We nipped down to Knepp

We nipped down to Knepp

I’ve long wanted to visit the Knepp Estate in West Sussex, about a 90-minute drive from Sydenham, so welcomed an opportunity to join one of my brothers in a perusal.

Knepp isn’t necessarily a photogenic place; there are no hills and valleys or stunning vistas. But its scrubby terrain, streams, ponds and pasture felt properly authentic and rural as if time had stood still for centuries. I was astonished by the abundance of hawthorn and blackthorn (pictured above) which underlined to me just how central these bushes and small trees are to our countryside. Soon after entering we came across several score whitethroats along with other warblers, heard a turtle dove, cuckoos, woodpeckers, yellowhammers and corn buntings. At a large pond (below) a kingfisher darted hither and thither. So the rewilding has clearly worked! We came across longhorn cattle, Tamworth pigs and red deer, each species of which contribute to keeping things in order and encouraging insects and birdlife. The pigs, an ancient species, are a substitute for wild boar. 

But there was one beef I had: the local dog walkers. Sorry guys, but letting your dogs off the lead in such a place as Knepp is absolutely not on. I know it’s within the rules technically (the signs only specify ‘keep dogs under control’) but we saw three dogs clearly not under any control. One dog briefly went after the Tamworth pig family, causing the huge sow to go into full attack mode. Luckily, the gormless owners were able to grab their hound before any harm was done (to the dog) but in doing so they’d put themselves in some danger. I was seething at their stupidity! What’s odd is that I’ve never seen dogs so poorly managed on any of the Kent walks – so how can it be that a famous rewilding estate with such rare nature can attract such behaviour? The equivalent would be seeing dogs chasing deer in Knole Park – something I’ve never seen.

Walking weekend in the Brecon Beacons

Walking weekend in the Brecon Beacons

I do enjoy a trip to the Brecon Beacons. Rather than the rushed but hugely enjoyable daytrip last time I took the train to Swansea then stayed with old friends in Llandeilo for the weekend. It rained, of course it did. Then it rained some more. But a great time was had despite Wales losing at both football and rugby while I was there. As well as walking at Llyn y Fan Fach (pictured), Dinefwr Park and Tair Carn Uchaf (pictured) on the western edge of the Beacons we took in a jazz concert by Claire Teal with Jason Rebello and band at Swansea university’s Taliesin arts centre, an old haunt. Some of the scenery, particularly Llyn y Fan Fach (of Lady of the Lake myth fame) reminded me of photos I’ve seen of Icelandic landscapes. A brilliant trip, but a wet one.

Highland fling: hiking in north-west Scotland

Highland fling: hiking in north-west Scotland

As a McCulloch I’ve always been drawn to Scotland. I’ve periodically tramped across the bogs and rocks of the Highlands since I was seven, from the isles of Mull (en famille), Iona and Skye to the peaks of Kintail and Assynt-Coidach further north (en mates). I’ve dabbled, in short. My Glaswegian friend Gav knows every square inch, however, and for a few mindblowing days in mid-May led us to the UK’s highest waterfall, an amazing glacier-scraped plateau, a needle-sharp ridge with views to the Summer Isles and bizarrely shaped mountains from the dawn of time, and an island (Handa) where great skuas reign supreme. Based in the wonderful village of Ullapool on beautiful Loch Broom we tootled up and down the notorious NC500 road marvelling at the scenery and the occasional boy racer. Among the hiking lessons I’d somehow forgotten was that in this wild terrain any distance takes twice the amount of time it would take on a Kent Walk Near London and walking poles do indeed take a lot of strain away from your knees. Gav also advises that some of the best walks aren’t over Munros (peaks over 3,000ft) but over lower hills and ridges because you can cover more distance and still not miss out on views. Oh, and if you need to come down a near vertical heather-strewn slope, you might as well do it on your bottom; it worked for me. Read more on my Travels page by scrolling down. (Pictured: climbing the ridge of Ben Mor Coidach with views of the Summer Isles and isolated Assynt peaks; the road back from Ben Mor Coidach; Handa Island; Little Loch Broom and the waterfall opposite the UK’s highest, Eas a’ Chual Aluinn.)

Dungeness dallying

Not that near London…

That weird peninsula in ultra south-east Kent has a particular allure for many. Strange but wonderful light, mystical buildings from down the ages – all clashing; the delightful miniature railway that goes for miles, a lovely pub and interesting flora and fauna – particularly birdlife.

Fishermen often land cod, plaice, bass and mackerel off the shingle close to the power station and twitchers delight in the migrant species that drop by. Historic structures abound and very trendy modern architecture peppers the shoreline among the fishing hulks, converted old railway wagons, coast guard and lifeboat buildings, nuclear power station and two-and-a-bit lighthouses. Local residents probably get a bit hacked off at the sightseers trampling noisily in the shingle around their homes (especially whoever lives in Derek Jarman’s old gaff these days) but that’s the price of living in a nice place.

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Well, ‘nice’ isn’t really the right word. It’s ‘different’, not nice.

We went hoping for some sun but got little last Thursday. We were really taken by the fish’n’chips at The Britannia pub though, and the cool nautical decor (best pub loos ever). The Brexit Phonebox installation was quite striking too. I forgot my binoculars so relied only on mk1 eyeball to spot marsh harrier, a curlew, a hobby (I think) and a few wheatears. Probably wouldn’t have helped much anyway; my binox are rubbish. We popped in at the RSPB reserve later where there was a plethora of digging bees; an apparently rare sub species (More on Dungeness at North Downs and Beyond.)

One thing, if driving down (not the only way; you could get a train/bus/Dymchurch Railway combination from London) I’d avoid the M20… because of well publicised reasons (too depressing/boring to go into here), but also the lorry-up-your-arse thing. Instead, leave early take a leisurely and really scenic drive down the A21, turn off to Hawkhurst, Northiam then past Rye and Camber.

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