Into the woods
31 July 2009
To Epping Forest on the hottest day of the year so far. Despite the heat I'm excited to be doing my first bit of on-the-spot research for the forests book, and Epping doesn't disappoint, even if I don't find any body parts.
I meet my mate John, down from Essex for the day, at Stratford station, then it's the Central Line all the way to Epping. It feels weird to be on the same tube that was deep under Tottenham Court Road only half an hour ago as it chunters its way through the suburbs and out into open country, and Epping itself has the feel of a well-off country town. There's not much sign of the forest, though we do spot Forest Dry Cleaners as we amble down the high street.
Across Bell Common and a busy back road and the forest suddenly enfolds us. In all the years I lived in London I'd never visited it before, maybe because I'd always assumed it'd all be rather tame and suburban, so it's a surprise how rough-edged and wild the actual forest feels.
Mugging up about it afterwards it becomes clear that, far from being a sign of neglect, the lack of signage and manicuring is a deliberate policy by the City of London, which has owned Epping Forest since 1878. Both John and I have brought our large-scale OS maps and we're generally pretty good map-readers, but even so we get repeatedly, if never catastrophically lost, blundering around in the undergrowth and emerging on fast roads, blinking and disorientated like moles.
Reading Iain Sinclair's typically wonderful London Orbital later it was somehow reassuring that Epping did the same thing to him too: 'There are paths marked out for riders, paths for hikers, but I’ve never walked any distance without getting lost; expecting to emerge in Loughton, finding myself returned to Theydon Bois. Don’t ask me how it works. The spirit of the primeval forest is still present and it abhors trippers, map fetishists.'
By the time we arrive at Chingford, six hours later, we're dusty, sweating and suffering from mild heat exhaustion, but we both feel we've had an adventure, and I can't wait to go back. Back home when I take my walking shoes off my ankles are brown with dust and my shins are covered with bramble cuts, but Epping has got under my skin.
