In a Dorset Hollow Way (Part One)

The existence of Hollow Ways (aka Sunken Lanes) has long been a source of fascination to scholars of the countryside.  Ancient trackways where centuries of human and livestock traffic together with floodwaters and natural erosion have embedded their presence deep in the rural topography.  Exposed tree roots and ferns cling to the steep sides of the pathway as it passes through an arboreal overhead canopy that filters the sunlight.  They form most readily in areas where the underlying geology is least resistant such as chalk downland or greensand. The county of Dorset has many examples, of which one of the best known is Shutes Lane on the Symondsbury Estate to the west of Bridport.

The cumulative effect of atmospheric stillness, dappled, contrasting light effects, luxuriant vegetation, a sense of enclosure and the visual drama of the craggy exposed and weathered geology is enough to stir the spirit of the most materialist explorer.  For those of a more Romantic disposition it can be a starting point for all manner of fantastical imaginings and mysterious speculations - the presence of faeries, piskeys and elvish folk can be felt, forever just outside the field of visibility.  An alert student of landscape formation will be intrigued by the tactile record of the passage of time measured in centuries - a record more easily read and understood than elsewhere.  With the relentless expansion of agri-business and agri-chemicals leading to depleted natural habitats and the irretrievable loss of species diversity, exacerbated by extreme weather events, a new sense of urgency has typified recent literature on the countryside and unsurprisingly writers have turned their attention to the survival of England’s Hollow Ways as places largely untouched by the mixed blessings of scientific advancement.

Walking the mudslides of Shutes Lane in winter can be heavy going but a month without rain has baked the surface of the path to the point that passing feet are grinding it into dust.  The sheer scale of it is impressive, massively exceeding others I’ve seen in Somerset and Devon, giving it the appearance of a chasm or canyon. We had the company of three grandchildren under 6 and they walked more than 4 miles without a mutiny.  What held their attention was the multiple hand carvings made in the soft sandstone of surpassing eccentricity which will be the subject of Part Two of this post.