Use them or lose them – cherish our rights of way

Lockdown has inspired many folk to get out and explore areas closer to home on foot. Gayle rediscovers – and then clears – an old right of way

Weekends before lockdown were a very different kettle of fish – for me, at least. Mine would often be planned around going for walks somewhere reasonably far away, whether the Angus Glens, the Cairngorms or further afield.

Now, with driving reduced to an absolute minimum (I haven’t filled up with fuel since March), I’ve found myself exploring areas closer to home on foot.

I’m lucky to live in the countryside, so there’s plenty of scope to roam for miles without bumping into people.

On one of my recent rambles, I noticed a rusty metal gate entwined with honeysuckle and the cogs in my brain started to tick.

Could I squeeze through this gate? And if I managed to do so, what would be on the other side?

After a few preliminary shoves and heaves, I realised the gate wasn’t going to budge; it clearly hadn’t budged for years.

However, I managed to scale a crumbling dry stane dyke that ran alongside it without too much trouble.

Negotiating huge clumps of prickly gorse, I found myself in uncharted territory, I spent a good hour exploring a strip of woodland, discovering a dilapidated shooting hut and enjoying lovely views across fields and moorland.

This “new” walk triggered off a childhood memory of another lovely route just a few fields away.

I hadn’t been along this old right of way for decades but I was among a group of people who helped clear it – and made it accessible – back in the 90s.

The route, which skirts a moss, was

thecouriermagazine originally used by kids walking to school and families heading to church.

When the school closed and there was an easier way to reach the church by car, the moss soon became a dumping ground for old vehicles, fridges and cookers in the 50s, 60s and 70s.

Evidence of this is in abundance, with rusting electrical goods and cars and rotting wooden carts rearing up out of the ground as if in protest.

When we turned up to clear the track in the 90s, as well as noting all the stuff that had been dumped, we found it was completely overgrown and pretty much impassable.

The pink spikes of rosebay willowherb towered over us, the flowers puffing their fluffy seeds into our faces when we brushed against them, and of course, gorse bushes with their nasty spikes, were there in all their glory.

Over the course of a few weekends, around 10 of us got to work with shears, clippers, scythes and saws and completely cleared it.

The track once again became a great place to walk, although with rabbit holes galore, you had to keep your wits about you.

What state would this old right of way be in now, I wondered? There was only one way to find out.

Armed with an assortment of tools, I headed to the entrance. Gazing down the winding route, it seemed a daunting task.

It was too early in the year to be covered with rosebay willowherb, but thick swatches of gorse and broom dominated, plus a few fallen trees were blocking the way.

Venturing on to the track, I wished I’d worn thicker trousers as the gorse prickled painfully through the pathetically thin pair I was sporting.