An Afternoon Saunter

After grabbing a bit of lunch I trundled through the village on my bike. Just after I'd taken this photo the church bells began to ring so I made my way through to the churchyard bench. After a lazy half-hour sitting in the sunshine and listening to the bells ringing out across the village I thought I'd better continue on my way.

I passed through Shepreth and on to Barrington where I locked up my bike in the churchyard and went for a walk. I followed the road up Chapel Hill passing the huge and now disused cement works and eventually finding the footpath that leads off westwards.

Most of the way the path led me through a tunnel between trees and bushes, though I knew from my map and from occasional glimpses through the branches that I was close to the edge of the huge quarry that had been excavated by the cement company over the decades.

That's the best view I could get of the great chalk cliffs of the quarry. When quarrying was abandoned they had dug back a mile from the cement works along a front 0.6 miles wide - that's a lot of cement! The company also owned a lot more of this chalk hill which they presumably would also have excavated had it been economically viable.

Happily the crest of the hill, where the track runs, has been preserved, saving the wide views out over the flat Cambridgeshire landscape.

I would guess that this is a very a old track indeed as our Stone Age ancestors customarily made their way through the south of England following the high chalk ridges. I discovered a huge badger sett among the trees though couldn't find any evidence of recent occupation.

A few farm tracks led off towards the farms in the parish of Harlton.

That's what I'd been looking for: the little footbridge leading onto an old road, which crosses the hill and goes by the interesting name of Whole Way.

The road is now just an unmade track leading down from Cracknow Hill. If you look carefully to the right-hand side of the road you'll see a little caravan tucked in among the bushes. As I got closer I could see there were two small caravans, a glowing campfire, a diesel-powered generator and a line of washing: the temporary home of a travelling family. Two children were playing outside, the older of whom, a boy, had a chat with me as I grew level with them. I suppose they should have been in school, but who could begrudge them a childhood among the fallen leaves in the slanting golden light of early November?

Onwards to the wide, tree lined road leading up towards a modern estate farm.

The sun was already descending in the western sky throwing long shadows through the small plantation beside my path as I made my way back towards Barrington.

Photographing the quaint cottages in the village is all a bit too easy and rather addictive. I strolled across the village green to the church, where my faithful bicycle stood waiting by the churchyard wall.

Take care.