Winnall Moors, giants, runners and walking in circles

3 September 2017

In the end I couldn’t resist going through the gate although I did stop to check the strange sculpture of the man from the other side just in case he held some kind of notice. He didn’t because he was actually the giant from the Winnall Moors Story Book not a guard at all but, of course, I didn’t know that at the time. 

The other side of the gate was a complete contrast to the shady trail overhung with trees I’d been walking so far. Here the gravel path ran in a gentle curve through swaying reeds and I had an unimpeded view of the landscape around me. The river flowed to my left with water meadows on the far bank. The next rustic bench was more like the ones on the Navigation than those I’d seen so far. It had no carvings. These things combined to make me feel as if I’d stepped from one world to another. The feeling of trespassing was very strong and I was convinced the gate had been left open by mistake.

Sooner or later I was sure I’d be caught and would have to explain myself but, until then, I was determined to enjoy my walk. There were cows grazing on the water meadow just as there would have been back in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries when these were floated water meadows. In fact the water I was looking at may have had it origins in the Itchen but the stream was so straight I was sure it was one of the ditches dug to drown the meadows. Back then there would have been sluices to open to flood the fields and provide early grass for the animals to graze.

The path curved sharply around to the right and, as I spotted another rustic bench, I heard footsteps on the gravel. Moments later, a woman in running gear appeared round the bend and, almost as a reflex, I moved to the side of the path. She passed me with a wave of thanks. It seemed I couldn’t get away from runners no matter where I went and I wondered if she was training for the Winchester Half Marathon? If I really was trespassing at least I wasn’t alone. Somehow this made me feel better.

When she’d gone I turned my attention back to the bench. This one was inscribed The Giant’s Bench, Danemark Mead and Colbrand. Local legend has it that King Athelstan watched Guy of Warwick kill the Danish giant Colbrand at Danemark Mead, thus saving Winchester from the invading northern kings. The meadow in question was outside the north wall of the city on land belonging to Hyde Abbey just like this meadow. Perhaps they were one and the same and maybe the giant guarding the gate was actully Colbrand.

On I went, thinking about giants and battles as the path curved back on itself. Now I was walking south towards the city rather than northwards away from it. The water to my left looked like the River Itchen rather than a canal dug to flood the meadows. There wasn’t time to think about this though because three male runners were speeding towards me. Once again I stepped aside and once again they thanked me as they passed. 

I’d barely got going again when another couple of men ran past and, a little way behind was another.  Maybe they were all training for the Winchester Half or maybe they were all part of a running club out on a Sunday run? Whichever it was I hoped there weren’t too many of them because the path was narrow.

The last man sped off into the distance and I began walking again.  The rain was getting harder but there were loostrife growing on the riverbank and I stopped to take a photo. When I straightened up the woman who’d passed me earlier was coming towards me again. Whoever all these runners were they were obviously running laps and, if I didn’t get off this path soon all the men would be coming round again.

Soon after this I came to another gate. Thankfully it was open. On the other side I found I was back in the shelter of the trees again which was a relief with the rain getting ever harder. It was also something of a relief to know I was no longer trespassing, if I ever had been.

A few yards after the gate, I came to a boardwalk snaking away to my right. This, I was pretty sure, was the other end of the boardwalk I’d passed earlier, the one that would act as a short cut to avoid walking through the meadow beyond the gates. Once again I had a descision to make. If I took the boardwalk I’d end up doubling back on myself but it might mean I’d avoid the runners coming round on their next lap. Then again, the runners could be running the other way along the boardwalk, in which case, there wouldn’t be much room to move aside to let them past. For a while I stood in the shelter of the trees and dithered. In the end I decided not to take the boardwalk. On the gravel path I’d at least have room to let the runners past if they were coming that way.

Still unsure if I was making the right descion, I carried on. The path curved to the left, following the meandering river. As I reached the apex of the bend I saw three things simultaneously, another boardwalk, a double bench and another female runner coming towards me along the path. Obviously the runners weren’t using the boardwalk after all. I made a split second descion and scooted off to the right onto the boardwalk. Wherever it led me I was fairly sure it wouldn’t have runners on it.

It didn’t take long to work out that this boardwalk was a dead end, but an interesting one nonetheless. It led to some of the old hatches used to drown the water meadows and was a beautiful little oasis of wild flowers and greenery. For a while I walked up and down taking photos of the plants and the fast flowing water. If it hadn’t been for the runner I might never have seen it.

Finally back on the path again with no runners in sight I stopped to take a photo looking along the river from the apex of the bend. The clear water was rippled by raindrops and the banks were bursting with life, grasses, reeds, trees and flowers all sparkling in the rain. It was such a beautiful sight I was reluctant to move on but I couldn’t stand there all day getting wet.

A minute or two later, by another rustic bench, the trail curved right, away from the river, and the gravel path gave way to a boardwalk across the reedbeds. This time there was no alternative. If the runners hadn’t finished their laps I might be in trouble. The boardwalk was narrow and the ground beside it boggy to say the least. There wasn’t much room for manoeuvre.

Part of me wanted to hurry in case more runners came past but there was such a wealth of plant life I found myself dawdling instead, stopping every few minutes to take photos. The water meadows here were always used for grazing and were never ploughed, fertilised or treated with chemicals so the plant life is abundant and richly varied. This would be a fantastic place to come to watch the seasons and the plants change.

Towards the end the ground went from boggy to downright wet but I never did see any more runners so I made it to the far end without getting my feet wet. It didn’t take a map to tell me I was back on the path where I started out.  The stagnant brown pond filled with trees and the masses of Michaelmas daisies told me which way to go.

There were things I didn’t see on my first pass though. One tree was riddled with holes and strewn with sawdust sprinkled cobwebs. When I looked more closely I noticed rows of paper thin, dried out fungi also filled with minute holes, almost skeletonised. Whatever was eating the tree also seemed to be eating the fungi growing on it. What or who the culprit was I couldn’t tell..

Something else I didn’t see earlier was a strange mosaic stone half concealed by nettles. It was very similar to the Swan Steps so must have been part of the sculpture trail. Seeing it made me wonder how many other things I’d missed along the way?

Soon enough I was back at the bench where I’d sat at the start. My visit to Winnal Moors was all but over. The place had been so magical and filled with interesting things I’d lost all sense of time. When I glanced at my watch I was surprised to find it was little more than an hour since I’d stood on City Bridge wondering where to go. Commando would be running for at least two hours, probably two and a half by the time he got back to the car. Time to sit back down and think about what to do next then.

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