The battle of Naseby was one of the most important battles in British history. It took place on 14 June 1645 in the last but one year of the First Civil War between King Charles I and Parliament. When I studied the origins, course and aftermath of the Civil War as a History undergraduate (my special subject in my last year was "Oliver Cromwell and the English Revolution"), I had little interest in the military side, but since then I've found battlefields both mournful and fascinating places. Unlike, say, Culloden (a stand of pines is right in the middle of the battlefield, so you can't stand on one side and imagine how it looked to see enemy forces drawn up on the other side: besides, not far behind the Jacobite position now are brick houses of the Inverness suburbs), or unlike the other most decisive Civil War battlefield at Marston Moor (road through the middle, rubbish dump by the monument when I visited), Naseby is relatively well preserved, though a motorway spur was driven through an outlying area.
The site is in Northamptonshire but very close to Leicestershire to the north, in rolling, mainly open country of fields, small woods and villages. The monument and small interpretative display are just in front of the centre of the Parliamentary position: from there you can easily see the ridge where the Royalist army started and Sulby hedges, which played a key part in the battle, to the Parliamentary left. In 1645 the roads in the area were rough tracks and some ground now farmed was marshy.
The war had been going on for three years with little sign of an end. Parliament's advantage from the major victory at Marston Moor outside York the year before had been squandered in a disastrous Westcountry campaign in which many of the veteran Parliamentary infantry had been killed, many after surrender and disarming by Cornish locals. Parliament had organised a "New Model Army" to clear out half-hearted officers, but the infantry were very green (some got their first weapons training on the march a day or two before the battle)and many were unenthusiastic, unlike the highly-motivated, well-trained cavalry. The Royalist army had plenty of experienced infantry; their cavalry ("cavaliers")were confident but ill-disciplined.
The King's main army had captured Leicester, a city of strong Parliamentary and Puritan sympathies, and had slaughtered a number of civilians. The Parliamentary General Sir Thomas Fairfax had been besieging Oxford, but was ordered away to engage the King, which he did. The King was hoping for cavalry reinfoircements but they never arrived; in contrast, East Anglian cavalry under Oliver Cromwell reinforced Fairfax the night before the battle. As a result, while the numbers of infantry on the two sides were similar (with probably a slight Royalist advantage), Fairfax had a big advantage in cavalry and also some dragoons (light cavalry who operated like modern motorised infantry, travelling fast but fighting on foot). On the Royalist side the King was in ultimate command but under him, control was with Prince Rupert.
The Parliamentary left and Royalist right rested on Sulby hedges. Fairfax sent dragoons behind the hedges so they could deliver flanking fire. Some accounts say the Royalists tried to occupy this point too and were driven off. The King's army charged and won early success against the green New Model infantry and some of the cavalry, but Prince Rupert's cavalry pursued fleeing Parliamentarians away from the main battlefield while Cromwell, having defeated the outnumbered Royalist cavalry facing him on the Parliamentary right, turned to join the infantry battle, as so did the dragoons (on horseback, which was not at all in the rulebook). The Royalist cavalry scattered and the infantry then had no chance, though many fought on. The King's cause never recovered.
I've visited the site perhaps four times and it has a strange power for me. It is not hard to imagine myself there on 14 June 1645.
Other things to attract visitors? A short way to the north over the Leicestershire border is picturesque Market Harborough. There's a good network of footpaths and it's pleasant if unspectacular walking country. There's plenty of good pubs, many of them in the characteristic, mellow local yellow sandstone.
Showing posts with label scenery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label scenery. Show all posts
Friday, 13 July 2012
Tuesday, 27 March 2012
How to walk from A - Z
I promised some tips about long-distance trail walking. They all apply to walking for several days on a trail or not. Some may seem obvious, but on the West Highland Way last year I came across people who'd thought the WHW was a good opportunity to try out a new pair of boots and others who'd clearly not found out what a full pack felt like on their back until they set out for the Glasgow train.
PLAN. Use the on-line information. Book accomodation in advance unless there's an abundance of it on the way (as on MOST parts of the South-west Coastal Footpath). Identify places where you have no alternative - just one place to stay - and book there first, adjusting your dates to fit what they've got. Make a list of what you need. Seek maps and guide-books in good time: many bookshops will have to order them. Take into account that the steepest climbs may take two or three times as long as mildly hilly walks - and that while coastal walks may have no mountains, you may have to keep going steep down, across half a mile of loose sand or shingle and then steep up again. Think about what you're asking of yourself. Can you really do an average 20 miles a day? What's your evidence? If you can do 25 miles in hilly but not mountainous country with full pack but that's near your limit, is there any way of breaking up that three-day 25 mile - 23 mile - 26 mile sequence? I fell down on that count doing the Wye Valley Walk - but oddly, the toughest day was the first of the three!
PRACTICE. If possible, not only do all the long walking you can in the months leading up, but take a short break to do intensive walking in roughly similar country about two weeks before you start the real thing, carrying roughly the same weight in your pack and using the same key equipment - boots, pack/rucksack and so on. This is a good time to find that those broken in but newish walking boots are more comfortable with the top toggle left unused or that the combination of fleece and cagoule doesn't work because the cagoule doesn't cover the bottom of the fleece. Do at least three-and-a-half days' intensive walking (but enjoy it too). Make it tough: the first time I did the WHW, I'd trained in the Lake District and there was nothing on the WHW as tough as ascending Blencathra or going over Black Sail Pass. That made me feel good on the WHW! Make sure you know from experience how to use your compass, too, or GPS if you use that.
CUT DOWN ON WEIGHT (unless you're using sherpa services). Think. Most clothes can be washed and dried somewhere on the trip, even if the washing is in a wash-basin and the drying by hanging from the top of your pack. How many pairs of each item do you really need? On any trip of less than 200 miles, I'd suggest you can plan to wear each pair of socks four days (two days, one wash, two more days' wear), but you shouldn't need more than three shirts. Do you need a tube of cream for insect bites, or will a small tube of antiseptic do? Leave the thermos behind: you don't need hot drinks on the walk and it's extra weight. Accept that the only reading matter will be the guide-book and anything you can pick up where you stay and then leave there, plus a newspaper occasionally.
YOUR FEET ARE THE MOST IMPORTANT THING. Despite what I said above, don't skimp on supplies of plasters and the like. A spare pair of foam inner-soles is advisable. Carry a support bandage: if you get a muscular strain, this can make the difference between a huge disappointment and success.
TAKE MAPS. OK the guide-book probably has maps, but they'll show only a narrow band along the route. That's not enough if you go off-course or if you're trying to orient from distant landmarks. Doing without a guide-book is possible, but tends to trip you up on small details, like where to go when the path enters a built-up area or where precisely to cross the river.
CARRY AS LITTLE FOOD AS POSSIBLE. Eat a good breakfast, make do with, say, a handful of raisins, a bit of chocolate and a plum at midday, and eat a good, balanced meal in the evening. The balance is important because on the longer trails like the Pennine Way if you're not careful you'll develop dietary deficiencies which will affect your strength and resilience.
BE BLOODY-MINDED. Rain is NOT going to stop you. That crap guide-book misled you and you're three miles adrift on a day when you have 24 miles to walk? Let your anger propel you until you realise you're reasonably on your time target again. But don't ignore problems like a slight pain in your foot. They'll get worse and there's probably something you can do.
HAVE FUN. Stand and stare at the water flowing under the bridge. Stay in pubs with good beer and company. Celebrate when you finish. It may sound grim if you haven't tried it, but it's huge fun and the feeling at the finish is great.
PLAN. Use the on-line information. Book accomodation in advance unless there's an abundance of it on the way (as on MOST parts of the South-west Coastal Footpath). Identify places where you have no alternative - just one place to stay - and book there first, adjusting your dates to fit what they've got. Make a list of what you need. Seek maps and guide-books in good time: many bookshops will have to order them. Take into account that the steepest climbs may take two or three times as long as mildly hilly walks - and that while coastal walks may have no mountains, you may have to keep going steep down, across half a mile of loose sand or shingle and then steep up again. Think about what you're asking of yourself. Can you really do an average 20 miles a day? What's your evidence? If you can do 25 miles in hilly but not mountainous country with full pack but that's near your limit, is there any way of breaking up that three-day 25 mile - 23 mile - 26 mile sequence? I fell down on that count doing the Wye Valley Walk - but oddly, the toughest day was the first of the three!
PRACTICE. If possible, not only do all the long walking you can in the months leading up, but take a short break to do intensive walking in roughly similar country about two weeks before you start the real thing, carrying roughly the same weight in your pack and using the same key equipment - boots, pack/rucksack and so on. This is a good time to find that those broken in but newish walking boots are more comfortable with the top toggle left unused or that the combination of fleece and cagoule doesn't work because the cagoule doesn't cover the bottom of the fleece. Do at least three-and-a-half days' intensive walking (but enjoy it too). Make it tough: the first time I did the WHW, I'd trained in the Lake District and there was nothing on the WHW as tough as ascending Blencathra or going over Black Sail Pass. That made me feel good on the WHW! Make sure you know from experience how to use your compass, too, or GPS if you use that.
CUT DOWN ON WEIGHT (unless you're using sherpa services). Think. Most clothes can be washed and dried somewhere on the trip, even if the washing is in a wash-basin and the drying by hanging from the top of your pack. How many pairs of each item do you really need? On any trip of less than 200 miles, I'd suggest you can plan to wear each pair of socks four days (two days, one wash, two more days' wear), but you shouldn't need more than three shirts. Do you need a tube of cream for insect bites, or will a small tube of antiseptic do? Leave the thermos behind: you don't need hot drinks on the walk and it's extra weight. Accept that the only reading matter will be the guide-book and anything you can pick up where you stay and then leave there, plus a newspaper occasionally.
YOUR FEET ARE THE MOST IMPORTANT THING. Despite what I said above, don't skimp on supplies of plasters and the like. A spare pair of foam inner-soles is advisable. Carry a support bandage: if you get a muscular strain, this can make the difference between a huge disappointment and success.
TAKE MAPS. OK the guide-book probably has maps, but they'll show only a narrow band along the route. That's not enough if you go off-course or if you're trying to orient from distant landmarks. Doing without a guide-book is possible, but tends to trip you up on small details, like where to go when the path enters a built-up area or where precisely to cross the river.
CARRY AS LITTLE FOOD AS POSSIBLE. Eat a good breakfast, make do with, say, a handful of raisins, a bit of chocolate and a plum at midday, and eat a good, balanced meal in the evening. The balance is important because on the longer trails like the Pennine Way if you're not careful you'll develop dietary deficiencies which will affect your strength and resilience.
BE BLOODY-MINDED. Rain is NOT going to stop you. That crap guide-book misled you and you're three miles adrift on a day when you have 24 miles to walk? Let your anger propel you until you realise you're reasonably on your time target again. But don't ignore problems like a slight pain in your foot. They'll get worse and there's probably something you can do.
HAVE FUN. Stand and stare at the water flowing under the bridge. Stay in pubs with good beer and company. Celebrate when you finish. It may sound grim if you haven't tried it, but it's huge fun and the feeling at the finish is great.
Tuesday, 7 February 2012
The Norfolk Broads - in Winter
Fans of the Odanglesex Chronicles: I expect the next post here will be from Odanglesex. In the meantime, I'm describing another favourite place.
For the non-Brits, some explanation is probably needed - even that the term is not sexist.
The Norfolk Broads are a large area of marsh, fen, river, lake and rough grazing in the south and east of Norfolk in eastern England. They start just outside the city of Norwich (or Narj in local pronunciation) and extend almost to the coast. The "Broads" are a series of lakes - for example, Hickling Broad. It used to be widely believed that these were bits of sea that had been cut off and that the area up to Roman times featured sea channels and islands. By the middle ages we had preserved maps good enough to show no such complex of channels and islands. However, archaeological investigation showed the Broads were steep-sided and it became clear that they were the result of human activity - large-scale cutting of peat leading to depressions which flooded. The marshes, though, are ancient.
In summer the Broads and the river Yare are crowded with pleasure-boats and many other aspects of tourism and day-tripping. This doesn't prevent the area having outstanding fauna and flora characteristic of reedbeds and other marshy habitats, though these do rather concentrate in the nature reserves. In winter, the area is largely left to the locals, except for birdwatchers visiting a few well-known reserves.
I visited the day before the snow came. Even so, much of the damp fields was frosted and the normal green vistas were green and white. I came up by train and got off at a large village (or small town) called Cantley, walking along the banks of the River Yare almost to the start of the broad estuary known as Breydon Water before returning as far as the large village of Reedham to get the train again. On the way I found an excellent, friendly, traditional riverside pub, the Reedham Ferry. The land round about is almost entirely flat and the evidence of human activity, other than animals grazing and aged windmills, is very sparse - so in midwinter, it was a scene of vast, bleak, beautiful expanses. Thousands of wintering geese flew over or sounded harsh alarms from the fields. A Woodcock exploded from reeds about three feet from me. For the birders, I saw thousands of Pinkfeet, some Bean Geese, about 25 Bewick's Swans (from a railway bridge with almost the last use of the optics), various shore waders as I approached Breydon Water, several Marsh Harriers, plenty of Bearded Tits and of course that superb Woodcock.
Beyond that, I had a sense of freedom, of space and of humanity in harmony with nature. It's much warmer in summer and the profusion of wildlife is marvellous, but the magic is lost.
For the non-Brits, some explanation is probably needed - even that the term is not sexist.
The Norfolk Broads are a large area of marsh, fen, river, lake and rough grazing in the south and east of Norfolk in eastern England. They start just outside the city of Norwich (or Narj in local pronunciation) and extend almost to the coast. The "Broads" are a series of lakes - for example, Hickling Broad. It used to be widely believed that these were bits of sea that had been cut off and that the area up to Roman times featured sea channels and islands. By the middle ages we had preserved maps good enough to show no such complex of channels and islands. However, archaeological investigation showed the Broads were steep-sided and it became clear that they were the result of human activity - large-scale cutting of peat leading to depressions which flooded. The marshes, though, are ancient.
In summer the Broads and the river Yare are crowded with pleasure-boats and many other aspects of tourism and day-tripping. This doesn't prevent the area having outstanding fauna and flora characteristic of reedbeds and other marshy habitats, though these do rather concentrate in the nature reserves. In winter, the area is largely left to the locals, except for birdwatchers visiting a few well-known reserves.
I visited the day before the snow came. Even so, much of the damp fields was frosted and the normal green vistas were green and white. I came up by train and got off at a large village (or small town) called Cantley, walking along the banks of the River Yare almost to the start of the broad estuary known as Breydon Water before returning as far as the large village of Reedham to get the train again. On the way I found an excellent, friendly, traditional riverside pub, the Reedham Ferry. The land round about is almost entirely flat and the evidence of human activity, other than animals grazing and aged windmills, is very sparse - so in midwinter, it was a scene of vast, bleak, beautiful expanses. Thousands of wintering geese flew over or sounded harsh alarms from the fields. A Woodcock exploded from reeds about three feet from me. For the birders, I saw thousands of Pinkfeet, some Bean Geese, about 25 Bewick's Swans (from a railway bridge with almost the last use of the optics), various shore waders as I approached Breydon Water, several Marsh Harriers, plenty of Bearded Tits and of course that superb Woodcock.
Beyond that, I had a sense of freedom, of space and of humanity in harmony with nature. It's much warmer in summer and the profusion of wildlife is marvellous, but the magic is lost.
Friday, 7 October 2011
Favourite places: Cape Clear Island, County Cork
I love small islands. They often have spectacular scenery, and the ones in the right places get plenty of seabirds and vagrants (mostly birds, but a few dragonflies and humans), but the appeal is deeper than that. The sea is all around. It's easy to walk from one side to the other. You can walk all round the coast and come back to where you started. People are generally friendly and as a stranger, you soon start recognising people. Human-made things often merge into natural things, whether it's a wooden boat slowly sinking into mud or a stone watch-tower becoming yet another weird rock formation.
I still don't feel I've expressed it. Maybe the combination of the very specific and individual (on the island) with the universality, the hint of God and death and rebirth, of the sea?
Cape Clear has all that and more. Most non-Irish people don't know where it is. I ask if they've heard of the Fastnet Rock. They have, even if they didn't realise it was in Ireland. So OK, you're in South-west Ireland. Start at Skibbereen, whose local paper, the Skibbereen Eagle, once sternly warned the Tsar that it had its eye on him over his persecution of minorities. From Skibbereen a narrowing peninsula extends to Baltimore (not that one, the original) a small town or large village with a lot of yachting. From there the line of the sandstone peninsula points straight out to Sherkin Island, then to Cape Clear Island and finally to the Fastnet Rock and its lighthouse. Next stop the Americas.
The boat trip isn't long, but the local people traditionally spoke of going to the mainland as "going to Ireland". Gaelic is spoken, though perhaps not quite as much in reality as for government inspectors. Once in the full main pub I got into a vigorous debate with a fellow-birder from Dublin who objected to his taxes going on supporting the Gaelic language. I argued that the death of a language was a terrible thing. At a pause in the debate we suddenly realised that all other conversation had stopped and everyone was listening to us.
When I first stayed on the island, the population was about 300, but later it increased with prosperous Irish dropouts seeking tranquility and even returners from further: one morning I was heading out to a seabird-watching point by a small track and passed a woman in a long,loose skirt and shawl with a scarf around her head. She was picking blackberries. I wished her good day. She responded in an American accent.
On a small island, the weather becomes immensely important. You check it first thing. Storms on the island are beautiful, and safe enough if you're not at sea since there are no trees to speak of.
The place is changing: Private notices and barbed wire sprang up where there were only drystone walls before: the natives blamed the incomers and others blamed Irish law on landowners' liability for trespassers' injuries. The famous shopkeeper Paddy Burke is dead. Maybe even you can no longer buy cornflakes, petrol and a Guinness in the same place. But the cliffs are the same and O'Driscoll's Tower, perched on a now inaccessible rock, will still be beaten by salt spray.
I still don't feel I've expressed it. Maybe the combination of the very specific and individual (on the island) with the universality, the hint of God and death and rebirth, of the sea?
Cape Clear has all that and more. Most non-Irish people don't know where it is. I ask if they've heard of the Fastnet Rock. They have, even if they didn't realise it was in Ireland. So OK, you're in South-west Ireland. Start at Skibbereen, whose local paper, the Skibbereen Eagle, once sternly warned the Tsar that it had its eye on him over his persecution of minorities. From Skibbereen a narrowing peninsula extends to Baltimore (not that one, the original) a small town or large village with a lot of yachting. From there the line of the sandstone peninsula points straight out to Sherkin Island, then to Cape Clear Island and finally to the Fastnet Rock and its lighthouse. Next stop the Americas.
The boat trip isn't long, but the local people traditionally spoke of going to the mainland as "going to Ireland". Gaelic is spoken, though perhaps not quite as much in reality as for government inspectors. Once in the full main pub I got into a vigorous debate with a fellow-birder from Dublin who objected to his taxes going on supporting the Gaelic language. I argued that the death of a language was a terrible thing. At a pause in the debate we suddenly realised that all other conversation had stopped and everyone was listening to us.
When I first stayed on the island, the population was about 300, but later it increased with prosperous Irish dropouts seeking tranquility and even returners from further: one morning I was heading out to a seabird-watching point by a small track and passed a woman in a long,loose skirt and shawl with a scarf around her head. She was picking blackberries. I wished her good day. She responded in an American accent.
On a small island, the weather becomes immensely important. You check it first thing. Storms on the island are beautiful, and safe enough if you're not at sea since there are no trees to speak of.
The place is changing: Private notices and barbed wire sprang up where there were only drystone walls before: the natives blamed the incomers and others blamed Irish law on landowners' liability for trespassers' injuries. The famous shopkeeper Paddy Burke is dead. Maybe even you can no longer buy cornflakes, petrol and a Guinness in the same place. But the cliffs are the same and O'Driscoll's Tower, perched on a now inaccessible rock, will still be beaten by salt spray.
Sunday, 11 September 2011
Plugging Places: the Bawdsey/Ramsholt peninsula, Suffolk, England
I'm going to pick a favourite place or area from time to time and say why I like it. This time - an out-of-the-way corner of coastal Suffolk. The A12 runs like a spine along East Suffolk, from Ipswich towards Norwich and Great Yarmouth, with fairly easy trips off it to Aldeburgh (art), Minsmere (birds) and Lowestoft (traditional seaside stuff) - and the railway follows a similar course -but although the Bawdsey/Ramsholt area is near to Ipswich and even Harwich as the crow flies, we aren't crows and the Deben estuary gets in the way. To arrive from nearly anywhere you need to go round Woodbridge and take quite a long trip seawards.
So the area isn't crowded. The beaches are shingle. But it has the character of an island, quirky, special, running to its own rhythms. The open East coast scenery is beautiful if (and) sometimes bleak. It's a great area for birds (easpecially autumn migrants) and other wildlife such as butterflies, and it has some excellent pubs of which the Sorrel Horse is probably the best, though at the Swan you have good acomodation and Indian meals, and at the Ramsholt Arms an estuary-side location and good beer variety, if not really a proper pub atmosphere weekends. There's history too: Bawdsey was the number one location for the development of radar, without which the history of the Second World War would have been very different. Martello towers from the Napoleaonic Wars and "pillboxes" from the Second World War point out that this has been a possible invasion area since Celtic times.
The villages contain some interesting buildings (Bawdsey especially) but aren't picture postcard pretty. Back towards Woodbridge is more good birding (and UFO-chasing) territory with Hollesley Common and Rendlesham Forest: the latter has signs to a UFO trail, though I doubt if any UFO pilot would understand them, and if (s)he did, might ignore them. Towards Woodbridge also is much older history than 1939, the early Saxon royal burial site and museum at Sutton Hoo (Hoo may well refer to Long-eared Owls, so back to birds again).
It's all worth a day trip, but even more worth staying a couple of nights.
So the area isn't crowded. The beaches are shingle. But it has the character of an island, quirky, special, running to its own rhythms. The open East coast scenery is beautiful if (and) sometimes bleak. It's a great area for birds (easpecially autumn migrants) and other wildlife such as butterflies, and it has some excellent pubs of which the Sorrel Horse is probably the best, though at the Swan you have good acomodation and Indian meals, and at the Ramsholt Arms an estuary-side location and good beer variety, if not really a proper pub atmosphere weekends. There's history too: Bawdsey was the number one location for the development of radar, without which the history of the Second World War would have been very different. Martello towers from the Napoleaonic Wars and "pillboxes" from the Second World War point out that this has been a possible invasion area since Celtic times.
The villages contain some interesting buildings (Bawdsey especially) but aren't picture postcard pretty. Back towards Woodbridge is more good birding (and UFO-chasing) territory with Hollesley Common and Rendlesham Forest: the latter has signs to a UFO trail, though I doubt if any UFO pilot would understand them, and if (s)he did, might ignore them. Towards Woodbridge also is much older history than 1939, the early Saxon royal burial site and museum at Sutton Hoo (Hoo may well refer to Long-eared Owls, so back to birds again).
It's all worth a day trip, but even more worth staying a couple of nights.
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