Nine Barrow Sundown

The day, as the Sun went down, looked much as it had when the Sun rose, in fact, much as it had all day; subdued, still, with little noticeable activity, the cloud shrouded sky had remained unchanged throughout our near 15 mile walk. But what a day.

Agglestone

Brenscombe Hill

Groyne

Winter seas lap Winter shores, under Winter skies filled with Winter clouds blown by chill Winter winds. Fair enough though, it is Winter.

Blown Pillbox

This Studland beach pillbox, of unknown type, has not survived so well and now looks more like an out there art installation.

Type 25

Still remaining upright and intact, this military stalwart saw little enemy action during the war and has moved little since the mid 70's, when I remember it being, maybe only a meter higher up the cliff side.  The reinforced concrete Type 25 was a commonly deployed pillbox type and the remains of several can be found in the area around Studland.

Bomb Store

Set away from the main airfield area, hidden in Hawkhill Enclosure, are the remains of Beaulieu Airfields bomb storage pens.  Apart from a section of brick wall, concrete loading ramp, earthen blast bank and concrete trackway, the bulk of the bomb store has been destroyed through forestry during the post war years. It's a shame that the Wartime relics of the forest aren't better valued and preserved, after all, the forest played a myriad of important wartime roles.

Partners in time

It's a common sight throughout the woods to see paired trees, usually the King and Queen of forest trees, the Oak and Beech.  Married in the green woods, they grow together, often physically joining each other as they thrust towards the sky and become partner through time.

Kings Hat

Neil Halstead, The Winchester, Bournemouth

I came by kindness to possess a ticket for Neil Halstead at the Winchester this evening, a lift from a friend and good company, omens for a fine evening. Now, I'd not previously been to the Winchester, although knew a lot of good things went on there. To say the Winchester is small wouldn't be a lie, a stage, a bar and a floor area, compact and bijou.  Nice venue though. 

Well, the music, it turns out it wasn't only Neil Halstead, but Mathew P and Richard Peacock as well; an evening of guitars, nice. Richard Peacock was up first. Kept his head down, a bit like Neil from the 'Young Ones',  Liked his stuff though, nice tunes, with what I thought were some very 70's British flavours, one of his tunes particularly reminded me of 70's band 'The Audience'. No bad thing. Next up was Matthew P, a guy from Suffolk who provided some very nice tunes too, along with some jolly banter, funny chap.  Matthew played groovy folk tracks with passion, which were mighty enjoyable, with some great lyrics and sentiments, well performed. I'll certainly be looking out for his album(s). But the star turn was certainly Mr Halstead, supported on bass at times by Matthew P. Matthew P. had previously described Neils work as a 'massage for your mind', a fairly apt description really. A great songwriter, singer and guitar player, with real stage presence, Neils voice was hypnotic from the off, taking your mind on a gentle journey to right out there somewhere with lyrically beautiful songs. I felt better for the journey. Being a bit of a johnny come lately, I'm quite new to Neils work, having only heard Palindrome Hunches, but enjoyed the evening so much I will be searching out his more of his albums.

Three performers with guitars. A simple format, man plus guitar, fantastic, works every time; well, nearly every time, but certainly every time tonight.  All in all, an evening of mellow grooves, for which I was truly grateful. Would certainly go see them again. Nice :o)

November Sunset

A break in the weather brought open sky, time for a bracing walk and a mighty fine sunset.

Stoney Cross

Stoney cross Airfield 1942 to 1946.

A Yank at King Arthurs court

 'A YANK 5/5/44'. Apparently a Yank was here in the spring of '44, no surprise as the forest was full of billeted allied troops preparing for invasion or, as this graffiti was found deep in Ocknell enclosure (1775), close to wartime Stoney Cross airfield, there's a good chance it was American aircrew. The 367th group of the US 9th Air force flew out of Stoney Cross from May to July of '44 in P38 Lightings, attacking strategic targets in advance of invasion and supporting the push from the beach heads.  In that time they flew 55 missions and 21 P38's were listed missing in action. There's something about this piece, about it's impersonal nature, that makes it a poignant reminder of those thousands of Americans who went into battle from staging post Britain. Every one, 'A Yank'.  Is it a statement on how they felt, just another cog in the military machine? Dehumanized, individuality removed as not required by the collective. The language is strange too, the term 'Yank' was a British term for Americans, not one they'd normally use themselves. Is this then a disgruntled statement from someone having been made to feel unwelcome by the local populous?  Or was it done for humour? A laugh and a joke. So many questions. Of course one being, did they survive the war? This was carved at the beginning of the 367th's tour of duty from Stoney Cross, previously the group had had very few loses.  Who were they?  Where were they from?  This is the best piece of graffiti I've found in a while.

Beaulieu WW2 buildings platforms

Beaulieu airfield was built in 1942 as a coastal command group 19 base and used in anti submarine warfare missions. In 1944 it was taken over by the USAAF 2nd Tactical Air Force to be used in preparations for the D Day landings.  After the war it was abandoned, later to be returned to the Forestry Commission. Little now remains as, like other forest airfields, the runways were removed in the 1980's and the buildings levelled some time earlier; although in the corner of Hawkhill Enclosure (1870) are the remains of one of the airfields dispersed areas, probably an accommodation site.  The raised brick and concrete foundation platforms of the accommodation buildings, toilet blocks and associated features are all that remain, but give a good idea of the size and layout of these type of sites.

Oaky Dokey

Winding Stonard

Ocknell

Filled with mist, Ocknell enclosure (1775) had an more eerie air to it than usual, quite a feet, as the wood feels strange and unusual at best.  I've said before, Ocknell woods feel like no other woodland in the forest.

Mog Shade Clump

Tree Pool

Nestled in the scar, where a mighty Beech bough once reached out into the woodland, a leaf filled pool now creates a niche environment, a woodland resource supporting a myriad of creatures no doubt. 

Coastal Battery

During the latter period of the war, and the period directly after the war, Studlands extensive defences were slighted.  Preparations for D Day saw tons of ordinance thrown at the beaches here. Some were left almost undamaged, those on the heath side, whilst the rest were either damaged or completely destroyed, their remains spread across the land surface, much now covered by the restless dune environment. Nature has a way of taking back what is hers. Beyond the beach lays the remains of one of several coastal batteries; when I visited last, some 4 years ago, what remained was a massive heap of concrete and reinforcing bar rubble, with very few diagnostic features, but still visibly a site of human activity. Today the heap has been camouflaged by gorse, grass and wild plants, and other than a crown of reinforced concrete slab, the site was returning to nature. 

Rock Lichen

Studland

Autumn

The forest is quiet, little stirs, the majority of woodland creatures appear to be shutting up their stalls until Spring. Only a skeleton crew will see the forest through Winter, the bulk tucked away in their secret places.  One thing that that remains very much alive are the colours in the canopy, Autumns leafy fire burns bright. A breeze blows through the crowns dislodging hundreds of leafs and soon the stands fill with spinning,  twirling, acrobatic detritus, which floats slowly to the ground.  The leafs were so numerous that if they were rain you'd be soaked through.

Wootton Bottom

As the autumn Sun sinks swiftly beyond the clouds an eerie mist rises to fill Wootton Bottom.

There is trouble in the forest.

As it is our country has less than 15% tree cover, a meagre amount, and I believe, the second smallest in Europe. So, the news of new threats to our native trees fills my heart with sadness. More so as you are forced to pose the question, 'how much of this is our fault?'

Bog

The desolate beauty of Holm Hill Bog, with Holm Hill in the distance and a ominous sky above.

Dockens Water

The light was poor, yet my son still took some nice shots.

Alder Hill

The forest is adorned in its autumn cloak, a rainbow of orange, brown and red hues, mixed with fading greens of the deciduous trees and the vibrant greens of the conifers. Amberwood, to the North of the forest, is a veritable riot of colours, secluded, set deep in the forest, it lacks the external noise of modern life, hard to escape in other parts of woodland.  A tranquil place place of quiet reflection.

Fox Hunt

Our walk was marred some, by the appearance of the hunt. Walking  in the Alderhill enclosure, a  beautiful large winter coated Fox ran along Latchmore Brook, followed shortly by a pack of baying hounds, followed by 2 hunt riders, riding 100m parallel on a track. Now, although hunting is not banned, hunting for Fox is.  I stopped a redcoat to tell him his hounds were chasing a Fox; first he ignored me, then thanked me, then told me they were hunting within the law and he couldn't comment on what I'd seen as he was behind the field.  Or in other words, don't care, we'll do as we want.  Other hunt riders appeared and one backed their horse into me so I could no longer talk to the redcoat. Poor behaviour at best, aggressive at worst.  Continuing our walk we passed some hunt supporters, who were rude and confrontational without any reason.  The hunt was obviously operating outside of its legal obligations and their supporters do them no credit either.  Shame on them.

Latchmore Brook

Latchmore Brook running through Amberwood Enclosure

Calocera Viscosa

Tree beard