Martin Down and more

Dry and then some. Martin Down and the surrounding predominantly arable and grassland landscape has the appearance of our own domestic savannah. Cranborne is currently rocking a palette which heavily leans brown. Todays' walk was to reconnect with an area I used to roam frequently, though had not walked in some years. Maybe ten years. It's a glorious landscape, marked all over by six millennia of human activity, Mesolithic hunter gathers first roamed this downland, though they left scant evidence of their presence beyond flint tools, those who came after on the other hand were more giving, sculpting the land into barrows, banks, hillforts and dykes spanning prehistory; Roman roads and villas speak of one phase of colonization; centuries of Medieval farming and hunting have maked the land too, speaking of peasantry and privilege, in many respects an England still recognizable today; more recently the 20th century saw industrialized farming and military activity adding their mark. This is a landscape clearly favoured and well used by our ancestors, still used today. Standing on Penbury Knoll (listed as an early prehistoric hillfort, though I'm not so sure) I surveyed this world in awe. Walking here is walking in the footsteps of our forebears, and you feel it. It was surprising how little the old routes we'd take had changed over a decade, Norris and I knew this place well. A stunning landscape, even in it's current desiccated state a lovely walk.

Lughnasadh

 

First harvest, and the cereal fields are now empty bar stubble, John Barleycorn has been and gone. With Lughnasadh upon us the wheel appears to turn ever faster; or is that just me? Celebrate the harvest, soak it all in, it's been a hell of a summer, soon enough our attention will be drawn to Autumns' approach, already some mornings you can feel its' tendrils reaching out. The wheel keeps on turning. Lughnasadh blessings /|\

Ober Water

 

Ober Water

 

Foxy

 

Forestry works through Rhinefield Sandys' have seen tranches of forest exposed to the sky for the first time in years. Nature doesn't miss opportunities. This one wide strip has been nearly exclusively colonised by Foxgloves (Digitalis purpurea), and to beautiful affect.

Corfe Castle

Corfe Castle is currently in the middle of a 3 year site clearance, restoration and stabilization program, the aim, to ensure this important site is protected and preserved for future generations. It's impressive passing below its ruinous form today, you can only imagine its impact when at the height of its glory, the keep tower painted white on the order of Henry III it stood high above its' surroundings. 

Approaching Corfe

Following the chalk track down the side of Challow Hill you approach the village of Corfe and the ruins of it's magnificent 11th century Norman castle;  once one of the countrys' strongest, and definitely most picturesque castles, now it's the most picturesque ruins.  Surviving sieges through the ages Corfe wasn't brought low by battle, but rather through betrayal, and was subsequently demolished so it could never stand again. Hell of a castle, with a rich history.

Mexican Fleabane

 

There's beauty in simplicity. Mexican Fleabane (Erigeron karvinskianus) only arrived on these shores in late 19th century though quickly naturalised, especially in coastal regions. It maybe a new arrival but it's already become part of to the family to the extent of having plenty of localized names like Miss Jekyll's Daisies or Falmouth Daisy, many seaside towns having their own name. I love them, so bright, so colourful and such a long flowering season too, the insects love them as well.

Riverside totem

I enjoy coming across a woodland totem, there's something about folk creating these archaic features that resonates, something timeless; highlighting maybe our subconscious connection, or our desire for connection, to a bygone age and the magic and ritual of connecting with that ancient landscape. I'm not adverse to setting one up myself, for me it's definitely partly the pursuit of connection to a shrouded past, the world of ancestors and a wilder wood.

Oceans of oaks

 

Last year was a mast year, with a bumper crop of acorns, and as a consequence hundreds of thousands of saplings carpet the oak stands of the forest; I mean, it's quite the sight. There are stands where it's near impossible to make footfall without risk of crushing a sapling or two. Imagine if all, or even a good majority, of these tiny oak saplings were to be able to grow to fruition. From tiny acorns, eh.

Burley Old

 

Burley Old

Chicken of the woods

Chicken of the woods (Laetiporus sulphureus) is popping up on trunks across Burley Old enclosure, its' near florescent orange easy to spot against the verdance of spring growth. This is a perfect example of a young mushroom here on a hulk of truncated Beech.

People eh.

What's wrong with people? From a notice attached to the fencing it sounds like machinery (a roller) which was being used to repair the car park was used to destroy this toilet block before being vandalized itself. £100000 plus worth of damage done to one of the forests' handful of amenities. Anderwood car park has long been a focus for vandalism, though this is by far the worst. People eh.

 

Chewton Common

 

The common is really coming alive. We're lucky to have a magical space of such diversity on our door step. It's a haven for innumerable bird and beast, foxes are common, deer are regular visitors, and a dog person told me he's seen a badger recently.

Bare bones

We're not out of spring and already the streams of the forest are showing their  bare gravelly bottoms. I know this is the way of many of the forest streams, but it seems to come earlier and earlier each year, it used to be I'd be making these observations in June/July.

Avon Water

Wandering the meandering Avon Water this morning I took a moment to marvel at the streams growing diversity, post restoration. It's genuinely amazing. I remember when the old straight drain Avon Water was all steep cut sides and bare naked gravel bottoms, look at it now, sporting an ever increasing range of aquatic and wetland freshwater flora; and of course all the life that thrive there.

Last look

 

I cycled out via Guss Common (Burton Common) this morning to find change is afoot. Watery Lane has always afforded a pleasant route down into Christchurch or up onto the common and the wider countryside beyond - all that is about to change. Some years ago there were plans of a quarry mooted, a new access road and large sign on the A35 stating Quarry Entrance suggest it's about to happen. Watery Lane will still be here, you'll still be able to use it, but views like this wont be.

Southern Marsh orchid

It's that time of the year when the Southern Marsh orchid (Dactylorhiza praetermissa) dominates the flora of the wetter meadow at Ossemsley Ford.

May blossom

 

It's been a fantastic year for Hawthorn blossom.

Bluebell

 

So indicative of spring woodland the humble Bluebell (Hyacinthoides non-scripta), a dainty drooping beauty which smells as sweet as it looks. There's an open stand of mainly oak alongside the course of the old Brockenhurst to Ringwood line near Osmonds Bushes, it's peppered with Bluebells, the scent as we passed this morning was heavenly. Their presence here indicates that the stand represents a pocket of ancient woodland.

Ebbor Gorge

It's been a few years since I last visited Ebber Gorge. Tucked away in woodland on the Mendip Hills, Ebbor is a lovely spot, less well known than Cheddar, and in many respects better for it. A compact 350 million year old limestone gorge engulfed by woodland, it's a wonderful place; very Robin of Sherwood. The gorge has been popular with humans since the palaeolithic, with evidence of later Neolithic occupation and possibly Bronze Age too. It must have been a special place, being on the edge of two worlds, of the Mendip hills and the wetland world of the levels. In more recent times the gorge has been blighted with Ash Die back (Hymenoscyphus fraxineus), resulting in the loss of trees; fortunately the natural aspect and atmosphere of the place are little affected, and it remains magical walking. I read that the Ash (Fraxinus excelsior) is fighting back, with saplings growing in some infected areas developing a degree of resistance to the fungi. Here's hoping, eh.

Beltane

 

Climbing the pre-dawn tor the sound of drumming from inside St Michaels Tower gets louder, hypnotic beats echoing through the night, heralding sunrise. Beltane has always been my favourite festival of the eight fold year, and bar a handful of occasions, since 1989 I've seen the morning in here. This morning had it all going on, atop Tor a broad diverse group of folk drawn together from the quarters to mark sunrise, Rollo leading the traditional Druidic ceremony, and the Cam Valley Morris dancing in May. Perfection. The sun rose to the hoots, howls and cheers of we gathered observers, who where treated to a magnificent sunrise. Beltane blessings /|\

Camel Green

 

Camel Green looking verdant.

Red Deer

The number of Red Deer (Cervus elephus) around the forest would have appeared to have grown over the last few years. There was a time when I would've been  surprised to have stumbled upon a handful of Red Deer amongst the stands, now though it's become a common event to see groups of 15 plus milling about. A few hundred meters further and we spotted another group of similar number. Spring stirs through the stands.

Pay to play

 

We knew it was coming, but still, it's a sad turn of events. Living in the area since I was four, the forest has been a canvas on which so many of my memories have been painted. We walk here more days than we don't. This morning notices have gone up in every one of the New Forests' car parks, parking starts at £1.50 an hour. It should be noted that Forestry England have a monopoly on forest parking. The forest has always been free when you've needed it, a place to explore both the stands and your own imagination, a place to build memories, or a place to find solace, tranquillity, some measure of relief from what troubles you. That's the magic of the forest, it's all things. Not any more though, strictly pay to play now. At a time when the country's suffering an omni health crisis, on top of seemingly endless austerity which is thinning lives to the bone; when Government and health experts wax lyrical about the holistic benefits getting out in nature, an executive agency of the same Government put a barrier in the way. I mean. What a soulless place we're becoming.

First Foal

The first foal I've spotted this year, early doors too.

Dartmoor

Dartmoor holds a special place in my heart, a place captured the first time I came here in the late 80's. In subsequent years we've ranged over widely through the the wooded valleys and across open more, countless nights have been spent wild camping under a canopy of star. It's a magical natural landscape steeped in archaeology, history and mystery. It was good to be here again, it's been too long.

Vernal Equinox

Though they mark significantly moments in the year, the equinoxes seem to pass without much acknowledgement. In the case of todays' Vernal equinox, a moment of equilibrium between night and day. From tomorrow day reigns, with incrementally longer days and shorter nights, Spring proper has begun. Blessings at Equinox /|\

The Pinnicale

 

The Pinnicale

Silent sands

The tide was out and from Shell Bay all the way to North Beach we had Studland beach to ourselves, and it was glorious.

Toad orgy

There was a full on toad orgy going on at Mogshade Pond this morning. Mild as it was, the sun was out and our amphibian friends were making the most of it by getting jiggy.  The pond was packed with them, impossible to count, though I'd say at least a couple of hundred paired and numerous individuals. Recent research reported a worrying decline in Common Toads (Bufo bufo) throughout the country, so it's good to see them apparently flourishing in the forest ponds. I've seen them, or evidence of them, in several forest ponds.

Imbolc

 

At winter solstice we witnessed the birth of the new sun, and began our next journey through the wheel of the year.  It’s now at Imbolc that we see the first signs of natures burgeoning and spring to come. Imbolc is said to translate as in the belly, apt with it being the beginning of lambing, and a much broader reference to the boundless fertility of the natural world at this time. The seeds dispersed last autumn have waited patiently, nurtured by the Earth in preparation for this moment, beneath the litter of last years' glory, the green shoots of this year are beginning to stir.  Imbolc blessings /|\

Creepy woods

 

Creepy woods

Frosty out

You can't beat a crisp slightly Narnia-esque winter morning.

Swanage line

A steam train hurtles through a chilly January morning towards Corfe along the Swanage Line.

Gregorian calendar

 

It's 2026 and the first day of the Gregorian calendar has been lovely. 

Tummy rub?

I've met these pigs (a group of 8 or 9) a couple times foraging along the banks of Red Rise brook this pannage. These two rolled over like dogs to get their tummies rubbed, and enjoyed every minute of it. I was happy to be of service.

Winter Slostice

The dawn of the shortest day heralds the beginning of our journey back into the light; Winter Solstice is upon us. Celebrate as hope is rekindled, the Sun is reborn, and another cycle begins. The forest is always beautiful, though this morning it was particularly so. It so often is. Even so, it still never fails wow you. Muffled by the mists which hung heavily in the valleys and clung to the stands, the forest was bathed in an air of tranquillity; fitting for such an auspicious morning. Solstice Blessings /|\

New generation

 

After years of hosting, what had been my go to Mistletoe tree has gone, the hosts' life-force completely consumed by it's parasitic guest. Each year the mistletoe would increase it's spread until eventually it covered the entire tree. It became literally a mistletoe tree, and the bell tolled. Sad, though inevitable, nature is perpetual change. As if part of the plan over the years birds had deposited sticky mistletoe seeds in surrounding trees with many taking. With the old queen gone new hosts have stepped up, and the mistletoe community continues on. 

Up above the streets and houses

 

Rainbow climbing high, 

everyone can see it smiling, 

over the sky. 

Paint the whole world with a rainbow.

Craters

 

The forest in pocked with craters from the second world war, dozens of them. Some from deliberate Luftwaffe attacks, or dumping their munitions before the return trip across the channel; others were self inflicted in pursuit of victory. Near Godshill in the north of the forest is the site of a World War Two test range, the Ashley Range. They tested all sorts up here, both defensive and offensive; from air raid shelters and aircraft pens to Tall Boy and Grand Slam, the earthquake bombs whose craters are still visible adjacent to the mock submarine pen atop Hampton Ridge. They even tested 'Highball' a version of the Bouncing Bomb here. If you're into World War Two sites, it's a place worth exploring.