Ancient droving route is so peaceful and packed with wild flowers

MY friend Matthew Coome and I were having lunch at the Crown Inn in Playhatch with his wife and my mother when we decided where to go for our next excursion.

We choose to visit the northern portion of Peppard Common a few days later.

The day arrives and Matthew arrives to pick me up in Caversham and off we go just as the sun comes out. I have a good feeling about what’s to come.

It is a lovely drive as we leave Emmer Green and head north into the countryside with great views all around.

Hedgerows are resplendent and trees in fresh, green leaf. The final days of spring flow seamlessly into early summer.

I notice that the verges have not been cut — a great benefit for nature and, importantly, no impediment to a driver’s view of the road.

We pass red and white campion, ox-eye daisies and never-ending displays of meadow buttercups.

We arrive at the common and Matthew parks in the shade of a small clump of cherry trees opposite the Red Lion pub.

Stepping out of the car, we are confronted by a beautiful sight. The majority of the common is flushed a rusty-red as it’s full of flowering sheep’s sorrel (Rumex acetosella).

A large number of foxgloves ranging from deep purple to immaculate white is growing up, down and all around the deep ditches that protect this land from unwanted incursion. It is truly wonderful.

Ox-eye daisies are prolific along the roadsides, swaying in the rush of air from passing traffic like dancers, accompanied by red clover and, strangely, water forget-me-not (Myosotis scorpioides) but then the water table is high here. I guess those ditches help.

We cross the busy road (B481) towards Dog Lane. Whether or not it’s named after the now defunct pub, it’s one of the best old droving routes I know. When I first introduced Rosemary to its charms she instantly fell in love with it, always clamouring to return.

We’d walk along it until it met part of the Chiltern Way, head north for a short distance and then peel off eastwards and on to Rotherfield Greys to visit the Maltsters Arms.

We’d hardly encounter a living soul, just the two of us in a rural idyll.

I’m pleased to say that none of the lane’s serenity has diminished.

The old hedges on either side are formed of hazel, field maple, ash, oak, wild privet, dogwood, wayfaring tree, field rose, blackthorn and resurgent English elm and full of spring flowers.

Passing some attractive, old brick-and-flint cottages, we lose the sound of the rumbling traffic.

The gravelly, polished stone-filled path glows with the sun up and no wind.

All is so peaceful — until we encounter a pair of white-feathered, honking geese. They waddle over from a paddock to our right. They are not aggressive but inquisitive. Geese can be as good as a guard dog. They take a gander at us and then sit down as we move on.

There is a lot of water, presumably from a natural aquifer, running along the lane.

The winding, sandy stretches indicate a steady flow over the seasons. Without the high banks of this green and ancient holloway, you could probably dig out a small permanent pond.

Marching a long way along this ancient route, I grow tired and tell Matthew that this is as far that I can manage. We take in the beauty of our surroundings before turning around.

Often when retracing your steps, I find that you see things that you missed on the way out (Matthew agrees).

Queen Anne’s lace, a member of the carrot family and an umbellifer, is stunning with its tiny, delicate white flowers.

From the high boundary ridges between our path and the perimeter of Greys Green Golf Club the badger runs are pronounced. The badger will never rescind its historic passageways.

Obstacles have been placed between the old lane and the entrance to a small car park that is part of the golf club (now closed and for sale). They look feeble and unnecessary to me.

We spot the bright-yellow flowers of Tansy (Tanacetum vulgare) and then approaching the point where we came in there is a large colony of stinking iris (Iris foetidissima).

The flowers here are buff-coloured with feint veining — they can also be a pale shade of blue. What a lovely sight. They still have last year’s scarlet seeds held in papery capsules.

Elsewhere, there are great rafts of herb-Robert. I find the fern-like leaves of a plant that look familiar but without flowers I am not sure.

Later I send photos to a botanist friend for identification and it’s tansy again. Silly me.

Before we get back into Matthew’s car we take a good look at the modern road layout. It is clear how it once was years ago with the old alignments, now straightened, clearly visible.

My friend has some old maps so we can confirm our beliefs.

After agreeing to return to Dog Lane another time soon, when other flowers will be out, we head back to Caversham a different way.

Instead of taking the main road, Matthew drives westwards past a glorious house and garden that is enclosed by an old brick-and-flint wall — much used in TV and films — and a bench with superlative views across the common and the oak trees to the south.

The old lane — a continuation of Dog Lane — takes a sudden dip. It is narrow, steep and twisty.

Down in the bottom an aged chalk pit contains some scarce junipers (Juniperus communis) which look in good health.

As we pass the entrance to Littlebottom and Greatbottom Woods (both well worth a visit) there is a long slog up to Peppard Hill that ends at one of my favourite pubs, the Unicorn. We arrive at a junction. Matthew asks me to show him the entrance to the Woodland Trust-owned parcel of Kingwood that once housed a medical isolation unit that I recently described here.

He is most interested as more than 40 years ago he’d deliver medical supplies here, the main entrance now obscured.

We turn around to head home and once more follow Wyfold Lane. Only a few weeks have gone by since we were last here but how it has changed.

Deceptively long and now shaded by standout oaks and other species that I’d previously missed, it contains some attractive cottages with an Art and Crafts design.

We pass the majestic large-leaved limes near Nippers Grove and the pond in Wyfold Wood.

I notice that the old Reformation pub is now a veterinary surgery.

Matthew and I natter all the way back along the Peppard Road before he drops me back at my mother’s house. We shake hands and agree to take another fruitful excursion.

In mum’s garden the fledgeling blue tits, robins and wrens have flown and hopefully will survive.

This was a great morning loaded with heartfelt memories. Long may they continue.

vincent.ruane@hotmail.com