Aston Rowant - Ridgeway Path (Icknield Way) - Pyrton Hill - Shirburn Hill

27 Dec 2005

• Total distance : 6 miles.
• Start point : Car park in Cowleaze Wood, SU 726955.
• Weather : Cold, patchy sunshine, windy.
• Temperature at start -1C.
• Muddiness rating * (*=dry, *****=awful)
• People passed : One group of three walkers.
• Step counter : 12468.
• Camera : Olympus C-5060W. Images taken before deletions = 57.

A light dusting of snow hardly met the anticipations of the Christmas cards, with their gargantuan snowdrifts and frozen ponds, but it was enough to send me eighteen miles north west, and 205 meters up, to the top of the Chiltern escarpment at Aston Rowant, where I was sure it would be colder and whiter.

It was just a shade whiter, but as I soon as I got out of the car I knew it was much colder. I’d parked in the large, free parking area in Cowleaze Wood, home of the Chilterns Sculpture Trail. Established in 1990 this, the third English Sculpture park (the first ones were in the Lake District and the Forest of Dean), contains over thirty pieces spread across eighty acres of woodland.

Sadly I have to confess to a feeling of bewilderment whenever I go there. It’s just - well, I suppose I don’t understand sculpture. I just don’t get it. I especially don’t get it when it’s placed in the most beautiful natural surroundings. While I can appreciate how, say, the Alison Lapper sculpture might appeal, shock, or otherwise touch an emotional button in the manmade surroundings of Trafalgar Square I can’t see any benefit in placing symbolic and often ugly bits of metal in natural woodland.

Mark Twain famously described golf as “a good walk spoiled”. This whole nutty venture is a good forest spoiled in my view.

I’ll get off the fence one day and let my true feelings out.

The Aston Rowant reserve straddles the M40 and most visitors go to the northern half, where an attractive chalky hill can be seen near the motorway cutting. I set off down the other bit, following a good path down the side of a dry valley. A flock of Jacobs sheep hurried across the snow-blown field to me, presumably hoping I’d come to feed them. Apart from a half packet of Polos which had been shuffling around in the lining of my jacket for the last five or six years I couldn’t offer them much. In any case it was bitterly cold, the icy wind whipping up the escarpment, so I kept my gloves on.

The little valley is barely a half mile from the M40 yet I've rarely seen anyone there. Frustratingly the sunshine seemed to be slipping past on either side without ever reaching me. I was very cold indeed and trudged up and down the path a few times to keep warm, searching for breaks in the cloud. None arrived, so when I finally lost all sensation in my fingers I gave up and turned onto the Ridgeway Path, heading along the base of the hills in the direction of Watlington.

I’ve walked this path dozens of times and I did so on autopilot, thinking over my first year of owning a digital camera – in my case a compact 5 Megapixel Olympus 5060. It’s been a revelation, mainly because I’ve used it a lot and got to know it well. The ability to go from capture to print or website in minutes is liberating, and opens up countless possibilities. I’ve been amazed by the quality of the images, and encouraged that most of the lessons I’d learned with a film camera still hold true. For instance, batteries go flat.

Among the things I can’t stand are its scatty ergonomics, with controls randomly dispersed around the body like, well, sculptures in a Chiltern wood. And in common with other manufacturers, the drive to make a single model which can be sold worldwide has persuaded Olympus to deploy tiny icons as the main way of communicating with the user. That's fine if you’ve got the eyesight of a ten year old and can guess what a flashing pinhead-size red-and-white rectangle means. It wasn't much use to me though, especially as my eyes were streaming in the icy nor’wester.

Yes okay, obviously I know NOW .... the battery was on its last legs. But if the camera is capable of displaying “Olympus” in big letters when it’s starting up I think it should be able to tell me “Battery Low” in a similar way.

Red kites wheeled overhead, giving their characteristic “Phee-ew, wew, wew” calls. Near Watlington I walked to the top of Pyrton Hill, where the snow was untouched. I’m not sure if this land has formal public access, but I’ve been up there many times and I’ve hardly ever been shot at.

After following the path through attractive woods of beech, bird cherry, and occasional conifers, I emerged at the mouth of yet another lovely Chiltern valley, immediately south of Shirburn Hill. By now photography was becoming difficult because the battery had all but given up. I tried warming it, without much noticable effect. The camera still worked, but the delay from pressing the shutter to it operating had increased to three or four seconds.

As I approached the end of my walk I couldn’t resist a peek down the first valley, to see if it was still lightless. Of course now it was sun-drenched. The Jacobs had gone and camels were grazing the fields. Girls in bikinis were being fanned with banana leaves by sweating lifeguards. Down the valley I’m pretty sure I could hear a steel band playing Island in the Sun.....

If only my battery had been working I’d have got some snaps.

Click here for map > AstonMap

Chiltern Sculpture Trail > http://www.chilternsculpturetrail.co.uk/index.html

Choose another walk > TheWalks

-- RodBird - 02 Jan 2006