I didn’t take my Camera on this walk so these are from my phone. Not Pulitzer material but it was a bright day, bright enough to produce good pictures under the circumstances.
I have wanted to visit Epping for a while and the chance arose without warning or time for proper planning. I want to walk the tunnels and bridges across the M25/M11 motorways. I decided to leave them to the end of the walk knowing it would be dark by the time I arrived. This may seem foolhardy however there are two attractions to the dark. The first is the tunnels will be creepy and secondly the land around motorways offers interesting navigation. If the dark freaks you out and you are considering this walk in the winter then I suggest you do the walk in reverse, and bring torches.
The sun is winter-low but bright enough to keep the air warm enough for me to walk wearing a T-Shirt and shorts (changing to longs before walking through brambles – and for decency’s sake before Lunch in the Moletrap pub).
A hot sunny day in mid November, a reminder we are closer to the sun in winter and the low angle of the sun the only clue it’s not summer, made this an extraordinary walk.
Trees and plants not fooled continue preparations for cold weather yet gleam in momentary stasis. A red squirrel sat on a bench in the woods eating, carefully I backed away to avoid disturbing it planning to take a photo but alas the boot-up on my camera produces an unnatural *ping* and in the same second the squirrel disappeared.
A short two-hour walk. It begins from the public car park at the top of Culver Down and ends in the Pub next door.
Take care on paths in Whitecliff Bay where land erosion has left them damaged or missing. In one place car tracks fall over the edge but careful examination from a safe position proved these were old and unlikely recent misfortune.
Air from the marshes laden with sea scent and a hint of sea-weed gently hovered over the path from Landermere to Peters Point. An incredible day for the time of year once the morning cloud cover burnt away by the sun. The silence was deafening only broken occasionally by the marsh birds or a distant siren.
Stoke By Nayland is one of those villages you need to pass through to get somewhere else. The snippet you glimpse gives little away.
St Mary’s church dominates the south side of the common and leads to School street where medieval architecture stands as it did in John Constables day, less the cars and tarmac of course.
The population 703 according to wiki which seems light for a church of such size, and sign of the wealth the area has produced over the centuries.
Surrounded by a few small hills the area is unusual to flat Suffolk. Nothing high enough to boast special landscape views but certainly enough interest to add character to a walk.
Fox Hunting
Wiki mentions Stoke By Nayland has a hunt called the clean boot and their goal is to follow human scent, no perfume, no fox.
I am not “anti hunting” but I don’t like fox-hunting or paper chase or whatever they call it when loads of guys n gals on horses chase around the country in posh clothes and noisy beagles.
There are several reasons I do not like it:
The noise
The damage
The danger to other footpath and bridleway users
The attitude toward other country users not part of the hunt
Innocent victims*
Innocent Victims
This needs some explaining, it’s probably not what you think. Between age 7 and 15 I lived in Withington, a village in Gloucestershire, the hunt would regularly run around, and sometimes through the village. I had to avoid them several times, once diving for cover as horses jumped hedges beside a footpath.
While frightening; it was exciting too.
As a child I had little compassion for the fox, and my opinion hasn’t changed much now although I err on live and let live.
There were two brothers living in the village, their names Jezebel and Knocker. They had a small cottage in Kings Head lane. Both of them were old, Knocker I think in his early 80′s. Both born and brought up in Withington and both kind-hearted gentleman. Knocker rarely spoke but Jezebel was a minor celebrity as he had won a medal for bravery during WW2 and thus pint-buying tourists and occasional Journalist attracted his attention.
Knocker was often seen walking through the village with his staff, a long walking stick with a V on the end. Apart from that his only passion was his devotion to his cats. He took great care of them and as you walked up the lane they would purr from perched place on their Cotswold stone wall.
That is until the hunt passed through one day and the beagles shredded his cats and left their remains scattered along the wall and his garden.
Distraught and heartbroken Knocker died less than two weeks after the incident.
It was another unusual October day, not a blistering heat and no wind, it still had a perceived summer warmth. The trees of Stour Wood were not fooled by the temperature; browns and yellows mixed with the green of the leaves holding on with foolhardy hope.
Acorns and chestnuts cracked as I walked through the wood, an open access area with paths and well-worn routes. Huge coppiced trees that tell of many hundred years of management and suggest a thirty-pig pannage or more although shrunk when declared for taxes.
Through the tunnel under the railway and toward The Stour a single house with the quintessential British garden before you reach the river shore and then lonely scenery before reaching the posh beach-huts hidden behind land-fall.
Onward through the trees and eventually beside the marshes where birds meet to gaze and squawk at the twitchers as they hide in their huts.
Nothing prepares you for the view.
Essex proves hidden treasure not only in Epping or hidden within city boundaries and stood as the boundary to East Anglia since before the time Angles was adopted for the nation. A juxtaposition of industry and natural beauty and composed of just one.
Let Essex be your secret bounty and as you run from drudge and duty; burst through the forest and catch the hues, out of breath yet out of your mind and surprise the view!
I find footpaths through private gardens disconcerting at times. I don’t want to disturb peoples privacy. It’s usually impossible to decide if your route will take you through one beforehand and thus you cannot avoid it if you wish to continue on the planned walk. I’ll take a diversion if practical to avoid disturbing the owner (useful if map reading is wrong!).
This walk has two.
One littered with “beware of the dog” signs and kennels along the path with German Shepherds going crazy as you walk by. If dogs frighten you it maybe enough to abandon the path. Locked in the kennels I safely ignored them. The path continues right through the house owners garden and chances are in summer there will be small children running around as the garden has plastic play pens and slides. A good view of their patio and the rear of the house really gives the impression that you are strolling through their home. Personally I could not live here, if popular with dog walkers the German Shepherds will spend most of the day in fits. I suspect they exist for that very reason.
The second uses a better solution for hikers. The owner has put up clear signs so you are in no doubt where the path is and fast growing Leylandii planted a respectable distance from the path give cover.
The planned route doesn’t spend much time in Arger Fen. I did this on purpose as Ordnance Survey do not show many of the paths, and the ones they do are not shown as public Footpaths, so I entered and exited at different points observing the notices provided by the local trust and conservationists who are protecting the woods and nature within.
The Time of Singing is a Story set in the 12th Century by Elizabeth Chadwick. Ida de Tosney a young mistress of King Henry II falls in love with Roger Bigod, a knight attempting to restore his family fortunes after his fathers treachery resulted in the loss of his title and lands. Roger Bigod is successful and marries Ida de Tosney who joins him as the rebuilding of Framlingham Castle began.
A warm breeze blew, so warm it was like a summer’s day. The trees were not fooled though with most of them in mid change spreading new colour throughout the landscape as you can see in the photos.
NB: My computer did this to the map, I would never treat a map with such irreverence
I visited Flatford about 20 years ago. At the time, I had two small children who showed little interest in anything other than the sweet shop (which is still there). Crowded paths, hot and cars queuing in small one-way lanes. The picture on the ‘please-take-one’ brochure looked more appealing.
I thought about an early Spring visit, but when that did not happen saved it for September. Autumn brings a change in colour with more shades of green, yellow, orange and reds, so it provided a happy compromise.
This walk, though 10 miles, is easy to change with several choices of path along the way. If you walk on a wet day, some areas may get boggy, so dress appropriately, or be ready to take an alternative path.
It’s not difficult to see why the area is known for art. I met the artist John Sharman in the 90′s and was fortunate enough to collect four of his excellent paintings. Willy Lott’s cottage, Woodbridge from the eastern bank of The Deben, Yachts on the Stour, The Ship Inn Levington (famous for its Whiffkey).
John Constable was born in East Bergholt; five minutes walk from Flatford Mill. Constable is famous for The Haywain and Flatford Mill, but Stonehenge is my favourite, the finished painting is on view in The Victoria and Albert Museum, do not miss the opportunity to see it.
Much of East Anglia is easy to walk because its flat, “very flat, Norfolk”, according to Noel Coward in Private Lives.
Pleasant villages surrounded by pleasant countryside and the Broads, in both Suffolk and Norfolk. East Anglia has been the destination for tourists and artists for centuries. Beautiful buildings, large and small, open to the public as Pubs and Grand Mansions add splendour, mystery and intrigue for worthwhile investigation on foot. East Anglian Hospitality and excellent travellers facilities are the pride of the people.
History has left stories for exploration, some starting in pre-history. Grimes graves an example with tangible evidence of life and living conditions in East Anglia thousands of years ago.
Nelson, England’s greatest hero who perpetuated and protected our empire, born and lived in Norfolk. It’s not difficult to find his influence with museums and historical locations promoting him for their cause.
Traditional English Churches are important map markers and difficult to resist admiring up close or from distance for a bearing. Round towered churches make an interesting break and most are found in Norfolk (~150) and Suffolk (~40). Some boast a thousand years of history. The church in Weeting (shown above) used after the Great War to train young unemployed soldiers as farmers who migrated to Australia and New Zealand.
Round Towers built of granite stones and pebbles have lasted. Does this explain their shape or did the invading Saxon overlords need extra protection from attack? My walks try to answer questions like this but usually just leave me with more.
A list of the walks taken in East Anglia, Spring through Summer 2011
Where mammoths walked… As the tourist info-board claims on the edge of the car park in Needham Lakes. The Suffolk Mammoth Trail offers titbits of prehistoric information along with colourful drawings of strange animals enjoying the countryside beside a meandering river. Bones of these creatures along with sharp flints used by man to skin them have been found and that makes Needham Market the centre of all things pre-history.
It sounds romantic and will intrigue nerdy children up to the age of eight but no younger than seven. The state of the info-boards suggest a council eager to cash in on the dinosaur craze without spending much money. The discovery of mammoth tooth fragments the seed of a world carpeted in lush plains foliage, gangs of hyena’s ripping buffalo apart, rats and frogs frolicking happily on the river bank while sabre tooth tigers drink and gangs of men, all with thick black hair and loin cloths hunting. Depicted in a picture extracted from an out-of-copyright school book last printed in the 70′s and just plain wrong.
I don’t doubt evidence of mammoths has been found, look hard enough or get lucky and you will find them anywhere. What I find incredible is they use this as an attraction claiming this “reveals a picture of life in the Gipping Valley 40,000 years ago.”
I doubt 40,000 years ago there was a path with dog-turd bins every 100 meters. 40,000 years on and modern dog still cannot scoop their poop and hike it into the bins thus leaving themselves open to a £100 fine. But as they are all packed full some dog-walkers tie their little doggy-poop-bundles to the handle just so the bin man, and the rest of us, do not miss it.
If you walk Gipping Valley you will find parking places at several locations. Nice to know something in life is free and doubtless this is what makes this area popular. There are picnic areas, toilets, wonderful stories on the info-boards and devices for youngsters to explore. Such as a …ummm, well a small brick tunnel. I’m not sure what it is but it did work as an impromptu parkour challenge for some 3 to 5 year olds.
There are several Weirs, although they look more like dilapidated locks. Locks increased navigability and tonnage along the river. Which is a reminder of how important waterways and rivers once were. They were the road to fortune for the wealthy of the day and it is sad that those who link their inheritance and good fortune to their ancestors privilege leave these locks to rot. Although they continue to extract profit behind the gates to their private lakes. A pleasure for anyone to enjoy if they can buy exclusive membership.
There are some idyllic scenes that turn the most un-photogenic into relative David Bailey’s. You’ll spot I am not one of them but I did get a short video of a duck. There are a lot of ducks at the lakes and nature shows its links to pre-history after-all; when children attempt to feed them. Parents scoop their kids up and run for their lives and like the pied-piper followed by winged-rats and gaggling geese all eager to rampage through their picnic. Like looters without a policeman in sight.
No, I wasn’t impressed with Gipping Valley. It frustrated me, it should have been nicer. I am not anti dogs but Gipping Valley is a dog-walker magnet and some embarrassed by the mess and state of the bins.
Fortunately that was just a third of the walk. As soon as I left the valley and surrounded by fresh air and light rain I was happy again. This is where the walk should have begun. It crossed the path of last weeks walk and three churches, all open and the opportunity to meet local people preparing for the harvest festival.
I find churches fascinating, a true connection to our past. So many different architectures, so many stories to tell. Many over one thousand years old. They are the backbone of Britain and sad we do not use them. If they were re purposed we could fund them. Churches may not seem important but can you imagine a Britain without them?
