Flat fields of poppies and ox-eye daisies stretch out to a wide horizon. There are butterflies, vetches, salad burnet. Skylarks sing overhead and a cuckoo calls from the trees near the river. Legend has it that the poet Lord Byron swam here as a Cambridge undergraduate and, 20 years later, Charles Darwin surveyed its beetles. Heading through flowering meadows towards a nature reserve known as Byron’s Pool, I’ve walked a mile from the new £250m Cambridge South station.
Opening to passengers on 28 June, Cambridge South will be the first Great British Railways-branded station. The towering Biomedical Campus next door is Europe’s biggest medical research facility, with about 40,000 visitors a day. The station itself, with its 1,000 cycle-parking spaces, living roof and solar panels, feels like a model for sustainable transport.
Like other scenic medieval cities, Cambridge itself suffers from congestion. Its cobbled alleys are crowded with tourists, its roads gridlocked with cars. But you can reach some wild and peaceful corners without adding to the traffic. There are layers of human and natural history, a newly devised art trail, bat safaris by punt and a peaceful botanic garden near the busy central station.
Cambridge has been my nearest city for the last 15 years. With lots of buses and now three stations, it’s easy to get around without a car. I’ve spent countless days exploring, and published guides to the long-distance Harcamlow Way, a 140-mile (227km) figure-of-eight walking route that loops between Cambridge and Harlow. The best rural bus routes include the busway from Cambridge North station (opened in 2017) to Fen Drayton lakes and bus 1 to Fulbourn for orchid-rich fens and chalk-flowered Saxon Fleam Dyke.
Walking and cycle paths head out in all directions from the new station at Cambridge South, and I am following one of these to Trumpington, stopping for bao buns and peach oolong tea at the Dao cafe. In the village church, I find one of England’s oldest brass monuments. Sir Roger de Trumpington, who died in 1289, is lying in prayer and full chain mail, with a little lion-clawed dog biting his broadsword. Just south of the church, archaeologists unearthed the grave of a young Anglo-Saxon woman, with a delicate gold-and-garnet cross on her chest.
Heading north through Grantchester Meadows, I have a dip in the reedy River Cam, keeping my head above the willow-shaded water. Sun glints off ripples as I swim past waterlilies, moorhens and straggling blue forget-me-nots. Walking on towards the city through Paradise nature reserve, there are birds everywhere: a cetti’s warbler sings loudly from a reedbed and a song thrush from a waterside alder. A mother duck quacks warnings from a nest-topped tree stump as ducklings paddle underneath.
Twenty minutes further on, Cambridge University Botanic Garden (adults from £8.60, children free) is at its fragrant best. Bees are buzzing through sage, lemon balm and lavender in the scented garden; roses sprawl above foxgloves and cranesbill. There are benches in the cow parsley under walnut and cherry trees, where I sit and listen to blackcaps and chiffchaffs. I detour five minutes up the road to buy a slice of apricot tart from Maison Clement bakery and eat it on the train home.
In the last decade or so, several hotels have (re)opened near the central station, from the right-next-door Ibis (doubles from about £80) to the fancy University Arms (from about £175), where Parker’s Tavern brasserie can pack you a gourmet picnic hamper (£45pp) with 24 hours’ notice. Nearby, one of the city’s newest offerings, Hobson by Adina, has studios from about £125.
The next day, I catch bus 13 three stops to the iron age hill fort at Wandlebury, stroll round its wooded ramparts and past flax-blue meadows, sweet with wild marjoram. The grassy track of an old Roman road runs through shady beeches and pink dog roses.
Heading back into the city, I time-travel to Victorian Cambridge, when designers such as William Morris commissioned master painter FR Leach to decorate halls and churches. I thought I’d visited nearly all the city’s 30-odd museums and galleries, but until recently I hadn’t even heard of David Parr House, which is 10 minutes’ stroll from the main station. Parr was a working-class artist, employed by Leach to paint flowers, fruit, foliage and ornate text for Arts and Crafts designers across the country. By 1886, he had saved enough to buy a terrace house on Gwydir Street, which he decorated in the style of the interiors he worked on every day. A visit to the cosy house (from £15) reveals decades of hand-painted decoration and illuminates the city’s social history.
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The house is just off Mill Road, now one of Cambridge’s foodie meccas, lined with indie eateries serving noodles, souvlaki, bibimbap, bamya stew or exceptional plant-based tasting menus. Once a rough track to a windmill, Mill Road expanded with the railway into closely packed terraces. Parr’s house stands opposite an old redbrick brewery, now a stylish coffee shop. The house recently produced a new FR Leach walking map, which takes me to All Saints’ church on Jesus Lane, with its red, gold and green decor, and the Michaelhouse Cafe in a converted church, where Leach paintings can even be found in the loo. Down the road, Great St Mary’s has a 360-degree view from the tower (adults £7.50).
After a cone of tangy blackcurrant ice-cream at Jack’s Gelato, I wander down the road to the Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology (free) to see the jewelled Trumpington cross of that young Anglo-Saxon woman, alongside a gallery of Cambridge finds, from stone-age axes to eel-catching prongs. Over the road in the Museum of Zoology (also free), I pass through sea stars and rock pythons to find Darwin’s box of neatly labelled beetles.
As the museum closes, it’s time for supper at Jordanian Little Petra: crisp-and-creamy aubergine fatteh, topped with a jewel-like layer of nuts, parsley and pomegranate seeds, and Bedouin tea, brewed with fresh mint and sage. Finally, heading to the river, swifts are whirling and screaming as the sun sinks behind the colleges.
Iain Webb, community conservation officer at the local wildlife trust, dreamed up the bat safari 15 years ago and regularly guides punts full of nature-lovers along the Cam towards Grantchester on summer evenings (£71 for two). “We need nature more than nature needs us,” says Webb. Despite all the pressures on the Cambridgeshire countryside, it’s a rich, idyllic scene.
A kingfisher flashes past, herons fly overhead with huge, slow wingbeats, and the banks are gold with carpets of buttercups. Daubenton’s bats skim low over the water, while pipistrelles swoop between dark willow branches, flickering in and out of visibility, like creatures from some parallel dimension. A few stars are coming out, the darkling air is full of birdsong, and tawny owlets are calling from a nest among the trees.
Transport was provided by Greater Anglia. Find more info at Visit Cambridge