The holiday that changed me ‘I got my bearings on the Downs’

A geometry lesson and a compass set Ray Mears on the path to a career in adventure and travel One too many glares at my unruly brood from locals in French bistros has put me off ever going back, says Georgina Fuller

It was the way it shimmered, and danced, and moved as if by magic – I was completely entranced by the needle on the compass. And I still am. I was only 11 at the time, and my parents had given me this beautiful, silver Polaris compass for Christmas, along with the local Ordnance Survey map for the area where we lived, around Surrey. I pored over the map until I found a spring, about 12 miles from my house, and I set out to fill my water bottle from it.

Twelve miles may not sound much for a life-altering voyage – you could probably drive it in 10 minutes if you wanted to – but for an 11-year-old, on his own, that was quite an expedition. It’s also worth remembering, since we have been largely restricted to strolls around the park or our local area, that getting out into any green space can be really important for our mental well-being. I’ve spent most of my life in big wildernesses, but an afternoon walk from your front door can be as much of an adventure as a trek across the Red Centre of Australia (although that drive north from Adelaide is amazing).

I was very lucky as a child, because when I was in school we had a really gifted maths teacher. He came in one day, drew a map on the blackboard and said: “This is an island. And here’s another island. I need to sail my yacht from here to there. How am I going to do it?”

And he started to teach us geometry by teaching navigation. That laid the groundwork for my spatial awareness – understanding angles and bearings – and it sparked my interest in navigation, so that’s what I wanted to do that day with my new compass: find my own way to this natural spring on the North Downs.

It was a long day, and I remember I got badly stung because the spring turned out to be surrounded by lots of very big nettles, which sadly don’t show up on

OS maps – but it didn’t feel like a long day, because I succeeded. I had this great sense of purpose, of adventure, of achievement. It was a wonderful trip, and that spring water, coming up through the chalk of the Downs, was the most delicious thing I had ever drunk. It was sweet and cool and refreshing – I can taste it now! – and that spring is probably just as clear and fresh today.

Britain’s full of springs and holy wells and all sorts of magical places to top up your water bottle: obviously, if you’re downstream and the water’s been exposed to potential pathogens like the classic “dead sheep upriver”, then you need to purify it, but you can do that just by boiling for a minute.

Britain really is a beautiful country, but I’m not one of those who says you should never get on a plane and go abroad. I make no concessions to the carbon issues, because I believe travel is really important for conservation. Many of the world’s nature reserves depend on visitors to fund their efforts, and it’s understandable that people care more about protecting things that they’ve seen with their own eyes. So if you’re very keen on nature, and you’ve never been on a safari, go on a safari!

I was in China’s Qinghai province last year, tracking snow leopards, and even after all these years and all I’ve learnt, I came back with a new respect for them. They have this incredible camouflage, the most impressive of any land mammal, which is perhaps why their nickname is “the grey ghost”. But the other thing that’s kept them alive is that the people who live alongside them are mostly Buddhists, who won’t kill them.

I’m not suggesting compulsory Buddhism for everyone on the planet, but I do think the rest of us need to learn that same level of respect for wildlife, and that’s more likely if we travel and see the world.

It’s a long way from the Himalayas to the North Downs, but it all started with that afternoon excursion and that water bottle. Above all, my first trip showed me the importance of a map and compass – and it’s where I fell in love with them. I’m just as thrilled today as that very first time I watched the needle swing to the strange, invisible, enchanted force of nature and allowed me to find my way with it. Don’t get me wrong: my Garmin GPS is brilliant. But I’m sorry, I’ll never find it as enthralling as a simple compass needle.

Actually, I’ve often said the compass is the key to the wilderness; and in my case that’s true, almost literally, because that one set me on the road that eventually led all the way to those snow leopards. Sometimes I drive along the M25 and I pass near where I found that spring – and I still feel that tingle of excitement…

As told to Ed Grenby

We Are Nature by Ray Mears (RRP £20) is out now. Buy for £16.99 at books.telegraph.co.uk or call 0844 871 1514.

I don’t know about you but I’ve found the Facebook “memories” feature bittersweet this past year. It provides snapshots of the life we lived and a tantalising glimpse of our post-pandemic future.

A picture of my children standing over a giant chessboard in a square during one of our holidays in France popped up the other day. It’s a lovely photo, taken in Monflanquin, one of the beautiful Bastide towns in Aquitaine, where my late mum and her husband had a house. It was taken during a summer festival when the town would be full of people enjoying a petit glass of Pernod.

Then I remembered that although the picture may have looked idyllic on Instagram, the reality was far from it. Spending our summers marching three sweaty kids around France was not without its challenges.

Eating at the local bistro was, for example, a potential minefield. Most restaurants didn’t open till 7pm, by which time the children were starving. And there was no such things as a kids’ menu for our little plebs, so they mostly ended up stuffing their faces with bread.

I don’t miss the tutting of middle-aged French women glaring at my unruly brood. I remember one giving us so many filthy looks that I went over to ask, politely, if there was anything wrong.

I once told a French entrepreneur how judged I often felt. He said that as a child, he and his two brothers had been ostensibly repressed, and that he felt this stored up issues later on. He believed the British way of parenting, where children have carte blanche to express themselves (within reason), was healthier in the long run.

Subsequent family holidays in Holland, Ibiza and Portugal have been blissful, by contrast. There are things I miss about France,

There was no such thing as a kids’ menu for our little plebs

of course. My mum’s lovely farmhouse; the charming baker who put aside warm croissants for us every morning; the Bergerac rosé, the colour of rubies. But my days of being a Francophile are pretty much over.

Overseas holidays are currently subject to restrictions. See Page 3.

g Cool Downs: the North Downs in Surrey, where Ray Mears set out as an 11-year-old to find a freshwater spring h Tread carefully: sightseeing with children in France has its challenges