Having said in a recent blog post that “I tend not to write that often about walks around our local patch”, this is now the second such post in the space of a few days.
The climate of the UK is sometimes described as temperate; an odd word to choose when you consider how volatile it can be, even within the space of a single day. It didn’t feel particularly temperate this afternoon; decidedly nippy in fact. Then again, we’re into December and we were walking today at approximately 52.5º north: it’s an interesting thing this latitude lark; interesting and, up to a point, relevant.
Taking a line of latitude from your own locality and extending it east or west throws up some interesting revelations. Take 52.5º north, just as an illustration…
Extend the 52.5º line in an easterly direction and you’ll find it passes no more than 70 miles south of Hamburg (a notoriously parky place at this time of year), about 100 miles south of the Baltic coast, right through Poznan, and north of Warsaw; indeed north of about half of Poland – a country famed for its bitterly cold winters.
Swing round 180º and stretch the line out west: Canada’s southern border mostly follows the line of the 49th parallel, so every one of the North American states, apart from Alaska, lies well to the south. The 52.5º line passes through Newfoundland and Labrador, The Hudson Bay, then the gulf of Alaska before reaching the Bering Sea.
That’s where we are in the world, and even allowing for the fact that there’s more to it than just latitude – continental land masses; oceanic drifts and currents; prevailing winds – there’s no escaping the fact that, come winter, this far north it’s sometimes going to get cold, dark and a bit hostile. Easy to see on a globe; it can sometimes get a bit lost on a flat wall map projection.
We took the path from National Trust visitor centre car park, and immediately negotiated the first difficulty – resisting the temptation to abandon the walk and substitute a cup of coffee and a slice of cake. Having crossed the top of the nearest (Clent) hill, we dropped down, via a slightly circuitous route, into St Kenelm’s pass, which runs between the two main hills, and made our way up and across Walton Hill; fingers belatedly becoming warm on the steepish ascent through the woods.
And that was pretty much it: with the light already fading, we returned to the visitor centre to complete a short, uncomplicated circuit, having paused only for photographs. At the high point we’d just about reached the 1000 foot mark; these hills don’t go much above that – 1037 feet is the absolute top, although there’s nothing higher for over 20 miles in any direction.