I normally steer well clear of furious Twitter wars, but the recent story of a farmer spraying a wild camper with slurry has given me food for thought. First of all though, watch what happened:

I have spent hundreds of nights camping in fields like this, so I’ve got lots of opinions about this video!

• If I camp in a clearly-used field like this one I make sure to arrive late and leave early (leaving no trace, of course). This cyclist’s sleep has overlapped with the farmer’s working day. And farmers work hard, so you need to be up and riding early!
• The first thing I ever do if someone ‘finds’ me camping (which is very rare) is to approach them immediately, waving, smiling, clearly signalling that I’m a nice guy. I take the lead in setting the tone.
• If it’s clear who owns the land, I always ask permission as a courtesy. In reality, unless you see a farmer or are next to a farmhouse then this is not often practical.
• The farmer, Jack, has clearly had problems before with wild campers. People leaving a mess are annoying to farmers.
• There are two campsites just half a mile away from his field. Jack therefore sees the camper as someone simply unwilling to pay for a campsite who is then using his land for free.
• Jack is absolutely furious about someone having a kip by a hedge. He is incredulous, proprietorial, and clearly feels wronged. His reaction is probably similar to how yours or mine might be if we found someone camping in our kitchen. Unless we pause to consider this, the debates about land access will never progress beyond furious shouting matches on Twitter.

I would be angry (although actually maybe amused and curious) if I found a random cyclist sleeping in my kitchen.

Why?

Because it’s my kitchen! I own it. It’s private. And it would be rude, freeloading and invasive for you to turn up there without my permission, kip on the floor, and rustle up a Pot Noodle.

And that is how Jack feels here.

It’s his field, not the cyclist’s.

I understand how he feels, and why he feels that way.

But I also know the other side of the story.

I love the freedom of cycle touring. I prefer the simplicity and solitude of wild camping to booking campsites and noisy neighbours.

I believe that my kitchen is private to me, but that the land at large should be more loosely shared by all people and creatures.

And this is where the friction of the right to roam debate lies: the line between private kitchens and communal countryside.

To try to find a workable solution for all, I turn to that source of great wisdom, The Sun newspaper. Its interview with Jack quotes him:

• “I tell you what, these ***** will set up anywhere.”
• “They come up from the towns and think they can do what they want.”
• “We’ve had people from towns walking in the fields.”
• “We’ve had loads of trouble with dogs worrying the sheep.”
• “They wouldn’t like it if I went camping in their garden.”
• “They’ve got no knowledge of the countryside at all.”
• “They probably think food grows on a plant or something.”

I assume the final quote was a slip of the tongue about people not knowing where their food comes from and not valuing the vital work of farmers. I agree with that. (I also believe that if people were aware of the impact their food choices had on the planet then eating habits would change dramatically, but that’s a different topic.)

Most people don’t understand or value the role of farming. That is true. Food prices are absurdly low. Farming is hard. I’d like all that to change. As Jack said, people have “no knowledge of the countryside.”

But in order for that to happen, people need to know the countryside, to care for it, to value it, to prioritise it. Society needs to be reconnected to the land. And that is hard to do in England where most of the land is off limits.

Jack’s irritation that “they wouldn’t like it if I went camping in their garden” is at the heart of this problem of nature disconnection, even more than the ingrained, centuries’-old debate about humans owning landscapes. Nobody campaigning for a right to roam responsibly wants to camp in Jack’s garden. But tucking behind a hedge, nowhere near his garden, overnight, not interfering with crops or livestock, and packing up to leave no trace at 6am: is that really so bad?

Jack was driven to shit-slinging rage by episodes of people from towns walking in his fields and dogs worrying the sheep. These are bad things, certainly, but they are borne out of ignorance from people who have no experience of how best to look after the land.

At its heart, this is a problem of them and us. Farmers and cyclists. Townies and countryfolk. Landowners and commoners.

But look more closely and you’ll see more similarities than differences, and plenty of benefits of working together.

• Everyone loves nature and the countryside and wants to see it healthy and thriving. Environmental stewardship matters on both sides of the fence.
• Farmers want society to know more about their work and value it more. Society wants to connect with the countryside and know it better.
• Landowners don’t like litter and harmful behaviour. Nor do the rest of us. Roaming responsibly will only come through practice, and via a connection which comes from feeling included and belonging to that landscape enough to care about it. We don’t drop litter in our own gardens.

Should Jack the farmer have blasted the cyclist with slurry? No. It was a vile thing to do.

Should the cyclist have camped in that field? It’s not such an obvious yes/no. But the fact that I’ve done it hundreds of times myself shows which side of the hedge I’m on.

But those of us who love nature and care about increasing land access to more people need to understand why Jack was so angry, and then focus on our overlapping concerns and shared hopes for the future of the countryside, rather than just yelling at each other on Twitter.

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