Today I took a walk around Boxford which will soon be appearing in a leaflet about walks in the area, part of the “Discover Suffolk” series, published by Suffolk County Council and the Parish Councils. The series is aimed at encouraging visitors to explore the lesser known treasures of this region on foot, rather than dashing through in their cars to the more celebrated Sunrise Coast.
Unfortunately, despite being officially designated an area with a special kind of beauty worth preserving, some of the land featured in this walk is at risk of being submerged beneath huge, plastic netting cages, metres high. It seems beyond belief that a protected landscape can be despoliated in this way, and many people hope that sense will prevail, but if modern agri-business wins over all other interests, we need to enjoy the beautiful Box Valley while we can.
Starting from Club’s Lane, I took the footpath straight on, past the backs of the houses in Fen Street, and on up the hill. It’s surprising how quickly the built-up area is left behind and the path leads out into open views of autumnal fields, with Boxford church tower in the background.
The footpath continues to the left and over a stile into a field where cattle are often waiting to meet you. I’m trying not to be such a wimp about cows (I tend to change tack instantly and find an alternative route if I look over a stile into a pair of eyes and a headful of horns), but today I braved them. The resident ladies, plus their one very large and rather terrifying chap, were lying in a far corner of the field, sagely contemplating life in general. As a mere passing walker, I was well beneath their notice.
I continued over the next two stiles, through the agricultural machinery yard and out into another field at the top of Cox Hill. Here, there is a wide vista towards Hagmore Green in one direction, Groton and Edwardstone in the other.
At the road, I turned right, then left and down the footpath beside Cox Hill House. There was a pearly, grey light in the sky this morning, with clouds sweeping away towards the horizon, making the distances appear even greater than they really are from this elevated viewpoint.
I followed the path down the hill, right at the bottom and through the woods. The intense green of the leaves here, down by the stream, made a striking contrast with the tawny browns of the dry landscape elsewhere.
Past the pond (which seems, almost miraculously, to have its normal water level), I turned left and up through the Sand Hill field to the A1071. I crossed over and took the path alongside Roylands Lane, ducking under the huge laurel hedge, which also seems to have thrived in the drought and has now outgrown the space.
At the end of the laurel tunnel, the path opens out into another wide view, with Wash Lane to the left and Stone Street all but invisible in the valley. This is one of the views that we may soon have to say goodbye to, despite it being designated a protected view in the Boxford Neighbourhood Plan. Instead of arable fields which could have been painted by Constable, we will see an expanse of black, plastic netting cages, enclosing ranks of wired trees, all in pursuit of the perfect apple for fussy supermarket buyers. We will not be the only losers: the larks that erupt into a skyward frenzy of trilling song when a walker passes here in spring, may be just a memory. Those of us who, like Joni Mitchell, would rather have spots on apples if they leave us the birds and the bees, have started writing angry emails. We hope someone will listen.
At the bottom of the hill, I went over the stile into a field behind Stone Street where horses usually live. Often, the field is boggy at the bottom, but this year, my boots have stayed dry here nearly all summer. There was still enough moisture, however, to keep a clump of wild mint in purple, aromatic flower, adding a dash of unexpected colour and scent.
Out into Stone Street road, I turned right, then took the path to the left of Pippette’s Farm and up the hill. The view from the top, back across the Box Valley, into the Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, is also officially protected; also, possibly, to no avail.
I turned left and down the side of a steep, fallow field, then up the other side towards Hagmore Green. I’ve written about this path before, as the view is one of the finest in our area. Today, a trick of the light made the stubble fields shine out in pale gold, while the trees in the background deepened almost to black, reminders of their winter selves which will soon frame the scene.
I followed the path to Firs Farm, then right and down the grassy, sloping path to a footbridge over a small stream. This is another spot which is often a muddy slog, involving acrobatic hops from one wobbly, firm-ish foothold to the next, hands grabbing for any helpful overhanging branches. Today, it was dry underfoot, but the trees and shrubs had all revelled in the constant supply of water, along with the heat this summer, and had turned the path into a miniature jungle, which I had to beat my way through.
I turned right and followed the path along the bottom of a large potato field. Last time I came this way, I had to wade through chest-high grasses, nettles and hogweed, but today it was easy going on a well-trimmed path, the potato furrows leading the eye up to a high and seemingly far-off horizon on the left. The A1071 runs along the top of this field, but down here in the valley, I felt I could be in the middle of a steppe.
The path eventually leads uphill and to the left, then right just before a high hedge. At the end of the next field, it meets a path on the left which leads back down into Boxford. The path runs along the side of a field with a wild, unkempt feeling, adding to the sense of being in the middle of nowhere, despite the centre of the village being only a stone’s throw away and the A1071 rumbling constantly in the background.
To the right, as you go down the hill, is an ancient hollow way, now impassable and filled with debris of fallen branches, but once a drover’s road, with high sides, formed over hundreds of years by constant trampling of feet and animal hooves down the middle of the track.
At the end of the path, I crossed the A1071. Down School Hill, I was greeted by the familiar shape of the church tower. Just as I was thinking that it’s good some things don’t change, I realised that the clock was missing. Fortunately, it has gone away to be restored with loving care by experts and will come back to us soon, better than ever. If only the same could be true of the Box Valley.
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