For the first time in this blog's history, I wandered into Buckinghamshire. That's one of three reasons I went to Chess Valley, though the other two are arguably just as important. Join me on an exciting walk, featuring a river, meadows, and the Metropolitan line.
Chorleywood
I started out in Chorleywood, a fairly small village in Hertfordshire which still gets a better Tube connection than most of south London. The Metropolitan's been running here ever since 1889, as part of efforts to expand the line deep into Buckinghamshire suburbia, in an area known as Metroland. The line got as far north as Verney Junction, in fact, though the line has long been downscaled since. More on that later.
Chorleywood is very ordinary by village standards. I didn't spend long there, only wandering onto the high street with its bookshop, chicken shop, and Co-op. The truth is, I wasn't going to hang around for long, because I hadn't come all this way by myself.
I'd actually come to Chorleywood as part of a trip with my uni's hiking society. This was one of their free taster sessions, and I decided to come along to meet new people and get the most out of an otherwise unremarkable weekend. From here, the plan was simple - traverse the fairly flat Chilterns for about 15km, until we got to Chesham.
Chorleywood Common and House Estate
The first stretch included wandering through a side street; this was the most uphill section of the whole route. We made our way to Chorleywood Common a few minutes later, the first major greenspace of the walk. It's mostly unremarkable, with small pockets of woodland here and there, and we got out pretty quickly. Crossing a fairly busy main road, we wandered into a denser thicket of trees, where we spotted a wood carving of a bird perched in a nest at the top of a dead oak.
Eventually, a large mansion came into view, a few parked cars outside, and an elaborate pond embedded in the green. This is the Chorleywood House Estate, which occupies about sixty-four hectares worth of greenspace. The mansion was built by John Barnes, a banker who was director of the Union Bank of London for a while, in 1822.
He sold the mansion in 1870, where it fell into the hands of various residents, before Lady Ela Russell acquired it in 1892. She made several renovations and additions to the house, and it remained in the family until her cousin sold it in 1940 to the council. Now, the estate houses a museum devoted to Lady Ela, but you can also just wander around the estate for free.
The estate's land is fairly large, and I'll admit not knowing where it ended. We just rambled through the countryside, and we may or may not have crossed county borders in this time. I didn't have a map, and I hardly remember where we were. I was more focused on taking in the view, as well as chatting with people. One of them was a committee member I really enjoyed talking with. We clicked almost instantly, and it was fun hearing about the society's past exploits. Apparently the society had once organised a walk around Milton Keynes, which...fair enough, I suppose. I'm not one to judge.
The River Chess
If you're wondering why this is the Chess Valley, well, here's your answer. The Chess rises from Chesham and flows for 18km down towards Rickmansworth, before meeting the Colne (which I've blogged about before). Oddly enough, the Chess is named after Chesham, not the other way around.
At this point, the Chess is firmly in its middle course, and looks stunning in early autumn. Several of the trees were leafless, but many still had theirs, meaning the river gleamed a soft green in its reflection. I could have spent ages following the river, but our route had other ideas, so I barely saw it afterwards.
Just to add, yes, there is an official Chess Valley Walk, signposts and all. It starts down in Rickmansworth, so is probably a few kilometres longer, but that might be for another time.
Walking to Latimer
We continued walking, passing by hills and barbed wire fences. In the distance, I could make out a house; not sure what it was doing in the middle of a field, but I guess whoever lives there must enjoy the view. We were in Sarratt Bottom, so said the committee member, and I was willing to trust her since my internet connection was shoddy enough at the time.
We spent some time walking past a few farms. There were horses grazing in the fields, and everyone wanted a look. Eventually, we took a break just so some people could pet the horses and take photos. As if they've never seen a horse in their life, I joked to the committee member; she agreed.
There was more walking to be done, obviously, we weren't even halfway done. We made our way into what I'm assuming was the Frogmore Meadows, passing over the Chess in the process, before we needed to make an irritating diversion onto a main road and away from the nature. The diversion wasn't long, thankfully, and also gave me the opportunity to learn we'd entered the village of Latimer.
Latimer's one half of Chalfont and Latimer station on the Metropolitan, although that's located some half-hour away over in Little Chalfont. It also happens to be on the Herts-Bucks border, so yeah - I was now officially in Buckinghamshire. Yay.
Picnic intermission
We spent about an hour having lunch on a wonderful hill. The Chess was nearby, and this happened to be the last time I saw it on the whole trip. I even met some other committee members, which was the perfect opportunity for me to try and advertise one of my societies. We had some discussions over a crossover session between the hiking society and mine, so that was cool.
Latimer Park and radomes
Latimer Park was immediately next to our picnicking spot, where you'll find Latimer House. Once home to the Cavendish family, who also served as Barons of Chesham for a while, it also acted as a base for MI5 and MI6 during the Second World War. Many German prisoners passed through Latimer House, with their conversations bugged and later transcribed, giving away several important war secrets from the Germans. Today, the house is a hotel and wedding venue, as befalls most grand buildings. Not far from the house's gates, you'll find St Mary Magdalene's Church, which was the local church for residents.
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| Latimer House gates |
The rest of the trip was somewhat one-note, with the same flat green plains repeating constantly for several kilometres. There were some splendid views, such as when we passed through a cabbage patch and spotted this dilapidated barn standing eerily in the centre. Otherwise, though, it was quite identikit. At least we weren't on the road anymore, and the weather was beautiful. I'm especially proud of most of the photos I took that day.
In the distance, we spotted a faint tower with a strange white sphere for a head. I'm doubt you can make out where it is in the photo below, but feel free to try (it's also on Flickr). Well, I've since done some amateur sleuthing, and it turns out that's a Met Office weather station. The head is known as a radome, and the whole site used to be part of RAF Chenies, named for a nearby village. The site was heavily used as a radar intercept station during World War II, but has since become derelict, with only the radome and various other metal skeletons left standing. That said, RAF Chenies left us with its own sport, the Chenies Ball, which reads like a variant of volleyball. So says Wikipedia at least; I'm not sure if I can trust that, but it does seem like the old operations room was converted into an RAF sports venue in the 1990s. That on its own is pretty cool, either way. I just had to mention that, sorry.
The last leg to Chesham
We got some respite from the flat fields by Frith Wood, so now the trees were peering over us instead of staring from a distance. That said, it didn't last long, and soon we were back in flat countryside. Not that I hated it, don't get me wrong - the views were still stunning, especially along undulating valleys that burrowed their way through the landscape. Around here, we took a group society photo, then made our way onwards for the final stretch.
There were more fields, the odd area reserved to crops, even some tiny apples littered along the soil. We had to wander down a well hidden footpath, but soon enough we were approaching empty greenspace, peering over a distant suburb. That suburb was Chesham, the fourth biggest town in Buckinghamshire, and it was funny seeing just how small it really was. I could see its borders, its edges surrounded by more Chilterns.
There was one final landmark to spot - the old Memory Tree, decorated with ribbons along its veiny branches. It's a 300-year-old oak tree, and reportedly has been the site of scattering ashes and various other rituals. It also looks exceptionally pretty in photos, standing defiantly over the imposing town.
Soon enough, we got past the tree and reached the bottom of a farm and, at last, our trek through the Chilterns had come to an end. 15km and nearly 16,000 steps to get to this point...all we had to do was pass through a gate and we were back in the suburbs.
First thing we saw was a massive Waitrose, car park and all, as we made our way to Chesham station.
Chesham
Chesham's a pretty ordinary market town. If I'd wandered beyond the high street Greggs, you'd have a photo of the pretty clocktower in the market square, but that's for another time. There's not much else I can really add, to be honest.
Chesham has one of only two zone 9 stations on the Tube. The other's in neighbouring Amersham, if you're curious. But Chesham's purely Tube; Amersham at least gets National Rail services. This makes Chesham stand out quite awkwardly, like a guest that's been invited to a party purely because they've always been around.
It feels somewhat melancholic to be standing on the single platform, waiting for your train to Aldgate to roll in and take you back to London. Alright, it's fun when you're chatting with committee members and planning your way home, but otherwise there's something oddly poetic about Chesham. The most extreme point on the Tube, sitting squarely in the top left of all maps, nothing to explore beyond.
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| The top left of the Tube map |
But hey, maybe it's about the memories and the conversations and the needless observations instead of the destination. Who cares if we had to be stuck in zone 9, we'd still made it all this way. We'd shared some ginger snaps and trundled through the same farms over and over again. Even if lots of it was tedious, it definitely wasn't uneventful.
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