James, the manager of both the local affiliated gastropub, the Sloop, and Kitts Cottage Campsite, is a wry chap; looks as if he might have been a highwayman or pirate in a former life, so we’re not sure whether or not to believe him when he points to the campsite’s eastern treeline and says there’s a ghost of a lady who sometimes walks through there from the woods. Certainly it’s atmospheric, and on those creepy Sleepy Hollow nights as the north wind wraps its teeth around your guy pegs and whistles at your door, you might prefer we never mentioned it. To be honest, but for your imagination there’s nothing faintly spectral about Kitts.
The story (coupled with James) just adds to the site’s charm, for Kitts is bordered by forest, rolling meadow, and fields. Sandwiched between Lewes and Haywards Heath, the 18-acre site takes its name from a house that used to stand here hundreds of years ago…that’s as much as we know – perhaps our researcher got lost in the local ales at the Sloop.
There are no style awards or glamping brownie points being won here, Kitts is all about bowling up with your tent, doing all the hard stuff like pitching up and cracking open your cool box, as well as stoking the flames on one of the many designated fire pits. Essentially it’s a huge meadow bookended on two sides by alluringly ancient woods and bordered by sheep-grazing fields; there’s an area for families shaded by mature oaks, a section for groups further away, and the remainder left for couples and singles. The eastern treeline is always kept free and uninterrupted for aesthetic purposes – an arboreal canvas that might have come from the brush of John Constable. It makes a pleasant change for taste and nature to triumph over wanton greed.
James runs it this way to keep things in balance, just like the unspoken eco-agreement with the forest critters that watch you sleep. Your side of the bargain is not to gather logs, or any kindling whatsoever – it’s provided to you on arrival. And, in return the creatures leave you alone, just like in that film The Village. Fires are positively encouraged, though, as part of the site’s back-to-basics ethos – returning to camping the way it used to be.
The site sits on a slight elevation, giving great views from the top of the hill; gazing across the woolly backs of sheep and rusted ploughs, you have to pinch yourself when you remember you’re less than an hour from London.
The surrounding woodlands are criss-crossed with public footpaths, one of which leads directly to the much-celebrated Bluebell Railway, a journey into yesteryear with a fully working steam railway system. With its old-fashioned stations peppered with nostalgic signs; octogenarian conductors; and steam billowing from Thomas the Tank Engine funnels, it’s a delight for even the weariest of cynics. The footpaths from the site are perfect for getting back to nature, and if you don’t fancy walking then bring your bike to explore the woody glades, sunburnt fields, and pretty hamlets.
