Grazing Sheep and the Great British Countryside

As a kid, my grandpa would always take me out on hikes or long bike rides. The day before we would make sure to stock up on tinned tuna and bread. These memories of walking through the Colombian countryside are ones that I will always treasure, and wherever I have travelled, I have always made sure to make similar memories. In the Maldives, I cycled around entire islands until I knew them like the back of my hand. I visited the Sundarbans in Bangladesh, walked through their hot and humid thickness until I got stuck in some sinking mud and my friends had to help me out (not until they were done taking pictures that is). I’ve explored caves in Thailand, gone white-water rafting in Nepal and helped a Rastafarian village and their monkey sanctuary in Ghana. Then I came to England.

Finally, out into the world on my own, one of my first wishes was to explore the countryside and see what it had to offer. The only problem was that I had no idea how to move around. Which bus would I need? Would it be easier to take a train? Maybe I can work towards getting my driver’s license and hire a car. These were all constant thoughts during my first year of university, however; that first year had come and gone before I first explored the Great British countryside.

In July 2016, I visited Marsden Moor on a rather typical English day. The sky was grey, the wind was strong and the threat of rain was imminent. However, I continued excitedly towards the looming hill, its stone formations jutting out like canons. The climb to the top was steep and slippery, grazing sheep greeted me along the way. Well, I say greeted but they didn’t look at all pleased to have me clambering up their patch of land. Upon reaching the top, I was met with a vast, green field. The long blades of grass danced with the wind, enjoying the drizzling rain that had begun to fall. I followed a path to a higher point and looked out over the hill. Tiny lights and silhouetted buildings could be seen; I would later learn that I had been looking at the outline of Huddersfield. I gazed out at the rolling hills, the stretches of farm land, the random cow or sheep strewn about. It felt like home. After having been to so many extravagant places, it was welcoming to look upon a place so simple in nature, yet extravagant nonetheless.

In the following months, I would continue to visit Marsden Moor and explore more of the Great British Countryside. I took a bus heading to Greenfield where I visited Dovestone Reservoir. It was a stunning place and the hike up to Chew Reservoir was even better. As I climbed higher, the clouds descended and laid down a thick fog. I could only see around five metres in front of me, I was soaked from head to toe from the moisture in the air and the cold air stung my lungs, however I was reliving my childhood and nothing fazed me. After one last steep slope, I reached Chew Reservoir where the fog had created an eerie atmosphere. It seemed like a scene straight out of a horror. The dark water gently lapped the stone wall of the reservoir, the jagged edges of the gate that led to the empty control room was unwelcoming, and there was no sign of life. The whistling of the wind and the soft splashes of the water were the only sounds keeping me company. In that moment of solitude, I looked back to all the memories of my grandpa and our countryside hikes, and I thanked him for having instilled in me the will to go out, explore and appreciate the gift of nature.

The Great British countryside brought back a part of me for which I had long been searching. It brought back my connection to my homeland. All thanks to its beautiful simplicity, rolling green hills and grazing sheep.

I plan to take a trip up to the Windermere in the Lake District and enjoy more of what Great Britain's nature has to offer. This is my home now, so I'd better start getting to know it more personally.