Portchester - the Walk

Regular readers will notice that, after a reassuringly alphabetic start (Ancaster, Bicester), we've suddenly jumped to the letter 'P' with Portchester.  When she realised the way my mind was working, BAM (Best Aussie Mate) was adamant that we wouldn't be going through the alphabet letter by letter on this one, but would pick our -chesters at random, increasing our sense of expectation, as we never really know which 'chester' will be next.  She's absolutely right, of course, and it's good to have someone to curb my incredibly predictable approach to planning! 

I must admit, I'd never heard of Portchester before we'd settled on it as our next destination.  For those of you who don't know, Portchester is in the south of Hampshire, between Portsmouth and Fareham.  Sheltering beneath the ridgeway of the Ports Down, it looks enviously across Portsmouth Harbour to the hustle and bustle of both Portsmouth and Gosport.

Nell Wycherley - the operatic belle of Barbados

Portchester was an adventure, from start to finish and we were lucky enough to stay with a wonderful lady on the Portchester Road called Nell Wycherley (nee Hall), who was born in Barbados, but has lived in Portchester since the 70's.  She has a fascinating story to tell, training as a classical singer with a well-known Italian maestro, she travelled the world before settling in England and getting married to the retailer Mr Wycherley, settling down in Portchester, where she continues to entertain and entrall local church-goers with her beautiful voice and buoyant optimism.

We were privileged enough to hear Nell sing before we set out on our walk and her love of music shone through with a vigour and passion that was incredibly captivating.  She told us stories of her days travelling around South America, the capricious humour of her maestro, the audiences that filled the concert halls, her nerves when performing onstage in New York and London, her MBE, awarded for services to opera. 

I could picture her childhood in Barbados, practising on the baby piano, with the doors open, fans whirring in the tropical heat and the polished wooden floor glistening in the sunlight.  We were sorry to rush off so quickly, but daylight hours are precious at this time of year and we wanted to push on with our walk.

Portchester Road to Portchester Castle (1.9 miles)

After spending most of the morning chatting to Nell, we ended up getting to the centre of Portchester quite late and almost in time for the 11am Remembrance service on West Street.  I never feel more like a 'foreigner' than during this time of the year, when it seems as though the whole country is organising services and wearing poppies to remember the fallen of the two World Wars.  It makes me feel distinctly 'uncomfortable', not just because I don't really have cultural reference points for Remembrance services, but also because I'm anti-war and poppy-wearing seems to somehow endorse current wars, as well as past ones.

It was a bit surreal, watching the brass band followed by lines of soldiers, navy cadets and scouts parading through the centre of Portchester and I realised that these parades happen all the time in various parts of Britain - I've just never been aware of them, as they happen in places outside multicultural London!  I guess that's the whole point of doing these -chester trips, ie. to see life in Britain from an everyday and non-touristy point of view.  Military parades and marches are just as much a part of British culture, as rustic cottages in rural Oxfordshire and cornfields in Lincolnshire.  It was also an apt start to a discernably militaristic day!

Myself and BAM were more concerned with stocking up on nuts and chocolates at the local Somerfield and before long we were making our way along Castle Street, past the quaint little cottages, every second one sporting a blue plaque, before long we'd reached the impressive sight of Portchester Castle. 

Portchester Castle

Portchester Castle is a grand building and the best-preserved example of a Roman fort in Northern Europe.  It's surprising that the Romans would choose this part of England to secure their new colony (as it's much further from the continent of Europe than, for example, Kent), but I guess the location is ideal, protected from its hinterland by the low-lying downs and sheltered from the sea, the fact that the castle has remained on this spot and was used by the Saxons and Normans is evidence enough to explain the enduring popularity of Portchester, and ultimately Portsmouth, as the centre of British Naval forces. 

You can walk inside the castle's outer bailey without paying a charge and this is also where the Norman church of St Mary's is located, a wonderful orange-roofed building in the south-western corner of the castle grounds.  We were incredibly lucky with the weather (yet again), although BAM still compares the beautiful, cloudy days of England to the endless sunshine of her native Australia!

Portchester Castle to Downend Road (2.4 miles)

From Portchester Castle we followed the Allan King's way along the northern side of Portsmouth Harbour.  This route was created as a memorial to a local man called Allan King, who was a publicity officer for the Hampshire Area Rambler's Association.  The way runs for 45 miles in total, starting at Portchester Castle and finishing at Winchester Cathedral, we did the first 10 miles (or thereabouts) of this walk. 

The view from Portchester Castle is amazing and we couldn't help but notice (in the distance) the (in)famous Spinnaker Tower of Portsmouth, which was opened in 2005.  The tower is a useful landmark for the area and reminded me a lot on the Burj al Arab in Dubai, although I've only ever seen pictures of that tower.  Just as Burj al Arab means 'Arab Sail' - the Spinnaker Tower is named after the type of sail that billows in high winds and gives the spinnaker its distinctive curved shape. 

The design was chosen by local people and it was intended to be Portsmouth's answer to the new millennium, however, it caused a lot of controversy, being completed almost six years behind schedule, it also ended up costing the local council millions more than expected and its popularity with tourists has been declining since the day it opened.  There were also problems with the external glass lift, which never really functioned properly and the building has seemingly been dogged with one crisis after another.  It's a shame really, as I think it's an eye-catching building.

Portsmouth harbour is almost lake-like in its shape, having a very narrow outlet to the sea between Old Portsmouth and the Gosport marina.  It's considered to be a Ria, which means a coastal river-valley which was flooded, probably due to rising sea levels.  I was impressed by the abundance of wildlife around the harbour, so many birds and interesting plants.  The harbour shoreline was an array of colours, which I hope my little camera has been able to do some justice to. 

Downend Road to Nelson's Monument (1.3 miles)

Eventually we turned inland, crossing the Portchester Road again, only five minutes away from the B&B where we had started the walk, we then crossed the railway line and the M27 heading up over the ridge to its highest point at Nelson's Monument.

The M27, at 25 miles long, is probably one of the shortest motorways in England.  It links Portsmouth to Southampton and, just like the Spinnaker Tower, was supposed to be part of something much greater than it actually is.  I think the original plan was to build a massive motorway all along the south coast of England, from Penzance to Dover, but (luckily) this never happened and the M27 is the only bit that was actually built. 

Going up onto the Ports Down, we passed the massive structure that is Fort Nelson.  One of five Portsdown forts (also known as the Palmerston forts) built in the 1860's, Fort Nelson is somewhat of a showpiece and has been preserved as a museum, whereas the other four forts have either been demolished or adapted for non-military use.  The location of the five forts is ideal, with views south across Portsmouth, Gosport, the Isle of Wight and Southampton - the views inland go right back to the South Downs, you can see all of the farmlands and forests in between. 

We arrived at Fort Nelson at the same time as a tour bus full of young soldiers, no doubt cramming in a bit of military history on their day off!  Again, Fort Nelson had been destined for greater things (I'm beginning to see a pattern here) being built during the era of Lord Palmerston who believed in an imminent threat from Napolean III, across the channel in France.  By the time the forts were built, the threat from Napoleon III was no longer imminent and there was a great public outcry at the waste of public funds, Palmerston's towers were popularly re-named 'Palmerston's follies'.  Determined not to have them exist only as 'follies', they were put to use during the World Wars and Fort Nelson was used as an armoury in preparation for the Normandy landings.

The forts were built in the polygonal style popular in the mid-nineteenth century, which modernised the 'star fort' design of hexagons and cannon-proof towers, by creating even more complex shapes and angles, burying half of the fort underground, so that its real size would be barely perceptible from a distance.  The design of Palmerston's forts and the fact that Fort Nelson is mostly underground has led to all kinds of conspiracy theories that the Ports Down is full of secret tunnels and atomic shelters!  I do like a bit of mystery and sitting under Nelson's Tower looking out across the Solent with the wind whistling around your ears, it's easy to let your imagination get carried away with secret military plans and hidden agendas!

Nelson's Monument to Lodge Farm (approx 3.4 miles)

Walking around the back of Fort Nelson, we continued along Allan King's way, downhill this time, zig-zagging between the roads and fields around Boarhunt village and Manor Farm.  Something that was really interesting about this part of the walk was the fact that the fields in this part of Hampshire don't have hedges.  It reminded me of France, where you can see cars driving along country lanes and it looks like they are driving through the middle of a field.  We were a little bit worried about walking along the winding roads around Boarhunt and took short-cuts through the church yard and along the edge of fields, to avoid dealing with the (surprisingly) busy traffic. 

Once through Boarhunt, we turned off along a forest path which brought us down to a bridge across the River Wallington.  We got a bit lost here, as we debated the possible difference between streams and brooks, we ended up losing the river and detoured slightly in the wrong direction before using the GPS on my iPhone to get us back on track again. 

Unlike the lovely, tidy farm that BAM was so fond of on our last walk in Oxfordshire, Lodge Farm was less impressive and we found ourselves wading through rivers of cowshit, trying to get past the farm and back to the main road.  It's not usual for public ways to go right through the middle of a farm, but it does occasionally happen, which is a great inconvenience for farmers and walkers alike.  Unfortunately for us, our arrival at Lodge Farm coincided with milking time and the Allan King way was telling us to go through a pen crowded with cows that were waiting to be milked.

I have a great fear of cows, or 'the Beasts', as my grandmother used to call them.  Whilst they are not normally aggressive, cows have been known to trample people to death and you hear stories all the time of people being attacked by cows in England.  Walking through a field of cows generally makes me feel a little bit frightened - walking through a small farmyard filled with cows is something I absolutely dread.  Luckily BAM, with her robust Australian ways managed to lead the way and I got enough of an adrenalin rush walking through that herd of cows to keep me going well into next year!  It was terrifying and I never want to be that close to a herd of cows ever again, but somehow we got through it.  BAM was more concerned with the overpowering smell of manure than with the cows themselves, which helped lighten the moment!

Lodge Farm to Southwick (1.1 miles)

Having met my greatest fear head on, I was relieved to see the road outside Lodge Farm and cross the fields leading to Southwick village.  The village itself is very pretty, most of the buildings being of the same, thatched roof style and I understand that Southwick is an unusual place, being one of the few remaining villages in England that is (almost) wholly owned by one landowner, the Southwick Estate (only the Church house doesn't belong to the estate).  The church in Southwick was very pretty, but we didn't hang around too long, as Lodge Farm had delayed us somewhat and, being 4.30 the sun was already starting to set.

Southwick to Portchester Railway Station (2.4 miles)

The last part of the walk was both exhilarating and rushed, as we were walking against the setting sun!  We tore up the ridgeway along the Crooked Walk lane - the view of the sunset over the South Downs, as we climbed the Ports Down was spectacular and I know that this time our cameras couldn't do justice to what we were seeing.  We were really surprised to see two deer bounding along a field near Offwell Farm.  As we reached the top of the ridge and the junction with Portchester Lane, the sun had set completely.

Luckily, we'd just made it onto roads with pavements before it got completely dark and the last mile or so of our walk was spent in silence, descending the hill into Portchester, forlornly eyeing the warmth of suburban sitting rooms and flickering televisions.

We celebrated our return to civilisation with a slap-up meal in the Red Lion, before jumping on the train back to London and the welcome of a familiar bed! 

Image credits

All photos were taken by myself or BAM.  Please feel free to use any of these images under the Creative Commons License with conditions of Share Alike, Non-commercial and Attribution.

Ancaster - Welcome to Learning about Britain!

Welcome to this first posting on my new blog Learning about Britain.  This is a sister blog to http://www.learningabouttheworld.blogspot.com/ which is almost a year old.  The idea is to learn about Britain in greater depth than the countries in Learning about the World, because this is where I live and because the focus could be slightly different.

Me and my BAM (Best Aussie Mate) have come up with the crazy idea of getting to know Britain better by visiting every major town/city ending in -caster, -cester and -chester.  We thought that this might lead to some random trips to parts of Britain that we've never been to before and, what started off as a crazy idea, has now almost come to fruition in terms of our first trip which, alphabetically, will be to Ancaster in Lincolnshire. 

We're going to stay in nearby Grantham and do a walking trip through Ancaster, finishing in Sleaford.  I want to document our trip and blog about the learning experience along the way.  In true learningabout fashion, I want to also read a book related to that local area, watch a movie or TV programme inspired by the place we're walking through, listen to some music and, if at all possible, cook a local dish - oh, and I won't forget to sample the local brew! It should be a bit of fun really and I hope you'll join us virtually, by following this blog.  We've started alphabetically, so I guess that's how we'll continue.  We're also limiting ourselves to castercesterchesters that are on the National Rail network, otherwise it could end up being very random indeed! 

As I started researching this trip, the first thing that struck me was that our choice of placenames with the etymology 'castrum' is not that random after all and Ancaster, like most of the casters we'll be visiting, has remains of the Roman fort that once stood on this site.  Doh!  It seems so obvious now and it's a great thematic link for the places we're planning to visit.

Britain's history didn't start with the Romans, of course, but with the Celts.  Learning about Roman Britain is, by default, learning about Celtic Britain.  The celtic period of Britain's history is not really history at all, ie. documented and attested, but rather pre-history - that which exists mostly through archaeological guesswork and continues to haunt us through its unusual placenames and the names of long-forgotten kings.  In my brief dip into Celtic Britain this week, I've been amazed to learn about a whole country full of Celtic tribes - the Iceni of Norfolk, the Catuvellauni of Hertfordshire and Cambridgeshire, the Corieltauvi of the East Midlands and the Brigante of Yorkshire and the north.  I had no idea that these tribes had names and histories that could be made out, despite the obscurity of time.

Luckily, I've already read Robert Graves seminal history of Rome, I, Claudius, so I can place the Roman invasions of Britain between their first contact with the Trinovantes of Essex during Caeser's time and the full-scale, forty thousand man strong invasion during the time of Claudius in 43AD.  I think the Roman invasion of Britain had an impact on this country way beyond anything that happened later.  It was Britain's first real experience of aggressive colonisation, the first time Britain had belonged to a Europe united by the Roman Empire.  Before the Romans came along, even the word Britain didn't really exist.  They applied it to the islands of Great Britain, Ireland and (perhaps) Iceland, later restricting the use of the term to their subdued Roman province Britannia - corresponding, more or less and rather confusingly, to modern-day England and Wales. 

I realise that by visiting the chesters, we will be learning about England more than Britain.  But we're going to start with the Roman concept of Britannia and perhaps later, we can move on from that and visit other parts of the country as well.  In another, rather controversial way, the Roman invasion of Britain gave birth to a sense of national identity to those north of Hadrian's Wall (loosely called the Scots) and to a lesser extent, those to the west of the initial Roman border on the Trent (the Welsh).  The Roman tactic in colonising Britain was to build forts/castrums to secure its newfound territory, then employ local administrators from the friendlier Celtic tribes and have them run the colony on Rome's behalf.  Two thousand years later, it's a tactic that reminds me a lot of Western governments' plans for Iraq and Afghanistan. 

I'm looking forward to our first trip to Ancaster and hopefully I will have lots to report back on, not just about Ancaster, but also about Grantham and Sleaford.  Coming centuries after the Roman invasion, the Anglo-Saxons have formed the basis of English identity and I hope to combine our cester/caster/chester trips with many hams and fords and burys along the way!

Image credits:

The photo of the Green man (Banksia man) is by Graham Wilson, wikiuser Dgu56 and he has shared this with the world using the Creative Commons License.  Find out more information about re-use of this image here.

The image of Britannia on her plinth has been supplied by flickuser Tim Ellis and you can see more of Tim's photography on his blog http://tmellis.wordpress.com/

Thanks Graham and Tim for sharing your images with the rest of us!