Not only is it unstable underfoot, it is also polluted – a mound of pure arsenic according to some, blue streaks of cyanide are said to leach out during wet weather. It appears that the clay cap that was supposed to contain all the pollutants was pierced during the creation of the ski slope. Decontamination studies have been carried out, but neither the local authority nor the private owners of the site (Chiltern Holdings, an anonymous offshore property investor) seem to have the means or the will to take them any further. So the hill is currently officially out of bounds, considered a public health risk. In reality it is well used by local people – walkers, taggers, drinkers, dreamers. Once through one of the holes in the fence there are several paths leading to the summit, some winding gently, some steep and straight. The eastern, western and northern flanks are covered in shrubs and young woodland. The southern slope was the old ski run, now a ruin of concrete foundations, an old staircase, some broken cables and posts, and the odd piece of textile mesh. So it has an ambiguous status. Abandoned but used. Polluted but covered in thriving vegetation. A high hill but prone to subsidence. A wilderness in suburbia. Leaving it alone, in a semi-feral state, might allow for greater biodiversity than if it was rendered safe and accessible to all. A fairly recent development in urban park management is to leave large areas fenced off and untouched, letting them get overgrown. In a dense city like Paris or London this could seem surprising, as accessible green space is so desperately needed, but the value of green spaces is about far more than accessibility. These fenced-off zones form a kind of biodiversity reservoir which carries far reaching benefits to the environment and society. We do not necessarily need to actively use something (walk on it, touch it, reshape it) for it to exert an influence on us, or participate in our life. The Alp has a rich relationship with the public imagination. With its affectionate nickname and notorious history it has become a local landmark in an area not known for landmarks. No other borough in London has an Alp. Its strangeness prompts us to ask questions, what is it, why is it here, why is it abandoned? And these questions open up whole chapters of the social and industrial history of the area and of London as a whole. Attempting to turn the mound into a ski slope was an attempt to mould it into something we understand. But perhaps we just need a bit more time to get used to it, to learn to accept it as it is. Maybe we don’t need to tame it or transform it as it is already seems to be doing quite a lot of useful things. ~
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Ruth Oldham
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