Kingley Vale National Nature Reserve

The Kingley Vale National Nature Reserve is a National Nature Reserve (NNR) near Chichester, West Sussex in southern England, and is part of the South Downs. It covers an area of 160 hectares. It is part of the wider Site of Special Scientific Interest Kingley Vale.

The site is managed by Natural England. It has an information centre and a nature trail. There is a large area of grass downland and shrub land with a number of old yew trees. From the top there are outstanding views over Sussex and the south coast.

There are a number of walks and bridleways around the NNR with the main being around the woodland and yew trees and up to the top of the hills.

The nearest car park is at West Stoke about five miles northwest of Chichester, and there are footpaths leading up from the village of Stoughton.

Read more about Kingley Vale National Nature Reserve:  Natural Phenomena, Heritage Sites

Famous quotes containing the words vale, national, nature and/or reserve:

    There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet
    As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet;
    Thomas Moore (1779–1852)

    Perhaps our national ambition to standardize ourselves has behind it the notion that democracy means standardization. But standardization is the surest way to destroy the initiative, to benumb the creative impulse above all else essential to the vitality and growth of democratic ideals.
    Ida M. Tarbell (1857–1944)

    O, reason not the need! Our basest beggars
    Are in the poorest thing superfluous.
    Allow not nature more than nature needs,
    Man’s life is cheap as beast’s. Thou art a lady;
    If only to go warm were gorgeous,
    Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear’st,
    Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But, for true need—
    You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need!
    William Shakespeare (1564–1616)

    I understood that all the material of a literary work was in my past life, I understood that I had acquired it in the midst of frivolous amusements, in idleness, in tenderness and in pain, stored up by me without my divining its destination or even its survival, as the seed has in reserve all the ingredients which will nourish the plant.
    Marcel Proust (1871–1922)