Last week I made four attempts to walk the 2 to 3 miles though the forest from Southwick to Apethorpe. Largely it was a story of mud and ravens…
The heavy clay footpath downhill from the old railway carriage was a rain-puddled morass more suited to bog snorkelling. One false move and you’d leave a welly behind. A crafty submerged bramble nearly tripped and did for me altogether.
Then just as I emerged from the bog a pair of ravens arrived and wheeled overhead. Strong necks thrust from welterweight shoulders, feathers splayed from the trailing edges of their wings, calls gruff and muscular as a rutting stag….
Nothing for it but to stand, gawp and listen as they whirled above the treetops. Rooted, ancient – the stuff of Beowulf or Middle Earth. Centuries fell away. Hours passed. Time to turn for home.
On the third day I got past the mud and ravens and took a path beyond the forest that I’d last walked decades before. But it had been rerouted round a celebrity’s property. Nothing looked the same. I got enjoyably lost, but managed to double back in the sure knowledge of how to get to Apethorpe next time.
On the fourth day I made it. Past the Elizabethan house that was once a borstal, now upgraded once again to a “palace”. Then into the village and back on the road alongside the lake. There’s been a heronry there in the past and I’d like to explore. But it’s invisible from the road. It might be reachable through contacts.
Then into Woodnewton, past Coco the Clown’s grave in the churchyard and back through the forest. During the slippery walk uphill a raven passed over with a hefty twig. It’ll be a long time before the path is dry, but the nest can’t be far away.
Leave a Reply