Walk 1: Box Hill & Westhumble, Surrey
May 26, 2013 § Leave a comment
My original plan with CLOG failed through as the person organising this Sunday’s walk had other plans and even though CLOG apologised and even came up with another walk, an ex colleague of mine, her ex colleague and myself set off to do our own walk or Walk Number 1 as I will always refer to it from now on, deservedly honoured by a new category on the blog – Walks!
The walk was suggested by my friend who has done a few walks from the London Walks book and it took us getting a train from Victoria station to Box Hill & Westhumble, Surrey. The walked promised us a vineyard, bluebell fields and plenty of jaw dropping fields, meadows and woods. And oh did it deliver…
As always with experiences like this one, the images or the words simply cannot convey the perfection of the moment, each moment…: when we stepped off the train and smelled the vegetation for the first time, when we saw the first dozen of cyclists, when we realised we could go to the ladies in the middle of the meadow with not a living soul within miles and miles spotting us, when we went through the kissing gates, bridle walks, climbed over the wooden gates and crossed the road at the yew tree shaped intersections, when we spotted the first fields of bluebells and sat down at our first viewpoint…..these are the feelings of happiness and lightness which I cannot explain using human words. The are the sights aimed at the eye of the heart and the songs sang to the ear of the soul. These are the walks of the blind and the walks of the powerful, whoever you are, wherever you are, whatever sorrow your heart holds at that very moment, you are free for miles as you walk, free from everything you know to need and want – the cars, the money, the shoes, the phones, the wifi, the phone connection – no bloody reception anywhere! – the London, dirty, angry, noisy…
It seems as if one could breathe freely in the fields, together with the blossoming plants and the joyful birds, the wheat fields caressing the eye, the meadows stretching the length of ones dreams, everything seemed so tranquil and perfect in Box Hill.
The lady hosting our wine tasting session looked like Merry Berry and oh how I regret not taking a picture of her! She spoke with conviction and had the most adorable sense of style – black interlaced with floral patterns – and the voice of a teacher that we all had and we all wanted to hate but adored the moment we left school. That kind of person who told us that ‘one can produce white wine from red grape but never red wine from green grape’ and how many different grape varieties Denbies, the most northern vineyard in the UK, has planted since 1986 when the vineyard was born.
My only regret? Not getting to see Polesden Lacey. Maybe some other time when I drive and have a car of my own.