The Knepp Rewilding Project

Arable and dairy farming on the Knepp Estate in rural Sussex used to be very much like that on most other farms in the land; an unremitting struggle to increase yields and maximise profits. But in these South Downs chalklands it wasn't working, no matter how much artificial fertiliser and insecticide was ploughed and sprayed onto the uncooperative land. As the new millennium dawned, with their tenant farmers quitting and debts spiralling out of control, Isabella Tree and her husband Sir Charles Burrell decided to turn back the clock and revert to less intensive farming practices. Hundreds of acres of the estate were allowed to 'rewild' – to return to their natural state.

Unwittingly, we had chosen to holiday in an AirBnB converted barn on the Knepp estate, adjacent to some of the now redundant farm buildings. Jane, our host, enthused about the rewilding project, and lent us a map of the estate and a copy of Isabella Tree's book.

It's still possible to discern signs of former farming practices but gradually, over much of the estate, nature is taking over.  To quote from the Knepp website:

Using grazing animals as the drivers of habitat creation, and with the restoration of dynamic, natural water courses, the project has seen extraordinary increases in wildlife. Extremely rare species like turtle doves, nightingales, peregrine falcons and purple emperor butterflies are now breeding here; and populations of more common species are rocketing.

There are several tree platforms on the estate.  The kid in me was keen to climb them all...

though there wasn't always a lot to see from the top. In truth, I lack the patience to stand quietly and wait for birds and animals to arrive. There were always more trees to climb and a walk to complete.

In one corner of the estate, and close to the busy A24, stand the remains of Knepp Castle, which has a dark history. The landowner, William de Braose III, was a trusted friend of King John. In 1208 the infamous king confiscated the lands and castle at Knepp, captured and killed de Braose and starved his wife to death. He then used the land as his personal hunting estate.

Ironically, with deer and boar* proliferating, the estate is once more ripe for hunting. Thankfully, though, no power-crazed king passes this way any more, and on this sunny Sunday a peace-loving Angie was the castle's sole resident.

Due to my questionable map reading skills, we found ourselves on a footpath outside the Knepp estate as we made our way towards the little village of Shipley. Interestingly, on one side of the path the fields here too were lying fallow. Butterflies and wild flowers have triumphed. 

In Shipley stood an old windmill, bearing silent testimony the time when wheat stood tall in the fields around here. Now it's left to farmers in more productive areas to bring the harvest home.


* Talking to a resident of the estate, I gathered that Knepp's boar are genuine 'wild' ones, not the half-bred, farmed variety that reproduce in abundance and have become such a headache in the Forest of Dean.

6.2 miles

The Puddingstone of Penallt

This walk came about as a result of my post a couple of weeks ago about The Suckstone and Near Harkening Rock. In it, I mentioned that the rocks there were formed from a quartz conglomerate called Puddingstone, and that set me wondering whether there were any more outcrops of puddingstone in the Wye Valley.

An Internet search returned a link to this leaflet. It was produced by the Wye Valley Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty Unit (a nice snappy title!) in 2012 and describes an interesting short walk, with a couple of possible extensions. Thanks to the good people of the Wye Valley AONB unit, I now know that Penallt was once famous for its millstones and cider presses, made from hard, abrasive puddingstone. The leaflet also informed me that the area was once rich in cider orchards.

No better cider does the world supply
than grows along thy borders, gentle Wye.

Checking out which of the pubs would be best for lunch, I discovered that The Inn at Penallt no longer functions as a pub, so the leaflet needs to be renamed Puddingstones and A Pub.

This is The Boat Inn, where they have been serving ale – and doubtless cider too – since 1650. Access from the English side of the river is via Penallt Viaduct, that used also to carry trains until the railway closed in 1964.

How's this for a drinks board?  – two ales and ten ciders!  I chose half a pint of Rosie's Pig to go with my tuna and baked potato. Very tasty it was, too; not too sweet and not the slightest bit fizzy. (That's the cider, by the way, not the baked potato.) Just the way I like it.

It was time to seek out a few millstones. Guided by the walk leaflet, I made my way downstream.

It's hard to imagine, but this was once a tow-path, used for pulling trows (shallow-drafted sailing boats) up the river. I had to battle the undergrowth in several places and congratulated myself on choosing long trousers to wear. 

According to the leaflet, there should be some millstones around here that literally 'missed the boat' and ended up in the river.

Ah!  Fishermen in these parts must have tired of people disturbing their solitude in search of millstones. But the fisherman's hut, high on the bank, stood empty and there was no-one else around...

... so down I went – and there indeed were some of Penallt's puddingstone millstones. How sad, though, to think of how they had been quarried, crafted and brought down to the Wye, only to miss the boat and lie here for the next 150 years.

On the way back I noticed a couple more millstones in the water.  This time I was a good girl and photographed them from the footpath.

It was a steep, steep climb from the river, through Indian Country to the next 'point of interest' on the trail. 

This is the Prisk Wood nature reserve.

Prisk Wood hides a maze of abandoned millstone quarry workings. You don't have to look far before you find evidence of this hidden industry.

The leaflet was clearly written by an enthusiast! Try as I might, it was an industry that remained 'hidden' from me. All I could find was a lot of green stuff, so I retraced my steps to the road, which went up, up, up... and up some more. In the rising heat of a sunny day I cursed those long trousers...

then was grateful for them once more, as I threaded my way through Pen-twyn and back to the Wye Valley. Nettles and brambles in combination – Ouch!  Around these parts they once grew cider apples in abundance; they even baptized babies in cider. What a great way to start life!

They still do grow apples in the Wye Valley and, for all I know, still turn it into cider.  This is Mill Bank Farm

4½ miles

Will I do this walk again? Maybe not. The Wye Valley was as lovely as ever, and discovering traces of long-lost industry always fascinates me. However, that long, long climb up to Pen-twyn, most of it by road, was a disappointment, not least because there wasn't much to see at the top... well not now that the pub up there has closed. Moreover, millstone spotters are clearly not welcome by some of the fishing fraternity.  And who can blame them?

On the other hand, that half pint of cider at The Boat was excellent! The temptation to work my way down the list is hard to resist.