Circling

Three birds of prey glided slowly and effortlessly across the sky, performing a circling dance and occasionally screeching loudly as they duelled for supremacy. Although a serious matter for them, I found it strangely relaxing to watch. 

Bloomin' nice

The blossom's out all over, though none more so than along the banks of Red Rise Brook. It's a riot of bright white flower blossom along there at the moment, swathes of blackthorn are putting on a proper show. It's a really good year for blossom in the forest too. Amongst the sea of white a beautiful apple tree coming into blossom, there's something special about the the scent of apple blossom, something heady and magical; I can't pass apple blossom without taking a moment or two to breath it in. It smelt lovely too. Just one of springs little pleasures.

Into the green

For a long time I neglected the forests coniferous plantations, shunned them as artificial, man made, wrongly thinking of them as homogeneous, dark and impenetrable or a least hard going. Of course, coniferous plantations are mostly like that when young, although when they mature they become something else. They become a whole worlds. Take the big coniferous block in the middle of Wilverely (a mosaic of deciduous and coniferous blocks), it's a world of mixed aged conifers with a well developed under-story, woodland you can get disorientated in, where you glimpse views through the stands only to lose them with your next step, you're not allowed to see too much at one time. One minute you're in relatively open stands, tall mature trunks reaching for the sky, next you disappear into a densely planted section, only to emerge in a secret secluded grove. The whole block is like that, magical. It's strangely peaceful too, whilst simultaneously so very much alive. Another beautiful thing about this world is that you can move through it almost silently, years of needles and dense moss have created a cushioned carpet, and you can just slide through the low hanging boughs. It's a wonderful sensation moving through like that. The smell too, that clean fresh conifer scent, and where parts remain continually shaded, there's always a petrichor-esque smell. You feel earthed, and grounded in their evergreen confines. Over the last few years I've become attached to the coniferous world. I see it very differently now, or rather I see it as I do the deciduous woods, many of which are also in part or entirely the consequence of human agency. More and more I seek out these less walked areas, criss crossed only by animal tracks (the only paths to travel), you feel alone with the trees and their woodland inhabitants. I find them areas where I can better connect, places where the tranquillity better facilitates contemplation and meditation.   

Covert ops

Whilst out walking in Brinken Wood this morning I came across something you shouldn't, clear signs of someone wild camping/having a fire.  It's something that frustrates me, folk leaving signs of their activity, it's just not the thing, it brings the rest of us on top. To their credit, not a single piece of rubbish, and the fire had been properly extinguished which suggests good practice, and maybe the visible remains were a result of a lack of bushcraft knowledge. It took me only five minutes to disperse the remains, camouflage the site and leave no trace that there had been a fire.  That's all it takes, and it makes all the difference. If people see the site of a fire they report it, the rangers or landowners check that area out more, and another wild camping opportunity is lost.  We wild camped a site on Dartmoor (on Dartmoor you can wild camp, though can't have a fire) up to 10 times a year for ten years before being rumbled by a ranger.  Even then we were only caught because we'd hung about too long in the morning.  The ranger told us that for years they'd regularly had reports of fires in the woodland beyond the river at night, although every time they went to investigate they could see or find no evidence, no trace of fire nor camp. That's how it should be.  He went on to commend us, before casually reminding us that fires were prohibited. Through good practice we'd got away with it. Even afterwards we continued to use the site, less though still regularly, and were never bothered again. The lack of bushcraft knowledge is a consequence of our culture in which increasingly folk aren't socialized to the outside and nature, nor are they encouraged to practice wild camping skills. To contrary, there are few areas where wild camping, and fewer still where wild camping with fires, is even permitted. Our countryside and wild places are all sown up, owned or controlled, with camping legislated against.  Lost to our detriment are the basic and fundamental survival skills of the ancestors.

Norden Wood

Although the sun was just beginning to burn through the mists, the Corfe Valley remained veiled in gossamer...there were to be no views of the coast this morning. That didn't matter though, what was on offer was more than enough to satisfy the senses. The land's coming alive. You can see the trees and shrubs straining, they're champing at the bit ready to unfurl their glories. Whilst below them the race has already begun, the path sides are thronged with competing spring greens. In Norden  Wood the Ash buds are fit to burst, under them the ramsons and dog mercury (both ancient woodland indicators) have formed a lush dense green carpet, a fragrant carpet spotted with primrose and the beginnings of bluebells. The energy in the land is tangible, the birds shout natures on the clock, and that wheel keeps turning. This landscape has always been a landscape rich in resources of all kinds, and subsequently has seen human activity for millennia, amongst the lush carpet we pass by an ancient prehistoric boundary which can be traced, highlighted in green. Green would certainly be the word of the day.

Post Brexit national flag

Not well advertised (which may have explained the poor turnout), and without any pomp or ceremony, our post brexit national flag was unveiled in Purbeck this morning.  Up on the Purbeck Ridge, overlooking Corfe Castle, a castle, you don't get a better symbol of sovereignty than that, the apt new red, white and blue symbol of British sovereignty fluttered proudly. It hung on a barbered wire fence, another symbol maybe, this time of a nation imprisoned by a narrative built on a false premiss, that of a Britain that never was. Still, nice to see we've kept the red, white and blue. 

Custard alert!

The Luck of Eden Hall's Gregory Curvey has been whipping up second helpings of delicious and aurally nutritious Custard flux in way of a further album. He's left some on a spoon cooling for us to have a taste...and it's bloody good stuff! I thoroughly enjoyed last years first helping of Custard Flux, the fabulous 'Helium', and so was overjoyed to hear there'd be seconds (here's my review of Helium). The taster track's 'America'. 'Freedom and democracy, a place to raise a family, America' goes the chorus, although sounding like a celebration of the American dream, there's irony at play here which is confirmed by the following line 'a capitalist fantasy, insatiable reality, America'. It may also have a lovely perky upbeat melody to it, though it also has a hint of a melancholy running through it, and maybe an element of gentle sarcasm in Curvey's lyrical delivery too, which along with the lyrics themselves speak of a dream turning or turned sour...America. Wonderful and well observed, it's a beautiful sounding track too. If this is representative then, man, Custard Flux's forthcoming album release is going to be something else. If you don't know Gregory Curvey's work, firstly, you're missing out, and secondly, he's a writer and musician of enormous talent, proficient on many instruments and musically eloquent, he has an eye for detail and is a master of creative alchemy. As is customary with Gregory's sound it's wonderfully rich and resonant with fantastic flourishes, in short he's a purveyor of contemporary psychedelia at it's very best. And, this is an example of it. If I were a fish and this were bait, then I've taken it hook, line and sinker, just reel me in. Go on, give it a listen.

Stuck in the middle, confused.

Sunshine to the left of me, hail stones on the right, here I am stuck in the middle confused. Strange day indeed, though one of the joys of periods of seasonal transition are strange days, when weather wise anything can happen. I sat breathing in the forest under a favourite Oak on the edge of Red Rise Shade, in front of me an expanse of heathland stretching up to Rock Hills and Spy Holms, glorious sunshine warming my face, I'm lost in the sounds of the forest. When suddenly hail begins to fall, though the sun still shone warmly, and for a while both states continued in unison. It was quite an strange sensation, two diametrically opposed weather types simultaneously doing their things, magical.  A take on, 'a foxes riddle and a monkey's dance', something my mum used to say, when it rained whilst the sun shone. Seeing how things were going, we moved off back down towards the brook and the less exposed stands of Burley Old. As we hurried, the sky slowly darkened and the hail intensified until it dominated, and the sun, sensing the futility of struggling, retreated. Intense would describe the rate of fall, ans although the downpour was relatively short lived, by the time the hail had stopped the ground was carpeted in small icy balls. It's never dull walking in the forest. Elements of spring, hail and welcome.

Eel

Walking along Mill Lawn Brook this morning I spotted an Eel, a European Eel (Anguilla anguilla) which is apparently on the critically endangered list, how wonderful to see one here in the forest. A testament to the vitality of the forest streams, and maybe the benefits of the forest's stream restoration program (aptly 40% funded by the EU). I've previously mentioned how the stream restorations have born wonderful fruits, and so quickly, revitalizing rich environments, creating an increased the number of habitats, including niche ones, and hugely increasing biodiversity overall. The streams and their environs are much healthier and more vibrant, as well as the eel, fry darted through the stream, ponies grazed it's banks, deer in the wider environs, whilst a Heron and a Egret looked for dinner from their riverside vantage points amongst thriving wetland plant communities.  As I say, the restoration project is part funded by the EU under the Life 3 scheme, and I have to wonder whether after our departure from the EU such projects will fall by the wayside. I can't imagine our government see environmental projects such as these as a priority. It would be a great shame if the restoration of the forest streams and bog woodland faltered, and the achievements so far neglected. To paraphrase the People's Front of Judea, What have the EU ever done for us? In truth nobody knew how integrated we are in Europe and how much our communities, people, environment, wildlife, our whole nation in fact, has benefited from our unique relationship with the EU. 

Red Rise Brook

Red Rise Brook

Hold on....

He said, 'hold on they're coming', he said, 'hold on a full canopy is very near'. Well, he didn't actually say that, I've paraphrased Country Joe...a bit. But, the canopy is coming, an eager oak, an early adapter is already staking his claim to space, you know what Rush said about the oaks.

Burley Old

I regularly access Burley Old through this gate, so much so that I don't take much notice any more, only really registering my surrounding when into the stands and on my way. Today, for reasons unknown, I found myself hanging back, draping myself over the gate, and taking time to study the woodland, acclimatizing my senses and tuning in. It was worth doing. I think sometimes life encourages, or rather forces you, to move faster than your senses would like, meaning some details, the minutia of life, get overlooked as you hurry through. You miss so much that way, too much, it's good to slow it down, that minutia's important. Weirdly I felt that 5 minutes spent tuning in gave me better connection to the woods. It wont look like this for much longer, the wheel keeps on turning, and soon the forest will close in on itself, your views through the stands hindered by low hanging leafy boughs. Spring is stepping up it's game.

Last post

Yesterday it was a new build in the woods, today the remains of an old one. These unassuming withered boughs, now much reduced from their former glories, have been propped up against this young tree for in excess of 15 years, maybe nearer 20. They were once part of a teepee type construction, small, though you could sit inside of it, and for most of those years the structure remained accessible and a feature of the wood. I've watched as over the years, bit by bit, the sticks and branches have fallen away, creating a jumble round the base of the trunk as they slowly return to the earth. The decline was slow at first, although in recent years it's accelerated.  Still, it's amazing to think an afternoons playful construction would enjoy such longevity.

Woodland development

There's a new build in Burley Old, and it's none too shabby, in fact it's quite the grand design. Woodland detritus shelters come in all shapes and sizes, and a lot of work's gone into this one. A lot of thought has gone into the selection of materials and it's construction too. Bravo to the creators, not just for a super building job, but also for adding something to the wood, another woodland curio, more organic art. I feel quite inspired.

Andy Roid

It was sad to hear recently that the 'Music of the Andys' have ceased as a musical combo, as their post put it 'the goose (of perception) has flown'. What a shame, man, there was a certain magic there, something hypnotic and even shamanistic in their sound, certainly a sound full of energies. Thanks and applause must go out to Andy Roger and Andy Burrows for their sterling work and many great live performances...bravo!  There's still some cool Music of the Andys stuff on their bandcamp page to check out. On a brighter note, it turns out the goose doubles as a phoenix and both musicians continue on, Andy Burrows with the fabulous Here and Now Band, and Andy Roger with a smashing new Andy Roid project which has oodles of potential. Andy Roid's first release is Guru Hoodoo, and it's 24 minutes of great.  You're taken on an aural journey all hypnotic and strange, there are plenty of fabulously odd sounding samples and trippy loops, it's as ambient as feck in a wonderfully weird, at points eerie, way. Andy creates richly textured and deep soundscapes which though constantly evolving, morphing and shifting focus, maintain a cogent path. At a couple of points there are echoes of surreal 60's TV soundtracks, you could imagine Steed running about a tripped out dolls house or something, all filmed weird angles and perspectives. Lovely stuff. I can't wait to see where this goes, nor can I wait to catch him live, should take a bean bag though, this is the sort of music you want to lay back and dissolve too. Check it out.

Corfe

Corfe Castle, gateway to Purbeck, tucked quietly away on the Dorset coast, though a castle which crops up again and again in the national story. In it's day it was regarded as one of the most tenacious of castles in the country, founded by William the Conqueror, it served at different times as a home, a weapons store, a prison and a mint, as a royal stronghold it withstood sieges in both civil wars, and never fell in battle, finally falling to treachery and subsequently slighted by order of parliament.  It is the most archetypal and romantic of ruined medieval castles.

Norden Wood

Mother Nature had laid out the green carpet for us this morning in Norden Wood.  A lush carpet it was too, swathes of ramsons releasing the pungent scent as you passed, their flower heads still tightly closed, dogs mercury, the promise of bluebells and the occasional flash of creamy yellow primrose flowers. Norden's a predominantly Ash woodland, an increasingly vulnerable species, it's very different from most of the woodland I roam, and therefore's even more special to me. Sitting at the base of one of the older trees I sank into the woods, immersed myself in its sounds, mainly birdsong, the canopy was a huge conversation, I couldn't understand what was being conveyed, though I got the gist. Only clear blue was visible through the high branches, and a young sun showed his potential, a gentle breeze swept through, swirling scents and sounds. Norden covers an area of the landward facing side of the Purbeck Ridge and there always appears to be a breeze present. I sat bathing in pure spring, absolute bliss, I could've sat here for an age. I'll be back soon though, soon the ramsons will come into their own, and although I know many ramson woods, there's none to match Norden's majestic beauty in full bloom.

Hare

Spring was certainly about in the Chase this morning. Driving along I turned a corner to find a hare sat nonchalantly in the middle of the road. I pulled to a stop and we both just looked at each other, before I broke the spell by going for my camera.  I just managed to snap a shot out of the car window before the hare disappeared over the brow of the hill. Always a lovely sight, a hare.

Chase

The quiet of the woods was broken by a carrion bird and a bird of prey engaged in aerial combat above Stonedown Wood this morning, noisily the pair circled and swooped. The carrion was the aggressor, or was at least dominating the interaction, with the bird of prey unable to shake off its pursuer. The carrions dogged persistence made me think the bird of prey had encroached into the formers territory, and was being shown short shrift. In the end I lost sight of them, though I could still hear their cries disappearing into the distance.

Avon Water

Avon Water between old Holmsley station and Wooten Bridge is one of the forest's more recent stream restoration projects. I was struck today how successful the project has been, and how quickly the stream and it's environs are being transformed. Done in two sections over a few years, the woodland is hardly recognizable, and all traces of the straight forest drain have been erased. If you ever saw the forest's streams before they were restored to their meandering pre-Victorian courses, you'd remember how sterile many of them were. Straightened to drain the forest more effectively, and regularly cleared, it was difficult, no, more impossible for any plants to secure a foothold, bare gravel beds and barren banks were the order of the day. How fantastic to see it now. The scars of earthmoving machines are healing rapidly, the thinned canopy allows more light through, greening the land below, aquatic plants have established communities in the meanders and wetland plants thrive along the shallow banks. Avon Water's a really interesting stream as it represents a fluid border between two very different groups environments; the drier mixed blocks of woodland with their frequent grassy clearings, and wetter areas of carr woodland, sphagnum bog and phragmites reed beds. They've done a fantastic job on these sections, the transformation to date is remarkable, and the transformation will only deepen as more plant, insect and animal communities become established in this more harmonious and inviting environment.

Springs advance guard

Fruiting trees are beginning to blossom, in the garden it's the cherries, out here in the forest it's the Blackthorn (Prunus spinosa) who are the first of the woodland cohort to show. Walking in Bratley Wood I noticed one tree in the wood was far more advanced in flowering terms than the others, it's buds were full to burst and clusters of clean white flowers were already on show. What was interesting, to me anyway, was that the advanced tree was a stressed tree, one that had suffered storm damage a season or so ago and was listing at 30 degrees. One of the stress responses in plants is to produce more flowers and therefore, hopefully, more seeds to increase the trees likelihood of reproduction and survival of its line. I've seen this in other trees, one in particular is that rarest of trees, in these parts anyway, the Juniper. I only know of two junipers, only one that fruits, and that fruiting one is highly stressed and always heavy with berries. The Blackthorn is common throughout the forest, especially along the stream corridors and amongst the open ancient deciduous stands, this one's going to be a riot  of flowers soon. One of springs advance guard. Hail and welcome.

No moon in sight

I know I said I try to to get a photo of every full moon this year, though tonight the thick blanket of cloud which smothered the sky ensured I was to be thwarted. So here's a photo of my full moon fire instead. 

Sping Equinox

To celebrate Alban Eilir, and a moment of equilibrium in our ever turning wheel of the year, the Willows are putting on their seasonal display, they're like organic fireworks. In a landscape still brushing the sleepy-dust from its eyes you easily spot their eagerness, a welcome portent of springs potential and promise. May the seeds of your dreams fall on fertile ground. Equinox blessings y'all.

Canopy's coming

All about buds are beginning to burst into life as the first leaves of Spring start to show. I love all the seasons dearly, each has their beauty and gifts, though I'll admit I favour Spring. Springs beauties are legion, the overwhelming sense of fecundity, the boundless potential that offers, all that new life, the verdance, the light and the energy of it all. Springs energy is infectious too, walking in Spring is an opportunity to be energized, and I'm sure we could all do with some of that.

No surrender

Hollowed by battles, battered and bruised.

Asked to surrender, the tree she refused. 

Epiphanies

I've been grateful for any moments of epiphany I've had, we all need them, things that have offered clarity, a change of perception or a key that's opened another door. They come in many forms and from diffuse sources. One that often comes to mind when I'm in the woods, predictably maybe, is reading Robert Holdstock's Mythago Wood. I was thinking whilst amongst the crowded stands of shadowy conifers, with their pockets of veteran deciduous trees appearing like magical groves, how profoundly Mythago Wood altered the way I perceived, received and related to landscape. I know it's fiction, don't underestimate the magic in the arts though. I've found there's often elements of genuine truth to be found in stories and lyrics, truths are just truths. Musing I wondered how best describe the gift the book had given me, and concluded that I couldn't adequately put into words how Mythago changed my perceptions, just that it did. Through it I managed a deeper richer connection to nature, the past, and an  understanding of how they're connected, it shone a beneficial light on my spiritual path too. Not that I base my spirituality on a book, though millions do, more that Mythago Wood was a lightning rod, it acted as a key to change, and that change was illuminating. I never really leave the woods, I understand that  now.

Fairy land

There's always something interesting to find off the beaten track, even if it's only just off the track. Take this 'Fairy Tree' in Wilverley enclosure, I know it's a fairy tree as it has a tiny sign on it saying so, to all intents and purposes it's a 'wishing tree'. The origins of the wishing tree extends way back into history, and possibly beyond, the 'Clootie Tree' is traditionally festooned with strips rag offerings representing wishes, similar practices can be found all over the world. Modern ones have extended the range of objects tied, hammered in (coins are a common item) or left at the tree. A fluttering rag caught my eye as we moved through the stands, it brought a smile, I like finding sites like this, although as I drew closer I saw there was a plethora of other things tied to the trees branches and scattered on the floor. There lies the issue, for me anyway, wood, stone, metal, string, fabric, shell, anything organic, there's quite a lot of scope there, it's all cool, it's the introduction of plastic, tinsel, glitter and similar that concerns me. I'm not criticizing these folk (I'm far from perfect) or their practices (well, their practices, a bit), I just wish people would think a little more, the idea's good, their motivations are good, that's clear by the wishes, it's all that plastic though, and there was a lot of it. Still that gripe aside, it's good to see folk customs persist, and even enjoy a bit of a renaissance. There'd been plenty of activity around this tree too, and there was plenty of interesting stuff hanging about its tree. As well as rag wishes and offerings, the tree was well covered in graffiti, mostly shallow carved individual letters (again, something which I know raises hackles). On one offering I saw '2017', so this tree's been used for a while now, the condition of many of the offerings confirmed it. I was intending to have thorough look about, but there were tinkly things on the branches, and their ceaseless jangling had Geoff all of a tither, so we moved off beyond the open mixed stands and the Fairy Tree, disappearing again into the dark conifers seclusion and quiet. Waiting to see what we find next. 

Light wave

Today bands of cloud scud across the sky driven by blustery winds, below them the light came in waves across the Chase as they passed, flooding Stonedown Wood with warm luminosity before ebbing away again, leaving the stands drained and quite flat by comparison. Still, lovely walking though.

Smashing

We only skirted the edge of Burley Old this morning and saw ten or more trees downed, most in two groups. In both a large tree had fallen taking out some of the surrounding smaller trees. This veteran beech of fair girth crushed at least three, a mature oak and two birch, maybe more it was quite a mess,  the core of the beech was well punky, and may have been why it succumbed to the winds, that and it's on the woodland fringe, exposed. Whilst a little further on a large oak had taken out another smaller oak, a beech, a birch and two hollies. As I say, we really only skirted the enclosure, I dread to think how many more are down. Burley Old has suffered terribly in recent years, losing the veteran trees is bad enough, losing the younger trees too, that just adds insult to injury. The enclosure looks a sorry state, particularly viewed through the seasons naked lens.

Dear Liza

There's a hole in my bucket dear Liza, dear Liza, to be honest Liza, it's more hole than bucket. Hanging on a simple hinge bolted through a gnarled old post, nothing else remaining of the gateway, nor any visible fence line for that matter, this old bucket here has certainly seen better days, and when those day's were one can only guess. I've mentioned before how the landscape of the Chase is a layer cake of human activity going back over five thousand years. Of those older phases only earthen evidence remains visible, barrows, banks and boundaries, whereas sometimes these more tangible relics remain of recent activity.

There's only one way

The light through the stands was lovely this morning. Setting off on today’s walk my mind was on a blog I'd read at breakfast by a local pagan type, in particular something the author had written about insecurities around whether they were a good or bad pagan. That resonated with me, though for me the anxiety manifests more as am I 'doing' this right? I'm confident in what my aims are, just not always in how I'm doing pursuing them. My rituals, as they are, can be quite mutable, often ad hoc, and always organic in nature (well nearly always, I do sometimes write things down). I like them, and I feel they work for me. Although still I wonder if I shouldn't follow a more established methodology, more ordered ritual. I enjoy organized ceremonies and open rituals, whether with a large group at Stonehenge, Glastonbury and Avebury, or with local groves (of which there are two, both lovely groups of people).  Most of the time though life gets in the way, and I end up following the solitary path. Of course there's no definitive pagan way, more a myriad of paths observing the traditional eight fold year, which happen to coalesce around a broad generally accepted framework. There's no doctrine, so I can't be doing it wrong really. Anyway, as the Rede says 'an you harm none, do as you will'. I don't know. Maybe writing stuff down would help, I've wanted to create my own quarter calls for a woodland setting for a while. I know it's confidence thing, and really the Levellers had it right with 'There's only one way of life, and that's your own'. Nice out today.

Reflection

The forest's a perfect place to reflect.

Turkey Tail

Swathes of Turkey Tail (Trametes versicolor) are a common sight on the forests hardwood stumps and draped over fallen trunks. It's a powerful medicinal fungi whose many applications, although being known in traditional folk medicine for hundreds of years, are currently the most extensively researched of all medicinal mushrooms.

Moss Forest

The forest's moss is loving the wet.

Ober Water

The forest has been dry this winter, but for a handful of occasions we've been able to cross the forests streams without undue drama, although not today, today was how the forest should have been for most of the last couple of months. Between the higher dry ground of Ferny Knap and Rhinefield Sandy's, Ober Water flows through low wet grassland and heath. Usually a narrow stream when engorged as this morning the waters spill out, filling a myriad of former channels, creating a formidable obstacle. Crossing Ober Water was a bit of a kerfuffle today.

Nationalist graffiti

I wonder if we'll ever cure humanities distasteful nationalist and xenophobic tendencies? If you remember 1970's Britain (and the 1980's to a lesser degree) then you'll recognize the conjoined letters carved into the tree. NF, the National Front, racist boot boy bullies, white nationalists trumpeting Britain whilst doing Nazi salutes, to put them simply...the enemy. Ignorant racists, who also enjoyed a whole suit of other intolerances, and most of whom had never met a person of differing culture or ethnicity. Periodically they returned, in the 90's as the BNP, the British National Party and more recently as the EDL the English Defence League, nearly 50 years on, although the acronyms change, the same tired right wing nationalist rhetoric and slogans endure. Currently they're the most vocal and powerful I've known them, Brexit unleashed them, Brexit is based on xenophobia, they say 'not everybody who voted Brexit is a racist, though every racist voted Brexit'. And the same shit is happening all over. Thriving on fear and disenfranchisement, inexhaustible products of our political systems, they'll always find an angry desperate ear that'll listen. Sad times. I was afforded a schadenfreude moment with the most recent immigration figures though, predominantly white Christian Europeans down, predominantly coloured non Christian rest of the world types up, oh the irony, poetic really. And the graffiti is from 1970's, I don't think they made Rays after the 70's.  

The New Forest

When people think of the New Forest I'm sure it's of expansive woodlands, of which there are some 230 sq mi of broadleaved woodlands and enclosed mixed plantation, although there are also 59 sq mi of open grassland, heathland and wetland. The photo above is representative of much of the forests heathland, a mixture of dry heathland with pockets of wetland heath, wetland and carr woodland filling hollows in the undulating landscape. Many of the wetland heath areas are impassible, especially through the wet seasons, punctuated as they are by wetland proper, you'll often find yourself following the contours of the land, making a 5 minute walk as the crow flies, a 20 walk.  This view is of the lower reaches of Duck Hole and Duck Hole Bog taken from one of the Bronze Age Round Barrows which border Ferny Knap enclosure (one of the smaller enclosures 21 acres, enclosed 1843. Lovely morning.