Dear Roamers,
We all have our own way of convincing ourselves that spring is coming. The song of the Great Tit is mine. I heard its hopeful, speculative call in the frostbitten woods today and found it hard not to empathise. At this time of year, the audible return of ‘Teacher–teacher–teacher…’ sounds like bird talk for ‘...is it over yet?’
On the campaign calendar, winter is when we hunker down and focus on our long-term political work. With an election coming, that means shoring up manifesto commitments and pulling together the policy detail to reinforce them.
2024 will be a crucial year for the right to roam. After three years of campaigning, access reform is firmly back on the agenda. Nothing is guaranteed and we need to keep the pressure up (more on that next newsletter). But let’s give ourselves a justified moment of hope. What if we win? What would a new countryside mean to you?
For me, this campaign started with the realisation I barely knew the river I had lived alongside for most of my life. True, there were pockets of access: stretches of footpath which gave you a few riparian minutes before punting you out onto the road. But there were losses too: last year I wrote mournfully of the weir where local kids would come to swim in the summer; now blocked by fences and security cameras.
Yes, you could meet the river for a quick chat if you tried. But those idle, unbroken conversations - the kind which turn meeting into meaning - those were all but denied. For twenty years I’d respected the signs saying Keep Out, and dutifully waved the river goodbye.
Then I joined the Right to Roam campaign. As my opening act, I decided to ‘trespass’ the length of my river to learn more about the unfamiliar friend so close to my door. Just ten minutes from my house, on a large private estate, I discovered a stretch of river so perfect I’ve returned countless times since. Nestled in the waters was a perfectly sculpted boulder, shaped like an ergonomic chair. After a stressful day I like to sink into its smooth, Moomin features and watch the dippers scoot by. It’s a small thing, but it means everything to me. And visit by visit I noticed a subtle, profound shift: I felt the river becoming a part of me.
When I think about what access reform means, it’s the ability to visit my chair without having to hold an ear cocked for the shout of the distant landowner. It’s the ability for everyone to know their river as I have, and for its healing powers to sustain them too. I want those kids back at their swimming spot and the security cameras taken away.
None of this should be controversial. It shouldn’t require a campaign to make it happen. And yet, hundreds of years of dispossession have found us where we now are: alienated from the simplest things which make our lives beautiful, and our relationship with the rest of nature meaningful.
It's also the essential first step in an all-to-necessary journey towards care. It’s a cliché but it's true: a new contract with nature starts with those everyday, tactile reminders that we are nature too.
Friends, we’d love to hear your own stories about what access reform means to you. I can’t promise we’ll reply to every one – the inbox gets a bit… sweaty at times. But we’re always nourished by the beautiful emails you send about your journeys with this campaign. They give us a real boost in these dark winter days and remind us what we’re fighting for. And they really do help us explain to politicians why this issue matters so much to so many people.
DARTMOOR ON TRIAL… AGAIN!
Last week we heard the news that the Darwalls will once again be challenging the right to wild camp on Dartmoor, this time in the highest court of the land: the Supreme Court. If ever a case demonstrated the absurdity of our present access model, it’s this one. The Dartmoor Preservation Association are continuing to raise money to support the case (this helps covers the Park Authority’s costs in case they lose). If the DNPA are successful again the money will be used to support access activities on Dartmoor.
You can contribute to the fundraiser by following the link here.
FORBIDDEN ISLAND TRESPASS (FEBRUARY 24TH)
Next month we’ll be kicking off our events for the year by highlighting one of the weirder deficiencies created by the current CRoW Act: access islands. These are areas of land which the public theoretically has a right to roam over (part of the 8% of land where, since the passage of CRoW in 2000, we do have a right to access) but to which there is no lawful means of actually reaching.
So, bring your boats, rafts, stepping stones, wings, armbands, rubber rings to Dartmoor on February 24th and join us while we sail across the tempestuous trespass seas to one such island, for a day of mischief, magic and enchantment.
You can sign up to the event here.*
(*Note we’re trialling a deposit system when you book your place on the coach, just to minimise no-shows. We aim to make all our events free and you’ll be given back your tenner on the day – or if you’re feeling sufficiently flush you can donate it to the campaign to help us cover the cost of the coach. If the deposit is too much but you definitely want to come then just drop us a line anyway and we’ll fix you a spot).
Wishing you all warm toes and free rivers,
Jon & the rest of the Right to Roam team
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