Mature Times travel writer, Nigel Heath, walks the Chiltern Way Our latest walking adventure meandering around the one hundred and thirty-four mile long Chiltern Way began with a positioning stay at the comfortable Boxmoor Lodge Hotel, near Hemel Hempstead, and a magnificent Sunday night roast at the Fishery Inn just across the way on The Grand Union Canal. I only mention this because in over forty years of walking the highways and byways around the UK my trekking companion and poet Peter Gibbs and I have never experienced such exceptional service. For never before have we been called enroute with the news that the inn might well have run out of Sunday roasts before we arrived. As it was, I was able to order my meal in advance and so avoid disappointment. Ahead of us lay a wonderful long-distance trail passing through the counties of Bedfordshire, Berkshire, Buckinghamshire, Hertfordshire, and Oxfordshire and crossed by several ancient routes and Roman roads, including the Icknield Way. This trail was created by the Chiltern Society to mark the millennium and accompanied by an extremely comprehensive if not slightly weighty step-by-step guide. It is characterised by dense beech woodland, open chalk downlands full of grassland flowers in spring and summer and by delightful villages like Chalfont St Giles which we reached at the end of our first thirteen miles trek. Walking up the busy High Street we came upon John Milton’s cottage. It was here that he took refuge from the plague in 1665 and finished Paradise Lost, and also wrote Paradise Regained. But there was a nasty little surprise in store for while we assumed the comfortable White Hart where we were staying the night was in the town it turned out to be at least a quarter of a mile away at the top of a long hill. So, at the end of this tiring climb on seventy-seven year old legs all I wanted to do was to drop my heavy sack and collapse at a table in the corner of the bar with a pint of lager and a packet of salt and vinegar crisps. Oh, just how the tables have turned in recent years with eighty-one-year-old Peter now out in front on our many hill climbs. A pint at the end of another, often long day out on the trail, has by tradition become our reward and no other successive one with our evening dinner tastes quite as good. We left the inn at 8am the following morning and after passing the timber framed Chalfont Mill believed to be the oldest in Buckinghamshire, we made our way first through woodland and slowly up onto the downs where the rain began to pour. Stopping by a pen of bleating sheep, I struggled to don my waterproof gloves, but as my hands were hot, they refused to go on and I abandoned the attempt. Now began a three hour walk mostly along straight sections with many fine views until we came out at last onto the village green in Penn where the sun came out and we stopped for lunch. That afternoon we made our way down the long hillside to Loudwater where we overnighted at the Premier Inn. Because of time constraints we wanted to shorten the route so the following morning we took a taxi to Marlow Bottom and then walked on to Bovingdon Green where we found a seat and stopped for coffee overlooking the green. Now followed the undoubted highlight of the morning namely a long well signposted walk through a series of beech woodlands eventually dropping steeply down into a valley. But we had to take it slowly on the way down with walking poles to the fore because rotting leaves, tiny chalk stones and slippery mud could have proved a nasty combination. From there the way climbed up again and over ploughed fields with the haunting whistling cry of kites drifting on the wind, to drop finally through more deciduous woodland. Here we emerge most conveniently close to The Stag and Huntsman in the picturesque village of Hambledon with its lovely centuries old Church of St Mary the Virgin and houses of red brick and flint. After lunching at the inn, we decided not to return to the trail, but to walk down through the fields towards the River Thames and cross over the Hambleden weir and lock to follow the river into Henley on Thames. We now spent a pleasant hour walking along the bank into Henley accompanied by the occasional shouts from coxwains to their rowing crews on the river and a late afternoon light sparkling on the water. And finally, while here are two of Peter’s poems written out on the trail, many others can be viewed by Googling Amazon Books Peter Gibbs Let the Good Rhymes Roll. Many of our other walking adventures can also be found in our book Paths & Poetry. Milton’s Cottage Half-timbered red brick cottage That one could overlook Within these walls so long ago John Milton wrote his books His poems spoke of paradise To lose and then regain Centuries since have slow unrolled But moral truths remain His hero faced his challenges And walked so many miles But inspiration surely flowed Here in Chalfont St Giles. Ambling Down To Hambleden Above the fields of stubble Against the autumn skies The kites announce their presence With piercing, whistling cries While down below the pheasants Scatter in alarm Running for fresh cover Near lonely hillside farm Ambling down to Hambleden Through woods where brown leaves fall The sylvan silence broken By green woodpeckers call.
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