1997-1999

I’m not even sure that Redhouse Woods are called Redhouse Woods. One thing I am sure of is how much fun Jemima and I had walking there over a period of a couple of years. The love affair began in 1997 as one of those moments in random exploration. I had seen the imposing tree covered hills many times when driving the short distance to work from Beare Green to Dorking every morning during the period of December 1995 to January 1997. I had not thought to get any closer however until after Catherine had gone when new experiences and discovery were the perfect antidote to the dark curtain that seemed to cover everything in my outwards facing ‘official’ life. Once I had ‘discovered’ Redhouse Woods I would look forward to getting up there at weekends with Jemima to try different routes and loops and all kinds of short cuts up and down hills, through trees and along muddy tracks. As summer approached and the days grew longer I would be on the edge of my seat at work waiting for five o’clock to come around to get home as fast as I could, pick up Jemima, and head back the way I had just came.

It seemed nonsensical really to walk Jemima a mile or so from where I worked when I had a thirty minute drive to get home and a large green area to walk the Dog just a hundred yards around the corner. Still I did it many times anyway and Redhouse Woods became a retreat for me. I would nearly always park in the same place – drive from Dorking towards Coldharbour along Coldharbour Lane and after you go through the deep dark road that is cut into the forest you stop at the first set back parking area on the left. These days there is a gate but previously there was not. In the early days once we got out of the car we started out mostly turning right and heading up the hill and following the main open track. As you walk the track there are many different junctions and deviating routes that take you in many different directions so the trick was always to find a loop that took you back to the car. Over time I would go off track at various points – Jemima and I would on many occasions run up and down hillsides through the trees together. Often I would step out to the side and hide to see how long it would take for her to find me. Other times I would find sticks and throw them for her in that timeless game of fetch only Jemima would invariably play the ‘chase me’ game and tried hard to not let me have the stick back. I found all kinds of ways to trick Jemima into running the wrong way when I threw a stick or to drop a stick that she had almost brought back. On one occasion when she was overly energetic I stood at the top of a steep slope and threw a stick to the bottom. Jemima plunged down the slope, retrieved the stick, and came back. I then threw the stick back down to the bottom and again she threw herself down the slope and retrieved the stick. I did this perhaps twenty times and it didn’t tire her out. It seemed like she could never tire of anything especially stick fetching. Sticks come in all shapes and sizes of course but in the formative years of a Dogs stick fetching career they don’t always choose the best sticks to throw or carry. One particular ‘stick’ was about 12 feet long and had all manner of branches and twigs sticking out of it and as we ran down the side of the hill I only just managed to notice the fallen branch she was carrying before she took me out from behind. I jumped in the air to avoid being tripped up and she went past at speed only to be slowed by hitting various trees on each end of the branch. After three or four impacts with trees she learned to steer and navigate her branch by moving her head to the side. It was another important skill that she kept for life.

Alongside the many hours of walking through Redhouse Woods much time was also spent at the various viewing points that could be found by venturing off track. One open area off the side of one of the main tracks offered a far reaching view across the valley looking out towards Gatwick Airport. With a little perseverance and a keen eye one could see planes both coming into land and taking off. I would gaze into the distance to try to pinpoint the exact moment of a takeoff and quite often would watch the plane ascend, turn in my direction and fly overhead. My favourite spot though could be found again off to the side of the main track at what I would describe as the top corner of the hill. The trees here were silver birch, not like the pines that were prevalent everywhere else, and the place always felt very peaceful to me. It was here that I would chase Jemima around and kick up ‘cornflakes’ in her face. For some reason kicking up piles of dried leaves would send Jemima into a frenzy and she would spin round, sometimes on the spot, chasing an imaginary rabbit. Then in mid dash she would suddenly halt, offer me a quizzical glance, before setting off again.

All walks come to an end one way or another. Only Jemima, as she began to go through that phase of a young Dogs life where they begin to try to assert their own authority on the pack, would often not accept that the walk had ended. The first evening it happened I was caught completely unaware. She refused to get into the car, refused to be caught, and refused any attempt to get within touching distance. It took me an hour and a half to catch her. I was livid! For the first ten minutes or so I thought it was funny to chase the Dog and I made something of a game out of it. After that I began to get a little tetchy. In the end I had to approach her inch by inch until I could grab her before she could move. The next day I was a little more prepared and had Jemima on a lead perhaps a hundred yards before we reached the car. The time after that was worse though – she wised up to my trick of getting her on a lead and the insubordination started as soon as the lead came out. That evening it took me two and a half hours to get her back into the car and that was after an hours walk. In the end I had to drive off and I left her standing there. I swore as I drove down the road the wrong way towards Coldharbour and I got to the next car parking area, turned round, and headed back. Jemima was still standing around the same spot so I drove straight past. Of course a little way down the road I turned about and went back to her and it took me perhaps another 5 minutes to get her into the car. It didn’t put me off Redhouse Woods in the long run but for a month or so at least I went there sporadically. While the walks were fun it was ok to drive the distance but when every walk required a devious plan to get the Dog back into the car it became a chore. She didn’t seem to do the refusal anywhere else so Epsom Downs became the main walk for a while. It was also less costly for petrol – money was getting very tight.