Edge lands, “the urban fringe, the no man’s land between town and country”.
During a series of daily rail journeys from my local town, I identified a group of linear edge lands. At first I could not get beyond the abandoned tyres, plastic buckets and other assorted detritus that humans seem so keen to dump along our railway lines. But as the journeys progressed my eye developed to see the other aspects – the newly forming catkins on the willows, the gently unfurling buds of new leaves in the blackthorn & the flitting sparrows and other hedgerow birds.
Common ground
I first came across the concept of edge lands when reading an extraordinary book, Common Ground, by Rob Cowen. In the book, the author describes and explains his developing relationship with an unloved patch of land on the outskirts of Harrogate. In its own way, this small patch of ground was as wild as some of the areas we more commonly associate with wilderness. He describes the edge lands as “the urban fringe, the no man’s land between town and country.” While I could recognise the sort of area described, I had not explored this idea until my series of journeys gave me an opportunity to think about it in more depth.
Although the incidence of litter along these edge lands increases as the train approaches the towns and cities, the more rural areas are not immune. Why is it that these areas attract rubbish? It cannot be a function of the railway lines and the passengers as modern trains do not allow litter to be thrown from windows. Perhaps it is the nature of the edge lands themselves? Just by virtue of their position, they are not cared for. So, accumulating debris is no person’s responsibility and it is not cleared. The railway embankment is off limits to the farmers and home owners whose land adjoins it and provided the rubbish does not affect the running of the trains, it is probably not cost-effective to clean it up – the employees and contractors for Network Rail are tasked with a specific role and rubbish clearance would not appear to be part of it.
Resilient nature
But it is a testament to the resilience and strength of nature that new growth and new life can, not only survive, but thrive here. I have long been fascinated and intrigued by this ability for plants to find a niche whenever we turn our backs. A tiny build up of stone debris and dust in the corner of a step becomes a home for a germinating seed which develops into a small weed and then after a couple of seasons, there is an established colony of plants and associated insects and other invertebrates. Leave this untouched for much longer and there’s a wild patch of land we had not intended.
The “experiment” that is the exclusion zone around the Chernobyl nuclear plant in Ukraine demonstrates this on a much larger scale. It serves to demonstrate what can happen when we either knowingly or unintentionally abandon an area. Nature soon takes over to the extent that most of us are excluded from it because we are reluctant to encounter nature in this wild and unmanaged form.
This was also observed by many users of social media during the Covid-19 lockdown when pictures were shared of urban foxes, deer and wild boar roaming the streets that were, only a few days before, full of cars and people.
Whose litter?
It is obvious that some of the debris seen by the side of railway tracks is left by contractors working on the lines. Empty and part empty plastic dumpy bags, old rails, sleepers and insulators together with other discarded materials can be seen. Perhaps the contractors need to be incentivised to remove these materials for use elsewhere rather than just abandon it?
Some of the house holders whose properties abut the lines also seem to consider the land over their back wall or fence to be a legitimate repository for their unwanted garden and household waste. This is not just a function of the lines locally either. I have seen the same in the wealthy commuter belt to the south west of London. I suspect there is an element of “out of sight, out of mind” as with much of our waste. We have become used to other people taking responsibility for it and for managing it on our behalf. Once we cannot see it, it is no longer our responsibility. We see this with waste thrown from car windows that litters the sides of roads. But do the people who discard this debris over their fence onto the railway embankment not realise that their story, told in their discarded waste, is on view to all the rail passengers who pass by their back gardens every day?
I am quite happy to accept that what makes this part of the urban fringe, this edge land fascinating is that it is not cared for or managed or tidied but it would certainly be improved if there was less evidence of how wasteful we can be.