Now in their 75th year, Britain’s national parks were established as ‘a people’s charter for the open air’ after World War Two. In the age of learning to love our local landscapes post-lockdown, a reignited Right to Roam movement, and climate crisis, our 15 parks remain not only relevant but vital in introducing people to the joys of the outdoors – a Natural Health Service.
Main image: Great Gable poking its head out of the clouds, shot from Great End | Credit: Ryan Lomas
From Northumberland to the New Forest, they also happen to be places brimming with opportunity for exploration, harmony with nature and connection between people and place – despite the ongoing and tireless struggle of all who steward them to balance the aims of ‘preserving and enhancing their natural beauty and providing recreation for the public’. Now, more than ever in the current political climate, we must celebrate and champion our national parks. In this issue, we provide inspiration to visit and care for the 15.
Highlights of this issue:
- Carey Davies gives us the inside scoop on the health of our national parks
- On a Wainwright-bagging backpack Paul Gamble gets cross-generational closure
- Hanna Lindon heads out on Lakeland high route to wild camp like a Roman Legionary
- David Lintern returns from Ecrin National Park with lessons on looking after mountain nature
- Jen Lowthrop proposes another path towards a universal ‘countryside common sense’
- In our new nature column, Nadia Shaikh is on the lookout for Oystercatchers
- Give your best friend its best life outdoors with insider tips on backpacking with dogs
- Keep a wary eye to the horizon on sea-to-summit walks mapped by experts
PLUS: Jim Perrin paints a portrait of Bannau Sir Gaer; honest and trusted reviews of the best hiking boots and socks; the latest news from the mountains, outdoor walking festivals we rate; and our reviews of new outdoor books to inspire.
Our Natural Health Service: Now in their 75th year, Britain’s National Parks were established as ‘a people’s charter for the open air’ in a time of austerity and recovery after the second world war. Author of a new book celebrating the 15 parks and a previous editor of The Great Outdoors, Carey Davies, looks back at his own journey through these special landscapes to consider their draw, and why they should endure.
“The experience of writing the book, and travelling to visit and research the parks I didn’t know so well, also helped to change my perception of these places. As a hillwalker, the parks I knew the best were the more mountainous ones. But over the years I have become a wildlife enthusiast as well as a walker, and the natural richness of the gently undulating New Forest, with its intermingled mosaic of ancient oakwoods and rough heathland, proved a tonic to the paucity of life I’ve often witnessed in the uplands. But perhaps the biggest ‘surprise’ for me was The Broads…”
Streets ahead: What have the Romans ever done for us? Hanna Lindon retraces ancient steps in the Lake District on a public transport accessed, two-day wild camping trip over the highest Roman road in Britain.
“The path we’re walking on this golden afternoon follows the route of an ancient trackway that many archaeologists believe is the highest Roman (or at least Roman-utilised) road in Britain. The theory is that it linked a Roman fort at Brougham, near Penrith, with the nearby settlement at Ambleside – 35km of wild, challenging and, in those days, most probably dangerous terrain. Even for a Roman legionary, who was used to walking 18 miles per day while weighed down with up to 25kg of armour and equipment, this would have been a tough gig. The 1,000-plus metres of ascent, the treacherous peat bogs around Loadpot Hill and, above all, the hostile natives, who contemporary historian Tacitus said, “could hover on the skirts of an army as it moved and easily escape when it stood still,” would have added up to a seriously mettle-testing expedition. “Oh, mehercule,” you can imagine a Brougham-based legionary saying as he was ordered over to Ambleside. “Not the high road again.” Two thousand years later, things are a bit easier…”
The Last Wainwrights: More than 40 years after ticking off the Wainwrights, Paul Gamble set out to complete his father’s unfinished Wainwright round. While bagging those final 24 summits, he discovered new layers of meaning and connection in the Lakeland landscape.
“It starts with a promise, often takes longer than you thought it would, and ends with a feeling of exhilaration. If, like me, you know what it feels like to complete a peak bagging tick list, you’ll recognise how these things unfold. The promise I made on the summit of lowly Barrow, a fell Wainwright describes as ‘overlooking a scene as fair as any in the kingdom’, was different. This time, I wouldn’t be doing it for myself. I’d already claimed the 214 Wainwrights many years ago. Some of them I’d visited on numerous occasions. The trouble was that my father hadn’t made it to all of them. He’d fallen, literally and metaphorically, 24 short. Dad’s carefully typed ‘to do’ list proved his desire to complete the set. Reaching his early 70s, he was closing in on his target. But he died on the day of an attempt to add a further tick: Stone Arthur, hardly a giant at 1652ft…February 26th 2008 is a day I’ll never forget.”
Wildness at walking pace: David Lintern visited the Écrins National Park in the south of France, returning with this photo essay of his journey on the GR54 and another perspective on looking after mountain nature
“My interest was initially piqued by a protected reserve within the park near Lac du Lauvitel. This so-called ‘wilderness area’ is off limits to all except scientists, who use it to study climate change and to ‘monitor the natural dynamics of ecosystems’ without human influence. Established in 1995, it was one of the first of these areas in Europe. We got as close as the rank and file are able on our twelfth and final day, only to find our fellow humans congregated in their droves. Whether drawn by the vivid glacial waters or the mystery of a forbidden zone it was impossible to tell, and by that point we smelt too bad to approach anyone to ask…”
Wild Walks: On our tiny maritime islands, we’re never far from views out to where the sea meets the sky, our eyes drawn to the horizon. But on the western coastline, where geological formations fell just right more than millions of years ago, there’s an appealing combination of landscape for hillwalkers. Our coastal cliffs, hills and mountains offer unique, high-vantage perspectives on vast swathes of sea. Legs will burn while the sea breeze dries sweat from your brow. From Cul Mor to Exmoor, welcome in Springtime on these fine sea to summit and coastal walks.
“By Scottish standards Cùl Mòr is but a bairn. Compared with its neighbours, however, 849m makes it a big lad. But these statistics are meaningless. They hide the frank reality. The mountain sits in the Assynt-Coigach National Scenic Area (another understatement). It is home of the inselbergs; isolated island mountains. The land is predominantly low, its softer rocks generally lost to the last ice cap. Where there are hollows, there is water for bogs and lochs of all dimensions. Here and there, Lewisian Gneiss rises to make a plinth of more resilient material, able to deflect a glacier, and leave a mountain stacked on top. These diminutive sturdy summits should be, and are, deeply revered. Of all these isolated rebels, Cùl Mòr is one of the loneliest, but don’t let that get you down. The distant neighbours are fetching companions, and spatial separation bequeaths a satisfying stand-back-and-admire effect. The panorama from the top of its corries and crags is besieged by water, out of which inselbergs rise to toy with clouds.”
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