Public rights of way and constraints to our freedom
Maybe it’s from being made to stomp around all those National Trust properties and stately homes, so beloved of period dramas, as a child but I have inherited an unhealthy fascination with ownership. For some reason I care about who owns the footprint that marks my way, as I walk towards some distant horizon, although I have occasionally fallen foul of not knowing, whe the delineation was not clear.
I want to know who has the right to stop these feet or any others, from stomping and who has the power to deny access to the undeniably therapeutic and life affirming experience of our natural heritage. For me knowing this, forms an important part of what it means to really engage with nature. Admittedly it also represent my distrust of authority, as manifested by this present Government, with its track record on selling off playing fields and more recently, their attempt to sell off forest land.
It may not enhance my pleasure of Dartmoor to know that Prince Charles (sorry the Duchy of Cornwall) owns half of it, but it does bring a smile to my face whenever I face downwind for an alfresco pee and should he ever decide to create an industrial sized forest of conifers to help pay his tax, I’ll protest with my feet.
Here in Blighty, where trespass laws go back to the Doomsday book, it only takes a wealthy landowner to shout the ‘T’ word, to send us on a long divertionary journey to relocate (guys we’re not lost, we’re just relocating) while blaming the dog for our indiscretion.
Between theft and burglary, theft is seen as the lesser of two evils, precisely because burglary involves the unforgiveable crime of trespass. A thousand years after enclosure changed landscaped and livelihoods, things have improved by some way! But we are still brought up to believe that fenced-off fields are meant to remain as they are. Unquestioning, we pay homage to the stewards, who tend the land in our name, without knowing too much about their actual business. Disobeying a farmer’s sign, is tantamount to treason. But permissive paths can easily be confused with permanent access. They are not the same. They are a voluntary agreement on behalf of the landowner. Sometimes when you look at your map, the little green broken dots that seem to indicate a public path, merely represent the whim of the landowner and do not mean that Joe public has universal access. I took a group of wild runners out near Rattery, where a permissive path marked the way on the map. But access had been removed on appeal, something that doesn’t show up on your OS map, unless it’s very up-to-date. When the farmer appeared over the horizon on his quad bike, we were kindly asked to move off his land, as we scratched our heads and blamed the dogs.
We are lucky to live on an island which is so well endowed with coastal paths, fifteen national parks and a very powerful lobby group for public access, in the Ramblers (formerly known as The Ramblers Association), which helped to pave the way for the 2000 Countryside and Rights of Way Act or CroW. Without them, we would probably still be languishing in an era when the queen’s deer commanded more rights than Joe public and where foraging for food on the wrong land, was an actionable offense. Despite their noble efforts, many people are still unaware of their access rights. Just in case you’re in any doubt, these are the pink or orange bits on your OS 1:25,000 map. The bits that say ‘yes you can come in’ or ‘keep off this grazing patch’.
The pink bits on your map were added in about 2005, the culmination of ooh, around 80 years of campaigning and lobbying. In 1932 six people were sent to jail for leading a mass trespass on Kinder Scout in the Peak District, to protest against the lack of access rights, denied to them by local landowners who thought they knew best. This gave the protesters a lot of public sympathy and brought the campaign for freedom to roam into focus.
In 1997 the new Labour government was elected on a manifesto that included a commitment to introduce legislation, allowing the public freedom to roam on mountain, moor, heath and down. For once, an incumbent government, stayed true to their word (even after their feet were under the table).
The mapping process took five years to complete and has left us with a lasting legacy. However there are still many restrictions, as landowners try to hang on to their cherished privacy. One of these places is on West Dart, between Two Bridges and Huccaby. At the appeal, the reason given for denying access, was that dogs would disturb the wild otters and salmon spawning grounds and on Coombe Down-because of open mineshafts. But if dogs have to be kept on leads and people are credited with a reasonable amount of intelligence-and the ability to understand maps, there is absolutely no need for access to be denied. There are already restrictions on dogs on much of Dartmoor from March to July, during the ground nesting bird breeding season.
Not long ago, Vixen Tor was ruled to be off limits and the tor was closed to public access on the grounds that access would run across Vixen Tor Farm and because there was only a ‘permissive agreement’ between Dartmoor National Park and its previous owners.
On Burgh Island, the owners of the palatial Burgh Island Hotel that looks down on beach dwellers on Bantham Beach, appealed successfully to deny access to public footpaths on the island. The hotel’s owner Deborah Clark, came out against coastal access. Vistors to the Pilchard Inn at low tide, were disappointed to discover they had reached their journey’s end, after the paths were closed in 2003, before an appeal re opend the paths three years later. It was as though nature’s abundance , was only deemed suitable if you were famous, or at least rich.
And what about our coastal regions? Who owns these? The Crown Estate controls about 45 per cent of England’s foreshore; the remaining beaches are in a variety of hands, from the National Trust and Ministry of Defence, to local authorities and, private individuals.
Luckily there are some enlightened landowners who genuinely seem to care more about the welfare of the land than their own privacy issues. Sir Geoffrey Newman, who owns Blackpool Sands near Dartmouth and whose family have owned land on the South Devon coast since the late 17th century, seems to be among these. He claims to have no problem with the concept of access to a coast path around England. He is, however, concerned about how it is financed and managed.
“It is hugely important for people to have access so that they can enjoy our beautiful, pristine coastline,”
he has said. “My family have ensured that this coastline is not overdeveloped, but to achieve that, it needs to be incredibly well looked after and managed.” Worried about who is going to protect the birds and insects from over-exploitation and wider access, he is concerned that Natural England is taking over the management and maintenance without sufficient funds or resources to carry out the necessary work.
A walk along the South West Coast path towards Salcombe, takes you past Kate Bush’s not so private, private house near Prawle Point and on past a colossal development of luxury flats near Gara Rock. The latter is sufficiently remote, for locals in nearby Beesands or Mill Bay, to have no right to a NIMBY defence. As usual, it will be up to The Ramblers Association and users of these wonderful routes from surf to turf, to safeguard our access. This is always, I think, worth bearing in mind when out for a Sunday stroll or even a wild run. There might not be much land left to blaze a trail, but I for one, want to be able to ask my feet where they want to go, without having to consult some ancient law. So I have to ask, who owns these footprints? Deep down, most of us already know the answer.