If Surrey were a restaurant, it would be a drive-thru. Sandwiched between London and England’s south coast, famous for its wealthy commuter-belt towns and the great thick scar of the M25, it’s a place people whip through on their way to somewhere else. I’ve spent several decades doing it; back and forth between Sussex and London, occasionally meeting friends in Guildford or Dorking, but never really exploring any further.
My husband and I had our first date in a pub in the Surrey Hills (an AONB since 1958, the second in the country) – the lovely Fox Revived at Norwood Hill – and I remember thinking at the time, “Oh, this is quite pretty.” A decade later, sitting in the same pub, and slightly less distracted by first-date nerves, I decided it was somewhere I really should get to know.
The news that Raymond Blanc’s gastropub chain, Heartwood Inns, had taken over the White Horse in Dorking was another reason to spend a few days in the area. One of England’s oldest coaching inns, dating back to the 13th century – and said to be where Charles Dickens wrote The Pickwick Papers – the pub is in the middle of Dorking’s long high street, with firelit bars for winter, an outdoor terrace for warmer evenings and 56 chic bedrooms (with homemade cookies on the tea tray and luxe Bramley toiletries in the bathrooms).
We arrive at the White Horse a little weary after our three-mile walk from the top of nearby Box Hill proved a little more taxing than we’d imagined. We’d driven the famous zigzag road up to the National Trust car park – so busy on a Friday afternoon, I’ve no idea how you’d park at a weekend – and stood and gawped at the spectacular views. It’s claimed you can see 14 counties on a clear day. It seemed rude not to lace up our walking boots, lured in by the romantic-sounding Happy Valley trail; only as we navigated our way down the extremely steep hillside did I realise we would also have to clamber back up.
The effort was worth it. Everywhere, great swathes of lush, wooded countryside rolled out in front of us, with barely a house or settlement to be seen. It seemed unfeasible that we were in a built up commuter-belt just a few miles from London – it felt more like the West Country.
Our room at the White Horse – with fluffy robes, well-stocked tea tray and the kind of bed you can’t allow yourself to sink into too early for fear of never getting back out – was a lovely peaceful spot to rest up before dinner. There’s always something delightful about staying in a pub; coming down to find the bar buzzing with groups of locals and out-of-towners, the restaurant full of early evening diners.
The menu, thankfully, goes beyond the limited fish and chips or burger options that so many pubs are now restricted to. The buffalo cauliflower with cashew nut cream is smoky and crisp, the dressed Devon crab creamily perfect with a tub of thick-cut chips. As reward for our walk, we also allow ourselves the Wye valley rhubarb crumble; a perfect mix of sharp and sour, with a sweet, biscuity topping.
The indulgence carries on the next morning with a visit to the Silent Pool distillery, where we join a tour that takes us through the process of gin-making, with plenty of opportunities to sample as we go. The natural pool that sits behind the distillery (and gives the brand its name) has quite the history: the only major source of spring water on the Downs escarpment, the water is an extraordinary, opalescent blue and the pool is said to be haunted. It’s also where Agatha Christie left her car when she disappeared in 1926, causing the Surrey police to drag the water for her body.
Silent Pool sits alongside Albury Vineyard, although since one of us has to drive we decide a wine-tasting session will have to wait. Rather more unexpectedly, the distillery also shares the converted farm buildings with Mandira’s Kitchen, an Indian restaurant, cookery school and culinary hub, where we buy a jar of chai masala spices and a couple of crispy samosas to keep us going on the afternoon’s walk.
A minute up the road from Silent Pool, we pull into Newlands Corner, where it seems as if the whole of Surrey has come to gather. There are bikers eating burgers, walkers lacing up their boots, couples sauntering off along the footpaths that crisscross this slice of the Surrey Hills. Arguably the county’s most famous viewpoint, it’s not hard to see why – virgin countryside as far as the eye can see, one of England’s most beautiful corners, hidden in plain sight.
Today’s walk is a circular one down to Shere – the kind of place an American might envisage when they think of a picturesque English village (not least because it appeared in both The Holiday and Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason). A brisk hour’s walk brings us on to the pretty high street, flanked by 16th– and 17th-century houses, with families of ducks bobbing along in the stream. We bag a table in the Dabbling Duck for tea and cream-topped scones.
It strikes me, as we begin the walk back, that the Surrey Hills feels special because it is such a surprise; rather like driving past an unremarkable semi that turns out to be a treasure trove inside. Clearly, if the numbers of people at Box Hill and Newlands are anything to go by, the area is hugely popular with locals and day trippers from London. But to come just for an afternoon or day isn’t enough to appreciate all that Surrey Hills has to offer. It’s pretty much perfect short-break territory – if only the hills were just a little less steep.
The White Horse has doubles from £119 room-only. A 90-minute tour of Silent Pool cost £25
