Edible and inedible hedgerow berries on the Grantham Canal

Autumn turns the towpath of the Grantham Canal into a slow-moving conveyor belt of colour. Hawthorns hang heavy with crimson clusters, elders droop under their glossy purple weight, and brambles weave a thorny curtain wherever the towpath slips away from the cut. Anyone who sets out with a basket and a vague idea of "free fruit" soon discovers that the hedgerows here are richer, more generous, and a little more complicated than the supermarket shelves suggest.

This guide walks you through the berries that line the canal, separating the genuinely useful from the genuinely risky. It is written for travellers who have perhaps done a bit of foraging back home and want to apply the same habits to the English countryside, with a few adjustments for unfamiliar species and unfamiliar rules. The aim is practical confidence: enough knowledge to fill a jar of jam, enough caution to leave the wrong berry alone.

The Grantham Canal runs for around 35 miles through Lincolnshire and Leicestershire, and a continuous strip of mixed hedgerow borders most of its length. Hawthorn, blackthorn, dog rose, elder, bramble and occasional cherry plum grow shoulder to shoulder with ash and oak, creating exactly the tangled edge habitat where wild fruit thrives. Whether you arrive by boat, by bike or on foot, the interactive towpath map is the easiest way to plan a stretch dense with productive shrubs.

A foraging walk along the towpath

The easiest place to start is between Woolsthorpe and Denton, where the towpath runs beside grazing pasture and the hedgerow is wide, old, and lightly trimmed. In late summer the blackberries are at their best here, often a full fortnight earlier than the same plants growing in the open. The canal cutting traps warmth, and the soil is slightly richer than the surrounding fields, which the brambles exploit with enthusiasm.

A sensible first walk covers four miles out and back from Woolsthorpe Bridge parking area toward the lock. The ground is mostly level, the stiles are well-maintained, and there is a pub at the half-way point if a pint of cider suits better than jam-making. Australians used to flatter canal-side strolls will find the pace familiar — anyone who has walked the Yarra Bend trail near Melbourne or the Duck Reach track in Launceston will recognise the gentle, mostly flat rhythm of a towpath walk.

The other reliable stretch is between Cropwell Bishop and the A46 crossing, where the hedgerow includes mature elder trees and a long, unbroken stand of hawthorn. This is one of the better autumn sections for collecting rosehips and elderberries in the same outing, rather than the bramble-heavy summer haul that defines the Woolsthorpe walk.

The familiar favourites: brambles, elder and rosehips

Three species account for almost every jar of hedgerow jam made in this country, and the Grantham Canal has all three in abundance.

Blackberries need no introduction to Australian visitors. The species is the same Rubus fruticosus that grows along the Murray River around Mildura and the back roads of the Adelaide Hills, and the flavour is similar — sharper here, where the autumns are cooler and the growing season shorter. Pick them well above dog-height, avoid the edge of fields where sprays may have drifted, and aim for fruit that comes away with the slightest tug. The berries are best turned into jam within a day or two, or frozen flat on a tray if you have collected more than you can use.

Elderberries are less familiar to most travellers from the southern hemisphere. The flat-topped clusters of small, dark purple fruit ripen in early September, and they are genuinely useful for syrups, cordials, and the traditional winter tonic. They must always be cooked, never eaten raw, because the fresh berries and the green stems contain compounds that can cause nausea. A useful rule is the same one Australians apply to lilly pilly or native muntries: know the plant, cook it well, and start with a small amount.

Rosehips, the bright scarlet fruit of the dog rose, are the late-autumn prize. They soften after the first frost and become sweeter, and they are high in vitamin C — a single tablespoon of purée reputedly contains more than a handful of oranges. The irritating seed hairs inside must be strained out before the pulp is used, but the effort is worth it for a sharp, rosy jam that pairs well with venison or a sharp cheddar.

Autumn bounty: sloes, haw and other late-season fruit

By October the canal-side palette shifts. Brambles have finished, elders are dropping their last berries, and the hedgerow settles down to two serious crops.

Sloes are the fruit of the blackthorn, the same shrub whose white flowers make the February hedgerows look like wedding veils. The berries are small, dark blue, and notoriously sour — so sour that even the birds leave most of them. Their main use is sloe gin, where the fruit is pricked, frozen, and steeped in sugar and gin for a few months. The frost helps split the skins, and many pickers wait until after the first cold snap of November before heading out. Hawthorn runs in parallel: small, red, two-seeded berries on thorny bushes, useful for a rustic ketchup or a hawthorn brandy rather than anything sweeter. They are fiddly to process but have a deep, almost date-like flavour once broken down.

A few rarer species turn up along the canal, particularly wild cherry plum near Harlaxton and the occasional crab apple, both useful in hedgerow jellies for body and tartness. None are particularly generous crops, but they show up reliably on walks year after year, rounding out a mixed berry jam in a way no single species can.

The same wildflowers and shrubs that draw foragers in autumn also support a surprising range of insects — for example, several rare butterflies patrol the warm cuttings and hedge bottoms in July and August. If you are on the towpath during peak butterfly season, the best spotting locations are a worthwhile detour from the basket and the secateurs.

Berries that look tempting but are best avoided

Three species along the canal look edible and are emphatically not, at least not without serious processing.

Woody nightshade has small scarlet berries that hang in loose clusters through autumn. They are related to the tomato and are mildly toxic, producing stomach upset and a dangerous drowsiness. The plant is easy to recognise once you know it: scrambling stems, small purple-and-yellow flowers in summer, and the dangling red berries later on. Admire it, photograph it, leave the fruit alone.

Black bryony is worse. A climber that twists through hedgerows with glossy heart-shaped leaves, it produces dense clusters of shiny red berries that look like a string of tiny tomatoes. They are poisonous and cause intense gastrointestinal symptoms. The plant has no edible part, and even handling the fresh root can irritate sensitive skin.

Deadly nightshade is rare in this part of the country but does turn up occasionally on disturbed ground. The berries are glossy black, the size of a small cherry, and extremely toxic. There is no excuse for picking it once you know the difference between it and a blackberry — deadly nightshade grows on its own single stem, not on thorny canes, and the berries are spaced out rather than clustered.

Privet, yew, and the unripe berries of woody nightshade and bryony all fit the same pattern: attractive, accessible, and best left for the birds. A useful Australian rule — never eat anything you cannot positively identify, and never eat a berry that sits alone rather than in a cluster — translates perfectly to English hedgerows.

Seasonal timing and Australian comparisons

The biggest adjustment for visitors from Australia is the timing. Northern hemisphere autumn lands in March for Australians, so by the time the Grantham Canal's hedgerows are dripping with fruit, the home bush is settling into winter and the berries there are long gone. Most Australian foragers plan their English trips specifically around the late September to early November window, which lines up with the school holiday break in New South Wales and Victoria.

Southern hemisphere visitors also tend to underestimate how much cooler an English autumn really feels. A Grantham morning in October sits around five degrees, and a wet towpath can feel much colder than the same temperature in the Adelaide Hills or the Riverland. Locals say dress for ten degrees colder than the forecast, and plenty of Australians already do the same thing back home — but it is worth packing a proper shell layer rather than relying on the fleece you wore for Mildura walks in June.

The other adjustment is scale. The Australian bush has its own foraging culture, built around native species like muntries, lilly pilly and quandong, while the English equivalent is built almost entirely around introduced and ancient species that happen to grow well in hedgerows. The skills transfer, but the species list does not. A short orientation on English hedgerow plants is genuinely useful, easiest had by spending an hour at a Grantham market stall or walking-tour start point before setting off.

Picking, preparing and staying safe

A few practical rules make the difference between a pleasant afternoon and an unpleasant one. Pick only from bushes you can positively identify. Stay clear of the bottom metre of any plant, where animals may have brushed against it. Wash everything well at home, and process it within 24 hours unless you have space to freeze it. Take plenty of water and a snack, because a four-mile towpath walk with a heavy basket is thirsty work.

For anyone planning a longer break around a foraging trip, it helps to combine the visit with a couple of low-cost side activities. Australian families travelling with kids often budget tightly for these kinds of holidays, and many of the same money-saving habits used for short-haul trips work just as well for a week in Lincolnshire: pick one paid activity per day, fill the rest with free outdoor options, and use self-catering rather than restaurants for at least half the meals.

A good first outing from this guide is the four-mile round trip from Woolsthorpe Bridge south to the lock and back, with a basket for blackberries in August or rosehips in October, a bottle of water, and an hour at the end for sorting, washing and weighing the haul before deciding what to make of it.