Devil's Dyke, East Sussex - Winter Walk - Circular

Parking - National Trust - Devil's Dyke, Brighton BN1 8YJ

Route Distance - 3.7 Miles

Time Taken

Walking/Viewing - 3 hrs

Pub stops & Lunch - 2hrs

Getting lost - 20 mins

Chasing a suspected lost dog - 10 mins

Removing things from shoes - 4mins

Date Walked - 17 Jan 2026 - 11:26 am - 5:00 pm

The route we took is mapped here using the OS Maps App -

https://explore.osmaps.com/route/30370697/neurotraverse--devils-dyke-circular?lat=50.89130&lon=-0.22569&zoom=13.7164&style=Standard&type=2d

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What is the story of the Devil's Dyke?

According to legend, Devil's Dyke earned its curious name when the devil took umbrage at the villagers of The Weald converting to Christianity. He planned to dig an enormous trench running the length of the South Downs, allowing the sea to flow through and drown everything that dwelled within.

He set about his work one night, but his plan was thwarted by a light sleeping woman and her cockerel, whose cock-a-doodle doodling tricked him into thinking it was morning, cutting his dig short and ultimately leaving his work unfinished.

The devil had dug a very impressive valley, albeit one that left townsfolk bone-dry and very much undrowned.

In the interest of balance, scientists believe the valley was formed naturally over the last 10,000 years by freeze-thaw erosion at the close of the last ice age.

So pick whichever of those you prefer 🤷🏻‍♀️

We chose to start at the top of the hill, venture down into the valley, grab a beer/fruit shoot at pubs in Poynings and Fulking respectively, before a practically vertical return up one of the most charming hiking spots in England.

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Getting there

We experienced next to no traffic on the entire journey, which for us was down the A23 before turning off into the hills. Although there was obviously an incline involved and some narrow stretches of road, nothing was too worryingly steep, and no oncoming cars felt too dangerous.

The biggest danger was staring at the views as opposed to the road ahead.

The National Trust site does mention not relying too much on the postcode when satnaving, but can confirm it was well signposted when we got close.

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Arrival

We started our route at the National Trust's Devil's Dyke Car Park. The car park was situated behind The Devil's Dyke public house and had plenty of spaces. There were payment machines, but on the day we went, neither was in service. As per many National Trust-managed car parks, payment could be made via the JustPark app.

The views from here were staggering; you could see what felt like the entirety of Sussex, even on an overcast day like ours.

For whatever reason, Boy was not really feeling it on arrival. He had been briefed on the day's plan, but now that we were out of the car and about to venture out, he was calmly resisting.

We had decided to make wellies mandatory for this one, and the instruction to change his shoes was enough to start the tears and a little panic.

Tip - Finding the Middle Ground

Biased mother alert, but Boy is very sweet, kind and considerate. We are fortunate that his meltdowns are not particularly loud or eventful, and that his speech has progressed enough that he can be verbally calmed and reasoned with.

As with any child, there is no point in insistently pushing against resistance; it will just make the emotions run higher and higher until it does become a full-blown event, akin to the First World War bomb testing that took place on that very hill in 1918.

We asked Boy what the issue was and got responses like "I can't walk", "I can't wear wellies", and "I have to go home." Things we know not to be factually accurate.

We decided to initiate the middle ground, to ease him into the idea. We were not going to turn the car around and go home at his request, but we could take a breather in the conveniently placed pub next to us and reassess.

In accordance with his father's blood coursing through his veins, he finds pubs generally very comforting. We entered The Devil's Dyke, carrying the walking bag and Boy's wellies in with us. From here, we could calm him down and reintroduce the idea gradually over some drinks and a few rounds of Wordle.

If the idea of walking was still not going down well, we would of course re-evaluate. Neurodiverse children can sometimes not verbally express if they are in any kind of physical pain, and Boy is no exception. We just work with his behavioural cues and decode if he just needs time to adjust to a new idea, or if there is an underlying issue stopping him from wanting to proceed.

The Devil's Dyke was a lovely pub with a warm and cosy interior and plenty of space around the bar and tables. As with many walking route-placed pubs, the dog was of course welcome!

Dad and I got our first half pints in, and Boy got a green Fruit Shoot. None of us had ever seen a green Fruit Shoot (it's a "Thrillingly Citrus" flavoured Wicked movie promotional thing), suffice to say, Boy was thrilled.

Riding high on this discovery and his various Wordle victories, Boy was happy to put on his wellies and make a move, provided it was "to the next pub", which was technically what we were doing.

Dog was now on his 14th eye roll, as he had been ready for quite some time.

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The Walk

We headed east from the car park, passing the Devil's Copse play area as we went. Boy did not want to stop here, and it looked to be some wood and logs for climbing on rather than swings, slides, etc.

The trusty red football was introduced to help start Boy moving, and we started along the top of the hill towards Poynings.

The views from up here remained enchanting.

Semi-Positive Note - People/physical space

With the exception of the pubs, this may have been where we encountered the most people. That being said, there were only 4-5 encounters, and there was so much physical space and multiple branching paths around, it was easy enough to avoid too much proximity.

The only issue we had was off-leash dogs causing our on-leash Dog to be highly distracted and often anchored to the ground. But that's to be expected in this sort of area.

Trigger Alert - Animal Poo

There was no livestock present up here, and it didn't look to be a bridleway, but there was a fair amount of animal dung on the paths. With all the space it was easy enough to avoid, and weirdly wasn't that odorous. Due to the size, I'm assuming animals larger than dogs must be up there occasionally?

Following the path round, we start a gentle decline, intercepted by the first of many gates to pass through, this particular one a step stile.

Accessibility Alert - Gates and Stiles

There are numerous gates and stiles to climb, and we didn't see any alternatives on this part of the route. However, it looked as if you headed west from the car park; instead, there were more convenient opening gates and a flatter, more accessible terrain.

Positive Note - Dog Gates

Almost all of the stiles had dog gates on them, making getting the dog through much easier, especially when having to hold the lead.

A smooth, easy path continues down the hill until we reach the intersection of the bridleway that would ultimately take us back to civilisation. We turn left and continue to follow this bridleway down, a little rockier underfoot, but nothing too treacherous.

We next encounter a wide openable gate as we get deeper down into the woods of the valley, but we don't have much time to mentally reminisce on how convenient and straightforward that gate was before we hit.....

Accessibility, Safety, Trigger Alert - Fallen tree tunnel

I don't know how else to describe it; a tree was lying across the path. If it were not for my reluctance to face a hill unless absolutely necessary, we may well have turned back, but there was what appeared to be a man-made opening running underneath. We can't work out if this was a recent event, or something that had been baked into the path for some time that people find "quirky", but we decided we could do it, or at least give it a go.

This decision was based on our having a reasonable level of fitness and with no physical disabilities or claustrophobia.

Dad went first and helped lead Boy through, who, to be fair, barely had to duck. I then released Dog to find Dad. At this point, I should have taken the massive backpack off and passed that through too; instead, I left it on my back because I'm very bad at certain aspects of planning ahead.

It was not dignified, but I did manage to squat-waddle my way through.

Safety Alert - Overhanging Trees

The path ahead had many partially fallen or overhanging trees, which made for a visually interesting walk, but it does suggest this path is susceptible to blockages and could be dangerous in strong winds.

We reached the end of the path before taking the alleyway leading into the charming village of Poynings.

Trigger Alert - Mud

Now we were at the foot of the valley, the recent rainfall was making the lower grounds very muddy, particularly noticeable in this pathway into the village. Signalled by Dad doing the first display of his side path hugging.

Positive Note - Best gate sign ever

I have no notes for this as such, just saw it and wanted it. I have an overwhelming temptation to henceforth refer to Dog as "Chien Bizarre"

Once on the dryland of Poynings Road, we veered right to stop at the Royal Oak Pub. A friendly, cosy and very dog-friendly establishment, where Boy got to experience his first, of what I intend to be many, self-initiated boot washes.

Positive Note - Accommodating Pub

We entered the Royal Oak at around lunchtime, and it was suitably populated, but not too busy, cramped or crowded. Music was playing but not too loud, the tables were well-spaced, the clientele were very friendly and cheerful, and there was a safely contained roaring fire that Boy enjoyed staring at in wonder. Most crucially, there was a massive jar of gravy bones on the bar that Dog enjoyed staring at in wonder.

We had a picnic packed, so we didn't stay for food, though what we saw go past us looked and smelled appetising.

So Dad and I finished our half pints, Boy finished his more conventional but equally exciting purple Fruit Shoot, and Dog looked confused as to why we weren't forcing the entire gravy bone jar down into our backpack for him.

We headed out of the pub to the right, doing a slight backtrack to get back to our planned route.

The public footpath sign was slightly hidden; it did feel like we were just walking up someone's private driveway. But fortunately, we managed to simmer down our paranoia and unchain the gate, following the path leading down through a sheep field.

Trigger Alert - Livestock

This field was full of the aforementioned sheep. Physically, they kept their distance, but the stares were devastating.

Boy found it quite amusing, and even Dog, to our astonishment, managed to hold it together.

Subsequently, there was a fair amount of mud and a fair amount of poop. We held no ill-will at them for this; we were very much on their turf.

As we reached the end of the path, we traversed a metal kiss gate onto the end of Mill Lane, where we jumped over a stile and, like the stream beside us, travelled west.

Trigger Alert - Mud & Animal Poo

We were now at the lowest point of the valley, next to a stream and adjoining various livestock fields. An obvious note, but it's what I do. 😁

Positive Note - Quiet

We did encounter a lovely couple here with their equally lovely bouncing dogs, but otherwise, the whole route from Poynings to Fulking had been very quiet. Not just in the sense of social interaction, but far from traffic or activity, making the silence itself somewhat audible.

We passed various fields to our right, one of which contained an alarming number of sheep. Imagine if you will an Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds crossover with Shaun the Sheep.

How many sheep are there?

Oh, too many to count, darling.

There are 313 sheep.

I had no drone to hand, so I could not corroborate this. He is very good with numbers, and when he's also handing out advice such as...

Don't go in the river.

You might drown.

That would hurt.

Then who are any of us to question him?

Especially when it turns out he was foreshadowing.

Trigger Alert - Flood blocking the path

Ahead, we saw those bouncy dogs playing in the water, a heart-warming sight, until we got closer and realised what they were splashing in was a patch of water so wide and deep, it would be insulting to call it a puddle.

No doubt this is not a permanent feature, but it is just caused by recent rainfall.

The couple who'd passed us had sensibly decided to let the dogs play, and then go back on themselves. I told them we'd probably have to find a way around, as we are on a circular walk, and that it would be further to go back than to just continue, which was technically true.

What I didn't say out loud was that we were a neurodiverse bunch and that going back was not an option.

This was the plan.

The plan was to go this way.

We can't change the plan.

Go back on ourselves.

ARE YOU MAD!?!?!?!?!

Whilst I internally hyperventilated and wondered how quickly I could lose enough weight to confidently jump the stream, Dad was being more productive and found some sturdy logs forming a makeshift bridge across the water. We tackled this with our usual Dad, Boy, Dog, Mum formation.

Once across, I waved and smiled at the blocked couple, which was meant as a friendly goodbye gesture, but I now worry looked smug.

If the last 37 years are anything to go by, I will probably continue to worry about that every day for the rest of my life.

Tip - Wet Wipes on standby

During the muddy path and stream hopping escapades, Boy had managed to get mud above the welly line onto his jeans. Something that, when noticed, caused a mini panic and a request to have his outfit changed.

We do bring some spare clothes for him, but this is more for emergencies; we can't practically carry enough clothes to change his outfit 4-5 times in a day. He's not Madonna.

Instead, I grabbed the wet wipes and wiped off a majority of the mud from his trousers. Obviously, they were still marked after, but it removed the clumps, and the act of doing it alone was enough to ensure he was happy to continue.

We continued up what was the first of 3 interconnecting fields, with the assurance that once we got past this next gate, we'd stop for our picnic.

Boy was starting to wilt at this point, so we started a game of "I Spy" to kill a bit of time.

Something beginning with "M"

Mummy?

Ooooo, close.

Mud?

..........

Just over 10 years of marriage, I guess this is the cracks starting to show.

Through the kiss gate to the next field, we carried on until the end and setup picnic by the fence so we could tie Dog to the fence post.

We ate our universally pleasing pizza, crisps, fruit and lemon drizzle and enjoyed the view and the peace. The field was flat and open, so we got an excellent view of the surrounding hills, so much so that we could even spot The Devil's Dyke pub, where our car was parked at the very top of the hill. A realisation that was both exciting and terrifying.

Over the next stile, Dad pulled out the shoulder taxi offer to Boy. As he usually gets at least one per trip, and he was keen to get it in before we had to start ascending!

Safety Alert - Barb wire

The fences around here had barbed wire. Easy to avoid when going through the fields, but we did get snagged going over the stile.

The last fence before Clappers Lane involved a stile that was too muddy for Dad or Boy to face. So Dog and I mixed up the formation and went ahead, and heroically helped Boy over the less muddy side of the fence, so Dad could focus all his attention on being angry at the mud.

Had we turned right at this point, we could have accessed a more suitable walking route, albeit one that would have taken us longer. Instead, we went straight down Clapper's Lane, which, given the narrowness and lack of pavement or verge, I would not recommend.

Trigger Alert - Odour

This side of Fulking did smell very strongly of farm. Which contextually made absolute sense.

We came to an inlet off the road, and found what had been the first dog poo bin of the walk so far. An exciting discovery for someone who has had a little plastic bag hanging off their finger for the last hour.

Following the inlet, we passed a field of Alpacas, who had attended the same death stare school as the previous sheep.

We had one last muddy field to stomp through before climbing a few steps into the village green of Fulking, complete with a bench and a kids' play area.

Trigger Alert - No signal

We incorrectly turned left once we got to Edburton Road, on account of the lack of a 4G signal, making map reading impossible. Or at least not possible for me if Dad is to be believed (which he is not.)

It was also worth making a mental note of this, so we could forewarn Boy that some of his tablet games were not going to work once we got to the pub.

We did pass a seemingly working phone box during one of our many wrong turns, which backs up the theory that the phone signal is a general issue down this way.

Had we simply turned right when leaving the green, we would almost immediately have reached (as we eventually did) the Shepherd & Dog pub.

Trigger Alert - Less Neuro-friendly pub

This is not meant to be a pub review, nor to discredit any charming businesses, but I do have an eye and an ear for potential triggers these days, and this pub had a few.

It was quite cramped, both at the tables and generally getting around, with busy through doorways with low ceilings. Due to its more compact nature, it was also a little louder.

On entry, the door was right next to the toilets, meaning the first sound we heard was a hand dryer, which caused a little wobble from Boy, who is not a fan.

They did not have any bottled or carton kids' drinks, so Boys fruit shoot crawl came to an abrupt end, but he happily had an apple juice.

On a more positive note, it was quite dark in there, which for us is preferable. The staff were very lovely, and although once again, we didn't partake of food, it looked amazing, in particular the fish and chips.

Dad had a full pint this time, presumably traumatised by all the wrong turns and mud, whereas I went for the designated driver option of a cappuccino. We finished our drinks, our Wordles and our toilet breaks and headed out.

We walked around the back of the pub to follow a narrow wooded footpath that would take us straight to the inevitable incline. This path was very muddy, and Boy insisted on being carried over some of the mud patches. Dad obliged, presumably as if he was being accompanied by someone 3 times his size, he would have requested the same service.

Coming to another stile, the steps ahead marked the beginning of the ascent.

First, we climbed the steps; then the steps turned to roots, which then gave way to the flattened, beaten path, inclining steeply up the side of the hill.

Tip - Take Photos

Keep stopping to take photos of the views. This way, when your husband shouts back to check you are OK, you can say "Yeah, just taking some pictures for the blog" as opposed to "No, I need to keep stopping every 10 seconds because I eat too many Doritos"

It was slow and steady, but we made it to the top of this path in one piece. We knew this wasn't the end of the climb, but we were relieved to look ahead and confirm we had just climbed the worst of it; the rest appeared more subtle.

As evening was drawing in, The Devil's Dyke was now illuminated and acting as a motivational beacon back to the car.

Safety Alert - Steep Drop

The trodden path ahead from here was a gradual incline, but the hill to the left side was very steep. It proved tricky keeping Boy and Dog safely on the

path, with Dog adamant that there was something very important to sniff down there. Unfortunately, if he was going down, he was taking me with him, so I had to hold firm, whilst Dad did some helicopter parenting to keep Boy literally on track.

As we reached the next stretch, a dog appeared from the top of the uneven-looking hillside to our right. Off-leash free-roaming dogs are not an unusual sight on a rural walking path, but worryingly, this one was dragging a lead with him.

Concerned that an owner had lost him, or worse that the owner had an accident, Dad bravely clambered to the top of the hill to investigate, whilst the 3 of us stopped for a drink break on a conveniently placed bench.

It was now around 16:30, and we were quickly losing the light when a whole other dog started barking at me frantically from the top of the hill I'd just watched my husband disappear over.

Convinced this was a Lassie-like dog, who was telling me Dad had fallen into a well or some such, I started rallying the troops to go rescue Dad. Thankfully, he appeared unscathed, reporting the original dog had just been released by his family to chase a rabbit. 🙄

Dad tentatively returned to us down the uneven terrain in a sequence of movements his calves will never forgive him for.

Onwards, through the next gate, and we were firmly on the homestretch, now able to make out the movement of people through the windows of The Devil's Dyke. Dad insisted on a minor detour to the right to look at an ordnance survey marker, because apparently, he hadn't walked enough. One last scamper over a step stile and we were back at the car, proudly looking out, as best we could, through the nightfall at the land we had just conquered.

Well, Dad and I were,

Boy and Dog dived straight into the back of the car, playing their tablet and lying down, respectively.

Positive Note - Bin!

Always seems hollow to end on a bin note, but the presence of them in the car park ensured we could dispose of Dog's second "offering" and not have it stinking out the car on the journey home.

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Return Home

As is tradition, Dad and Dog fell asleep in the car. They woke briefly to move their bodies from the car to our house, before proceeding to fall asleep again.

A challenging walk which was just about the right length, though it was definitely helped by the pub and picnic stops.

Dad and I still have a sense of pride looking at the distance walked and the landscape covered. Whereas walking like we were straddling a horse only lasted about 3 days. 👍🏻