In a twist on our regular love letter to local areas ‘These Streets Are Ours’, this month we turn to the forests and country estates of the north. Caradoc Gayer looks at how our common land has been lost, the modern regulations that confine our rambling, how Ducal estates and boundaries have transformed the landscape, and how we can remind ourselves of our lasting, and strong connection to the natural world.
Many of us visit the countryside to deviate from the beaten track – escaping from that feeling of restrictiveness that you sometimes get while living in a city. When it comes to the countryside north of Notts, there’s plenty of options to do so.
You can get to Newstead Abbey, for example, pretty easily by bus or car. If you so choose you can also walk a mile through woodland from the gates to the abbey itself, which (speaking from experience) is a lovely and effective way of reacquainting yourself with nature, especially when there’s surrounding autumn colours.
Beyond the Newstead and Ravenshead area, there’s the cycleable, otherworldly stretches of Sherwood Pines, Sherwood Forest itself, other country estates like Thoresby, Welbeck, and Rufford, and lots of other beautiful green expanses to get lost in.
Nowadays, it’s hard to imagine that one fifth of Nottinghamshire was once covered by forest, but back in the 13th century that was the reality. Spanning 100,000 acres, Sherwood Forest was more-or-less what everyone would think of as ‘the Nottingham area’.
Before the 13th century it would have been a little more difficult to pursue the outlaw lifestyle. From the Norman Conquest, the majority of English woods were for the king to use and hunt in. Anyone breaking those laws did so under threat of imprisonment or mutilation
We can loosely trace the Robin Hood legend back to this century, when woodland-dwelling highwaymen were common problems for rich folks passing through Nottingham. Newstead Abbey (then called St Mary’s Priory) itself was a target for outlaws, supposedly leading to the attempted-and-failed construction of a nearby fortress, around 1205.
Before the 13th century it would have been a little more difficult to pursue the outlaw lifestyle. From the Norman Conquest, the majority of English woods were for the king to use and hunt in. Anyone breaking those laws did so under threat of imprisonment or mutilation. The 1172 Charter of the Forest, however, allowed common people to start using the woods for building, resource gathering, and pasturing. This could well have paved the way for an anti-establishment, Robin-Hood-legend-creating atmosphere in Nottingham.
When King Henry VIII dissolved the monasteries in 1542, religious locales, like Newstead, Rufford, and Welbeck, were sold to rich nobles, along with their surrounding land. This set a precedent that English countryside was sell-able, and therefore usable for other purposes. Farming and industry shaped the English landscape which shrunk the Nottinghamshire woodland.
Later, industry expanded and places like Wollaton Hall and Thoresby Hall were built. Their surrounding landscapes were reshaped for the tastes of their owners, the beauty disguising processes behind them – through the 15th and 18th century common land was rapidly enclosed, to make it industrially and agriculturally efficient. Beautiful parts of the countryside were for people who could either afford or farm it.
Today most of these country estates are open for the public to explore. However, access to nature remains complex and contested, as only 8% of the British countryside is completely free for access – so say campaigners for the ‘right to roam’ movement. This is a consequence of tangled laws that are part of the Countryside and Rights of Way Act 2000.
Nowadays, it’s hard to imagine that one fifth of Nottinghamshire was once covered by forest, but back in the 13th century that was people’s reality
There are also arguments that widespread private ownership of land makes it prone to less-than-ideal use by corporations. When land is sell-able, it’s sell-able to pretty much anyone.
In his book Landmarks writer Robert Macfarlane recounts an instance of this. In 2004, a biodiverse peatland on the Isle of Lewis was about to have Europe’s largest wind farm built on top of it – a cause that was either honourable, irresponsible, or both, depending on your perspective. It was partly through advocacy via poetry and music about the Lewisian natural world that locals got that stopped.
So how in a Notts context can we ensure that our connection to nature remains strong and vibrant? It’s probably worth supporting community initiatives that remind us of our stewardship over the countryside, whether it’s the Sherwood People’s Forest, spearheaded by locals Sarah Manton and Ezekiel Bone, Grow Notts, led by Jack Harris, Nottingham Green Guardians, or the Nottingham Climate Assembly.
It’s easy to feel a little powerless, hearing bad news, day-by-day, of nature being exploited, beyond it just ‘existing’ and reminding us of how connected we are to it. Still though, organising on a local level continues to be valuable. Sometimes it’s worth reminding ourselves that these lands are, and always have been, ours.
We have a favour to ask
LeftLion is Nottingham’s meeting point for information about what’s going on in our city, from the established organisations to the grassroots. We want to keep what we do free to all to access, but increasingly we are relying on revenue from our readers to continue. Can you spare a few quid each month to support us?
