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Yahoo
21-05-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Dartmoor will be poorer for the Supreme Court's decision
In January 2023, the largest land access demonstration since the 1930s took place on a bright wintery morning on Dartmoor. As many as 3000 people massed on Stall Moor to protest the ban on wild camping. Dartmoor had been one of the few places in the UK where ramblers could pitch a tent for the night until the hedge fund manager, Alexander Darwall, brought legal action claiming that the right to camp was expressly not allowed in accordance with the Dartmoor Commons Act. Darwall was a focal point of that bright wintery morning. His visage appeared on banners, his name was on everyone's lips, and at the end of the day, as the sun went down, a chant of 'Darwall… a---hole' went up, while drummers kept time. It was very much an us versus him paradigm and the tales were wild. His reason for buying the land, according to some, was mineral rights. Others told me he'd inherited it all. But then again, another observer told me it was about the vast profits he supposedly makes from pheasant shooting. Alexander Darwall was everywhere and nowhere, not so much a man as an idea. There was a real carnival atmosphere. It felt both quietly revolutionary and quite childish. But I wasn't there to protest. I was there to research my book on land access, Uncommon Ground, and the protest, in spite of being the focus of the media, wasn't where the most interesting story actually was. About five months after the protest, I headed back to Dartmoor to visit a 76 year old gamekeeper who, for 43 years, has run a shoot on that contested ground. 'Frightened the s--t out of me', he admitted, when we sat down to talk in his cottage. He'd spent the morning on guard in his pheasant pens in the valley below and then, in the afternoon, he'd driven up to have a look. He was keen to make it known that he hadn't encountered 'a bad person among them.' Snowy clearly isn't worried about thoughtful ramblers. The trouble, he told me, 'are the scrotes'. He has apparently wasted huge amounts of time over the years clearing up after irresponsible fly campers. His observation was fascinating as I encountered a whole suite of people who would happily see Snowy's way of life as a pheasant keeper consigned to history but his point was important – it's very hard for those who camp responsibly to recognise that a great many don't. While we chatted about times past and about Snowy's love of wildlife, a truck pulled into the yard. 'This here', Snowy explained with great admiration, as the driver got out, 'is young Simon.' Simon, he told me, would be taking over as head keeper, and with him was a local farmer's son. Simon was thoughtful, tremendously balanced, and clearly immensely keen on conservation. Sometimes, he told me, he almost has to laugh. He'll find people having a picnic right in the middle of his lapwing plot (a bird which is almost extinct on Dartmoor) and the picnickers tend to have no idea they are disturbing anything. Some of them, he went on, are really respectful and want to learn but others seem to want a fight. Snowy turned to the young lad and asked him what he thought of it all. Shyly, he said to me that as he sees it those at the forefront of the fight to camp on Dartmoor are just 'a bunch of rich Londoners trying to tell us what to do.' He's not entirely right – but he's closer to the truth than many would like to admit and who am I to tell him he's wrong? What's interesting is that he feels that way and he added, in case I was in any doubt, 'any young farmer will tell you the same'. What stays with me most from that conversation was Snowy saying that when he first realised the impact that the public has on nature was during foot and mouth. The whole thing, he recalled, was terrible but because there weren't any people, everything changed. 'I saw adders. I saw birds in places I've never seen, and the insect life in the grass was just totally different.' On 21 May, 2025, at mid-morning, the Supreme Court ruled unanimously that people do have the right to camp on Dartmoor. Part of me is pleased – it means a great deal to some but I worry too for the wildlife and I worry about that young lad and Simon and Snowy. I worry because the media is focussing predictably on the campaigners and those privileged few who own the land. As ever it's as though those who work the land don't exist. Ask any young farmer, that boy said in that cottage kitchen, except we won't. Patrick Galbraith's Uncommon Ground: Rethinking our relationship with the countryside is out now with William Collins Broaden your horizons with award-winning British journalism. Try The Telegraph free for 1 month with unlimited access to our award-winning website, exclusive app, money-saving offers and more.
Daily Mail
30-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Daily Mail
JOHN MACLEOD: Skewering of the urban radicals by a countryman who knows and loves rural Britain
The signs were everywhere – KEEP DOGS ON LEAD – but the estate-manager bumped into a local pair he knew well. Lovely couple. Their spaniel dog was unleashed, bouncing around. It had earlier, trilled the lady, killed a hare. He swallowed hard. 'Probably had leverets…' They stared. 'Leverets: Is that so? We didn't know hares got a disease.' Into the midst of such blithering ignorance and the Right To Roam movement, Patrick Galbraith pounces generally like a leopard on a goat. Uncommon Ground is as good a book as you will read this year. An informed, sharp and often very funny look at rural realities and the current clamour for 'access' – and not by some lounge-lizard from Islington. Galbraith is exuberant, involved, hands-on. In the unfolding chapters, he bounces around Britain like an enthusing Tintin. There are some beguiling, bucolic lines – 'After going to see the cheesemaker, I drove to Little Snoring to see an egg farmer called David Perowne.' Or, visiting Appleby in high summer, noting 'the river beneath us, which is down on its bones in the sun…' But our Patrick also heads out with poachers, crashes an illegal rave, drops in on gipsies, sups with lairds and gamekeepers, shoots the breeze at a foxhunt (Reynard's final fate is tactfully unrecorded) and joins a chap foraging for magic mushrooms. The author, too, engages patiently with activists demanding total abolition of the right to own land. And he even, for a few pages, wanders naked with naturists, though that chapter is much less exciting than you might think. Patrick Galbraith knows his stuff. He is still only thirty-two and hails from Dunscore, Dumfries. Attended some frightfully good school, has a a weakness for squashy huntin'-shootin'-fishin' hats. And he's about to marry; his young lady is a serious wildfowler. Galbraith himself is a qualified deerstalker, writes like an angel and, for seven years, was the editor of Shooting Times. The sort of educated Scot who, one metropolitan evening, might sip English sparkling wine at some black-tie private viewing – and, not a day later, be lying on his tweedy tummy on the Clisham bog with an unwitting 10-pointer stag in his crosshairs. Galbraith loves rural Britain. Better still, he knows it – the sort of enthralling companion who can identify distant mallards at a glance, distinguish in an instant a salmon from a seatrout, effortlessly gralloch a deer and identify any tree, even in bare and twiggy winter. And there are two points he keeps hammering in Uncommon Ground. For one, he questions the general obsession on the Marxist-Lentilist Left with who owns a given chunk of Britain. In many – perhaps most – instances, the question is academic. What really matters is who lives on the land, how they work it, and how to greater or lesser degree the public can engage with it. Devolved Scotland's ongoing obsession with 'community ownership' is something Galbraith delicately questions. And with reason. In North Harris, for instance – bought by its residents from a cider-mogul two decades ago – it has proved very difficult to generate income and balance the books. Uncommon Ground's second great strength is another repeated point: that, often, the best thing you can do for endangered wildlife and a given, fragile environment is not to go anywhere near it. In this respect, the beasts are wiser than us. Seals do not show up in your living-room to hog the sofa and use your carpet as a latrine. Yet – wind-surfing, kayaking, snorkelling, bouncing onto remote tidal shores or stomping into their caves – we repeatedly invade their territory. And then suddenly, some summer, wonder why we don't see local seals any more. The gorge, too, has risen in my own throat when I spot raucous tourists making merry by a ghetto-blaster amidst a tern colony, heedless of the frantic birds – circling overhead – desperate to feed their young. This matters in a Britain where the lapwing population has crashed by 90 per cent, untold counties have seen their last curlew, most will never hear a nightingale and the Scottish wildcat may be within twenty years of extinction. Mountain-bikers do not actually have a God-given right to batter repeatedly through the fragile ground of grey-legged partridges and even the dedicated birdwatcher, however clever his camouflage or long his lens, can scare black grouse away from their 'lek' forever. Galbraith, too, repeatedly skewers the preachy pretensions of Right To Roam and its ocean-going ignorance of responsible land management. In one lovely scene, he purrs of a Right To Roam love-in in London, 'Mark is a sort of floating radical on the radical Left, and it was diverse in the sense that there were people there from almost every Oxbridge college...' Elsewhere, Galbraith drawls, 'There is something cultish about wild swimming, like people who have sourdough starters or go to the Tate Modern.' But, when he needs to be, he is rightly angry. In one immersive chapter we spend time on the Arundel estate, where Charlie the gamekeeper – at the decree of the gentle Duke – studies and delights in the songbirds, hatches curlew eggs under a heat-lamp, and responsibly traps voracious predators like crows and magpies. He layers hedges; fences off the plots where lapwings breed, keeps partridge feeders topped up… and his reward? Guy Shrubsole of Right To Roam boasts, online, how he has deliberately freed crows from a Larsen trap under Charlie's remit. Weeks later, Right To Roam summon protestors for a mass-trespass on the Arundel estate – 'to bear witness to the 'ecological destruction' that goes on behind those fences.' In a world increasingly terrified of difficult debates and fraught controversies – the BBC's Have I Got News For You, two weeks ago, completely ignored the biggest story of the week, the Supreme Court's ruling as to what, in law, is a woman – Patrick Galbraith jumps confidently into every complexity he meets. In one of the book's funniest exchanges, an Isle of Lewis poacher confides, 'Never eaten salmon in my life…' Though perhaps, he muses, he should probably try it before the fish-stocks go instinct. Uncommon Ground has its occasional lacunae and would have benefited from proper proof-reading with an eye to detail. But it's an enthralling journey, a vision – and, in its own way, a manifesto. Essentially, our problem is ignorance, Galbraith concludes. In what is now an overwhelmingly urban country, we know little of rural reality, and care less. In a land where an advertised vacancy for an editorial assistant – the lowest rung in publishing – can see a thousand applicants, how many of those young people 'would have welcomed the opportunity to learn crosscutting and tree-felling? How many would have welcomed the opportunity to learn how to use a billhook? To Patrick Galbraith's delight, a campaign by a tireless Bristol woman, Mary Colwell to get a Natural History GCESE on the school curriculum was, last year, on the brink of success. Then, in December, it was paused by the new Government. Labour, sources whispered, had decided it was a 'Tory initiative.' Uncommon Ground: Rethinking Our Relationship with the Countryside. By Patrick Galbraith. William Collins. £22.
Scotsman
22-04-2025
- Politics
- Scotsman
Uncommon Ground by Patrick Galbraith review: Uncomfortable truths about 'right to roam'
Sign up to our Arts and Culture newsletter, get the latest news and reviews from our specialist arts writers Sign up Thank you for signing up! Did you know with a Digital Subscription to The Scotsman, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more. Learn More Sorry, there seem to be some issues. Please try again later. Submitting... It's difficult to find a conversation where more than two voices on land access are raised, those being the campaigners for 'right to roam' and the elite landowners or farmers who are said to be blocking it. But Patrick Galbraith's second book, Uncommon Ground, offers exactly that. As the title suggests, it is filled with voices from people who don't always make the headlines in the UK land access debate, which has taken a different turn since the UK Government dropped it as a policy in 2023. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad Patrick Galbraith From sitting in the nude talking to a naturist over a bowl of cereal to tracking down poachers in the Outer Hebrides and venturing out at dawn with working men from a wildfowlers club who've had to crowdfund to find the unmarked grave of their founder, Galbraith casts the net far and wide when it comes to gathering perspectives on access. There are, of course, farmers and estate owners interviewed. But Galbraith does well to refresh some of the reductive statements about the farming and land-owning community. He reminds us that they aren't all 'Old MacDonald or Mr Darcy' with some of the people he speaks to, and why some restricted access boils down to food production or the birds and the bees, rather than simply 'I'm rich you're poor and there's nothing you can do about it.' Then there are anecdotes from people who don't just want access to be protected, but need it, for deeply personal or cultural reasons. The intimate conversations and experiences the author has with people often overlooked in the land access debate makes this a must read for anyone holding up the megaphone to say something about it. The book includes shoddy examples at both ends of the 'right to roam' spectrum, from activists getting figures wrong to inflate online followings, to landowners sitting on swathes of acres failing to acknowledge the responsibility that comes with it. 'Humans and the land are inseparable', Galbraith writes, 'and landowners have an immense responsibility.' Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad But the author also doesn't shy away from uncomfortable truths when it comes to access in rural Britain that will make anyone who likes a walk in the countryside shuffle in their seat when reading this book. Take dog owners, for example. The book shows complications that land access presents since the rise of dog ownership; what this means for sensitive sites with ground-nesting birds nearing extinction, livestock and the pollution of rivers and waterways. And yet despite some heart-wrenching anecdotes, including a seal pup separated from its mother who was likely spooked, Galbraith doesn't deliver these with a damning tone. Throughout the book, and in a punchy conclusion, the author talks about the need for education and engagement. He says it is up to us to be intelligent about creating a countryside that works for all forms of life. While Scotland's 'right to roam', a colloquial term for the country's general public right of access introduced in the Land Reform (Scotland) Act 2003, is hailed as a shining example for what is needed south of the Border, Galbraith ventures north to unpick some of realities on the ground where people are said to wander free. These include hearing about no camping zones beside Loch Lomond, where bylaws have since been introduced due to unintended consequences of opening up access. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad There are some characters that Uncommon Ground unearths who leave you thinking 'if only there were more people like that with more influence', like Nicola, a stalker in the Highlands who is pro-access, but who says it must come with engagement and effort on both sides. While his own voice neatly sews together the diverse community of voices in his book, Galbraith's personal views on access rights aren't entirely clear. But this is perhaps deliberate, and fitting with a book on a complex topic that doesn't have a straight yes or no answer. Galbraith is trying to encourage more of a discussion rather than what currently seems more like a two-dimensional debate. Aside from this, there's an undertone of the author's commitment to nature throughout the book, particularly some of Britain's declining bird species; a nod to his debut book, In Search of One Last Song: Britain's disappearing birds and the people trying to save them.
The Guardian
13-04-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
In brief: Uncommon Ground; The Pretender; All That Glitters
Patrick GalbraithWilliam Collins, £22, pp356 Nature writer Patrick Galbraith's excellent second book more than fulfils the promise that his equally fine debut In Search of One Last Song suggested. In a series of acutely observed and often very funny vignettes ('it was diverse in the sense that there were people there from almost every Oxbridge college'), Galbraith travels across rural Britain in an attempt to look beyond the usual cliches of country life. In his exploration of everything from economic turmoil to the concept of 'belonging', he proves an erudite guide. Jo HarkinBloomsbury, £18.99, pp452 'Wolf Hall meets Demon Copperhead' is an impressive billing for a first-time novelist, but The Pretender mostly justifies it. Jo Harkin veers closer to the grittiness of Dan Jones's medieval-set fiction than the visionary sweep of Hilary Mantel, but it is still an auspicious venture into fictionalised history. Loosely based on the real-life royal pretender Lambert Simnel,The Pretender explores the machinations of the wars of the roses with authority, bringing the frightening world she depicts to life. Orlando WhitfieldProfile, £10.99, pp336 (paperback) If Orlando Whitfield's readable and fascinating memoir-cum-exposé of the art world isn't turned into a big-budget film, it will be an opportunity missed. The author explores his friendship with the charismatic art dealer-cum-convicted fraudster Inigo Philbrick, detailing how he becomes increasingly successful and ever more grandiose in his ideas. All That Glitters would be a considerable accomplishment for a veteran writer, but the knowledge that it is Whitfield's debut makes it all the more impressive. To order Uncommon Ground, The Pretender or All That Glitters go to Delivery charges may apply
Yahoo
30-03-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Stop scapegoating Britain's landed classes
An essential tenet of today's land access movement is that landowners are villainous and the larger their holdings, the worse they are. It's an attractive idea but it doesn't withstand all that much scrutiny. Last year, the Right to Roam campaign published a collection of curious essays titled Wild Service. The premise is that farmers and landowners have ruined English and the public need to make the countryside great again. It's an argument I sort of like, except I'd go in for doing it in a less antagonistic way. Turning up uninvited on somebody's farm with a JCB and a plan to create a wetland habitat is quite likely to end in tears and prosecution. Team Right to Roam, in the introduction, single out Richard Benyon's Englefield Estate for a bit of a kicking. His 'vast domain' is, according to Wild Service, ''shut, at all times, to the public'. A clumsy comparison with the church on the estate is made, which is apparently, 'open to all'. The grace of God, it goes on, 'and the meanness of man, side by side'. You can imagine my shock when, as part of the research I was doing for my own forthcoming book, Uncommon Ground, I turned up at Englefield to find that the front gate was in fact open. I wandered up the drive and happened to meet David, a lovely Ghanaian man. He told me he was just so thankful that people open their property to the public in Britain because in Ghana there is 'nothing like this'. Curiously, over the next couple of hours, I had half a dozen similar experiences. A month later I wrote to Richard Benyon and he invited me to talk. He too had read Wild Service and his take would be best summed up as bemusement. Not only are 1,700 acres of Englefield accessible but the public being able to enjoy the countryside is something he's championed all his life and, as for that church, his 91-year-old mother opens it every morning. The narrative that large landowners are hell-bent on keeping the common man off their acres is juicy but it simply is not true. In fact, generally, the larger the holding the greater the access. Take the Holkham Estate, for instance, where Jake Fiennes – the conservation manager – told me proudly that over 20 per cent of Lord Leicester's 25,000 acres can be enjoyed by joggers and picnickers. Conversely and quite understandably, I discovered too that the smaller the holding, the less good the access often is. Sure, let's break up large estates but will there be rambling after the revolution? I met a young activist who had been sent down to the Arundel Estate to 'bear witness to the ecological destruction' that goes on behind those hedges. Funnily enough, on a place famed for wildlife conservation, she had found it anticlimactic. Not only was it teeming with birds but nobody chased her away. She concluded, resignedly, that her adventure had been a 'symbolic thing'. Last week, the news broke that Clan MacDonald's 20,000 acre estate on the Isle of Skye has gone up for sale. Some cheered – but not apparently the tenant farmers and crofters who've benefited from centuries of ownership. The Scottish government continues to give landowners a kicking and tenants suffer – it's like hammering a CEO while ignoring the impact on everybody who relies on the company. Benyon is a thoughtful man – life is too short, he told me, to care about people writing nonsense. What matters to him more apparently is the happy sound of schoolchildren visiting his estate. The week I was there, they'd had 1,700 of them through the gate. 'I want young people to understand,' he told me, 'that the countryside doesn't just happen. There are skilled people who make it happen. I want them to understand where food comes from.' We desperately need to rethink our relationship with the countryside, but if we allow half-baked narratives to foment, we will all lose. Patrick Galbraith's 'Uncommon Ground: Rethinking Our Relationship With the Countryside' will be published on April 24 Broaden your horizons with award-winning British journalism. Try The Telegraph free for 1 month with unlimited access to our award-winning website, exclusive app, money-saving offers and more.
