Ashdown Forest is not known for permanent waterfalls, but after prolonged rain the landscape briefly transforms. Beneath the open heathland plateau, sandstone ledges and clay layers shed water quickly, feeding short-lived streams that cut into wooded ravines and momentarily bring hidden waterfalls to life. Miss the timing and these features disappear again, leaving little trace beyond damp rock and leaf-stained pools.
This walk followed one such stream after heavy December rainfall, linking three very different waterfalls: the hidden plunge of Mungo’s, the stepped Garden of Eden fall beside a footpath, and an unnamed woodland drop further downstream. Each only flows properly for a short window after rain, making timing far more important than season or popularity.
The short video below captures all three waterfalls in motion, followed by mapped references for context. The sections that follow look at each waterfall in turn, combining the walk itself with notes on geology, nature, and what makes these fleeting moments worth photographing in Ashdown Forest.
The High Weald is shaped by water as much as it is by woodland. Beneath the canopy of ancient forests, countless small streams cut through sandstone and clay, forming quiet, seasonal waterfalls that are easy to miss unless you know where to look. These are not dramatic tourist landmarks, but subtle features of the landscape that appear, fade, and change character with rainfall and time of year.
This post brings together a growing collection of lesser-known woodland waterfalls across the High Weald, documented over many walks and return visits. The focus is on atmosphere, seasonality, and context rather than exact directions, reflecting the fragile nature of these places and the effort involved in finding them.
To balance sharing with protection, precise locations are not published openly. Instead, general areas are described here, while exact pins are shared separately via a supporter map for those who value responsible exploration. The guide will continue to evolve as new waterfalls are discovered and existing sections are updated.
The Willingford Stream runs quietly through Dallington Forest and along the slopes of Brightling Down, but after prolonged rainfall it becomes one of the more rewarding winter locations on the High Weald. December’s cold, wet and overcast weather wasn’t ideal for wide landscapes, but it was perfect for returning to woodland streams and seasonal waterfalls.
This visit followed weeks of steady rain. In drier months the Willingford Stream is easy to overlook, but when water levels rise a series of small waterfalls and cascades begin to appear along its course.
Beckley Woods sits on the High Weald near the East Sussex–Kent border and is a place that only really reveals itself in the right conditions. After weeks of cold, overcast and windy weather, December brought sustained rainfall — the kind of weather that keeps most people indoors, but transforms woodland streams and gullies. When wider landscapes feel flat, waterfalls become the natural focus.
In the quiet village of Wilmington, East Sussex, an ancient yew tree stands beside St Mary & St Peter’s Church. Believed to be between 1,600 and 2,000 years old, this remarkable survivor is older than the church itself and steeped in history, myth, and folklore.
Early one August morning, I filmed along the eastern edge of Hastings known as Rock-a-Nore — a name that comes from “rock against the north.” The light was perfect, spilling across the cliffs and over the shingle beach, where fishing boats still launch directly into the sea.
Below is the short film from that morning — a quiet look at one of Britain’s last working beaches.
Rock-a-Nore sits between the Old Town and the eastern cliffs, right where the land gives way to the sea. Unlike the white chalk faces of Beachy Head or Seven Sisters, these are Hastings sandstone — darker, layered, and more easily eroded. At low tide, it’s possible to walk from here all the way to Covehurst Bayand even on to Cliff End, though conditions can change quickly.
This part of the coast doesn’t get the same attention as the more famous cliffs along the Sussex coast — but in many ways, it’s far more alive.
The Stade and the Boats
The shingle beach here is called The Stade, from the old Saxon word for landing place. It’s home to the last full-time beach-launched fishing fleet in Britain. There is no harbour. Boats are pulled out to sea using tractors and heavy winches, and returned the same way. This technique dates back centuries — adapted to the geography, and kept alive by generations of Hastings fishermen.
I was lucky enough to film a team launching one of the smaller boats into the morning tide. You can still feel the rhythm of work here — quiet but constant.
The Net Shops
Behind the boats stand the black wooden towers known as Net Shops — often called net huts, but their true name is older. Built on tiny plots of land, each one is tall and narrow, designed to store and dry hemp fishing nets before the days of nylon. The tarred wood keeps them waterproof, and some reach three or four storeys high. You won’t find anything like them anywhere else in the world.
They’ve become an icon of Hastings — as much a part of the town as the boats and cliffs themselves.
East Hill and the View Across Town
Above Rock-a-Nore, the East Hill Lift rises up the cliff — the steepest funicular railway in England. At the top, you’re rewarded with views across the Old Town, the pier, and even Beachy Head in the distance.
Hastings east hill golden hour
From up there, you really see how the town fits together — hemmed in by the sea, the cliffs, and its own layered history.
Practical Info
Location: Rock-a-Nore, Hastings, East Sussex
Access: Easy via Rock-a-Nore Road, car parks nearby, and lift access to East Hill
Best Time to Visit: Sunrise for photography; low tide if exploring east towards Covehurst
High on Wilmington Hill at the end of August, the weather turned blustery and dramatic. A rainbow briefly appeared before storm clouds rolled over the Downs. Against this backdrop, a herd of Exmoor ponies grazed the slopes, with Firle Beacon soft in the distance. These hardy ponies are more than just a beautiful sight — they play a vital role in conserving the chalk grassland of the South Downs.
Here’s a short reel from the day:
Exmoor ponies on the South Downs are here for a reason — conservation grazing keeps the slopes open for wildflowers, butterflies, and other wildlife.
Wilmington Hill rises steeply above the Sussex Weald, offering world-class views across the patchwork fields of the Downs. Just below lies one of the region’s most iconic landmarks — the Long Man of Wilmington, a mysterious chalk figure cut into the hillside.
The ponies here are Exmoors, one of Britain’s oldest native breeds. Their hardy build and steady grazing make them ideal for managing rough chalk grassland, preventing scrub from overwhelming the delicate ecosystem. This form of conservation grazing helps to preserve habitats for species such as the Grayling butterfly, which depends on open, sunny slopes.
Photography Notes
The light on this day was constantly shifting — clouds racing in the wind, the land below glowing one moment and darkening the next.
Photographing the ponies against this backdrop created a natural contrast: the immediacy of a living subject set against the timeless South Downs landscape.
pony on wilmington hill with firle beacon lit up in the background south downs east Sussex south east England UK
Practical Info
Location: Wilmington Hill, near the village of Wilmington, East Sussex
Access: Footpaths lead up from Wilmington village and nearby car parks; the climb is steep in places but rewarded with wide views
Best Time to Visit: Late summer and early autumn for dramatic skies and active grazing; spring for wildflowers
Firle Beacon – another South Downs high point with wide views
Alfriston – historic village in the Cuckmere Valley
Closing Thoughts
The Exmoor ponies add something special to Wilmington Hill — a reminder that the South Downs are not just scenery but a living landscape, shaped by centuries of grazing, farming, and human imagination. With the Long Man at their feet and Firle Beacon on the horizon, this is Sussex at its most evocative.
St Leonards Gardens is one of the most historic green spaces in Hastings. I first came across it after visiting the James Burton memorial, and soon realised the gardens tell their own remarkable story — from the town’s Regency beginnings to Alan Turing’s childhood.
The gardens were originally laid out in the 1830s by James Burton, the great Regency builder who founded St Leonards-on-Sea. Designed as private pleasure grounds for the residents of Burton’s new seaside resort, they featured sweeping lawns, ornamental planting, and a serpentine lake at the centre.
The lodges at the edges of the park became homes in their own right. At North Lodge, Henry Rider once lived — father of novelist H. Rider Haggard, author of King Solomon’s Mines. Later, the area became associated with another extraordinary figure: Alan Turing, pioneer of modern computing, who spent part of his childhood in a house overlooking the gardens during the 1920s.
By the later 19th century the private grounds had fallen into decline, but they were eventually restored and opened to the public. Today the park still follows Burton’s original layout, with its winding paths, ornamental lake, and a duck pond full of lilies and life.
A calm peaceful morning walk through St Leonards Gardens
Walking from South Lodge through to North Lodge, you can still sense the Regency ambition that shaped this corner of Hastings, alongside the stories of the remarkable people who lived here.
Practical Info
Location: St Leonards Gardens, St Leonards-on-Sea, East Sussex
Access: Free public access via South Lodge (by the seafront) or North Lodge (upper end).
Best Time to Visit: Spring and summer when the gardens are full of colour, or autumn for reflections on the lake.
Nearby:
James Burton Memorial, St Leonards – Monument to the town’s founder.
Warrior Square Gardens – Another Victorian garden space in St Leonards.
Hastings Pier – Seafront landmark with changing exhibitions and views.
At the northern end of Hastings’ Alexandra Park lies a hidden valley once celebrated as a jewel of Victorian landscape design: Old Roar Ghyll. In the 1860s, when Robert Marnock laid out the park, the ghyll was meant to be its dramatic finale – a roaring sandstone waterfall, shaded woodland paths, rustic bridges and wild scenery just a short walk from town.
Today, the scene is very different.
Here’s a look at what I found on my recent visit:
Even now, you can trace the old walk through Little Roar Ghyll upstream to where the waterfall once roared. And yet, what was once a highlight of Hastings is now blocked by landslides, dried by drought, and hemmed in by housing estates.
I started at the upper entrance, only to be stopped straight away by barriers and a sign – another path closed due to landslip.
old roar gyhll path closed hastings
So I dropped into Little Roar Ghyll instead, which still runs through the shaded woodland. It’s probably looked after more by locals than the council.
Little Roar Gyhll Alexandra park Hastings
With the stream almost dry, I followed the bed upstream, pushing through nettles and scrambling over fallen logs. Eventually I reached Old Roar Ghyll itself – the great sandstone cliff that once carried a waterfall so loud it gave the place its name. This time it was silent, the stream cut off or dried to nothing, the rocks scarred by fresh collapses.
Just beyond, a smaller, unnamed waterfall spills prettily down the valley side – perhaps the loveliest sight of the day. But even here, blockages of timber and more closed paths show how little maintenance is done.
Decline and Red Tape
Alexandra Park below is still neat, polished, and well-funded, but the wild ghylls at the top are being left to rot. Some argue this is nature reclaiming itself – and there’s truth in that – but from walking it, it feels more like abandonment.
Local people know why: these valleys sit within protected SSSI land, meaning any work involves endless surveys, health and safety paperwork, and permissions. Residents who’d happily clear paths and keep the place open run into 50-page forms and bureaucracy. Meanwhile, houses stand right on the unstable edges, blighted by landslips, their values falling.
We’re told there’s no money, no will, and no plan – yet billions are found for other projects elsewhere.
There used to be a streamside path leading up to Roar Gyhll with it being the prize spectacle. During the 70s due to development right up to the valley edge it began to subside and gradually got closed off now completely inaccessible. This is what happens when short sighted housing is prioritised over rare natural environments like this.
Why It Matters
Places like Old Roar Ghyll are more than neglected corners of a park. They’re part of our heritage and our wellbeing. Every child should have somewhere wild to roam close to home. Adults need green space for mental health, especially in towns. And in Hastings, these sandstone ghylls are rare landscapes found nowhere else in Sussex.
To let them collapse through short-sightedness and red tape is to lose a treasure forever.
Practical Info
Location: Northern end of Alexandra Park, Hastings, East Sussex.
Access: Little Roar Ghyll is still open, but Old Roar Ghyll itself is blocked by landslides and officially inaccessible.
Best Time to Visit: After rain, when the streams and falls are flowing – though check path closures before you go.
Nearby:
Alexandra Park – the main landscaped lawns and boating lake.
Covehurst Bay – another Hastings valley plagued by landslides.
Fairlight Cliffs – dramatic coastline east of town, also unstable but striking.
Lake Wood, on the western edge of Uckfield, is a hidden corner of the High Weald. It offers a peaceful woodland walk, dramatic sandstone outcrops, and a spring-fed lake with a history that blends natural geology with human design.
Here’s a short reel from my visit:
A reminder of how geology, landscape, and community care combine to create something special.
Lake Wood sits within the High Weald, one of the most geologically distinctive landscapes in southern England. Around 140 million years ago, during the Cretaceous, sands and clays were laid down in a shallow sea. Over time, erosion stripped away the softer clays and left behind the harder sandstone ridges.
The outcrops here belong to the Ardingly Sandstone — the same formation that gives rise to Eridge Rocks and other striking cliff faces across the Weald. These rocky ledges, caves, and gullies create a unique microclimate where mosses, lichens, and ferns thrive.
The lake itself is spring-fed and seepage-fed through surrounding rocks and peat, forming a balanced ecosystem for aquatic life and woodland species.
Human Influence
In the early 19th century, the estate owner landscaped Lake Wood in the romantic picturesque style. Tunnels, steps, and even a boathouse were carved directly into the sandstone, blending natural features with human design.
What feels ancient and untouched is partly a crafted vision, shaped to enhance its beauty and mystery. Today, the Woodland Trust manages the site, preserving both its ecological value and historic character.
Conservation
Lake Wood is no ordinary woodland — it has survived repeated threats of development thanks to decades of effort from the local community. Volunteers work tirelessly to keep the paths open, clear litter, and protect wildlife.
Erosion from footfall can expose tree roots and wear away the sandstone ledges, so staying to the marked paths is important. Signs also ask visitors not to swim or fish, as the delicate pH of the lake must be preserved.
The latest challenge came as recently as 2024, when a large housing appeal was dismissed after strong local opposition. Lake Wood stands today because people continue to care about it.
Practical Info
Location: Lake Wood, west of Uckfield, East Sussex
Access: Free access via Rocks Park Road (limited parking nearby). Managed by the Woodland Trust.
Best Time to Visit: Year-round — spring brings fresh woodland growth, autumn brings colour, and low sun highlights the sandstone cliffs.
Nearby:
Eridge Rocks – dramatic sandstone outcrops and nature reserve.
Ashdown Forest – open heathland, famous as the home of Winnie-the-Pooh.
Sheffield Park Garden – landscaped 18th-century garden with lakes and woodland walks.
Tucked away beneath the towering cliffs of Hastings Country Park, Covehurst Bay is one of the most remote and dramatic beaches in East Sussex. With no facilities, no phone signal, and only steep footpaths for access, it feels like a world apart. At low tide, the sea pulls back to reveal wide stretches of sand and rock, creating a raw coastal landscape that’s unlike anywhere else along the Sussex coast.
Here’s a short reel to give you a glimpse of the bay:
Covehurst Bay is part of Wild Hastings — a rugged coastline where nature is left largely to itself. At low tide the golden sands stretch between slippery rocks and jagged ledges, with the red sandstone cliffs rising steeply behind. The place feels almost Martian in parts, with giant boulders scattered across the beach and no signs of human development in sight.
Fossils and Geology
The cliffs here are millions of years old, formed from sandstone and shale layers that have yielded fossil plants and even dinosaur footprints. But finding them without precise knowledge is like searching for a needle in a haystack. For most visitors, it’s the sheer drama of the cliffs and the shapes in the rocks that leave the strongest impression.
Wildlife and Seals
This secluded bay has become a quiet haven for wildlife. Grey seals are sometimes spotted hauling out on the sands at low tide, basking just offshore, or bobbing curiously in the waves.
The remoteness of the location makes it one of the few places along the Sussex coast where seals can rest undisturbed.
An Unofficial Nudist Beach
Since the 1970s, Covehurst Bay has also been known as an unofficial naturist beach. Its isolation and steep paths keep visitor numbers low, and those who do make the trek often value the sense of freedom and privacy the bay provides.
Practical Info
Location: Covehurst Bay, beneath Hastings Country Park, East Sussex
Access: Steep woodland footpaths from Fairlight Road; best visited at low tide for sand access
Best Time to Visit: Summer months during calm conditions and low tide; sunsets on clear days are spectacular
For a long time Sussex Photography has been about capturing the landscape in the right light — waiting for the perfect sunrise, or finding a composition that does justice to the Downs, the Weald, or the coast. But I’ve realised there’s another layer to the places I visit. Beyond the natural beauty there are stories: human history, folklore, and heritage that make these places what they are.
So this marks the start of something new. Alongside photography and videography, I’ll be exploring the stories behind the landscape — not just the natural history of ancient trees and valleys, but also the human history of churches, castles, follies, and forgotten corners of Sussex. Videography allows me to weave these elements together: a reel can capture both the visual and the story.
And there’s no better place to begin than with one of the oldest living things in Sussex — the ancient yew tree at Rotherfield.
The Living Witness of Rotherfield
In the churchyard of St Denys at Rotherfield stands a yew tree believed to be at least 1,500 years old. Already ancient when the first wooden church was raised here in AD 792, the yew has lived through Saxon stonework around 1060 and Norman additions after 1066.
Hollow but Alive
The tree today is a striking sight — its heart long gone, leaving only a hollow shell. Yet the bark still lives, sending up branches skyward. Supported by props and chains, it remains a miracle of survival.
Sacred Roots
Like many churchyard yews, this one may have marked a pagan gathering site, later absorbed into Christian tradition. Yews became symbols of eternity, death, and rebirth — evergreen trees that could outlast dynasties, empires, and whole ways of life.
Why This Matters
The Rotherfield yew is more than a tree. It is a living archive of Sussex history — connecting natural history and human history, faith and folklore, past and present.
Watch the Story
You can also watch my short film about the Rotherfield yew here:
Plan Your Visit
You can find St Denys Church and its ancient yew tree on Google Maps. I’ve also added it to my Sussex Photo map of ancient trees here.
Closing Reflection
This is the first in a new series where I’ll be exploring not only the landscapes of Sussex, but also the stories that lie behind them. Ancient trees, forgotten churches, hidden follies — all the things that shape our connection to this place.
