28 August 2016 | Tregoning is in Whangarei Town Basin Marina, Whangarei, New Zealand but we are in North Harrow, Great Britain
With Jennie very kindly taking another day off work to spend with us, she drove us northwest of Harrow to the Chiltern Hills in Buckinghamshire. While Randall relaxed with a book in the car, Jennie and I set-off to walk around Ivinghoe Beacon. At least, that was what we eventually achieved after setting off in the wrong direction while following some highly ambiguous instructions for the loop-walk. Next time we will bring a map…
The Chiltern Hills, along with the North and South Downs (both of which are south of London), have chalk escarpments and rolling hills comprised of chalk laid down in shallow seas 60 million years ago in the Cretaceous Period. The chalk contains many marine fossils and bands of flint (a hard, sedimentary crystal form of quartz), which is usually found in rounded nodules. Rounded or broken-open by water action, flint was used for tool-making during the Stone Age and has also been used to create sparks for fire-lighting and in flint-lock guns. In the villages and towns of the Chilterns and Downs, flint is often used as decorative finishing on the outside of churches and castles.
Part of the Chiltern Hills escarpment looking northwest
Ivinghoe Beacon is a high point on the northwest-facing escarpment of the Chiltern Hills, with views to the west towards Oxford and the massive Didcot power-station. The Beacon is popular not only for hiking but also for flying model gliders which can get excellent lift from breezes blowing up the escarpment.
A late Bronze Age to early Iron Age hillfort was created around 600 BC on the Beacon which is still visible in places in the form of eroded ditches and berms overgrown with grasses. The hillfort was eventually abandoned as the pastoralist population gradually moved from the hills down into the valleys where land was easier to cultivate for crops. Subsequently the hilltop was used for a fire beacon, allowing simple warnings and messages to be sent across the country, and for a Bren (machine) gun during World War II.
Further along the escarpment, and overlooked by Ivinghoe Beacon, the figure of a large lion has been cut out of the hillside. Created in 1932 as advertising for the nearby Whipsnade Zoo (now Whipsnade Wildlife Park), at 483 feet (147 m) long, it is the largest landscape figure in the UK. It was visible from so far away that during World War II it had to be covered so that German pilots could not use it to identify their location.
There are around 57 such landscape figures in Britain, mostly on the chalk hills of the North or South Downs and mostly images of horses or men. The oldest that is still clearly visible is the Uffington White Horse in Oxfordshire which is dated to 1,000 BC, during the British Iron Age. Some figures are several hundred years old, while others are relatively modern, the latter often advertising something. The original purposes of the older figures are less certain, but the anatomically erect Cerne Abbas Giant has been regarded since Victorian times as a fertility symbol. Cut into chalk or limestone, these figures have to be maintained by regular removal of encroaching or germinating vegetation, otherwise they are covered-over and are only visible by “forensic photographs” of the area (based on shadows when the sun is low, differences in vegetation, etc.)
On Saturday morning, Jennie initiated me in the Parkrun phenomenon (described in more detail after my return to New Zealand). With about 100 other runners, we went three laps around a Harrow park, to complete 5 km and have our times (around 33 minutes) posted online. There were participants of all ages and abilities including a blind runner and someone in a wheelchair and it really was quite impressive to see so many people exercising with no prizes but with the simple goal of trying to beat their personal-best times.
Soon afterwards, Randall and I caught a train to Covent Garden where we meet my school friends, Clare and Sarah. Clare was flourishing but seemed a little shell-shocked. Part of it might have been from fully absorbing that she had actually retired, which she had done just the day before we went to stay with her in Godalming in July. The rest of her slight deer-in-the-headlights demeanor was probably from realizing quite how many things she and Andy had to organize over the following few weeks, before they flew out to the Caribbean to take possession of their boat and prepare for the cruising life. We could completely sympathize but also share the anticipation of her excitement when it all came to fruition.
Alison, Sarah, and Clare at Covent Garden
I had not seen Sarah for quite a few years but it did not matter at all. She was in great shape and her spirits were particularly high as she helped prepare for her oldest daughter’s wedding in Falmouth, Cornwall (where Sarah’s parents still live) in eight weeks’ time. For this reunion, poor Randall lacked Roger’s charming and sympathetic company so I think that by the end of our four-hour lunch, his head was starting to spin in trying to keep up with our school-girl memories and exchanges of news from ourselves and our other mutual friends.
On parting from Clare and Sarah, Randall and I wandered around the Covent Garden area, finding unexpected buildings, such as the London Masonic Temple, the London School of Economics, and The Old Curiosity Shop made famous by Charles Dickens’ book of the same name. We then returned for our last night at Jennie’s, where we stayed up chatting, moaning about the political climate, and laughing helplessly. Ah…the glorious joy of old, warm friendships.
Randall outside The Old Curiosity Shop in London
(Postscript: Sofya’s wedding went wonderfully and was thoroughly enjoyed by all of Sarah’s family including both of her parents. However, the following day they were stunned by the sudden, unexpected death of Sarah’s mother. Sarah subsequently wrote to me about this with an amazingly calm acceptance of how lucky they were that her mother had been able to enjoy the wedding with them all, even if the next day was, by comparison, desperately sad and chaotic. What an incredibly happy and sad weekend for them.)