Moors River

The Moors River is normally no more than 4 or 5 meters wide at its widest, a mainly shallow river, although with some deeper sections, it flows along the edge of Hurn Forest. Today though, after weeks of near constant rain, its flow must be up to 100 meters wide in places; filling its flood plain and encroaching on the adjacent forest.Is this the shape of things to come?  Tracts of land made impassible and unusable for weeks or months at a time.

Jews Ears

A lovely fresh clump of Jews, or jelly, ears. I'll have to remember this spot.

Wet Birch

Water inundates the woodland fringes and again I feel I understand better how, to past communities, wild places devoid of roads would have been seen as mysterious, scary places, filled with the 'other'. And when  combined with extremes of weather such areas would have created impassible tracts of land, off limits to most, adding to their isolation and strangeness.  I'm used to the wild places and I feel a strange unease walking through the woods today; an unease no doubt aided by the leaden sky and failing light.

Ramsons?

Ramsons! At this time of year? Another sign of how the erratic weather caused by climate change will impact on our wildlife, both fauna and flora. Ramsons normally fill our woods, in certain areas, from April through May, but to see them pushing through in January isn't right, it's much too early.  I'm not suggesting that this particular wood is yet as full as it would be in April, although there are plenty to be seen and evidence of many more poking through. If our natural cycles and rhythms are broken, they may not recover and our land and our life's will be lesser for it. 

Ridgeway Hill walk

The wind blew fiercely and at times you'd think the sky was about to crash into the grounds as low cloud and mists obscured the distance. But when the Sun came out, it just had enough power to take the edge of the chill and its light, like a sweeping searchlight, illuminated the hills and combes. One of our best walks of recent times, it took in the familiar, the long ago walked and the new.  Starting in the undulating dampness created by long extinct clay workings, now recolonized by scrub, which is the woodlands below Knowle Hill we made our wet way to Knowle Hill wood or Norden Wood as it's sometimes known; a deciduous woodland which clings to the steep side of this section of Purbeck ridge. The climb up towards the ridge was slippery, but the views from the summit were worth it. In any light, in any weather or season the Purbecks exude a beauty uniquely their own and today was no different.  We walk this way often and never become bored. The ridgeway undulated, our views changed as combes opened and then disappeared only to expose another or a clearer view in another direction. On reaching Ridgeway Hill I spied the Great Wood, which covers the landward side of this section of the hills; I've not walked in these woods for more than 20 years and felt an over whelming desire to reacquaint myself with them.  Steep and quiet, the woods made a welcome break from the wind and we wound our way, following a cut path, along the slope westwards towards Grange Arch. The wood appears to be thriving, a wide variety of deciduous can be identified, birds chatter amongst their bare crowns, many of the trees are Ash and King Alfed's Cakes were frequently visible on their fallen boughs, Jews ears too; bountiful deer tracks, squirrel feeding points and badger latrines, show the wood is well used by wildlife.  My heart is lifted by such natural beauty; I sit awhile, taking in what nature kindly gives. After reaching the Arch and taking in the wonderful views, we turn and return through the woodland, though on exiting them I decide to take a new route, past a majestic Bronze Age Barrow and along a ridge which affords us new perspectives on the familiar.  As we make our way back through the extinct clay workings I'm already planning a return visit.

Grange Arch

High on Ridgeway Hill, second highest point of the Purbeck Hills, can be found, Grange Arch, also known as Creech Folly; a linear triple arched stepped construction of ashlar stone, with several niches. Build in the 1700's by the then owner of Creech Grange as a folly, it has commanding views; inland over the remnants of what was known as the 'Great Heath', which once extended over a vast swathe of this part of Dorset and seaward towards the rocky Purbeck coast. 

Reflections

Bare branches cast trippy reflections in the gravel bottomed streams, hypnotizing, you can loose track of time as you stare into their vibrating patterns. 

Taddford Cliffs

Further east along the coast from Becton the story of accelerating erosion continues to be the same; Britain is shrinking, slowly, or not so slowly, slipping in to the sea.

Becton Bunny

The erosion at Becton Bunny is startling! I was shocked to see the difference in beach height, the stream now flows down from the bunny, cascading over dislodged rock, part of previous coastal revetment and erosion prevention work, in a way it never used to. The end of the bunny promontory has been truncated by several meters, cliff of the promontory has receded by the same, leaving a knife edge promontory which will not endure too many more storms.   

A sunset of two halfs

Look to the East

Look to the West

And then finally, the Sun's gone for today.

Slipping away

Having an interest in World War Two archaeology and monuments, and researching such, I frequently find myself visiting the same monuments year on year and have done for many years now.  As each year passes I see the slight, sometimes in-perceivable, changes in these sites; though sometimes a major event has occurred and a site has been transformed, or even sadly, destroyed, more often than not a feature has merely moved a centimeter or so. I noticed that today at this line of Anti tank Obstacles which extend into Poole harbour. Like everything in life you think has solidity or permanence, these wartime relics, over 70 years old are slowly slipping away; it makes you realize how much of the past we must have already lost.

Dune

Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside!

Avon wetland

Looking up the Avon valley, its flood plain awash, beds of reeds swaying, I'm minded to think that this must of been, or similar too, what the area would have looked like during prehistory. Although, the water, not focused and controlled would have had greater or more permanent tenure. It those times people lived with the land, as part of nature, and the area would have been rich in valuable resources and frequently exploited. The people living on the surrounding high ground or in crannog style lake villages.  Unlike modern, sophisticated folk, these primitive people understood that you'd get wet if you built your house on a flood plain, well, that's progress I suppose.

Is that you Jack?

Is that you Jack? He's not been about as much as in recent years, but this morning signs of presence were clear to see in the shady places, as blades of grass and fallen leaves were crusted in watery jewels. I've missed the crisp mornings that signify Jacks reign. 

Bare Barton

The recent storms have scoured the beach at Barton, eating into the Barton Beds, rich with 40 million year old fossils. The beach, must be be several feet lower than usual, exposing septarian nodules washed out of the Barton clays, usually only visible during the spring tides. Septarian was formed by volcanic eruptions around 60 million years ago, when dead sea life concreted with sediment to form mud balls, which dried hard.

Green Point

Water seeped through the limestone above the sea cave below Green Point and dripped continually into the calm sea below; the drops creating a visible white line as the joined the big wet.  In fact all about the faces of the redundant stone quarry at Dancing Ledge water dripped, to such an extent the noise echoed amongst the fallen rocks.

Dancing Ledge

What a day. After the recent storms the sea was calm, the sky blue and Sun shone with a growing warmth, a fine day for a walk. The ground oozed water like a wet bath mat, saturated from the recent deluges water either stood where ever you looked or ran across the land in a filigree of shining wet paths.  From the cliff Dancing Ledge the view along the coast was glorious, not merely the beauty of the natural environment, but also realization I was viewing at least 4000 years of human activity.  Bronze Age burial mounds mark the dead, their settlements must be nearby too, although later activity and their ephemeral natural makes them invisible. Below us were the chain of quarries which run along this section of the Purbeck coast, stone has been quarried in the Purbecks since at least as far back as the the Roman period, right up to the present day, although these coastal quarries have not been exploited since the middle of the 20th century when they became unprofitable.  On the distant hillsides the strip lytchetts of Medieval farmers trying the utilize all the productive land they could, on the plateau of the same hill, on the cliff facing out to sea, the small Medieval chapel of St Aldhelm's. Whilst around the quarry in the middle distance, World War 2 fire trenches and a rare Allen Williams Turret, set to protect the nearby site of early radar experimentation.  Farmers still graze their livestock on the rough slopes and work the workable land. And yet the land appears wild and quiet, empty of activity.  Such a wonderful stretch of coast, no wonder it's a World Heritage Site.

Moss forest

The water may not be to every-bodies liking, but there is one group who are loving it, thriving on in fact; the mosses.  The mosses that hug the trunks of the trees set in shady places, form mounds on stumps or cover the wet areas are lapping it up. Glorious, dressed in their magnificent range of greens, they almost shine and most certainly stand out amongst winters drab hues.

Highland Water

A brief respite from the storms of days past, although the weather wizards predict more to come.  Though for today at least the Sun occasionally breaks free of its cloudy prison to shine on the forest. Highland water has receded, retreated back within the bounds of its banks, but where it's flowed is easy to see by the deposited silt which covers the woodland fringes of the stream.  The river is being reshaped, you can notice where gravel banks have been eroded and redeposited further down stream, where the water has begun to cut across meander looking for a new route and where trees on the bank have lost their hold and fallen into the flow, forcing the water to change course eating its way through the forest. 

Milford

Milford on Sea, or rather Milford almost in Sea.

More misty woods

The air in the forest, amongst the stands of gnarled old trees, hangs heavy with morning mist. All is quiet, all is still, the woods are not empty though, no, eyes follow you, watching your approach. When like this, the forest is full of mystery and a wonderful place to walk.

Groyne

Red Rise