Warden Hill to Ickleford. 

It is mildly chaotic at the Luton transport centre. Buses are arriving from all directions and double-parking at the stops. Some are even abandoned as a driver goes off duty and is not immediately replaced. I jump on, hopefully the correct bus, but was it 4a or 4b

I manage to get off at a couple of stops before Warden Hill, making my day that little bit longer.

Picking up the route, I head off eastwards on a bridleway which cuts through the golf course without endangering anyone. My narrow lane climbs onto the chalk downs alongside Galley Hill.  The golfers have a challenging course to contend with.

The lane is a byway and has been roughly surfaced in the past. It gives a pleasant walk in and out of the woods and has the feel of an ancient way over the hills.

Looking back to Galley Hill.

Where the byway meets the road, Traveller’s Joy has taken over. And of course, once on the road, litter starts to appear for the first time.

I stop to look at these fruits and think they are either Cherry Plums or Mirabelles. Quite sweet to taste.

What a great place to bring the children cycling, on the slopes of Telegraph Hill.

The first high point is Telegraph Hill. This was once the site of an early C19th Telegraph Station, part of a chain from Norfolk to London to monitor any Napoleonic invasion. The system was flawed in fog and was dismantled after Napoleon’s navy was defeated at the Battle of Trafalgar. There is nothing to see of it today, and as I’m in a sunken, worn lane, no views either, but lovely beech trees.

I have been climbing all morning, and to get some views, I deviate to ascend Deacon Hill, all of 172m. Now on open chalk grassland, the Pegdon Hills Nature Reserve, which supports a rich flora and scarce butterflies.  I only come across sheep.

I can’t make it look any steeper than this.

Once I reach the ridge, I take in the 360-degree views and a shaky video in the gusty winds.

The trig is not at the highest point, but it gives an excellent viewpoint and a seat for an early lunch. The summit has been extensively disturbed at some stage by ancient earthworks or recent quarrying.

That’s rabbits doing their own chalk quarrying.

Looking back at Deacon Hill, the clouds are building up.

Back in the bridleway, a couple are harvesting the abundant sloes, something I must do when I’m home. I content myself with picking blackberries along the way. The trees help shelter me from the frequent showers blown through on the strong wind.

So much for open access.

I change counties. 

Then the trail loops away from the Icknield Way into fields with some good cloud formations overhead.

The day is brightened by some rogue sunflowers in a field of maize—memories of France.

Now descending into Pirton, with its village green, maypole, pub, church, and motte and bailey. 

Quintessential England.

Rutted Chalkway.

“Pirton Village Sign, on Great Green, was erected to commemorate Queen Elizabeth II’s Silver Jubilee on 7th June 1977. It is a carved wooden sign depicting hands which are plaiting straw, which was once the local industry.”

The pub comes in handy as a heavy shower arrives, any excuse. Their covered beer garden is perfect for a well-deserved rest and refreshment.

Green King is popular in these parts, being brewed in Bury-St-Edmunds.

The shower soon passes. Squat St. Mary’s church, standing in the inner bailey of an extensive motte and bailey earthwork at the centre of the village.  It has a history dating back to Saxon times, with successive renovations dating back to the 12th century. Inside, it is pretty simple, which gives it a refreshingly plain look. 

The motte and bailey are very much overgrown but still discernible.

Onwards on Hambridge Way,  a Mediaeval variation on the Icknield Way.  Yes, you’ve guessed it, yet another hedge-lined bridleway.

I arrive on the outskirts of Ickeford with minutes to catch the bus. From 100 yards, I see it sail past, bang on time. That leaves me with an hour to wait for the next one.

I’m glad the church is open, as the next thundery shower arrives.

St Katharine’s dates back to the C12th. The Nave dates to the mid-12th century, while the Chancel and West tower are from the early 13th century; i.e. it’s pretty old. The church underwent a significant restoration in 1859 under Sir Giles George Gilbert Scott. (Remember him from many other churches and the red phone box)

The local store serves a decent coffee to be enjoyed in the bus shelter during heavier rain, and further helps me pass the time until the bus arrives.

I’m soon in Hitchin, which has a busy, prosperous air. I like it, and there is no difficulty this evening in finding my hotel.

The Sun is an old coaching inn. My room is in the courtyard.

I have managed to stay dry all day, but looking at the forecast for tomorrow, I may not be so lucky.

*

Dunstable to  Warden Hill, A6. Luton.

The Icknield Way probably went through what is now Dunstable and Luton. The Icknield Way Trail takes a long loop to the north with little accommodation, so I compromise and plan my own ‘green route’ out of Dunstable to the north of Luton. The alternative, suggested in the guide, which I did consider, is to catch the bus. 

Breakfast is as I expected and quickly passed over. I walk the short distance to the centre of town, which is much like any other.

Looking at the map, there appears to be a network of paths and cycleways I can use. I wonder if these will turn out to be dingy alleys. But no, my first two or three miles are a delight of parks and open green spaces threading through housing developments.

Of course, I don’t have a bike, so it takes me longer.

The start of my green way.

Passing over a dedicated ‘busway’ using an old railway.

Looking across the downs to Chalk Hill.

There is always a shopping trolley – this one’s from Asda.

It is a Sunday morning, so there is hardly anyone about, just a few dog walkers. The sun is shining. 

I  pass through Houghton Regis, only noticing Houghton Hall in its park…

…and then follow the virtually dry chalk stream, Houghton Brook. On open ground at Parkside, I just manage to catch a red kite overhead.

I arrive at the area of roads linking to and around the M1, where I will need to follow the tarmac. But things around here are changing, a new housing estate has gone up – Linmere.

Lots of green spaces, pathways, and more importantly, a cafe and community centre on the edge of it all. Coffee always tastes better when you are not expecting it

 I then brave the roundabouts and speeding motorists; it seems there are a lot of boy racers in Bedfordshire.

I’m soon over the motorway and onto a bridleway away from the traffic. A narrow way between blackthorns is used more by cyclists than walkers.

At the end, I’m deposited into an industrial estate, and for a moment, I think my way ahead is blocked. But looking more carefully, I spot a bridleway sign and I’m back on the edge of fields, albeit with housing to my right. There is a route marked on the map in fields on the edge of the downs all the way to the A6.

A trig point hides in an alley, having once stood at the edge of a field before the houses were built.  

An old water tower looms up.

I go into a cornfield looking for somewhere to have lunch, when there in front of me are some pallets to sit on. It’s my day today, little things mean a lot.

From my perch, I can see tomorrow’s hills.

Those boy racers have been in the woods here.

I arrive at the A6 in good time; the walking has been easy today. A bus takes me to Luton and I realise I will arrive well before my hotel check-in time. I read somewhere that the Luton Museum is worth a visit. A quick Google on the bus for its whereabouts, and I’m alighting at Wardown Park.

Wardown House is at its northern end and is free to visit. I’m lucky that it is open on a Sunday. The staff seem friendly and after storing my pack, I head straight to the cafe for a welcome mug of tea. All the rooms have a period feel, and the cafe had been the original dining room.

The museum is all things Luton, so I get to look at the history of Vauxhall,  the Bedfordshire Regiment and hat making, straw and felt, for which Luton was renowned, as well as a general overview of the last two centuries with excellent exhibits.

There is only a small selection of paintings, probably by local artists. I need to look them up. art uk is a good source

A painting of the Town Hall in flames, around midnight on 19 July 1919. Peace Day had started uneventfully with a procession and speeches by the Mayor. However, protesters set paper alight in the office adjoining the Town Hall, which grew out of control. The Mayor escaped, dressed in disguise, and the Town Hall burnt down.  W J Roberts . 1907–1941.

Theodore Kern. (1900–1969)  Painter born in Salzburg. He worked in England from 1938 and taught at Luton School of Art.  Portraits of his wife.

 Edward Callam 1904–1980 commissioned by Luton Museum and Art Gallery in the late 1960s, to record views of Luton which might disappear. Stuart Street was redeveloped in the early 1970s as an inner ring road, and many of the buildings were demolished.

I wander through the park alongside the boating lake. There is a fun fair in full swing, and many Asian families are enjoying a picnic on the grass.

This has been a good way to spend an hour or so. I catch a bus into town, knowing I will be able to check in after the 3 o’clock start. I arrive at the interchange station and try to locate the Thistle Express hotel. My phone directions take me into shopping mall hell, where I wander for 30 minutes, unable to find a way out that takes me to the hotel.

I eventually escape and arrive hot and flustered.

Check-in is easy with helpful staff, and there is free coffee in the foyer, so I’m soon feeling relaxed again. The receptionist shows me the way I should have come. My room is excellent with a bath, which I need by now.

I later venture out to find food, and I end up at a Southern Indian restaurant for authentic cuisine. Of course, I am the only white Englishman dining – always a good sign to me.

Bhel puri.

I feel embarrassed in a little Asian convenience store when a young English lad is caught shoplifting beer and then gives the staff racial abuse. The lot of inner cities these days, it seems.

Apart from the transport system, the centre of Luton shows the worst of the 60s/70s inner city planning. * see below.

An eventful day. 

* Hats off to Luton.

I have been a little harsh on Luton’s town centre. The Mall has destroyed much and is like any other mall in any other town. But if you are visiting Luton, this leaflet would give you ideas to explore the hat trade buildings and what is left of them. https://www.luton.gov.uk/Transport_and_streets/Lists/LutonDocuments/PDF/luton-hat-trail-leaflet

Ivinghoe Beacon to Dunstable.

An early breakfast is rushed, which is a shame, as there is a great choice. But I want to catch the 8 am bus to Ivinghoe to stay ahead of the rain, due at three. Waiting at the bus stop, I have doubts that it will arrive, the bus that is. I mark time kicking conkers along the pavement. Is Autumn in the air?

However, the bus shows up 10 minutes late and rattles along to where I alight at the base of Ivinghoe Beacon. I step straight onto a flint chalk path for a couple of hundred feet of ascent to the summit.

An early morning twitcher lists the birds he has already seen this morning. I’ll be lucky if I spot a fraction of his impressive tally. 

I immediately notice the rich flora that the chalk brings. Knapweed, Marjoram, Scabious, Harebell, Toadflax, Eyebright, Wild Carrot, for starters.   One little plant I don’t recognise is  Red Bartsia, partially a parasite on the roots of grasses, apparently.

The summit is the site of a Bronze Age hill fort, which I can’t make out, but the degraded tumulus at the summit is more obvious.

What a beautiful morning to be up here with views all around, most of which I don’t recognise. If I had looked more carefully to the east, I would have seen the White Lion on the hills below Whipsnade Zoo.

Paths radiate in all directions over the downs. I follow the Ridgeway Path southwards to a stone marking the start of the Icknield Way. Really, they are both the same, part of The Great Chalk Way. There appears to be a multitude of interesting tracks running southwards over the commons to Berkhamsted.  The Chiltern Way makes use of them, one for another day.

I go north east on the open chalk downs. I come across the Icknield Way waymark roundel for the first time.

The path then winds its way through beautiful beech and oak woods, which are part of the extensive NT Ashridge Estate.

After a very steep section, I emerge near a farm and follow open ground and then a lane down to a road.  There are views back to Ivinghoe Beacon. Another twitcher is watching the House Martins swooping across the fields. I can hear their chatter.

Dagnall is a small hamlet with a pub and a strange-looking ecumenical church almost on the roundabout.

The road is soon left on a fenced-in track up to the next down. A red kite flies overhead, mobbed by crows. I’m unable to catch the action on my phone. Suddenly, I’m deposited in a golf course. An unpleasant crossing of several fairways is best forgotten.

I escape only to come up against the outer fence of Whipsnade Zoo. All thoughts of marching alongside elephants and lions disappear when I realise how far away the animals are. I think I spot some camel humps in the distance. 

I can’t really go wrong here. 

Whipsnade village consists of a few houses around a village green. And an interesting church, hidden away, which I divert to for a lunch stop.

The church tower is the oldest part, dating back to the sixteenth century. The west door has been retained since the 14th century from an earlier church. The bricks in the tower are thought to have been made from local clays—some of the earliest bricks ever made after the Roman occupation.

The central part of the building is Georgian. The chancel is Victorian.

There is some ancient and modern graffiti inside the tower.

I follow the signs to the Tree Cathedral, planted after the Great War to outline a church. On the ground, it isn’t easy to visualise the effect, but there are some stunning trees.

I could have spent the afternoon in the Zoo along with hundreds of others, judging from the car park.

An old flinty track climbs back up onto the downs.

Slowly, I gain height with the glider base in the combe below.

The weather is holding up, and I can take in all the distant views. I don’t manage a photo of the gliders being towed up.

More people appear as the Chilterns Gateway Centre comes into view. Kite flying is the order of the day in the stiff breeze up here.

The queue in the cafe is forever, but I need a coffee with a view back to Invinghoe Beacon.

Onwards, high above the valley. I come to the Five Knolls, neolithic burial mounds, being destroyed by mountain bikers.

At the bottom, I reach busy Dunstable and arrive at my overnight pub before the rain.

A colourful crowd is drinking the afternoon away. My room is cramped, with no window to speak of. All the floorboards creak, and there is no soundproofing. The bar isn’t somewhere I would drink, never mind dine, so I visit the local convenience store for supplies.  Some contrast to last night.

*

Getting to the start.

I spotted the first Red Kites as my train pulled into Milton Keynes, we’re on the edge of the Chilterns, where they were successfully reintroduced over thirty years ago. I was last here in 2010, walking the Ridgeway with my good old mate Mel. I well remember that the birds from that time were relying on their release feeding stations. They have spread their wings since then, and I sometimes see them up in Bowland.

Getting here across the country isn’t easy. After a long day, my third train had me to Tring, with a glimpse of Ivinghoe Beacon on the way.

This is getting close to London, and frequent trains flash through the station heading to the smoke, as the capital was known before the Clean Air Acts. As a student, I arrived in London after the worst of the smog had passed, but I do remember it from Manchester when I was a child. I digress.

Walking down the lane, I realise from the properties, behind their walls and locked gates, that I’m in the stockbroker belt, within easy commuting distance of the city.

My lodgings for the night are in Pendley Manor Hotel, an impressive Victorian neo-Jacobean pile.

Peacocks strut around the grounds. There are some impressive cedars and pine trees.

The house has a long history.  The last private individual to own and live at Pendley
Manor was Dorian Williams, the BBC’s voice of show jumping. He was responsible for starting a yearly Shakespearean Festival in the grounds, which continued until the Covid pandemic, and I don’t think it has restarted. The hotel has many memorabilia from these productions, and its bar has a Shakespearean theme.

I get an upgrade to a superior room, which is probably wasted on me for one night, but I appreciate the gesture. A drink in the bar, £6 for a pint of IPA; they don’t serve real ales, and I’m ready for bed.

*

I’m here to walk along the Icknield Way, or paths close to the old chalkways. This is the beginning of my link-up between the Ridgeway mentioned above and the Peddars Way in Norfolk (I walked the Peddars Way with Mel in 2003), although I only plan to walk five days to Royston on this visit.

I’ve got to hand the guidebook from the Icknield Way Association.

Or rather, just the relevant pages, sacrilegiously torn out of it, to get me about halfway. As you can see, the mapping in the guide is à la Wainwright, hopefully making it easy to follow.

In the morning, I’ll be catching an early bus to the base of Ivinghoe Beacon to commence my journey.

My header photo is from a 1912 painting by Spencer Frederick Gore.

The Icknield Way may be the oldest road in Britain. It would have been used before the Romans arrived, following the chalkland ridges between ancient settlements. It is thought that several tracks evolved, maybe in parallel with each other. It has been suggested that the Romans constructed the Lower Icknield Way as a parallel alternative route to the prehistoric Upper Icknield Way. A version of it appears on OS maps in historic Gothic writing. The name is of Celto-British origin and is potentially linked to the Iceni tribe from East Anglia, who may have used the route for trade from the Neolithic period.

Over the years, many old ways disappeared due to disuse. More disappeared under the plough, and some have become our modern roads. Let’s see how the Icknield Way has fared.

From a long-distance walking perspective, it links The Ridgeway to the Peddars Way and is part of the Great Chalk Way, which spans from Wessex to the Wash. I have traversed much of this way, and now is the time to consider walking the missing links: the Icknield Way and the Wessex Ridgeway.

The Icknield Way Association has produced a guidebook for a walkers’ route. The Icknield Way Path.

“The Icknield Way Path takes the walker over some delightful country, including the Chilterns and Breckland, often with striking panoramic views, through charming villages, and along miles of green lanes.

An attempt has been made to provide the most pleasant walking route as close as possible to the ancient way, keeping to rights of way and avoiding unnecessary road walking.”

I had planned to walk the Icknield section in mid-August, but a mini heatwave delayed me. As temperatures return to normal, it is time to start planning again. Hotels, trains and buses. I need to get down to Tring first. I was last there when Mel and I had finished the Ridgeway at Ivinghoe Beacon. An early morning bus will then be needed to get to the base of Ivinghoe Beacon. From there on, aĺl will be new to me, Bedfordshire and Hertfordshire. In five days, I’ll probably only get to Royston.

“The long white roads… are a temptation. What quests they propose! They take us away to the thin air of the future or to the underworld of the past,”  Edward Thomas,1909.