by those who want to be seen from far.
It connects, at its foot, to the winter path; at its stile, to the village lane; at the crest, only to itself. The atmospheres change on the crest, sometimes mid-step. The seven-lamps observance is sometimes kept there.