South Downs Landscape Photography
Walking and Hiking on the South Downs
2025 was a year of working closer to home and learning to respond to conditions rather than chase them. From misty dawns on the South Downs to woodland waterfalls in the High Weald and long exposures on Romney Marsh, this review brings together one standout image from each month — moments that best reflect how and where I photographed across the year.
Continue reading Landscape Photography Review 2025December 2025 was dominated by wet, cold and overcast weather across East Sussex, which quietly shaped the direction of my photography. With wider landscapes often flat and uninviting, the focus naturally shifted into woodland, following streams and revisiting places that only reveal themselves after prolonged rainfall. The result was a month spent exploring seasonal waterfalls across the High Weald, interspersed with a handful of coastal and observational shoots.
This post brings together those December walks and discoveries, from hidden ghylls and temporary cascades to a final New Year’s Eve sunset at Beachy Head.
Continue reading December 2025: Sussex Photography Monthly ReviewNovember brought a mix of short weather windows, local walks, and a few longer trips around the High Weald and South Downs. Most of the month was dominated by grey skies and fast-moving fronts, so every break in the weather turned into an opportunity to get out with the camera. From minimalist coastal scenes at Broomhill Sands, to long-exposure evenings on the Romney Marsh, to a series of drive-by shoots across the High Weald, the month produced a varied set of images and a lot of useful scouting for future locations. The final days brought clearer conditions on the cliffs at Birling Gap, rounding off the month with a couple of clean views across the Seven Sisters.
Continue reading November 2025 Photography Review – Sussex Walks, Coastlines and Autumn LightOctober is always one of the most rewarding months for landscape photography in East Sussex. The air turns crisp, the light softens, and the colours across the Downs and High Weald reach their peak. This month’s walks took me from the misty escarpments of Firle Beacon to the beech woods of Ashdown Forest and beyond—each location offering its own mix of atmosphere, light, and stillness. Below is a look back at my October 2025 photo walks, the best images from each, and a few notes from along the way.
Continue reading October 2025 Landscape Photography in East Sussex – Monthly ReviewFrom the slopes of Mount Caburn that September morning, I could just see Lewes Castle rising through the mist — the twin mottes catching the first light over the town. It’s one of the earliest Norman castles in England, begun around 1069 by William de Warenne, one of William the Conqueror’s most trusted knights.
🎥 Watch the Short:
Lewes Castle | Born from Conquest after 1066
It’s hard to believe this view has changed so little in nearly a thousand years.
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Lewes Castle was the second Norman stronghold in Sussex, built soon after Hastings Castle to secure the route inland and protect the road to London. Its position on the ridge above the River Ouse made it both a defensive lookout and a statement of dominance over the surrounding Saxon population.
The earliest castle would have been a timber motte-and-bailey, replaced in stone through the 11th and 12th centuries. The outer towers seen today were added in the 13th century under the Angevin kings — part of the continual strengthening of Norman fortifications across southern England.
Lewes controlled the key route between the south coast and the old capital at Winchester. From here, Norman lords could oversee trade and movement along the Ouse Valley and the approaches to the Downs. It formed one link in a chain of coastal strongholds, including Hastings, Pevensey, and Arundel, that secured William’s new kingdom against rebellion and invasion alike.
You can still climb the steep steps up to the keep and take in the same commanding view that once overlooked the Norman road north. Inside the walls, the museum tells the story of Lewes through Saxon, Norman, and medieval times.
It’s not just a monument — it’s a reminder of how one battle reshaped an entire country.
Location: Lewes, East Sussex
Access: Public entrance via Castle Gate, Lewes town centre
Best Time to Visit: Clear mornings or late afternoon for best light from the Downs
Nearby: Mount Caburn, Anne of Cleves House, Lewes Priory ruins
What follows is my landscape photography review of all the photo walks I have taken during September 2025. These included many dawn shoots along the east Sussex coast and on the south downs.
Continue reading Landscape Photography Review September 2025Above the village of Litlington stands a striking chalk figure carved into the hillside – the Litlington White Horse. From here the landscape opens into the Cuckmere Valley, a place of sky, river, and history. High and Over, the nearby viewpoint, is one of the best places to take it all in, with sweeping views over the South Downs to the sea.
A closer look at the White Horse and valley – watch the full video here:
Find it here on Google Maps or explore my own collection of All Map Locations.
The Litlington White Horse is a chalk hill figure first cut in 1924 by local villagers. It replaced an earlier horse that had faded into the grass and scrub. While it may not be as ancient as the Uffington figure in Oxfordshire,
it has become a much-loved landmark of East Sussex. Chalk figures like this are a reminder of human imprint on the Downs – visible for miles, yet fragile without upkeep.
The headland above Litlington is known as High and Over – a name that perfectly fits its lofty position. This spot offers one of the best viewpoints in the South Downs National Park.
On a clear day, you can see the Cuckmere meanders winding their way to the sea at Cuckmere Haven, with Seaford Head and the Seven Sisters cliffs beyond.
The Cuckmere is unique as the only Sussex river to cut directly through the chalk South Downs to the sea in a natural valley. Its meandering curves near Exceat are famous among walkers, photographers, and artists. These sweeping bends are classic river features – oxbow shapes that one day may form oxbow lakes when cut off from the main channel. The valley itself remains a beautiful, largely unspoilt landscape.
To the east lies Lullington, a hamlet claimed to have the smallest church in England. Walking down Church Lane here, with sunlight spilling across the fields, gives a timeless sense of rural Sussex. Goats grazing the chalk slopes and paragliders drifting above complete the scene – an ever-changing picture of people and nature.
On the quiet slopes above Friston, East Sussex, a memorial stands to mark the site of a once-bustling wartime airfield. During the Second World War, this patch of the South Downs became an emergency landing ground and fighter base, where RAF and Allied pilots flew coastal patrols, engaged enemy aircraft, and escorted bombers back across the Channel. Today, the airfield is gone, but the memorial ensures that the men who served here are not forgotten.
Here’s a short reel from the site:
A simple stone memorial looks out across the Downs, inviting visitors to pause and reflect on the sacrifices made in these skies.
Friston Airfield was established during WWII as a strategic base for Fighter Command. Its location on the South Downs, just inland from the coast, made it ideal for intercepting enemy aircraft and providing protection for convoys and returning bombers.
The grass strip runway and temporary facilities saw intense activity during the height of the war. Spitfires and Hurricanes of the RAF operated here, later joined by squadrons from other Allied nations, including Poland and Canada.
The airfield also served as an emergency landing ground for damaged aircraft limping back across the Channel — not all of which made it safely. The memorial honours both those who flew from Friston and those who fell nearby.
Today, there is little sign of the wartime airfield itself — the South Downs landscape has reclaimed the site. What remains is a peaceful spot, with wide skies and rolling fields that once echoed to the sound of Merlin engines.
The memorial stone stands at the roadside near the village of Friston. From here, the views stretch across the Downs and out towards the Channel, a reminder of the very skies where the air war once raged.
Friston Airfield has vanished from the landscape, but the memorial keeps its memory alive. For those who stop here, it’s a chance to picture the roar of engines, the tension of combat, and the bravery of young pilots who defended these skies.
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.
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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.
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.
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.
What follows is a collection of my best photos taken during August 2025. Including trips to Ashdown forest on the high weald and walks over the south downs all within the boundaries of east Sussex.
Continue reading August 2025 Landscape Photography ReviewOn a winter’s day in February 1944, a United States Army Air Forces B-24 Liberator named Ruth-Less tried to limp back across the Downs after a raid on V-1 rocket sites in northern France. It never made it. The bomber struck the ridge at Butts Brow above Eastbourne, killing all ten men on board. Today, a simple plaque set into the hillside remembers their sacrifice.
Here’s a short reel capturing the memorial and the view across the Downs:
A small stone, a wide landscape, and a story that travelled across the Atlantic.
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On 2 February 1944, B-24D Liberator 41-24282, code BAR-Y, of the 44th Bomb Group, was returning from a mission over northern France. The aircraft had been badly damaged by enemy fire and was flying through heavy cloud and severe icing.
The crew tried to reach the emergency landing strip at Friston, just beyond Eastbourne. But in low visibility the bomber clipped the ridge at Butts Brow and broke apart. Eight men died instantly; the remaining two succumbed to their injuries later that day at Princess Alice Hospital.
The crew are remembered by name on the plaque: Edward J. Ackerman, James H. Bales, James O. Bolin, George M. Dewald, Aubrey J. Maloy, Harold W. Schwab, Ralph E. Strait, James L. Wilson, Orville L. Wulff, and Chester W. Yurick.
Ruth-Less had already survived the famous 1943 Ploiești raid on Romania’s oil fields — one of the toughest missions of the war. That it was lost here, within sight of safety, gives the stone on Butts Brow an added poignancy.
The memorial plaque was unveiled in 1995 through the efforts of local historian Kevin Watson.
Location: Butts Brow, Willingdon, Eastbourne, East Sussex (plaque lies south of the main car park on the ridge).
Access: Public footpaths across the Downs; easiest from the Butts Brow car park.
Best time to visit: Clear days for far-reaching views, or quiet winter afternoons for atmosphere.
Nearby:
It’s easy to walk past a small plaque in the grass. But standing here, looking across the same horizon those ten men never crossed, the scale of the sacrifice becomes real. Butts Brow holds not just a view, but a memory.
High on Exceat Hill above the Cuckmere Valley stands a simple memorial stone. It marks the site of a village long vanished, where only wind and grass remain. From here the views sweep south over the winding river, Cuckmere Haven, and the white cliffs of the Seven Sisters. At golden hour it feels timeless – a reminder of both beauty and loss.
To bring the story to life, I also made a short film about Exceat. It tells the tale of the village, its church, and how it vanished from the map.
The stone on Exceat Hill is all that remains, but walking here you can still imagine the village that once overlooked the Cuckmere.
Exceat Hill lies within the South Downs National Park, East Sussex, just above the meandering Cuckmere River.
The memorial stone sits along the walking routes that connect with the popular paths to Cuckmere Haven and the Seven Sisters cliffs. From this vantage point the entire valley opens up, making it one of the most evocative places in Sussex.
Explore on Google Maps: Exceat Hill – Memorial Stone
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Exceat is recorded in the Domesday Book of 1086. In medieval times it was a small settlement with a flint church at its heart and access to the sea via the river mouth at Cuckmere Haven. The fourteenth century brought disaster: famine, plague, and French coastal raids left the community shattered. By 1460 only two parishioners remained. The parish was absorbed into West Dean, the church crumbled, and the village was lost to time.
In 1913 an excavation uncovered the footprint of the church, and the memorial stone was set up to mark the site. Today it is all that survives.
I came up here with the camera at golden hour. First to photograph the stone itself in the warm light of evening, then to turn my lens downriver to capture the Cuckmere as it curled through the valley toward the sea.
The light was soft, the cirrus clouds drifting, and the whole valley glowed. These are the moments that remind me why I love still photography as much as making reels – freezing a view that feels both ancient and alive.
Standing by the memorial, it’s hard not to think of how fragile life once was. An entire community erased by forces beyond its control. And yet, looking out at the valley, it’s also a place of renewal – fields, river, and sky carrying on long after the village disappeared. Sharing these stories through photos and film feels important: the more people value these landscapes, the more likely they will be preserved.
