The Chase is beautiful, her exposed hills and secluded wooded valleys, a secret landscape for the intrepid walker to explore. I love this land. When people ask 'do you love your country?' I answer 'of course!', though I'm being disingenuous. I know what they mean, and it's not what I'm answering 'of course' to. They mean the jingoistic ideas of patriotism, which mean little to me beyond a currently prevalent and uncomfortable narrative espoused by many. When I say I love my country, I mean I love the country, the land. I understand it, I know what I'm looking at, I know where to look for things, I feel part of it. When I have explained myself to those asking me 'do you love your country?' they look confused as if I'm speaking in tongues. Weird.
I digress though, where was I, ah yes, the Chase. Her paths wind through a landscape steeped in history, rich in myth and legend. Our earliest ancestors favoured this landscape, remains of their activities dot the land, some easily spotted, whilst others stay hidden in the long grass and sturdy clumps of shrub. For years archaeologists who explored the prehistoric monuments of the Chase ignored the sensory experiences of ancient people, how they would have related to the landscapes they walked, and how that would have influenced the siting of their monuments. It's an area of archaeology I find fascinating which was first popularized by Christopher Tilley's A Phenomenology of Landscape published in 1994. I like to think they'd have possibly experienced the land in some ways similarly to how I do, although they'd have felt it much more immediately and far deeper that I could, our modern world being so removed from our nature.
Through the stands of the expansive Chase wood we walked through summers glory, insects buzzed from flower to flower (and there were plenty of flowers), the canopy was alive with birds, things rustled in the undergrowth and occasionally we caught a glimpse of deer deeper in the shade. The fecundity of the land is so apparent, her bounties manifest. It was cooler in the dappled light of the stands, not so when we emerged into the open, where the sun beat down with that weird unnatural intensity common these days. Outside the woodland in the bright light we could see birds of prey gliding above the canopy, circling for prey, occasionally giving an eerie screech. Majestic birds. We made our way down the hillside, through steep sided valleys and along hard reflective chalk paths, until we reached Tollard Royal, a small hamlet nestled in a valley, with a fine pub, The King John. After a brief stop for apple based refreshment and a spot of boot repair, we returned to our walk and began the climb back up onto the downs. Through ripening fields and past strangely contorted trees, the long tough downland grasses grabbing at our boots, we made our way. It was hard going, especially after the pub, but the views, man, the views were something else. Finally we reached the top of the downs and photo above is what we looked out upon and what we'd walked through. Magnificent. Our return was back through Chase Wood, this time along Chase Avenue, a double avenue of mature beech. Hot and tiring, moving slower now, the shade was welcomed, as was the sight of journeys end. 14 miles of outstanding beauty, you can't beat it. That's the country I love.
Through the stands of the expansive Chase wood we walked through summers glory, insects buzzed from flower to flower (and there were plenty of flowers), the canopy was alive with birds, things rustled in the undergrowth and occasionally we caught a glimpse of deer deeper in the shade. The fecundity of the land is so apparent, her bounties manifest. It was cooler in the dappled light of the stands, not so when we emerged into the open, where the sun beat down with that weird unnatural intensity common these days. Outside the woodland in the bright light we could see birds of prey gliding above the canopy, circling for prey, occasionally giving an eerie screech. Majestic birds. We made our way down the hillside, through steep sided valleys and along hard reflective chalk paths, until we reached Tollard Royal, a small hamlet nestled in a valley, with a fine pub, The King John. After a brief stop for apple based refreshment and a spot of boot repair, we returned to our walk and began the climb back up onto the downs. Through ripening fields and past strangely contorted trees, the long tough downland grasses grabbing at our boots, we made our way. It was hard going, especially after the pub, but the views, man, the views were something else. Finally we reached the top of the downs and photo above is what we looked out upon and what we'd walked through. Magnificent. Our return was back through Chase Wood, this time along Chase Avenue, a double avenue of mature beech. Hot and tiring, moving slower now, the shade was welcomed, as was the sight of journeys end. 14 miles of outstanding beauty, you can't beat it. That's the country I love.
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