Walking the Apocalypse

Wednesday 15 April 2020

Yesterday was the best day of the year so far, and so deserved the longest walk. I was out for just over eight hours and covered about 25 miles. Never having been a morning (or afternoon) person, I was late getting myself together and didn't leave the house until two o'clock. I got back home at a little after ten. No river walks this time. I headed out in the afternoon towards Preston, veered off past West Wood into Great Offley, and then on through the lanes to Wellbury. At Wellbury House I cut across the field track to Little Offley and then on up to Lilley Hoo and Telegraph Hill. After watching the sunset on the Hill, I walked down the wold valley to Pegsdon, then out over the chalklands past Tingly Wood before taking Wood Lane down into Pirton. From Pirton I walked back down Hambridge Way and Mill Lane to West Mill, then round Oughton Head before heading back home over the Common via Ducklands.

It was a glorious day and a glorious walk. It's at this time of year that the English countryside starts to show at its very best. On a mild sunny day, there's nothing to beat it. And hey, everyone, the bluebells have arrived, lining the hedgerows and carpeting the woods and spinneys in their millions. Ferns are unfurling in the darker, damper places, and trees are budding and bursting into new leaf. I love the greenery at this time of year because it's fresh and young and perfectly formed. Sad that it lasts for so short a time before the summer sun arrives to dry it out and summer diseases come thronging to blight it. But I shan't think about that now. Trees are bursting into flower in the town and turning the sky to nougat, and there is still plenty of frothy white blossom in the hedgerows. Out in the fields the corn is pushing through quickly now, and the rape is already in flower. The porous chalklands have gone from muddy to dry in just a couple of weeks, so much so that the ground is already cracking under the wheat. 'It's the wonder of chalk', as a friend reminded me just last week.

I don't think I've ever seen so many pheasants as there are this year in the fields around the woods. Everywhere you walk you can here them clucking and calling. Their cries remind me of the noise made by a battered old music box I had as a child. It was a cubical tin box, like an old tea caddy, with a very primitive musical movement inside it. The wire handle on one side had a red wooden knob on the end, I recall. (These were the days before plastic.) When you turned it, the box played a rasping metallic tune.

The lambing season seems to have been a little late again this year and the fields south and west of Hitchin are suddenly full of spring lambs, little rubber boned rockets that bounce around their mothers and stare curiously at the strange creature sneaking up on them with his camera. Up on the hillsides near Little Offley I caught sight of hares racing over the plough. They're down in numbers this year, presumably because myxomatosis has recently jumped species and is now decimating them. Everywhere and especially up on the higher ground I notice there is a symphony of bird song. I have no doubt now, the birds are singing more enthusiastically than usual. I think I would be too, if I were a bird.

Once I'd left the immediate vicinity of the town where people were exercising themselves, their kids and their dogs, there was hardly a human form to be seen or a human voice to be heard. If you need to self-isolate, this is the place to do it. Up on Telegraph Hill looking out over onto the Bedfordshire Plain, the silence was like a pressure on the ears and on the mind, and made me aware of the ceaseless mental traffic that rumbles through my head.
I'd planned the walk so that I would reach the Hill just before sunset. When the evening sky is clear at this time of year, the wolds glow with a spectacular golden light. There is one solitary tree in particular on the side of the hill which seems to catch fire in the sunset. I've watched it many times, and thought one day I would get it on camera. Sadly, a haze of cloud muted the sunset yesterday evening and its light was not the best. I can hardly complain, though. The evening light was gorgeous as I came through Cloudshill and Wellbury and on up to Offley Place. All around, the world is drowning in colour.

Planning is of the essence on this walk. If I get it just right, I can catch the sunset on Telegraph and Deacon Hills before hoofing it down through Pegsdon and over the chalk to Pirton, while the sky still holds some light. The way is rutted, and walking it can be tricky after dark, especially as the last half mile of Wood Lane is bordered by tall hedges which shut out the light even when the moon is full. From Pirton back to Hitchin the tracks are more even and the only danger is to end up in a tangle with a teenage cyclist. I hate to use a torch.

The twilight persisted for hours last night though. By the time I reached Westmill on the outskirts of Hitchin, the sky was dark but not yet quite black. I was still feeling energetic, so rather than make my way home through the estate and brave the smell of exhaust fumes on the Bedford Road, I turned up the riverside walk to Oughton Head Springs, and came home across the Common and past Ducklands to a late but welcome supper.

Stay safe