Outdoors Les Davies MBE

West Countryman’s diary

I AM aware of the unstoppable march of time as I sit down to write my column for the Mendip Times edition due out at the end of July. This time I am writing early due to a trip that will take me outside my comfort zone. I am off to join up with the University of Georgia, (UGA) USA in Cambridge, as their UK landscape guide for the first time in two years.

Those who can remember some of my past editions concerning times away with UGA may remember I used to meet them on Mendip before a trip of some ten days to the Pennines, Peak District, the Lakes and finally Scotland.

This time I will be joining the group in Cambridge and then moving to the Lakes. With a change in focus, the trip will be looking at the sustainable tourism use of our countryside from England through to the Highlands of Scotland.

I’m hoping I can take a few examples of the work being done here by our own AONB team in managing the issues related to visitor pressure. One thing is certain and that is such pressure is not going to diminish. Hiding or running away from the problem is not going to solve it, so I hope I can get an insight into other places and how they approach the issues.

Am I contributing to the problem with the walk books that Sue Gearing and I write, or do we help to ease it through information and education? Perhaps I can find some of the answers elsewhere. One thing for sure is that I will be writing about the West Countryman experience when I get back.

From a trip that will take me to the Highlands and islands of Scotland, to a recent wander down memory lane for three old men who went back home to re-connect with the land that raised them. It was not unlike an episode of that famous television series, Last of the Summer Wine, where a group of older men regress in an attempt to capture their youth.

We three went back, but for a different reason. Bob McEwenSmith, Len Tavener and myself went back to the fields and woods of what was Hales Farm as the last survivors from four generations that had been connected to it. Ties to the land are an emotional thing, probably only experienced by people who have worked it.

I have said it before and make no apologies for repeating it, we do not own the land; the land owns us!

Sitting on my desk are two very unremarkable pieces of rock. One has Upper Breach written on it and the other Left Hand Steep Ground. Two of the old field names that would have dated back to the 15th century. The basic shape of those familiar fields still remain, although a boundary hedge or two has changed.

What has scarred the valley is the under grounding of the new Hinkley power line. This is not the only undergrounding power supply that runs through this land. Back in the late 1960s a large gas pipeline was buried deep beneath the surface. Perhaps the only recompense for the new power line has been the removal of a line of steel pylons.

With LES DAVIES MBE

There still remains one line which I remember being erected in the late 1950s. On a wet misty day the lines would sizzle around the huge glass insulators that hung from the arms of these pylons.

The soil through this valley is very deep. It’s fertile land which grew some amazing crops, but the sides are somewhat “boney”. Oolitic limestone would indicate shallow water activity many millions of years back. It’s not difficult to imagine the sea erosion and the deposits of soil washed down from the surrounding area creating such a landscape as the water receded.

The woodland is on the slopes, ancient woodland used during the days when the original Hales Farm, then known as Tickenham House was owned by the Smyth Family. The Prince of Wales, later King George V, was entertained to a day’s shooting on this land back in the early 1900s.

The woodland was always the magical place of my childhood, even scary at times. Abbots Horn also known to us as the Little Wood was in my mind when I read Kenneth Graham’s classic children’s book, Wind in the Willows. It was the Wild Wood with all its twisting pathways and gnarled trees navigated in terror by the hapless mole during his foray well outside of his comfort zone.

The other larger wood, known as Moggs Wood was thinned in the 1980s after the farm was sold. Our trip into this wood held memories of childhood walks and teenage shooting trips. The pathways of our joint memories had faded but we could still find the way through.

Massive sweet chestnut trees I remember were even bigger now, but the bird life seemed less. As Bob remarked after pointing to a tree he once fell out of: “Everything seemed so much larger when you were a child.”

So often memories can be shattered by the confrontation of today’s reality. For us I don’t think it was that bad...Yes, things had changed, ponds had been filled in, fence lines erected and new hedges had been planted, but in general the land remained recognisable even after all these years.

A new farm holding has been built in a field known as Lucerne by the new land owner. The old Hales Farm has gone, the buildings now converted into luxury housing with stunning rural views. Perhaps this would be a trip too far back down Memory Lane and one where my memories would be well and truly shattered. I think I will leave that one for now at least.

So here they are – Compo, Clegg and Foggy… I shall leave it to you to decide which one is which!