Whose woods these are I think I know.   
His house is in the village though;   
He will not see me stopping here   
To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

My little horse must think it queer   
To stop without a farmhouse near   
Between the woods and frozen lake   
The darkest evening of the year.   

He gives his harness bells a shake   
To ask if there is some mistake.   
The only other sound’s the sweep   
Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   
But I have promises to keep,   
And miles to go before I sleep,   
And miles to go before I sleep.

– Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening – by Robert Frost

Much of life in the UK, or in Surrey anyway, hints at my childhood home in upstate New York – especially how green everything is, the rolling wooded hills, and the surrounding farm and pasture land. Moving here was a leaving to return home. A much older home. Although Western NY has an ancient history of its own, including the proud Iroquois tribes, England’s history is far more tangible. The landscape here holds fast the shape of ancient and modern peoples alike. From the neolithic burial mound on top of the Nower to the drovers roads in Abinger to the WWII pillboxes along the North Downs Way, I can feel the ghosts of the past by my side as I ramble.

No time of year is better suited for a walk with a ghostly companion than winter.

My favorite American authors have followed me here, or rather, I followed them. Robert Frost and Washington Irving (writers so American they sneezed apple pie) wrote their best works under the spell cast by England. “The Road Not Taken” was based on a walk Frost took with Edward Thomas in the English countryside. Irving’s beloved characters Ichabod Crane and Rip Van Winkle were dreamt up in this lovely country. In fact, Dickens’ depiction of Christmas in his writing was inspired by Irving’s! I can’t help but feel the same passion for this landscape as these authors did. I can’t take a step without one of their verses springing to mind, keeping them with me as I walk.

Winter is the time of silent noise in the woods and hills. The bare trees allow sound to travel quite some distance from its source making the creak of a limb sound closer than it is. Yet the sounds of winter are paradoxically muted by the mists that blanket the hills. A walk early in the day leaves one feeling alone, isolated yet stalked by their own frosty steps. The frozen ground feels like volcanic rock beneath stiff boots. A distracted mind is split between finding steady footing and the beauty of frosted branches. Winter itself is a contradiction, being simultaneously dead but ready to spring forth with new life!

As a teenager I would wait for a heavy snowstorm to trudge out into the woods. With the snowfall so thick that visibility was limited to two or three meters, I would do my best to get lost; to lose my bearings until I was truly wandering aimlessly amongst the trees. In those moments, my experience, my view, my hearing, my thoughts were my own. No one else in the world shared that time and space with me. Sitting on a fallen tree, I would listen to the sound of snow settling around me. Covered in snow myself, I was absorbed into the landscape.

While rambling in England, it is difficult to be alone for long. The Surrey Hills are popular with walkers and I am frequently met by fellow wanderers. Please do not mistake me, I enjoy sharing the footpaths with others. I like a quick chat, a “Hello,” “Good day,” “Beautiful day for it,” from like minded folk. Even if there isn’t anyone out and about while I am, there is always the remembrance of those who came before me; those whose feet created the path and those whose keep it open. I walk with the ghosts of the past and I help keep the legacy of it for the future. I hope some future walker will allow me to join them a hundred years from now.

21 Apr – 6 Miles

The valley was carpeted in gold
And fresh green of new leafed trees
Framed the crops, food for bees.

Man and nature,
Beautiful mixture,
A wonder to behold.

The English landscape has been shaped by humans for millennia. Although once completely wooded, humans cleared trees from the North Downs to provide pasture for their livestock. While this work changed the natural landscape, it created a mixed habitat allowing for diverse sets of animals, plants, and insects to make the hills their home. The mix of woodland and open fields allow a walker to encounter many different types of plants and animals on a relatively short walk. Without the balance of human endeavour and nature’s tenacity, the North Downs wouldn’t be as richly romantic as it is.

While you never feel far from civilisation in the Surrey Hills, there is a beautiful sense of space created by the balance of town and country. The towns and villages are shrouded in trees creating a mixed tapestry comprised of the straight lines of buildings and the soft, feathery shapes of trees. One is enriched by the contrast to the other. Often, only rooftops can be seen amongst the greenery in and around towns making the local churches the most prominent features seen from the hillside.

We often think of humanity’s dominance over nature; how we control our environment to suit our needs. Dorking and the Surrey Hills tell me a different story. Denbies Wine Estate is a great example of this. The defined rows of vines are curved by the landscape creating a swell of human order, creating natural buoyancy. The straight poles are far outnumbered by the many twisting trunks of the vines. As much as human design attempts to make everything logical and neat, nature resists and asserts her control over us.

There is something special in the balance I feel when walking in the Surry Hills that I’ve not felt elsewhere. Here, humans don’t seem to be fighting against nature. The AONB protections prevent the hillside from being developed into multimillion pound homes. Vast tracts of woodland aren’t being cut down to make more room for agriculture. The balance created long ago has been maintained. Additionally, the balance between work and play is noticeable. You can get out of the bustling town, into the woods and hills, and back again quickly and easily. If you are lucky enough to live here, this can be done without getting in your car. Even if you live in London, an hour train ride can take you to the foot of Box Hill.

See you out in the hills!

17 Apr 19 – 6 miles

Early Morning Spring Walks

Around Dorking, the winter fog still clings to the hills and valleys on morning walks in springtime. The sun fights against the early morning chill as the cold of Winter fails to recognise the inevitable warmth and lengthening hours of light. Day after day, Winter’s grip of the North Downs is loosened as spring slowly sets the stage for Summer. Every evening, however, Winter returns with the belief that she can hold onto the Surrey Hills and keep it in continual slumber. Neither is willing to surrender and this dance of opposing forces makes for breathtaking views and a unique, ever changing walk experience.

When I first moved to Dorking in the summer of 2016, I was amazed by the sheer amount of green in Surrey. Every break in the trees took my breath away. The hills and valleys were carpeted in jade and emerald. I would wish for clear days so I could see more and more brilliance in the distance. Spring changed that for me. The misty, foggy mornings in spring highlight the layers in the hills, creating distinction between each distant hillside. The depth of the landscape is only clear through the haze.

While the brighter greens of spring are still to come, the hardier grasses and evergreens are strengthened by somber browns and greys of old growth and bare trunks. Birches tipped with pale green provide hope for the English Oaks who are reluctant to show themselves. The staggered bursts of colour in spring make each walk exciting. The lack of foliage also allows the determined spring light to find the forest floor so the Daffodils and Bluebells can have their time in the sun.

Although I’ve walked these trails many times, they continue to surprise me with their depth of character. No two walks I’ve taken have provided me with the same exact views. The movement of the sun, change in weather, and continual growth constantly change the way the land looks and feels. In springtime, the landscape changes, seemingly, by the minute. “How can you go on the same walk over and over and not get bored?” I’ve yet to take the same walk twice.

The British belief in the public’s right of way can be surprising to an American, but it is by far my favourite aspect of living here. These views and experiences are not kept for the few, but are meant to be celebrated by anyone willing to put one foot in front of the other.

See you out in the hills!

I hope you enjoy following my walks!

“I think that I cannot preserve my health and spirits, unless I spend four hours a day at least—and it is commonly more than that—sauntering through the woods and over the hills and fields, absolutely free from all worldly engagements.”  Henry David Thoreau