It’s a bit of an effort sometimes, but almost always worth it, even when the weather throws its nastiest stuff at you. Your mind and your memory are assuring you that you’ll feel just great once you’re out and striding along the tops of those sharp winter hills, but the year itself, dipping right down into the valley of the solstice, is yawning at you to join in the hibernation. There’s the extra gear to put on: the wool, the fleece, the waterproofs – what some serious walkers call layering – with maybe a bit of thermal going on underneath.
The first incline of the day is always a wake-up call, but the heart hears it, the blood speeds up, the central heating kicks in and by the time you’re rewarded with the first small elevation, you know this was the right thing to do with the day. The brevity of the daylight even lends it a kind of scarcity value.
Much of the winter-walking I’ve done has been in Surrey. Why? Because it’s there, as George Mallory said about Mount Everest. It’s a dark horse of a county, is Surrey – surprisingly, perhaps, the most heavily wooded in England, according to a Forestry Commission survey. They’re fine things, trees, but too many of them and they can get in the way of the view.
There’s a particular walk I’ve done in all seasons, starting at Box Hill & Westhumble station, just after the train has gone through a magic tunnel which converts the land from south London suburbia to open countryside in a matter of seconds.
In the summer, the foliage on some of the paths on the shoulders of the North Downs is almost blinding, while down in the low ground between Ranmore Common and Polesden Lacey there are times you are walking through a green tube.
Doing that brilliant circuit the other day confirmed my suspicion that winter is the best time to come this way. The high summer weather and full-blown trees are so very adept at their own PR, particularly in our perverse climate. But now, with the plain white sky visible through the countless random frames of dark branches, the upward view became a kind of monochrome stained glass. Less flash but more restful. Also, you could see the line of the downs more clearly on its way west towards the remote church of St Martha-on-the Hill, on the Pilgrims’ Way to the west of Guildford.
Of course, winter can show off as well as the next season when it puts its mind to it and turns the world white overnight. But its best and most seasonal gift is that of unlayering, even as you’re wrapping up.
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