Stranger

A stranger in a strange stand. A radiant young beech shines alone, cloaked in her autumn tints amongst a stand of dour oaks reluctant to accept the coming fall.

Autumn tints

Autumn tints

Purbeck

A walk in Purbeck, along the Jurassic Coast, our first World Heritage Site, a landscape of natural wonders, and a memory repository of countless Sundays exploring, of adventures, not always undertaken safely nor in appropriate conditions if truth were known. Since the early 80's Purbeck has been a place that has called to us, so many memories of days roaming its' wild landscape with dear friends. A treasure trove of fond memories. Walking those same coastal paths this morning, scrambling amongst boulders and scaling slides with one of those dear friends was a welcome exercise in timelessness.

Houns Tout

 

I'd seen that the coastal path down from Houns Tout to Chapmans' Pool was closed back at the Summer Solstice, though this is the first time I've seen the landslide that caused it. Hell of a slide. A whole section of the cliff has gone, the coastal path with it, slumped towards the shore. In time the fences will be moved a few meters inland and a new path established, for now though it's a fair detour inland from Houns Tout to Kingston and then seaward again to Chapmans' Pool. Nice though. The Purbeck coast is in flux. It was ever thus.

Low Vol.1: The Delirium of Hope

 

Man! What a stellar graphic. Low, Volume one: The Delirium of Hope collects issues 1-6. Old now, the original comic run began back in 2014, new to me though. Masterfully written by one of the genres finest scribes Rick Remender, it's a hell of a tale. The main protagonist is a die-hard optimist in a world which really doesn't warrant it. Set on a future Earth being slowly consumed by our expanding Sun, and with humanity reduced to a handful of great cities deep in the oceans, searching the stars for hope, waiting for a reply. A dystopian world, where humanity has lost itself as it lost hope, drifting into baseness. Spoiler, it's not full of laughs, it's a gritty, brutal tale of a clock ticking, and of hope keep getting a kicking and getting up again smiling, well, not smiling. Perfectly paced prose coupled with phenomenal illustration drive a captivating story. The art of Greg Tocchini is something else. At first a little disorientating due to the busyness of the panels and freeness of style, but once attuned, wow, gorgeous lines, dynamic and expressive, and a wonderful palette and use of colour. Tocchinis' panels are sensational. Such a good read.

Rainbow

 

That's two chances of a pot of gold then.

Jewelled webs

The astounding levels of productivity shown by the forests' spiders never ceases to amaze me. The gorse were again festooned in their bejewelled gossamer creations this morning.

Apsey bridge

Aspey Bridge over Ober Water.

Alien worlds

 

The forest was shrouded in mist again this morning, giving it an air of alien world. 

Old Apsey ford

 

Morning at Old Apsey ford.

In a rut

The roars of stags showing off echo through the forest, a show of dominance, we hear him long before we can see him. Strutting around his well established rutting ground, a fair harem around him, he's alert for any challengers, he needs to be, it's a winner takes all game.

Mythago Wood

I've just finished reading Robert Holdstocks' Mythago Wood for the umpteenth time, and it's star remains undimmed. Man, I love this book. I can't recommend it highly enough. Holdstock deftly weaves threads of reality and fantasy, between threads of archaeology, history, and folklore into a compelling tale, brooding and atmospheric. With characters that are believable, well developed, with dimension and depth, complicated; and a world that is at once wholly recognisable and fantastical. Beautifully written he masterfully evokes the atmosphere of the wild wood, and the magic of a landscaped soaked in history, monument, and lore. Ryhope Wood is a timeless English wood, a remnant of the original wild wood that once covered this post glacial isle, it ignores all natural laws and defies reality. A landscape where the genesis of myths are formed, become flesh, live out their stories and regenerate for changing times; Mythagos, variants of timeless archetypes roam the woods. The Huxleys' home sits within the influence of this mysterious wood, a family beguiled by a wild beauty and the magic of Ryhope Wood, who end up consumed by both in a pursuit back through time, ancient stands and stories. The potency and purpose of myth and story, their cultural importance, are explored; how stories shape our lives and our experience of the world.  Our ancestors lived in a world of magical phenomena and mythical characters, an oral world, a world shaped by stories. Through the magic of Ryhope Wood I feel Holdstock encourages the reader to experience woods differently, through an awareness of the magic that surrounds us, and to be open to it. Mythago Wood is an enthralling read. If you love the natural world, if you find wonder amongst the stands, and if you're open to letting your imagination run. Then this is a book for you.

Sergeant William Lawrence

 

There's this amazing gravestone in the graveyard of St Nicholas' Church, Studland. The grave of Sergeant William Lawrence of the 40th Regiment of foot. Born in Briantspuddle 1791. William had one hell of a life. A child of 14 when he first saw war on the other side of the world, he served with honour in some brutal battles, and to be a member of the Forlon Hope, well, that's some heroic shit right there. When he returned to Studand after the Napoleonic War with his French wife they became the landlords of the Wellington Inn which stood just up the hill on the other side of the road from, and was later replaced by, the Bankes' Arms. Hell of a life.

Golden dawn

 

Not the clear sky foretold by the weather wizards, though a lovely early morning nevertheless. Our first walk these ways since the beginning of spring; through the summer dogs need to be on the lead, and anyway, the beach is often rammed. This morning the beach was ours. Geoff ran in huge circles, occasionally ducking into the sea or rolling in the sands, he loves it here, from the moment we hit the sands he was off. Me? I just soaked up, it was so peaceful, just the elements and us, a little piece of wild to unwind in. Beautiful. The Isle of Purbeck retains a certain wild magic all of it's own, ever present and almost tangible.

Hedgies

 

One of the mushrooms that appears to be doing well, so far, this very disappointing mushroom season are Hedgehogs (Hydnum repandum). It's one of my favourites too. Common throughout the forest, usually abundant, very easy to identify and damn tasty to boot. Obviously, never collect anything unless you're 110% certain on identity.

Surveyor

 

Queen of all she surveys. One of Eponas' own takes stock of her roam.

View from Soarley Beeches

 

View from Soarley Beeches toward Mouse's Cupboard.

Rhinefield plot

There's a block of woodland, a stand of younger deciduous trees, oaks, in Rhinefield Sandy's, that has always struck me as different. I've long wondered about this stand. Then a stumble on the inter-web answered my question. I came across a 1944-1950 aerial photo (National Library of Scotland) covering this part of the forest, and it showed that this parcel of land appears to have been agricultural plots during World War Two and into the post war rationing period. That would explain a lot; although  very gently sloping, the woodland floor is flat, and beyond some minor incursions from bracken, there's very little ground flora other than grasses. Makes sense adjacent to Rhinefield House. More broadly during and after World War Two some 350 Hectares of the forest went under the plough.

Western Hemlock

 

Outside Rhinefeild Sandy's they're clearing invasive Hemlock Spruce (Tsuga), escaped from the adjacent enclosure. I'm sure, but I think these are Western Hemlock (Tsuga heterophylla) commonly grown for timber about the forest. Western Hemlock is fast growing imported species, native of North Western America, one which spreads both quickly and easily, left unchecked it would quickly form thick darkly shaded stands.

Pork scratching

 

Pork scratching.

Pigs

The pigs are out to pannage, how successful they'll be I don't know. It's not been a good season for acorns or mast, the chestnuts that have fallen so far are nothing to shout about, and neither are many of the crab apples. A thin harvest for them, though I know they’ll make the best of it. We passed a large group of them near the High Corner this morning, maybe 20 pigs, in wide ranging colours, several multi coloured. They weren't bothered by us though, too busy snuffling. It's lovely to see them out and about.

Stag Brake

 

Mists filled the wet heath hollow in which Stag brake sits this morning.

Red Rise

Sun beams through Red Rise

Thinning stands

Forestry work continues at a pace around the forest, and the results of timber thinning is evident on the sides of the tracks, with the sweet fragrant smell of freshly sawn conifer filling the air. The scale of extraction is something, as is the change in aspect. You'd seen the marked trees walking past for months, but it was hard to visualize it done. I had a chat with the guys doing the thinning, a son, with his father who'd started as a boy with his father, a family of lumberjacks, cool. If you can, take the time to chat with folk, everyone has something to say, and there's always something for you to learn.

Spy Holms Barrow

 

The forest is peppered with prehistoric Bronze Age barrows, 200 or so, cremation depositories for the elite class of the communities that shaped the open heath of the forest we see today. Many have been badly degraded by time, the elements and subsequent activities of man and beast, their height slighted, now their ditched filled; once though they'd have stood proud, socially important markers in the prehistoric landscape.

Shepherds warning

 

A Shepherds' Warning greeted as we left home this morning. Even with all the modern technology at our disposal and the best of intention, for the most part and for now at least, you can still rely on the tried and tested lore to give you a better forecast than the weather forecast.

Spread thin

 

If we thought that Last weeks' flush of Ceps (boletus edulis) marked the burgeoning of the mushroom season we were way off. Since the little haul I recently collected, they've been scarce, to say the least. This mauled fellow is the only Cep I've spotted since; and I've been looking. So it's back to the default position, a waiting game with no guarantee of success. A game influenced by factors understood and factors beyond our understanding or most likely a combination of both.  Even with the requisite skills we're in the hands of the fates and nature when out foraging.

Psilocybe season

 

Magic mushrooms or Liberty Caps (Psilocybe semilanceata)

Fruitless

Less than a week ago we celebrated second harvest, the fruit harvest, though out in the forest that harvest has been poor. On my roams, at least anyway. Usually at this time of year the fruiting shrubs are well served with fruit. Not this year though. With hardly a Sloe to be seen, naked Hawthorns as the norm, unripe Blackberries and a Crab Apple tree still holding its' fruit a rare sight, the forest is a disappointment for forager and wildlife alike.

Apsey Bridge

 

It's boots off and wade then.

Ober Water

Ober Water is beyond it's banks again. It never took much, although as with other forest streams, since they've restored the stream below Markway Bridge it's escaped it's banks with more frequency and with greater ease, flooding the shallow valley through which it flows. When the forest gets like this I try and imagine what it must of been like traversing the forest in the past. What a forbidding landscape it must have been at times.

Mane attraction

With a mane whose colours mirrored that of the foals' autumnal surroundings, surely the winner of this seasons coolest coloured mane goes to this beauty. That said, this years' foals have been a particularly handsome cohort all round.

Detritus deposited

 

Although returned to the confines of it's banks this morning, the hefty lump of tree deposited on the path across Ober Water between Ferny Knap and Clumber suggests that the stream had escaped its' confines significantly overnight. These quiet looking forest streams can quickly turn into torrents after a heavy rain.

Autumn equinox

Blessing at Second harvest, Mabon, Autumn Equinox, Alban Elfed. The fruit harvest. What ever you may call it, my hope's the same, that the seeds you planted back in spring flourished, and that you're currently gathering in a bountiful harvest. Is it just me, or is the wheel turning at an alarming speed. /|\

Noice!

I've spotted the odd Cep (beletus edulis) on our recent roams, for the most part nibbled or gone over. Though this morning was my first opportunity to gather some, a tidy little haul, enough for a handful of breakfasts, and from exactly the sites I'd expect. As with all the resources you gather out, there are those spots that you'll check first in a season, and with good reason too, they almost always deliver.

A venerable Oak

 

If you know where to find them, the New Forest is brimming with majestic ancient trees. Like this venerable Oak, one of several clustered in Undersley Wood; a parcel of old forest, never enclosed, and still retaining some of the character of the forest that was.

Autumn tints

Autumn continues to sweep the forest.

Highland Water

 

Highland Water

Misty veiw from Picket Post

The veiw southwest from Picket Post; down through Foulford Bottom, out across the Avon Valley, with the Isle of Purbeck faintly visible on the horizon. Lovely.

Graffiti

As much as I enjoy the big statement art graffiti pieces like those on the water tanks atop St Catherines' Hill, I do have a fondness for classic subway style graffiti. There's some nice pieces in a traditional style through the Picket Post underpass, I like the forms and colour employed, it's a shame they've got dirty so quickly. Dated '24 it must be fairly recently too, as we were only walking this way back in spring.