Quobb Lane and Men of the Trees

24 January 2017

The icy cold continued into the week so, not wishing to loose any appendages to frostbite, I decided on a shorter walk than normal today. For a while I’ve been meaning to check out the cemetery at Quobb Lane and today seemed like the day for it.  With the weather and the conditions underfoot fairly unpredictable, I’d plotted a few alternative circular routes so CJ and I could make a descision based on what we found. 

Things weren’t too bad as we headed up West End Road but I was a little worried Chalk Hill might be a different story. If it was icy we might have to abandon the whole idea there and then. It is not a hill you want to walk down in the ice for sure. As it was, apart from a few small, icy puddles, it wasn’t too bad. Half way down we stopped to look towards the airport where the runway was almost obscured by mist.

In a garden near the bottom we found buds on the daffodils. This time last year they were in full flower. Luckily, this year they have more sense, or the frost and ice would have surely put paid to them by now. At the very bottom we stopped for the obligatory photograph of the thatched cottage and a look back up the hill, thankful we’d be avoiding it on the way back.

Once we’d crossed the road we headed off into new territory. Many times I’ve passed Barbe Baker Avenue and once or twice I’ve even crossed it, heading from Hatch Grange to Hatch Farm, but I’ve never walked along it until today. The avenue is named after Richard St. Barbe Baker, forester, environmentalist and author, who was born in West End in 1889.

The avenue is long, winding and lined with trees. This seems a fitting tribute to St. Barbe Baker who devoted his life studying forests and encouraging people to plant trees. As a young man, his interest in nature led him to Canada, where he worked as a missionary. It was here that he began to develop his theories about deforestation and soil erosion. After serving in the Royal Horse Artillery in World War I, he studied forestry at Cambridge. From there he went to Kenya where he founded Watu wa Miti, an organisation to carry out managed reforestation of the area.

Watu wa Miti was the foundation stone of his international organisation, Men of the Trees. The organisation grew and, eventually, there were chapters in over one hundred countries, responsible for planting more than twenty six million trees around the world. In 1982, just days before he died, he planted his last tree in the grounds of the University of Saskatchewan,

Before long we were passing the spot where we’d crossed the road from Hatch Grange to Hatch Farm. Through the roadside trees we could see into the park. The avenue of limes we’d walked along in October are now all leafless and a light haze of mist clung in the grassy dip.  Opposite, the gate into Hatch Farm looked enticingly sunny but we passed it by, albeit with slight regret.

Several side roads lead off of Barbe Baker Avenue, each named for trees. We smiled as we passed Redwood Close, Hickory Gardens, Larch Close, Lime Gardens, Chestnut Close, Hornbeam Gardens and Elm Gardens. Along the way there were a few tempting footpaths I’d like to have explored. No doubt St. Barbe Baker would have approved of the names but, as each little street must have meant cutting down trees to build the houses, I’m not so sure he’d have been entirely happy.

A little robin sang to us from the hedgerow as we passed and we stopped for a quick photo. Shortly after, when we passed Holly Gardens, I was sure we were close to Quobb Lane. Now all we had to do was find the entrance to the cemetery.

As it’s happened, this was easier than expected. No sooner had we reached the roundabout and turned onto Quobb Lane, than we spotted the bridge over the motorway and a sign pointing us towards the cemetery gates. For once it looked as if we might get away without getting lost.

The cemetery is a modern one, consecrated in 1992 when the Old West End Burial Ground became full, so we knew there wouldn’t be any interesting old graves. Even so, the woodland setting made me think it was worth a look. Pretty soon we came to a set of cast iron gates and a sign that told us we were in the right place. On the other side a lovely tree lined lane led us to another set of gates. These were closed and, for a moment, it looked as if we might not be able to get inside after all.

When we got up to the gates we discovered they weren’t locked. In fact they were beautifully decorated by a dew covered spider’s web and a copper coloured oak leaf. Inside we found a very neat and tidy cemetery, much as we’d expected. It’s a far cry from the cemeteries we normally wander around, with fallen stones and worn away inscriptions. If I’m honest, it was a little too manicured for my liking.

The graves seemed to be decidedly lacking in interesting stories, although I did see my first Yin Yang sign on a grave stone. The little memorial garden was pretty, with a bin that was cunningly disguised as a beehive, and we did find some unusual memorials to make us smile so it wasn’t an entirely fruitless visit.

With everything so neat and clean, it didn’t take us long to walk around and we were soon heading back towards the gate. Now we had to decide on our return route.
“We could cross the motorway bridge and head along Quobb Lane,” I told CJ. “There was once an ack ack gun site there, but I doubt there’s anything left to see now. At least I couldn’t see any sign on Google Maps. Or we could try the trail that runs alongside the cemetery, I’m not entirely sure where that leads though so we could end up lost. We could head back down Gaters Hill and along the river. Then again we could go back through Hatch Grange and along Church Hill, or we could explore one of the footpaths we passed?”
“Hmm,” said CJ, scratching his head. “That’s a lot of choices.”
Obviously, it wasn’t going to be an easy decision.

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