L is for Landlady 

We arrived leg-weary, blistered, peat-smeared and hungry. For our modest fee we got a dinner of rubber chicken, a breakfast of rubber bacon, and a twin ‘room’ in the attic which was half of a DIY division of one of those Victorian skivvy’s bedrooms you couldn’t swing a rat round. The nether regions of our half bulged hardboardily out over a hairpin bend in the staircase, so that you had to bend into a hairpin yourself to manoeuvre into the apartment. The 30W bulb dangled shadeless from the ceiling of the other room, shedding a tenth of its sickly light into ours. All night came the drain-clearing snoring of a 20-stone (each) couple from Birmingham, with whom we’d shared the rubber chicken and the solace of a very loud TV, and whose offer of a good rub-down with oils Dad had regretfully declined.

The sheets? Pink, winceyette, slithered on to the floor. The beer? Unspeakable. The moral? Research before you leap. And be thankful it’s the 21st century next time you’re booking your stopovers.

The weather was warming up – and for one individual, it seemed as though things were getting too warm. As we descended the eastern side of the ridge, making for the National Trust car park, the main rendezvous point for walkers in this part of the world, a middle-aged man, wearing only his birthday suit and – ahem- a bumbag in his left hand, hove into view. You certainly couldn’t say he sprung himself upon us, and other walkers. We saw him from 100 yards away; first I blinked, thinking he must be wearing some new, if diaphanous, hi-tech, sweat-proof wicking gear. If he was, it was the Emperor’s New Clothes range.

A couple with a dog pondered – in jest, I add – whether to let their Alsatian off the leash, remarking that their pet, dribbling from his lolling tongue, was due for his lunch. A cyclist – again, not in any state of wild outrage – set off in pursuit to remind him he was breaking the law (technically, he wasn’t).We wandered onwards. He walked past us, slightly self conscious, a slight smile, neither affable nor smug, playing on his lips. Despite having had time to think of a witty comment, as doubtless Bill Bryson or Stephen Fry might, I merely raised a quizzical eyebrow as he went on his way. “Warm today isn’t it?” is the best I’ve been able to think of since. My wife beat me to it: “If he’s an exhibitionist, he doesn’t have much to exhibit,” she said cuttingly, her eyes narrowing.

I’d actually been too busy thinking of how to handle the whole thing with my children, aged five, four and two. I’d pathetically tried to point out a stonechat to them. (“Look! That bird’s just flown all the way from Africa!) In the end, as I’d guessed, the two younger boys didn’t even register; did my daughter, the oldest and her friend, also five, notice? As sure as hell they did. “He’s got no clothes on. That’s his wolly [sic],” Hannah pointed out helpfully. Personally, I wasn’t particularly bothered. The children were at no risk, and I had an intuitive sense that there wasn’t anything dark at play. I’m also someone who is keen to keep my kids free of self-conscious behaviour and to be at ease with the human body, in a vague, Scandinavian sort of way. Well, if I was going to be consistent, I’d shrug it off. Which I did.

The reaction of my wife and the other parents with us, and later my hairdresser, the local butcher and, yes, even a taxi driver, quickly I established I was in a minority of little more than one. Thanks to my daughter, the story also took about four minutes to get around her entire school the following Monday morning and by home time the school gate view was similarly positioned some distance to the right of Amnesty International. The more I thought about it, and the more people reacted by pulling up their petticoats in anger, the more I wondered if they had a point, and the more the man’s behaviour and action started to irk me. While I had (and continue to have) no issue with people who want to walk bare-cheeked and brave the attentions of any hungry, if over-ambitious peregrine falcon (they’re a breathtaking spectacle on the Stiperstones) I ruminated over some aspects of the encounter. It was a Thursday afternoon in half-term; he was walking along a conspicuous, popular ridgeline. Had he simply wanted to walk naked there were no shortage of more discreet paths in the area. Older children might well have been genuinely distressed. He must have been looking to make a point.

I spoke to Andrew Welch at British Naturism, who first pointed out that the man was breaking no law but admitted that naked walkers will tend to be judicious about where they walk. “Like life, like any organisation, we have our extremists, but the vast majority of naturists are tolerant and considerate and would probably chose to walk a little more off the beaten track,” he said. “We try to avoid situations where conflict might arise. On the other hand, he might argue he’s allowed by law to walk wherever he wants.”

So what was his game? Was he one toggle short of a cagoule? A stag-do bet (unlikely)? A hardcore nudist? Something altogether darker? Or simply someone who couldn’t quite answer why he was doing it, who felt he had overstepped the mark but gone beyond the point of no return? Answers on a postcard, please.

Image: A sign from a nudist beach in France –  just about the only safe image related to ‘naturism’ we could find on Wikipedia Commons.

I is for Islands

Essex and islands? Yes, indeed. A whole jigsaw scatter of them, out at the far end of causeways or short bridges. Each with its own grandstand of a seawall path, each exuding that very particular island magic of not quite being part of the humdrum world. Here’s a roll-call of my favourites… Canvey Island, lying tight against the north Thames shore, half grazing marsh and bird reserve, half housing, with a fantastical backdrop like a giant’s geometry set – the flare stacks of Shell Haven oil refinery. Huge wedge-shaped Foulness in the mouth of the Thames, sealed off by the military but open once a month for curious explorers to venture across. Wallasea Island in the crook of Foulness, where the sea walls have been breached to make a brilliant new bird marsh.

Swinging north, the islands of the Blackwater estuary. Hard up against Maldon and its sea salt works is Northey Island, a National Trust Reserve, where Danes once slaughtered Saxons. There’s Osea Island in the throat of the channel with its zigzag causeway over the mud. And big oval Mersea Island (pictured), where sailing boat halyards chink musically as you savour a dozen fresh oysters in the Company Shed.

Go east, young man and woman – you won’t regret it.

Image: Bob Jones via geograph.org.uk

Decades of improving access to the countryside, safe routes to school and cycle paths could be sacrificed to the Government’s savage public spending cuts. Although the cheapest, greenest and most efficient part of the transport network, rights of way have long been an under-valued local authority responsibility, already pared to the bone from chronic under-funding.

It’s a difficult job: statutory duties and enforcement are never popular, and rights of way involve some of the most complex law and regulations in the country! To protect them, officers walk a thin line between the demands of users, landowners and politicians. That expertise could be lost in the scramble to cut public sector costs.

The outbreak of foot and mouth disease in 2001 led – in just one year – to hundreds of miles of footpaths and bridleways being neglected and obstructed. With no visitors, rural tourism and the rural economy lost an estimated £5bn. Only then did the bureaucrats register the vital importance of our rights of way. But memories are short and the coalition Government seems oblivious to the value of access – the current draft White Paper on managing England’s natural environment makes little reference to countryside access. It focuses on conservation and agriculture, despite the fact that agriculture is dwarfed by the money generated by walkers’, riders’ and cyclists’ use of pubs, B&Bs and other rural businesses.

I am dismayed by the exclusion of access from the political agenda. It is reflected by the lack of appreciation in most highway authorities of the great value of rights of way to communities. They talk of rights of way management being “picked up” by parks teams and other departments, oblivious to the complexities and importance of the work.

Ramblers are well aware that the countryside is good for all of us, and the skilled input from highway authorities is needed to ensure a rights of way network free from the obstructions that occur when enforcement and maintenance are lacking. If highway authorities lose rights of way officers, swathes of countryside could be lost to the public for years. Perhaps even for good if the path ceases to be used entirely owing to neglect – a point well made by the Ramblers when it compared the situation to Beeching’s rationalisation of the railways in the 1960s. Economies do have to be made if the Government is to return the country to financial stability, but cuts at any price don’t guarantee that stability. After all, the closure of almost a third of the rail network 50 years ago failed to restore prosperity to the rail service.

The Ramblers’ campaign ‘Dead End for Walkers?’ speaks out on the potential devastation of neglecting our rights of way network. Unfortunately, while it was aimed at making decision-makers aware of the results of under-funding, it has been taken personally by many officers as a slight on their profession. Its backlash was harsh indeed when councillors demanded to know why their authority had been highlighted as lacking by the campaign.

In fact, the issue isn’t at officer level; it’s because rights of way do not appear on the politicians’ agendas that funding isn’t available. With a more focused approach, and our common aim to see a properly resourced and functional rights of way network, I look forward to working with the Ramblers to achieve constructive improvement. Dedicated officers in many authorities are already working with voluntary groups such as the Ramblers to carry out condition audits, waymarking and improvements to the network. Perhaps this is how the Government, with its notion of a ‘Big Society’, sees all the work being done. But someone has to coordinate it, and IPROW could work with the Ramblers to enhance its capacity to deliver an efficient professional service.

Rights of way professionals provide irreplaceable legal and technical expertise. Their skills help to resolve hundreds of disputes between landowners and users before they reach the courts. Can this be replaced by volunteer labour? I don’t think so, despite the invaluable work of many volunteers.

The answer lies in greater efficiency. I believe that together IPROW and the Ramblers can work with the Government, countryside users, landowners and other voluntary organisations to find a way forward that will protect rights of way, so that they can continue to provide for the wellbeing of their users and the prosperity of rural communities.

IPROW is a membership organisation representing local authority rights of way officers and access professionals in the UK. To find out more, visit www.iprow.co.uk or ✆ 0700 0782 318

Trumpeting so-called ‘people power’ and the reduction of unnecessary bureaucracy and waste, the Coalition has ordered local councils to make huge savings in order to dig us out of debt. But politicians need some joined-up thinking to ensure that the axe doesn’t fall on our footpath network. As a nation, we’ve definitely got a bit porky over the last decade. The millions spent by the previous government on health education ads and internet campaigns will go under the Coalition – but I’m not that bothered. The best way to get people to change their behaviour isn’t by nagging or nannying, but by gentle peer persuasion. That’s why starting to walk by joining a group like the Ramblers is a good way to meet people and gradually increase your stamina.

But walkers need footpaths, and local authorities are being forced to reduce staff and slash funding for repairs and maintenance to rights of way. Sorting out the paperwork relating to disputes will now take longer than ever – up to 10 years in some places! The Ramblers’ Dead End for Walkers? campaign highlights 19 councils that are the worst offenders, including North Yorkshire. It has 10,000 rights of way issues outstanding, and no plans to increase the funding to sort them out. And Cornwall plans budget cuts of 10% over the next four years, despite neglecting half the paths in the county.

I can vouch for the appalling state of footpaths in Cornwall. Once you leave the coastal path and try to cross the peninsula between St Ives and Newlyn, you can easily get lost. I ended up with horrendous scratches from gorse the other year, and had anybody else been brave enough to walk the route, they’d have heard me cursing. In North Yorkshire, where I own a home, there are a plethora of signs in some areas and absolutely none in others. It’s almost as if the council wants you to stick to the popular, long-distance routes. Gloucestershire has cut half its Highway Authority staff, Surrey’s rights of way maintenance budget has been slashed by a fifth, a hundred bridges need replacing in Wiltshire… the list is endless. Of course, you could argue that it’s more important to protect services for the elderly, schools and hospitals – and I agree, some difficult choices have to be made. But at the same time, if councils promoted walking our overall health would improve and hospitals and clinics wouldn’t be packed with fatties suffering from heart disease.

Our footpaths are part of our national heritage. They’re of such social and historical significance that I want to see them listed like ancient monuments and architecturally important buildings. Instead, unless they are within a national park or part of a recognised long-distance route, they are treated like second-class amenities. The recession means that progress on England’s long-awaited coastal path will slow down too – work is continuing in the five pilot areas, but there are concerns about the long-term budget. We have one of the most varied and historic coastlines in the world. It’s a national treasure, right up there with the Tower of London and Stonehenge. This path will not only benefit Brits, it will attract tourists from all over the world and bring much needed revenue to remote areas.

In our new ‘Age of Austerity’, walking ticks all the right boxes. But it has to be easy. With more of us staying home for holidays, what better way to explore the countryside or our historic cities? Walking around London can be confusing, which is why the Ramblers’ Putting London on the Map campaign is a great idea. The plan is to record every inner London footpath on a legally-binding map, which is the case in every other town and city in the UK. I’ve seen how developers totally ignore rights of way: time after time, I’ve tried to follow a route down the Thames, for example, only to find locked gates or building sites blocking the path. It’s just a shame the map won’t be complete in time for the 2012 Olympics. Wouldn’t it have been great to offer all visitors a definite walking guide to our wonderful capital city?

Janet Street-Porter is Ramblers vice president and Editor at Large of The Independent on Sunday

My 10-year-old self lay back on the turf of Bulbarrow Hill in the shade of a beech spinney, book in hand, all alone in deepest Dorset. And I’ll never forget the cold pang of terror when I looked up from my book to see an evil little face, with goat-like eyes and the most cynical of smiles, staring out at me from among the tree trunks.

The hallucination (if that’s what it was) certainly had a lot to do with the story I was reading: The Music on the Hill by Saki, a Gothic fantasy in which a woman destroys an offering to Pan in the woods, and is herself gored to death by a stag driven wild by mysterious piping from a copse. I was a fanciful boy (and how the child has proved father to the man!), with a capacity for wild flights of imagination – easy prey for Saki’s baroque whimsies. I can remember running off, not daring to look back, in dread of eerie music and the hot breath of a stag on my neck.

Now, when I’m out walking and the path takes me deep into tanglewood, I’m occasionally conscious of a something or a someone there – a presence neither benign nor malign, but watchful and quietly amused. I think of it as a manifestation of whatever it was in the medieval psyche that gave rise to the Green Man, that enigmatic carved face sprouting leaves and fruit from its nostrils which we see in so many of our country churches. I’ve never again experienced anything like my childhood terror of the wildwood. But even if it isn’t the sort of thing a proper grown-up admits to, I’m quite pleased, if truth be told, that the Green Man hasn’t vanished from those psychic thickets quite yet.

walk: So how did the idea for a walking comedy come about?
Andy Riley: Well in comedy I think it’s been massively underserved – one of our personal bugbears in the past few years is the number comedies set ‘behind the scenes’ of television programmes, which I don’t really think connects with most people’s lives. But the actual business of going for a walk is universal. As soon as you decide to go for a walk and maybe take a slightly longer route to get a nicer view you become a rambler whether you know it or not. It’s got to be one of the most popular activities in the country but no one’s really written about in comedy – so we thought it was time to fix that!

On your ‘making of’ blog you mentioned that someone walked straight through the set because it was on their route – did real walks and walkers inspire a lot of the show?
Kevin Cecil: We’ve both done a fair bit of walking, though I have to say Mark’s better at the whole wild camping thing than me! A lot of it was inspired by real walks that we’ve done, and stories that we’ve heard. In episode three, for instance, the characters are eating sandwiches in a pub and they’re told they can only eat food that’s purchased on the premises – so they sell each other their sandwiches. And that apparently did happen.
AR: And a lot of our personal prejudices have found their way into the characters. I like to walk with paper – I don’t like to use GPS – and once got laughed at by a women who was in charge of a group of Scouts, since I was using ‘stone age’ technology.
KC: What we’ve realised in that walking as a hobby is at this cusp of technological change. It’s possible to never get lost again, or use maps or a compass. So we thought it would be interesting to have that kind of dynamic at the centre of the show – so someone who wants to keep things the same and someone who wants to embrace all the mods cons. I’ve got friends who do long-distance walking holidays and we talked to them. I hope it’s pretty clear when you watch the show that while we’ve got lots of jokes about walkers, we really are are on their side.

So have you shown it to any walkers or walking groups yet?
AR: No, we’ve only just finished editing it – we only stopped filming two weeks as go, so the editing process really has been tight because of BBC4′s outdoors season.
KC: Also, with filming the whole series outdoors we could only work during the summer months.
AR: But they will definitely see it tonight!

And what will they make of it?
AR: Well, walkers are such a diverse group that I’m sure there’ll have plenty to say! I think that a lot of people will recognise a part of themselves in the characters, like we have, and I imagine some people will say “how dare you, rambling’s not like this!” and other people who will think we’ve missed stuff out. So I hope they watch the next two, because there’s lots of jokes and stories about rambling that aren’t in the first one. But I wouldn’t want to presume – it will be great to see what people think!

Are there plans for more episodes after the first three?
AR: Well, we started with just the three for this season, but if it goes well, and if it’s well received, then we’d love to do some more.

So if people enjoy the show they should write to the BBC and let them know?
KC: They should walk to the BBC and let them know!

The Great Outdoors airs tonight at 9pm on BBC Four – let us know what you think on our Facebook discussion page or via the comments below. Click here to watch a clip and a behind-the-scenes teaser on the BBC website.