Restore Nature Now!

 

The amazing march to Parliament Square on Saturday was spearheaded by Chris Packham and included all the best-known wildlife & environmental organisations including the National Trust, RSPB, Wildlife Trusts, Greenpeace, Friends of the Earth, Green Party and Extinction Rebellion, not to mention countless others. The police (who tend to estimate on the low side) estimated 80,000 to 100,000 marchers.  Carrying witty, colourful placards and props and dressed in carnival costumes, they threaded joyously through the streets of the capital.  At this time of Election, it was to remind our politicians that so many of us are hugely concerned about loss of wildlife and the massive global threat of climate change.

To paraphrase Margaret Atwood, it's not just going to be Climate Change - It's going to be Everything Change.

As voters, we might be fretting about the pound in our pocket and the price of food.  If we don't tackle Climate Change/Global Heating, these matters will worsen dramatically, whatever short-term policies the government elected presents.

Nigel was at the march, but I wasn't - my elderly parents needed support that day.  And that's my point - although 100k people turned out, behind each one of them were dozens more who would have liked to be there if they hadn't been working or unwell, or supporting another person.

So what can we still do, if we were unable to get to the march but know how much wildlife and climate matter? 

Go to your local hustings and ask an environment-related question about energy policy, or transport or house-building on the greenbelt.  Buttonhole doorstep canvassers with these questions and ring up radio phone-ins with them.  

Nothing matters more.

The pic below is a comment on the fact that the BBC did not bother to report this massive and spectacular march at which everybody was so well-behaved.

South Downs Way - Learning the Landscape

 I feel like I know a place better if I try to paint it, so when we go on holiday, I carry a small box of Winsor and Newton watercolour paints and a post-card sized sketch pad.  I'm definitely better at trees and sea and clouds than at buildings, but that's okay because that's what we usually seek out when we go on holiday.  On the South Downs Way, I liked the way that prehistory manifested itself in the landscape and you can spot Bronze Age round barrows (AKA tumuli) in some of my pictures.  I also liked the way the chalk path drew a line on the landscape.  It turned out though, that walking for many miles along a ridge, the main star was the sky, surrounding us with its changing moods.

South Downs Way - the earth laughs in flowers

'The Earth laughs in flowers,' Ralph Waldo Emerson

Sometimes we wonder how we might communicate with aliens should they visit our lonely planet.

Maybe a more interesting question is whether there are already 'aliens' here with whom we have failed to establish contact 

I have been enjoying the flowers of the South Downs Way. 

Meadow saxifrage, lime green crosswort, eyebright, common spotted orchid and silverweed are all in bloom on the downs. To me they are an exquisite tapestry of yellow, blue and pink. 

But seen from another viewpoint, flowers are the genitals of plants, lewdly displayed in order to achieve fertilisation.

Bees and butterflies get excited, just as the flowering plants intend, but for them, the glowing shapes of flowers mean food, not sex. They are enthusiastic but unwitting partners in plants' reproduction.

As for me, as this deadly serious battle for reproduction and nourishment takes place right under my nose, I cry 'Oh, how pretty!'

But I am missing so many layers of communication.

South Downs Way - A long-held secret

The South Downs Way was not only about walking - there were some great opportunities to catch some culture - Raymond Briggs at Ditchling Museum of Art and Craft and Dorothy Hepworth at the Charleston Galleries in Lewes.

Dorothy Hepworth was particularly amazing. She was an extraordinary artist but a reserved person. Whereas her life partner Patricia Preece was a less impressive painter but a great schmoozer of people. They agreed to put Patricia's name on Dorothy 's paintings so that together they made up one successful artist. 

At one point Patricia even married Stanley Spencer on behalf of both of them. To no-one's surprise, the marriage didn't last. 

Each time, Dorothy finished a painting, Patricia took a photo of her holding it. Clearly she intended the truth to out one day. 

In fact, as old ladies, it was Patricia who died first. Through long loyalty, Dorothy continued to sign her paintings 'Patricia Preece'. 

To see the truth revealed and their story explored in this exhibition was very special like being let in on a long-held national secret.

South Downs Way - Swift response

In several of the villages where we stopped we have heard a particular shrill bird call.

'Swifts!'

But although I'm pretty good at birds, I found I was mistaken. 

When I looked up, there were no scimitar winged swifts wheeling.

Yet if we returned via the same street later, I heard their calls again.

Finally I twigged. 

Each time, high on a house wall was a nest box.

Inside there must be a 'swift caller',  designed to attract these joyous summer visitors.

This happened to us five times during our nine day walk, but over the whole time I saw maybe only twenty swifts in all.

With these swift nest boxes, caring people are offering the birds hospitality, but is it too late?

Climate change and conditions in their wintering  places in Africa are also affecting the swift population.

The very beautiful village of Amberley was one where swifts were visible, wheeling and squealing, and also one where houses had swift nest boxes. There was a tall castle whose weathered walls rose behind the church, offering many convenient crevices.  I couldn't understand why the houses had swift boxes when the castle presented such a perfect nest site. 

Then I saw the reason.  Scaffolding.

The considerate inhabitants of Amberley were offering the swifts temporary accommodation while their historic residence was renovated.

Lets hope the swifts return there for many years to come.

South Downs Way - Missing it

Sometimes the walkers and runners we pass are plugged into headphones or earbuds. One guy wasn't even bothering with those - he had music blaring straight out of his rucksack.

I want to tell them, 'You're missing it!' 

Every time we pass a thicket or a rustling hedge, there is birdsong. The mob of summer-visiting warblers has arrived to breed and our native birds are also singing their tiny hearts out over mates and territories. This incredible symphony lasts only a few months of the year.

Different birds favour different areas - on day three we were hearing tree pipits, who have the most beautiful song, the following day, whitethroats, with their busy, scratchy tunes.

And always, there are wrens, robins, yellowhammers, chiff-chaffs, blackbirds and thrushes.

But there is one constant accompaniment on the South Downs Way of which we never tire - the buoyant warbling of the skylark.

Many and wonderful are the podcasts and pop tunes folks might be listening to through their ear buds, but none could possibly be as heart-lifting as the song of the skylark. 

South Downs Way, Day 9 Alfriston to Eastbourne - A concrete finishing line

At Alfriston, the South Downs Way divided in two.  There was an inland route more suitable for cyclists and a seaside path, preferred by walkers.  The seaside route would give us spectacular views over the white cliffs of the Seven Sisters and Beachy Head, but would involve going steeply up and then steeply down for each of the Seven Sisters - a challenge for our creaky old knees.

My only regret about taking the seaside route (apart from the 2000 feet of ascent and the 2000 feet of descent) was that we would miss the Long Man of Wilmington, a chalk figure cut in the hillside a long time ago.  I identified with The Long Man because, like me, he carried two walking poles.

It was a testing walk, but after eight days of hiking, we were ready for it.

What we weren't ready for was the very visible finish line at Eastbourne.  All at once, the chalk and grass which had been beneath our feet for the last nine days turned to asphalt and concrete.  It was another mile and a half along the sea front before we got to our hotel, which was just as well, as it gave our soles/souls a chance to adjust to the fact that, well over a hundred miles since we left Winchester,  our long-distance hike was over.

And on the train next day, from Eastbourne to London, we had a great view of the Long Man of Wilmington, complete with walking poles.  

We saluted him.

South Downs Way, Day 8 continued, Room for Improvement

Our choice of accommodation was limited by the places that our baggage hauliers were prepared to call at. We paid roughly similar prices for all of them but met with a huge variety of facilities, space and even cleanliness.

One in an ancient half-timbered pub had very little sound-proofing. We could hear every word of the TV program our neighbours had chosen. 

They considerately switched off at ten at night, but the folks in the bar below continued until late. We both screwed in ear plugs and attempted sleep.

Once or twice in the night I was woken by a loud creak or bang that seemed to come from within the room itself. 

In the morning I said to Nigel, 

'It's possible this room is haunted, but the pub is so noisy in general that it's impossible to know. That banging could have been a cry for help from a very frustrated poltergeist.'

Very true,' 

'And did I hear our neighbours boiling their kettle just now?'

' Yes,' said Nigel. 'He's having coffee and she said she'd like tea.'

South Downs Way, Day 8 - Lewes to Alfreston - Charleston - Worth going off-path for

If there was one bit of culture worth tramping down off the South Downs Way for, then it was Charleston Farmhouse, occupied by Vanessa Bell and Duncan Grant and frequently visited by other members of the Bloomsbury set. 

It was obtained during World War 1 so that Grant could claim to be labouring on the land and thereby avoid being drafted to the army.

The walls were hung with great art, both that of the artists, and others which they had collected. 

However, what I particularly enjoyed were the two fireplaces designed by Roger Fry. They were not beautiful like the dining table, hand painted by Vanessa Bell, nor cool like the rug designed by Duncan Grant.

Although Fry was the foremost art critic of his day, his two fireplaces were ugly makeshift constructions which used slabs of firebrick to extend the hearth further into each room.

The reason I like them is because, like nothing else, they conjure up a picture of the privileged upper middle class writers and artists from London scratching their heads as to how on earth to keep warm in this primitive farmhouse in the middle of nowhere.

Douth Downs Way, Day 7 Ditchling to Lewes - The bright lights of Lewes

Ever since we began our adventure a week ago, I have had my eye on this Thursday. A short walk, then an afternoon pottering about the shops and cafes of Lewes.

The morning's walking turned out to be only around seven miles. 

'Perhaps we can make it longer,'

'Absolutely not!'

An afternoon without milestones to hit was a wonderful prospect.  But when it came, it was hard to adjust to the change of pace.

Even as we began to wander the streets, I was still waiting for Nigel's Fitbit to announce 'Eight miles!' I kept feeling I had forgotten something. It was my walking poles - abandoned at the hotel.

Worst of all, our feet, instead of rejoicing at the leisurely pace, began to ache. 

We had to cut short our visit to Charleston Galleries and hobble back to the hotel.

So much for the bright lights of Lewes!

South Downs Way, Day 6 - Bramber to Ditchling - Don't mess with the yellow hats

Because the path was on a ridge the morning often began with a mile of steep uphill walking. Just outside Lewes, there were people ahead of us on the ascent.
A large mixed-sex group of people, around thirty years old, mostly wearing yellow beanies.
Some appeared to be capable walkers while others were frankly shambling. 
What did they have in common (apart from the yellow hats)?
Why were they here?
Due to their mixed abilities, they were already strung out.

'Its going to be too hard to overtake all that lot on this steep bit. And we don't want to end up in the middle of their group.  We'll just have to tuck in behind.'

But, to my horror, only minutes later, I found our normal pace had placed us in an overtaking situation.

Once begun on this course, one has to see it through, otherwise one is in the socially awkward position of walking alongside a stranger and looking as if you're trying to join their group.

On we pounded, bidding every yellow-hatted walker 'Good morning!' as we passed.
Even as we eyeballed each of them, we couldn't figure out what they were doing here. 

Finally we reached the foremost group - three young women, clearly fitter than the rest.
'We have to ask. Why the yellow hats?' I gasped.

'Oh,' replied a tall woman. 'It's my hen do and I wanted everyone to come for a walk!'
'What a lovely idea,' I panted.

But, now, having overtaken everybody, it still was not lovely for us. We had not yet reached the top of the ridge and if we slowed down, the yellow-hatted troupe would inexorably overtake us, each one bidding us 'good morning.'

'I think I'm going to die,'  I wheezed.

'You started the overtaking. Now we have to keep going!' grunted Nigel.

Day 6 became the day when we broke our own speed record!

South Downs Way, Day 5 - Amberley to Bramber - Falls!

Twice today I ended up at eye level with the chalk and flint surface of The South Downs Way. 

The first fall was when I skidded on the chalk, extremely slippery after rain. I had watched my step on the slopes, used my walking poles. But on a flat bit, with barely any incline, my legs skidded from under me.

The second was when, striding along at top speed,  the loop of my bootlace hooked onto the metal eye of the OTHER boot. I actually felt it happen, but there was nothing I could do.  I went flying and was just so relieved not to break my glasses. 

Both times, I was saved from bad cuts by the fact I was wearing fetching elasticated knee supports.

Had tiredness made me clumsy?

When we arrived at the (very hospitable) Black Horse in Amberley yesterday, we got chatting to another South Downs Way walker. He and his wife had not been on the path that day. They had dallied in the picturesque village of Amberley and taken a rest day.  

Now that is an interesting idea for future trips.

South Downs Way, Day 4 Cocking to Bignor - A Roman Discovery

If there was one historical site I was looking forward to it was Bignor Roman Villa. But the website said it was shut on the day our walk was scheduled to pass it.

To a Classics teacher with a (borderline obsessive) interest in all things Roman, this was a cruel blow.

'We'll have to come back and do this properly, and visit Bignor!' 

However, the Roman gods were kind to me. 

Slowly marching across our path on the South Downs Way was the biggest snail I ever saw. 

It was an edible snail, introduced by the Romans and still to be found in the vicinity of their villas.

I don't know which Roman god was in charge of snails, but, 'Thank you!'

Even so, we'll still have to go back to visit Bignor!

South Downs Way, Day 3 Buriton to Cocking - Friends in unexpected places

When you go on holiday, you miss a portion of your everyday life. 

As we departed on the train, I whatsapped Caroline, 'I'm so sorry I'm not around on your birthday. I'll get your card etc to you on our return.

''Don't worry,  I'm not around either. ' Simon and she were babysitting grandson Zac so their daughter and son-in-law could attend a wedding. 

On the day of Caroline's birthday we were staying  at the Bluebell in Cocking  We had been warned the kitchen was shut for the evening.

'Just take the bus into Midhurst.

'The bus into Midhurst worked fine. Except that it was the last bus of the day. When we went into a pub for an aperitif, we asked about taxis. They gave us four numbers, but a woman waiting to be served said, 'You won't get a taxi now. There's a big do on.'

As she predicted,, all the taxis were fully booked.  We rang the Bluebell and explained our plight. One of the bar staff answered and kindly offered to come and get us. But she didn't want to hand over her number, so the arrangement felt precarious. 

We were still fretting when we entered Fratelli's restaurant. It therefore took me a moment to realise that the tall man approaching me with outstretched arms was Simon. And there at a nearby table was Caroline, with Zac in a high chair. We joined them.

It turned out the big do that was occupying all the taxis was the wedding their daughter was at.  Not only was it brilliant to see Caroline and Simon and Zac, and to wish Caroline Happy Birthday in person, but they reassured us that if our lift didn't turn up, they'd run us back.  Which meant we could relax and enjoy our serendipitous evening. 

In the meantime, the woman who'd told us there'd be no taxis turned up with husband and son and occupied the next table. After Simon and Caroline left, she asked us what was going on. She was puzzled that our friends had finished their dinner whereas we had barely started. When we explained the coincidence of us converging from far-off St Alban's, she looked like she didn't quite believe us.

And I'm not sure I believe it myself!

(And in case you're wondering, the bar person from the Bluebell did come and fetch us!)

South Downs Way, Day 2 Meonstoke to Buriton - A bird in the Hand

I fancy myself as a bit of a birder.

One of our main reasons for halting as we tromp along is for me to watch a lark circling in the blue, or set my Merlin App to identify a medley of birdsong emerging from a thicket.

Today on the South Downs Way we were passing between a tree-lined hedge and a bank of tall grass. Robin and yellowhammer were singing in the hedge.

But then very loud and very close by came the unmistakable call of the eponymous chiff-chaff.

'That's weird. Chiff-chaffs usually sing from a tree but this one sounds like it's coming from the long grass.'

'Yes. It's really loud, like it's really close too.'

I thought maybe my ability to locate sounds was deteriorating with age.

'Mmm - it's playing tricks on my hearing too.' 

For a number of minutes, we peered about us for the little bird.

But finally we needed to get going.

However, as we strode on, the chiff-chaff appeared to be coming with us.

Wait a minute.

I put my hand in my pocket and drew out my phone. One of my bird apps had switched on and was playing the song of the chiff-chaff. 

A bird in the hand is said to be worth two in the bush. But what about a bird in the pocket?

South Downs Way, Day 1 - Winchester to Meonstoke - Harvey Miles

Nigel is a great optimist and a chronic underestimater of distances.

This has led, amongst our family and friends, to the concept of Harvey Miles. Harvey miles are longer than normal miles.  Our first day, Winchester to Meonstoke was to be a gentle one - 12 miles.

As we set off, Nigel added, 'Ooh. It's even better than I thought. Google says it's just 10 miles.'

As it turned out, the weather was perfect - dry, but not too hot. There were a lot of hills but mostly on a shallow gradient.  

All of which is just as well, because when we arrived, Nigel's Fitbit showed we had walked 14.6 miles.

South Downs Way - Day 0 Winchester - the rubble that made me smile

Before starting out on the South Downs Way we had an afternoon to kill in charming Winchester.

We'd visited the cathedral before and I knew if we went in again, we would be swallowed up in the interior for the rest of the day whereas I fancied a potter round the shops. 

Having 'pottered round the shops' for nearly an hour, Nigel was beginning to look desperate. Luckily for him, a sandwich board outside Tourist information proclaimed a walking tour about to start.

We joined it and admired the ancient premises of Winchester College and the stately Bishop's Palaces, both old and new.  But better than any of these was a tiny lump of collapsed wall made of flint cobbles.

This was all that remained of the Roman Walls of Winchester.

It was best was because it made me feel smug about the brilliant Roman remains we have in St Albans.

Holiday on a long distance path - The South Downs Way

In 2022, we walked Hadrian's wall and found that a long distance footpath leaves you fitter, well-slept and relaxed. 

Along the way there are encounters with both human history and natural history - two of my passions.

In the evenings, one is often at a hamlet in the middle of nowhere so there are few distractions from reading, writing and painting.  There is time to reflect on the day's discoveries.

It's not entirely stress free. A little thing like sunburn, blisters or a stomach upset could threaten the whole trip.  One is obliged to take good care of one's body - a good thing in itself. 

When looking for our next footpath, the choice seemed obvious. I'd walked sections of the South Downs Way before and I liked the simplicity of it - high ridges with views,  larks climbing into the blue, and the footpath, a white line scored into the chalk soil. It promised freedom.

The South Downs Way is a recent construct rather than an ancient Way, but still, it is composed out of many old paths and drovers ways, and it would allow us a transect through the fascinating villages of southern England.

And all that sky!