| |
A
walk on the wild side - The Terling Trail to Fairstead... |
The
attractive village of Terling is only 10 minutes from the
A12 and is a great starting point for a walk to the tiny
hamlet of Fairstead, Essex. Terling, the home of the
Lord Rayleigh family for many generations, must be the estate
agents’ dream village: charming cottages and
houses washed with cream and terracotta wash, a fine traditional
church, busy village shop, popular primary school, a village
hall, a pub and a bubbling river. |
|
Find
a safe place to park, stock your pockets with drinks and
goodies from the village shop, turn right out of the shop
and then right again, to head towards the ford on
the river Terl. The ford is a long waterway running
beside the footbridge and path; it is not really suitable
for the average vehicle. As a child it was always
a great thrill when we persuaded my godfather to take his
car through any water, especially a ford. We had no
fear of being stuck and it would have only added to our
excitement if there had been a delay to our return journey.
Two years ago I came across a ford on a country road and
there was a childlike excitement as the car splashed through
the water |
|
The
attractive village of Terling is only 10 minutes from the
A12 and is a great starting point for a walk to the tiny
hamlet of Fairstead, Essex. Terling, the home of the
Lord Rayleigh family for many generations must be the estate
agents’ dream village: charming cottages and
houses washed with cream and terracotta wash, a fine traditional
church, busy village shop, popular primary school, a village
hall, a pub and a bubbling river. |
|
It
is January, a calm day after a night of wind and storms,
the winter sun is trying to push through the hazy clouds;
it is mild for the time of year (although I am dressed
in several sweaters and scarves (yes two).
Heading
back to the road away from the ford there are two options:
1.
walk along part of the Essex Way and return on the same
path, or
2.
walk along the country lanes to Fairstead and return via
the Essex Way.
Today
as I take the Braintree Road beyond Terling the winding
country road leads past isolated farm buildings and cottages.
A sign warns that the road is liable to flood and there
is a raised platform to help walkers keep their feet dry
when the stream flows across the road.
|
|
On
the right a weather-boarded house hugs the edge of a field,
on the left farm cottages with neat gardens and rabbit deterrents.
The spire of Felstead church can be seen across the fields
as I head up the hill (an Essex incline!) to the welcome
junction that is signed to Felstead Church. |
|
A
bright red post box clings to the lamppost; even in 2006
country post collections still survive in the heart of
the English countryside. I follow the sign to Felstead.
This
is arable land and the farm buildings contain bags of
nutrients for the crops. I wonder how many years have
passed since herds of dairy cattle were on the farm
enjoying the meadow grass.
Winter
wheat greens the neatly drilled fields until we reach
a deeply furrowed field of rich brown soil. A
flash of white on the road ahead makes me pause, as
a sleek stoat stops and surveys the scene; he (or she)
scampers forward and then sits erect and after a quick
inspection of the intruder on his territory, decides
to seek shelter in the opposite ditch a flash of brown
– off to the left and the safety of the undergrowth.
The
country road is traffic free and I walk accompanied
by bird song, it is so peaceful. Past isolated
cottages with stacks of logs ready to fuel winter fires.
Over the busy stream and up the slope past the farm
buildings on the right with a huge mountain of freshly
reaped sugar beet in the yard. The comforting
curl of smoke from the cottage and the smell of
a wood fire remind me of singed toast and the
roasting chestnuts; then past the watchful glance of
a local dog and onto the church at Fairstead.
|
|
The
church gate is open and the spire is bathed in the winter
sun, old tomb-stones gather soft moss and I pass a beautiful
mass of flowers in the new burial ground as I head for
the sign to the Essex Way. The local vicar has a
busy morning according to the schedule in the church porch,
he has several churches and groups of parishioners within
his care. A seat at the side of the church, facing
the sun, in memory of a dear friend is a good place to
rest and listen to the countryside.
|
|
| (If
you have time, make a short detour by walking past the church
to the end of the road and find a super example of an old
freshly painted post box lodged in an ancient wall, surrounded
by ivy neatly trimmed. Now return to the church and
follow the sign for the Essex Way.) |
|
The
path leads us across a field of winter wheat and over some
sturdy wooden stiles. Head across the tractor ruts
along an ancient pathway with the old sugar beet field on
the left. An ancient dying oak stands beside the path,
turn right with the wood on your left; a sign leads you
through the wood. Some mornings the peaceful
bird chatter is shattered by clay pigeon shooting, a great
sport when you are the person shooting but it can be quite
intrusive for the walker. |
At
the far side of the wood a copse of freshly planted saplings:
oaks and beech are cocooned in rabbit proof casings.
In the distance the white wooden boards of the Terling
windmill can be seen standing alert against the winter
sky and country cottages nestle in a dell amongst the
leafless trees.
The
Essex Way continues along the boundary at the far side
of the field and the signs mark the path around the edge
of the seeded field, past the pond where dried cow parsley
trembles in the breeze and beside the hedge along a well
trodden path. A local countryman carries a handmade stick
as he walks with his wirehaired dog. We have the track
to ourselves; it is probably too early for the Sunday
walkers.
The track leads to the road and the starting point of
our journey taking us past a small pit, (was someone hoping
to find profitable gravel?) and beside a house that is
for sale would I like to live there? perhaps not.
A quick look at the house and time to return to the ford
to enjoy a drink and a bite beside the river
|
|
|