The Heslington Path
Oct. 9th, 2009 09:23 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
osprey_archerMy first full day at the University of York, which is not in fact in York, but outside of it, next to a village called Heslington which is everything one could wish for in an English village. Red brick row houses - rose hips and fuchsia garlanded on fences - white tea roses winding up the sides of buildings. An excellent sandwich shop.
The roads out of town are one-lane, spinning off into empty countryside lined with hedgerows. It's like walking through an Avengers episode.
I did go for a good long walk this afternoon. There was a pathway behind an old brick apartment complex, a thick trail that would be marked in the United States; but here it just beckoned. The day was sunny and I had nowhere to be, so I followed.
Pretty soon the brick walls gave way to hedgerows, with one of those one-lane roads on the other side. The occasional clinking of a bicycle, and people walking who stopped to say hello to each other, and comment on the lovely weather. Thick Yorkshire accents - real British accents, outside of a TV!
But eventually the path cut away into the woods, and thinned up from a comfortable lane to a skinny little deer path. I couldn't think where it would go. A lovely picnic site? Roman ruins? A meth lab? Okay, I should just stop fretting. Too bad I hadn't brought a thicker jacket, though; the sun couldn't penetrate the trees, and without it I was cold.
But it wasn't just the trees blocking the sun. British weather changes fast; clouds had blown in, and pretty soon rain followed. It wasn't heavy enough to break through the trees but I could hear it rustling the oak leaves overhead, and the cold air seeped up the cuffs of my jacket.
And then the path ended in a tangle of bushes. I turned around to go back - all this freezing, and nothing but some dirty old greenery? - and saw that the path had petered off a long time ago. Behind me there was only a thick soggy mess of oak leaves and pine needles, choked up around undergrowth. A fat raindrop broke through the leaves and slithered down my neck.
Now, when you get lost you're supposed to stay where you are and wait for rescue. But I figured that I would probably die of hypothermia before anyone even noticed I was missing, so I started tromping in what I hoped was the right direction. England is practically pocket-sized; the edge of the forest couldn't be too far.
And sure enough, pretty soon I heard voices. I forgot everything I ever learned from Hot Fuzz about being wary of English villagers in groups, and crashed toward them. Right through the undergrowth onto the path - thank God, it was there! - and so were they, three people wrapped in ratty green clothes; and I couldn't say who was more surprised.
The man in the middle had horns: long curved horns, ox horns or ibex horns, jutting from his forehead.
He didn't look too happy to see me. I stepped back, lifting my hands, like that was going to do any good if he decided he wanted my head for breakfast.
The woman to the left stepped forward. She had a lot of leaves tangled through her hair, and I couldn't tell if she just never brushed or if she molted the leaves herself; and she plucked a flower from the hair of the girl on the right, and handed it to me, and waited.
The ox-horned man stamped his hoof.
The woman gestured at the flower. I tilted my head, trying not to look down to much so at least if he charged me I could see, and sniffed gingerly at the white petals.
And then I stumbled, and ran smack dab into the hedgerow. A truck - a lorry, I guess it would be - growled past on the road behind it, leaving an acrid trail of exhaust behind.
I disentangled myself from the wet spiky twigs of the bush, and shook myself like a dog. The path was spongy with rain, but the the sun shone again; and in the sunshine I walked back to Heslington. My legs trembled.
The flower hasn't wilted yet.
***
Okay, it didn't quite happen that way. It didn't rain. And the path ended at a cricket pitch and an old playground, wood and metal, slides and swingsets and a rusting jungle gym - lovely in its own way.
The roads out of town are one-lane, spinning off into empty countryside lined with hedgerows. It's like walking through an Avengers episode.
I did go for a good long walk this afternoon. There was a pathway behind an old brick apartment complex, a thick trail that would be marked in the United States; but here it just beckoned. The day was sunny and I had nowhere to be, so I followed.
Pretty soon the brick walls gave way to hedgerows, with one of those one-lane roads on the other side. The occasional clinking of a bicycle, and people walking who stopped to say hello to each other, and comment on the lovely weather. Thick Yorkshire accents - real British accents, outside of a TV!
But eventually the path cut away into the woods, and thinned up from a comfortable lane to a skinny little deer path. I couldn't think where it would go. A lovely picnic site? Roman ruins? A meth lab? Okay, I should just stop fretting. Too bad I hadn't brought a thicker jacket, though; the sun couldn't penetrate the trees, and without it I was cold.
But it wasn't just the trees blocking the sun. British weather changes fast; clouds had blown in, and pretty soon rain followed. It wasn't heavy enough to break through the trees but I could hear it rustling the oak leaves overhead, and the cold air seeped up the cuffs of my jacket.
And then the path ended in a tangle of bushes. I turned around to go back - all this freezing, and nothing but some dirty old greenery? - and saw that the path had petered off a long time ago. Behind me there was only a thick soggy mess of oak leaves and pine needles, choked up around undergrowth. A fat raindrop broke through the leaves and slithered down my neck.
Now, when you get lost you're supposed to stay where you are and wait for rescue. But I figured that I would probably die of hypothermia before anyone even noticed I was missing, so I started tromping in what I hoped was the right direction. England is practically pocket-sized; the edge of the forest couldn't be too far.
And sure enough, pretty soon I heard voices. I forgot everything I ever learned from Hot Fuzz about being wary of English villagers in groups, and crashed toward them. Right through the undergrowth onto the path - thank God, it was there! - and so were they, three people wrapped in ratty green clothes; and I couldn't say who was more surprised.
The man in the middle had horns: long curved horns, ox horns or ibex horns, jutting from his forehead.
He didn't look too happy to see me. I stepped back, lifting my hands, like that was going to do any good if he decided he wanted my head for breakfast.
The woman to the left stepped forward. She had a lot of leaves tangled through her hair, and I couldn't tell if she just never brushed or if she molted the leaves herself; and she plucked a flower from the hair of the girl on the right, and handed it to me, and waited.
The ox-horned man stamped his hoof.
The woman gestured at the flower. I tilted my head, trying not to look down to much so at least if he charged me I could see, and sniffed gingerly at the white petals.
And then I stumbled, and ran smack dab into the hedgerow. A truck - a lorry, I guess it would be - growled past on the road behind it, leaving an acrid trail of exhaust behind.
I disentangled myself from the wet spiky twigs of the bush, and shook myself like a dog. The path was spongy with rain, but the the sun shone again; and in the sunshine I walked back to Heslington. My legs trembled.
The flower hasn't wilted yet.
***
Okay, it didn't quite happen that way. It didn't rain. And the path ended at a cricket pitch and an old playground, wood and metal, slides and swingsets and a rusting jungle gym - lovely in its own way.
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no subject
Date: 2009-10-09 09:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-09 01:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-09 01:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-10 01:55 pm (UTC)I walked by Betty's this morning - it looks delicious but pricey, so I think I'll wait till one of my friends drops by so we can make an afternoon of it.