Monks Brook Meadows revisited

Back in the summer of 2018, when I was having regular torture sessions at The Running School, I often walked across Monks Brook Meadows to Stoneham Lane. It was a place I discovered, back in April 2015, on a nature and history walk organised by a local councillor. Finding this wonderful alternative to walking along Wide Lane felt like a huge bonus, and I took advantage of it regularly. Even in 2018, I knew things were about to change, and I suspected not for the better. On 20 April 2022, Commando had a session at the Running School. It was a beautiful sunny day, so I went along to have a walk while he was being beasted. I hadn’t walked that way since late summer 2019 when Kim and I were training for the Clarendon Marathon, so I was interested to see what had changed.

As soon as I walked under the motorway bridge, I realised almost everything had. Huge signs, a car park, and several goal posts had replaced the open field I used to cross. For those who enjoy a game of football, this might seem like a good thing. Lovers of nature, not so much. Thankfully, the gate and the footpath running along the side of the field were still there. At least this meant I’d still be able to use the meadows to get from A to B, although I would much rather walk across the fields than squeeze between brambles, trees and a rickety old fence.

As it was, they had cut some trees down, which did, at least, give me a view across the fields from time to time. When I saw the lovely old oak tree I’d sat beneath on previous walks, I felt a pang of regret that I’d never have the chance to sit there again. At least it was still there, though. I’d been worried they might have cut it down.

It wasn’t long before I discovered the fence had fallen down in places, too. This left a steep drop to a trickle of a stream, choked with brambles, saplings and discarded rubbish. When they built the new playing fields and car parks, it is a pity they didn’t spend a little time and effort maintaining the footpath. Sadly, footpaths often seem to be neglected, probably because they don’t make any money for anyone.

I suppose I should be grateful that it hadn’t become completely overgrown and some of the fence was still standing. Someone had even put some gravel on parts of it. It didn’t take long to reach the far end of the footpath, but it was far from the pleasant stroll it used to be. Still, I had great plans for the rest of the walk, and I was sure I would enjoy it.

Before I left the field, I couldn’t resist a quick peek at the slope I used to walk up. They had fenced part of it off, but it looked as if I could still have walked that way had I been prepared to risk being challenged. I doubt I will ever bother. Walking across a car park wouldn’t be the same as strolling over a nice open field. So I strode through the tunnel under Stoneham Way onto Monks Brook Meadows. The plan was to cross the meadows, follow Monks Brook back to Mansbridge and walk home. If I pushed my pace, I might even get back before Commando finished at The Running School.

I could have taken the trail that skirts the edge of the field, but I decided on the more direct route across the meadow. I wanted to make the most of the clear blue sky and sunshine. Of course, this meant climbing the steep and, as it turned out, rather muddy slope. It was not one of my best decisions. Halfway up, my feet slipped on the mud, and I ended up with a closer look at the ground than expected, along with scrazed palms. There may have been a few unladylike words uttered.

The view from the top almost made up for my muddy knees, sore hands and loss of dignity. The rough meadows, all clumps of grass and bare-branched trees, were bathed in golden sunlight. A few fluffy, cotton wool clouds added interest to the clear blue sky, and if I ignored the hum of the motorway, I could almost imagine I was in the countryside. According to the old OS maps, other than a cluster of houses on the corner of Wide Lane and Channels Farm, this was all countryside until the early 1930s.

On the other side of the meadow, I carefully picked my way down the gravel bank towards the metal bridge. It’s a bit of a utilitarian thing, and I’d prefer something wooden and rustic, but it does the job, so I can’t complain. The view from the bridge was breathtaking. The glorious light and the still water created stunning reflections of the sky and trees. Despite the challenge I’d set myself, I paused and drank in the beauty.

On the far side of the bridge, I was met by a sea of thick, gloopy mud between me and the next part of the trail. After one step, it became clear that I would not make it across. My feet sank in, and I almost overbalanced. Maybe if I’d had walking poles or something to hold on to, I might have stood a chance. Even then, I’d probably have lost a boot.

I didn’t want to turn back, but this was definitely not the way forward. I knew there was another narrow trail closer to the bank. I headed for it, feeling hopeful. It was muddy but not nearly as bad as the mud I’d just left behind. There were clear footprints. Someone had used it recently, by the look of it. It all looked hopeful until just before I reached the tiny tributary. The area was flooded. Someone had laid some logs across the floodwater, but they didn’t look stable, and I’d have had to leap over the water to get onto them. I might have tried climbing the bank and getting onto the bridge that way, but it was muddy too, and one slip would have sent me into the brook. In January, a swim in the brook, even on a sunny day, would not have been a good plan.

I stood there for some time, weighing up my options. In the end, I decided it wasn’t worth the risk. If I got across, there was nothing to say there wouldn’t be worse floods or more mud further along. If I couldn’t get through, I’d have to come back and negotiate this obstacle from the other side. Whatever way I looked at it, it was a recipe for disaster.

There was nothing for it but to turn back. Some things are just not meant to be, and when it come to walks, mud is usually behind my disappointments, especially in January.

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