Along The Great Ouse

The valley of the River Great Ouse between Huntingdon and St Ives is a very desirable place to live with a handful of extremely attractive villages. Everything is civilised and prosperous, paths are well sign-posted and maintained, perhaps just a little too manicured in parts - come with me and have a look.

We'll start on the Quay in St Ives with its view of the old bridge which dates from 1425. The building in the middle of the bridge is a chapel which in its day had a spiritual as well as a practical purpose. Travellers could stop and say a prayer before their journey or give thanks for safe completion of their travels. And they could at the same time pay the toll for using the bridge. In medieval times many bridges were built and maintained by the monasteries, so a single monk installed in the chapel could both bless the traveller and relieve him of some of his money.

We then enter the huge Hemingford Meadow which stretches nearly a mile along the southern bank of the Ouse. It floods every winter and when the temperature drops sufficiently becomes the biggest ice-rink in the country.

Into Hemingford Grey with its very peculiar truncated church spire. The spire is said to have been blown into the river by a hurricane in 1741 - and they haven't got around to replacing it yet!

The Manor, which was built in the 1130s, is reckoned to be the oldest continuously inhabited building in England. Although it's been added to and repaired over the centuries a surprising amount of the original building still remains. It was used as the model for Greene Knowe by Lucy Boston in her series of children's books. She lived at the Manor for over 50 years and was responsible for developing the beautiful garden.

A path through more riverside meadows leads into the next village, Hemingford Abbots.

The centre of the village is a conservation area with many thatched and historic buildings, including the Axe & Compass pub. No we can't; it's too early!

Lets go into the church instead. 

The elegant spire is a landmark for miles around and inside there are some interesting features too, including an old oaken roof with carved angels. They've all had their photos taken and some of them stand a good chance of appearing in this blog in the future. But for now we'll continue on our way.

Our path turns down a side street then crosses more meadows and a couple of strands of the river, which divides and forms several watercourses across the wide floodplain. We are making our way to Houghton Mill, an old watermill in the care of the National Trust. Unfortunately right now that care includes covering the whole structure with scaffolding as the building is in need of some gentle restoration.

If you want to see what the Mill should look like then you could do worse than to pop into Houghton church and look at the stained glass window that was installed to mark the millennium. 

It's another quaint and fascinating collection of old buildings, every bit as picturesque as those in Hemingford Abbots, even if it doesn't have such a melodic name. From here we turn around and make our meandering way, along the north side of the river, back to St Ives.

A path leads all around Battcock's Island, a parcel of land completely surrounded by rivers and streams, and used as grazing land. The views back across the river towards the Hemingfords are as choice as any in lowland England. If John Constable had been born here rather than in Suffolk his pictures would have been much the same.

Meet three girls. Just part of the team who work so hard keeping the grass short and well fertilised.

There are peaceful little waterways hiding away shyly all over this landscape.

We have to leave the river now and take a lane known as the Thicket Path, a very minor road which can only be used for access. And as there's nothing much down here anyway that's very little traffic at all.

Then suddenly and unexpectedly we're back with our old friend, the River Great Ouse, sun glinting off its mirrored surface as it sidles quietly towards St Ives.

Back in St Ives, this slender bridge leads over the river to Holt Island, a tiny but well-maintained nature reserve. Just time to wander over to see if anything's about.

Almost immediately I spotted this little chap and, remarkably enough, he sat around long enough to pose for a photo. It's actually a Grey Squirrel, albeit a black one or a melanistic individual. This strain is becoming increasingly numerous throughout this area.

And that's the end of the walk for today.

Walker's Log:

    Start: St Ives, Cambridgeshire 09:20

    End: St Ives, Cambridgeshire 14:05

    Distance walked: 8 miles (13 Km) 

    Notable birds: Buzzard, Green Woodpecker, Goldcrest. 

    Mammals: melanistic Grey Squirrel.

    Farm animals: Sheep, Cows, Horses, Alpacas. 

    Churches: St Ives (locked), Hemingford Grey, Hemingford Abbots, Houghton.

    People with dogs: 8

    Dogs with people: 10

    People just enjoying a walk: about 40 or so.

    Cyclists: 2

    Horse riders: 1

Take care.

On The Road To Duckpuddle Bush

Believe it or not there's a place a little further along this road called Duckpuddle Bush. It's nowhere near as quaint and picturesque as the name suggests but it sticks in my mind. Be that as it may, this by-road makes a good place to start a circular walk on the chalk hills south of Royston, just a few miles from home. I had my brother Les for company on this walk.

Our route commenced through woodland but emerged from time to time onto the Royston Golf Course where the Ladies' Autumn Meeting was taking place. It's a very undulating course and they probably did more strenuous walking than we did - and pulling a golf trolley as well. As you can see they have some grand views too out across the flat fields of Cambridgeshire, even though these are not particularly high hills.

Little glimpses of bright red beckoned through the trees and tempted the keen photographer away from the footpath to trespass along the field edge.

We then turned sharply south along the track to Therfield, leading through rolling arable fields. In spring these wide acres are home to dozens of hares, chasing and boxing as a prelude to breeding. They're probably here now but they're lying low and you'd be lucky to see them.

Les striding purposefully along the track. He looks like he's keen to get somewhere....

Ah, the Fox and Duck pub at Therfield. I can't treat you to a drink but you can see a photo of me enjoying one, a pint of Greene King IPA, and very pleasant it was too. Cheers, brother!

Walking Tips from John, Number 1 : When having a break in the walk, particularly one involving the consumption of alcohol, make sure that the next section is gently downhill.

So here we are descending gently along a sunken lane leading from Therfield down to an area known as The Thrift.

These wide chalky fields make simple sweeping patterns. You can soon have too much of this country but on this walk there's just enough to maintain interest. Last time I saw a herd of Fallow Deer up here and the time before that I had a close encounter with a Stoat a little earlier in the walk.

Today though the deer were kept away by a rather noisy tractor working the fields. You wouldn't expect to see much wildlife.....hang on, what's that?

Suddenly the sky was full of Red Kites. These impressive, agile flyers were almost extinct in this country till a few years ago but now I see them almost every time I go out for a walk in Hertfordshire. A few miles away, where I live, they are only seen occasionally.

There are lots of rose hips on the hedgerows at the moment, though the winter thrushes, Fieldfares and Redwings, will be here soon and will make short work of them.

A rather tedious mile or so along a racehorse gallop leads to a short, sharp climb up into a beechwood nature reserve known as Fox Covert where a short stroll among the trees completed our circular walk.

Take care.

Familiar Ground

Back in familiar territory as I took a walk from my own back gate into Meldreth village. One of the quaint cottages that stands along the High Street, mixed in with more modern housing, had what must be some of the last roses of summer blooming in the garden.

Behind the houses on the east side of the street runs the clear water of a stream which is rather ambitiously known as the River Mel and from which the village takes its name. And following along beside the stream is a pleasant footpath, populated this morning with numerous dogs taking their people out for some exercise.

Through the kissing gate and out into the meadow where a few assorted cattle graze and laze about.

Behind the churchyard someone's been raking up the leaves, though Autumn has hardly started yet. There's enough leaves on the trees to keep them busy for several more weeks. If I were in a less familiar place I'd hardly register such details, let alone stop for a photo. But here on familiar ground these details become important.

Crossing another meadow that should be home for a brown horse and a grey. Don't know where they are this morning. Maybe someone actually rides them.

My footsteps lead me to a secret path through the wood. There used to be signs at either end of this path but they've been missing now for over ten years, so only a few folk suspect the existence of this overgrown path. About midway along there's a sign with arrows pointing in both directions "Permitted Path". Encouraging and reassuring, but otherwise not particularly useful.

Out into Shepreth Meadow, a long narrow strip alongside the river.

It's the River Cam, also known as the River Rhee, making its sluggish way to Cambridge, like a rather reluctant scholar.

By the river stand some huge, ancient willows that have been in a constant state of decay for at least forty years that I know of. While some have succumbed to the blows of passing time, others remain defiant if battered.

There follows a bit of road walking into the village of Shepreth.

I wouldn't want you to think it's all woodland, streams and quaint cottages. Most of Cambridgeshire is agricultural land and, increasingly, new housing. But there are still places worth seeking out if you know where to look, if you're on familiar ground.

So if you go down here, through the little gate in the overgrown hedgerow, you'll come out into Shepreth Moor, which is not moorland in any normal sense, but an area of rough, unimproved pastureland. At the moment it's being grazed by these gorgeous little sheep, Manx Loaghtan sheep, a rare breed originating from the Isle of Man.

The walk began with some of the last roses of summer and, fittingly perhaps, it ends with surely one of the last butterflies, a Red Admiral. There's nothing nautical about these Admirals, indeed the name was once Red Admirable, which on this October morning makes perfect sense.

Take care.

Workingman's Steam

The Working Steam Weekend at Stotfold Mill (that's the water mill in the background of the first picture) takes place every October. Maybe because the sun wasn't blazing down and reflecting from polished brass and bright paintwork it had a very different feel from the summer steam weekends I've been to in the past.

This is after all a Working Steam event so there was a predominance of greasy, grimy functional machines like the ploughing engine above. These powerful machines work in pairs and were the beginnings of mechanisation down on the farm. Underneath the body of these vehicles are steam-powered winding drums which haul a huge plough back and forth across the field on a steel cable.

Of course there are some polished and pristine engines too.

But I rather fell in love with the unusual design and beautiful paintwork and design of the tractor shown here.

This, so the owner told me, is an Eagle tractor Model F, a quite rare machine. A little research revealed that it was manufactured 1916 -22 and made in Wisconsin, USA. The garish red and green livery is exactly how they were originally painted.

The owners of all this historic tackle move here for the whole weekend, staying in a variety of wagons, caravans and even tents, and at Stotfold their living quarters are right there in among the machines.

You get the feeling that some of them simply can't be parted from their beloved engines.

There are some wonderful textures on the older, rustier equipment.

Anyone fancy a ride on a steam-powered bus? You'd need to be fit just to climb aboard!

A threshing machine was demonstrating the rather dusty process by which the grain used to be separated from the straw and chaff in the past, though this one was powered by an old Fordson tractor rather than a steam engine. I remember my Dad coming home from work saying he'd been doing threshing when he work for old Tom Ayres at Two Pots Farm.

I don't think Dad ever wore a cowboy hat like that though!

That's more like Dad's old cap! There were quite a lot of these working models at the show, they were very popular with the young children and ideal for explaining how things work.

Down on the field there was some serious ploughing going on using several different vintage tractors like this old Nuffield.

Who needs machines anyway? Working horses being put through their paces.

Take care.
(we will get around to finishing Flo's Story soon).

Flo

Another turn in the road, another view ahead. Different, but all part of the same journey. Just over a week ago my mother, whom I've been caring for in her home for the past year, died in her sleep.

She wouldn't have wanted me to bore you with the details of her illness; but she would have liked me to share some of the stories from her life and I shall endeavour to recall some of them over the next few months.

But first I need to attend to the arrangements for her funeral and clear her house of fifty years of accumulated possessions. Luckily I'm not as alone as the man in the picture at the head of this page; I have my brother here to help me through and many of my mother's neighbours are also lending a hand.

When that's all done I'll be going back to my own house which has been standing empty and unloved for too long. Then I have a lot of walks, bike rides and places to visit, as I've been unable to leave my mother at all for much of the last year. 

But, apart from the last month or so, it's been a good year, one I wouldn't have changed.

Flo Hagger

19th January 1930 to 13th September 2017

Take care.