May Day! May Day!
The first day of May is the start of the greenlaning season in Northamptonshire, so Dave Phillips sets out to explore the countryside in his 1984 Ninety
OUR NATION’S airports are clogged with people joining long queues at airline checkin desks, each determined to jet off to the world’s most beautiful places. Ironically, the sheer number of jostling tourists who descend upon these places actually reduces their beauty – or at least it does to me. I find beauty in solitude and even on our crowded islands it isn’t too hard to find.
I live in Northamptonshire, in the understated but nevertheless pretty valley of the River Nene. It doesn’t have mountains, rocky glens, roaring rapids, great waterfalls or even a coastline, so most people rush through our county on the M1, M40 or A14, heading for more dramatic destinations. They don’t know what they’re missing.
Northamptonshire is a county that is easily explored from the comfort of your Land Rover. And today is the first day of May – a very special occasion here because it is the day when the county’s byways are opened to all traffic after the winter close season. I had my doubts when the seasonal TRO was slapped on our greenlanes a few years back, but for once the county council got it right. Northamptonshire soil tends to be heavy and gets very sticky when wet, resulting in deep ruts. By restricting 4x4s to the lanes from May to the end of September keeps them in good condition – or that’s the theory, anyway.
Pottering along local lanes is best done in an old Land Rover. You get closer to nature that way. That’s why today I am behind the wheel of my 1984 Ninety, driving at a brisk walking pace, with the bulkhead flaps and the retro sliding door windows wide open. The rush of fresh air fills the cabin with the fragrance of spring flowers. Billy the Wonderdog is beside me on the bench seat, watching the road ahead. He doesn’t mind the bumpy ride: for him (like me) it equates to fun.
Sadly, the very first lane I visit disproves my theory regarding the winter break. Although 4x4s have been kept away, the farmers have still required access to their fields and, during the unseasonal wet weather this spring, the tractors have left huge ruts. I negotiate
the first few hundred yards carefully, in low box, hoping ground conditions will improve. But they don’t. I get out and walk a few hundred yards to assess the way ahead and if anything the ruts are getting deeper. I don’t want to risk getting stuck, because I’m travelling alone, so reluctantly I turn back.
I rejoin the same lane a couple of miles further along and, thankfully, it hasn’t sustained any tractor damage, so I get to enjoy a pleasant drive through the green countryside. On my way to my next lane, I get great views across the valley, where the green is punctuated by the bright yellow of fields of rape in full bloom. It looks stunning on a bright, sunny day with the deep blue sky acting as a counterpoint.
The next lane runs along the edge of a wood before opening out into open countryside again – this time at the top of a hill, with more panoramic views to be enjoyed. There isn’t another soul in sight; no vehicles; not even a plane in the sky. I’ve no doubt we’re being watched from the trees by the creatures of the night – deer and badgers – who you seldom see in broad daylight. What we do see, though, are the first butterflies of the year, orange tips and brimstones, fluttering along the wayside, where bluebells and cowslips are growing in profusion. Later in the year, the rare and elusive purple emperor butterfly will put in a regal appearance. It’s Britain’s second-biggest butterfly and by far the most majestic, often flying as powerfully as a small bird (you can actually hear its wings beat). If you’re very lucky, this is the place to see it, although that won’t be for another couple of months.
On the other side of the wood stands the ruins of an unfinished hunting lodge. It was never completed because its builder got involved in the Gunpowder Plot. That was in 1605. I doubt if this view has changed at all in the four centuries that have passed since then.
Just up the road there’s another lane to explore… and beyond that another… but they can wait for another day. In my corner of the world, I’m happy to slow down; after all, I’ve got a whole summer of greenlaning fun ahead.