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The forest is layered with the ghosts of the past, symbols and monuments to the activities of different ages or to the folk who worked and wandered the woodlands, often superimposed seamlessly upon each other to the point you don't see them unless you look. I walked an old forest path today, once a broad, and probably well used, woodsmans track, it appears to have faded from memory, as have the woodsmans activities, and with infrequent use is now hard to define as even a path.  The trees in the area are old and many carry the admiralty mark, others sport graffiti from other periods, some with meaning undecipherable.  This piece of woodland was at one time transected by a fence, as too it would appear where the earlier track and ephemeral banks and ditches of even earlier activity. Now the fence too has long gone, its wire returned to the earth from whence it was mined and all but one post (that I could see) has ceased to be. The post that remains is all but indistinguishable as a post, looking more like the remains of a dead young tree, only one worked face showing it was the work of man. All this going on in one seemingly, untouched by the hand of man, piece of woodland.

Samhain

So, the last harvest is in and now we enter the dark part of the year. Tonight the veil between words is at its thinnest and our ancestors are abroad. Tonight is not a night of ghouls and horrors, but of reflection on what and who have gone before. A lovely Samhain ritual out in the forest with good people and then some time sat around a fire thinking of what has happened in the last year, celebrating the good things, wondering how I could have avoided the the bad, remembering and toasting those who have gone beyond. The fire crackled under an almost clear sky, whilst the wind whipped the rising smoke sending it scattering through nearby shrubs. Another timeless evening being human, sitting around a fire under the stars talking with the ancestors; activities as old as humanity.

Chanterelle

I've seen a good amount of Chanterelles (Cantharellus cibarius) about this season and these I came across today were lovely examples. Rich egg yolk yellow (they can be paler) the caps of Chanterelles are usually concave with an irregular rim up to 8cm or more, under the cap there are veins which are wrinkled and forked towards the rim and blend in to the stem, which is the same colour or slightly lighter than the cap. A lovely mushroom and a sought after edible species. They can be confused with the False Chanterelle (Hygrophoropsis aurantiaca), though these are more orange in colour and unlike the Chanterelle have a darker center to their more regular cap and have gills rather than wrinkles, the stem too is often darker, like the center of the cap. The False Chanterelle is classed as mildly toxic, so best avoided.

Shaggy ink cap

This Shaggy Ink Cap (Coprinus comatus) was getting smaller before my eyes as it liquefied in front of me, dripping its black ink onto the grass below and so spreading its spores. It only takes a couple of hours for the Inky Cap to completely dissolve, leaving just the stem. You can eat them when they're young, firm and the gills are still white; I've eaten them before, but not for some years, as I only seem to find them either when they're on their own or when they've already begun their deliquescence.

Stalker

I'd seen him go in, I knew he was somewhere amongst the fading bracken and although I'd stayed down wind of him, moving as deftly as possible, I knew he knew I was there too. We circled around and moved through the young trees and chest high bracken like sumo wrestlers slowly taking stock of their opponent. I was trying to get in a position for a good shot and he was determined to avoid that, every time I caught a clear line of sight and tried to focus he moved out of sight and away. Until finally, when he'd drawn me deep into the tangled bracken, he was off into the deeper forest and gone. Fun though.

Mouldy Ceps

The papers have been running the same old seasonal stories about the hoards of 'foreigns' sweeping in lines through the forest, collecting any and all fungi they come across, it's an invasion, it's theft, it's not right and most importantly.....it's not true. Well, not that I know of.  Though every October the same stories. I would have thought that not advertising the fact that it's mushroom season and that several mushrooms may have value associated with them, would be a far better way to safeguard the forest fungi. Though, I don't really think that's the main purpose of the articles, which I'm sure hit their mark. On Sunday I visited my favourite mushroom roam and was surprised to find, not too many, smaller young Ceps, enough for two good meals and to refill my airing cupboard, but more interestingly, loads of larger Ceps, perfect for drying, and even more that were going over, soft and coated in mildew or mould. There were no signs of trimming or that anybody had been picking.  Again today I walked extensively in another part of the forest and saw plenty of Ceps gone over. It would appear the medias stories, in the areas I roam at least, are as I say, not true. 

Stands

I wonder, what will become of our forests? Our beautiful forests. I know most of them don't remain in their natural state or form, well in the sense that much of our forest has been planted since 1700, with the exception of the recognizable ancient open woodland. Though back before our Neolithic ancestors began slash and burn farming, trees would have covered most of Southern England if not most of the country and the wild wood, dense and tangled, would have held dominion. Can you imagine it? But our reckless ways will see what's left of our ancient and modern woodland, our beautiful forests, slighted and in all likelihood destroyed. I know, after the fall of man, left to her own devices mother nature will reclaim what she's lost. But still, I can't help but be sad to think of what we are prepared to sacrifice.

River Dart

It would be fair to say that I've not traveled that extensively, though I have been about this land a bit and of what I've seen I hold three places especially dear, Purbeck, the New Forest and Dartmoor.  Three landscapes to which I feel a deep affinity and connection, magical landscapes which still retain the echoes of a wilder time, a time before mans meddling.  Today Dartmoor. For me the heart of Dartmoor isn't on its iconic barren high moors, beautiful as they may be, no, it's to be found in the deeply wooded river valleys. These valleys retain the essence of our primeval land, densely wooded, humid, filled with life, they echo the wild wood and walking them you feel it. From New Bridge to Dartsmeet we followed the Dart up stream, through the woods, along narrow winding paths more imagined that real; sometimes high above, sometimes on the boulder strewn fringes of the coursing Dart. The noise of the river, the elemental force of nature most responsible for shaping the Dartmoor landscape, is overwhelming, echoing around the valley it fills your senses. Wonderful. You're alive. This landscape stirs something deep inside of you. Dartmoor, she speaks to me, her words so eloquent and beautiful, at once soothing and stirring; I'm sure she speaks to others too, though I know what I hear is personal, meant for me. I should make West more often.

Dart Valley

When the Sun broke through the swathes of cloud that swept across the sky, it moved like a search light over the exposed moorland and disappeared down the densely wooded river valley. The way they moved reminded me of the Mysterons at the beginning of Captain Scarlet. What really strikes you are the colours, so many autumn shades, it was a veritable feast for the eyes.

Venford Brook falls

Venford Brook waterfalls, tucked away in a magical wooded dell.

Bay Bolete

The Bay Bolete (Boletus badius) often known as the lesser or poor relation to the Cep, though that's unfair really as it's just as valuable a mushroom resource as the mighty Cep....well, nearly. Usually found associated more with coniferous woodland, it will also be found in similar areas as Ceps, tucked in amongst the ferns or as the with the one in the photo poking through moss.  The cap can be various shades of brown and will become slimy to the touch when wet, the stem too is brown and much thinner and straighter than a Cep's; it's the tubes and pores which help identify it though, yellowish, quickly turning grey/green/bluish when bruised. As with Ceps the smaller young mushrooms are best for eating, whilst the larger older examples are excellent for drying. You don't have to, but I usually remove the tubes before eating or drying if they've become too bruised. Another Bolete that's well worth hunting out. 

Autumn morning

Birch Bolete

For the first time I felt winter stalking in the shadows; a chill wind rattled the tree tops and although the Sun shone you couldn't hide from the turning if the wheel. 

The Brown Birch Bolete (Leccinum scabrum) is common in many parts of the forest amongst the Birch stands, particularly in damp grassy or mossy areas. The stems usually taper slightly, are light coloured with course dark scales, the cap can be various shades of reddy grey browns with light tubes and pores underneath. Like many of the other boletes the Brown Birch is listed as edible, although that statement is sometimes followed by...not worthwhile. Brown Birch Boletes can be easily confused with other members of Leccinum family which appear at first very similar, although other than the Brown Birch Bolete, which 'can' turn very slightly pink, the flesh of the other Leccinums are always tinged with colours; anyway, all are listed as edible...not worthwhile. I think the best way to utilize Brown Birch Boletes is in addition to other mushrooms. 

Surviver Beech (alternate rendering)

Born surviver

By the looks of the thick set bole she was once a mighty Beech, like many of the others surrounding her.  Probably back during the 'Great Storm of '87', the remains of the fallen trunk would testify to that period, she was slighted, losing her main trunk and leaving a much smaller trunk offshoot to soldier on. A born surviver, she has prevailed. Though, twisted, gnarled and missing half her bole, lost to the storm and subsequent hollowing, what remains still flourishes; the ability of nature to overcome and endure never loses its wonder.

Cow Bolete

 

Cow Boletes (Suillus bovinus) are out in fair numbers about the coniferous areas of the forest; favouring particularly the Scots and other Pines. I saw them in groups of twenty or more on several occasions whilst out today. Easily recognizable by their slimy pale caps, which are often darker at the center. As with other Boletaceae, beneath the cap are tubes with large irregular pores; these pores are of a similar colour to the cap. Like all Suillus found in the UK, the Cow Bolete are classified as edible and I've eaten them a few times in the past; though some people can find them upsetting, so as with all Suillus, it's recommended you peel the slimy caps before cooking.

Pannage

No doubt tired from their excessive scoffing of Sweet Chestnuts, this sow and her piglets, now quite well grown and nearly adult themselves, slumber in a linear huddle amongst the browning ferns and self seeded coniferous samplings. Although pannage began on the 23rd of September this year, this is the first group of pigs I've encountered in the forest.  I enjoy meeting with pigs amongst the stands. Usually, other than the sows, they're all quiet good humored and their inquisitive nature means they venture within stroking distance, something most of them don't appear to object to. That said, I'm always very aware that pigs can, do and will give a very nasty bite; I take great care and have had to on more that one occasion run off, probably in somewhat of an unnecessary and alarmist way. There maybe no acorns to speak of this year, though the abundance of Beech mast and Sweet Chestnuts will easily make up any slack in tasty pig orientated fare; the pigs will feed well this season. Happy days.

Violet Web Cap

A rare find, a Violet Web Cap (Cortinarius violaceus) although recorded as edible, it's rare and comes from a poisonous family, so probably best just admired. It really stood out amongst the fading forest flora about it and my picture doesn't really give the depth of this mushrooms colour justice. So purple.

Has the world gone nuts?

I was struck today be the ridiculousness of modern life and how far removed from our natural environment we've become. Whilst out walking I came across a plethora of Sweet Chestnuts, a bumper year, the winds having dislodged them, the ground was densely covered in fair sized nuts. From deep within my sub conscious an ancestral memory, probably coded into my DNA, prodded me with a flint tipped spear and said 'pick them up then'; the urge to collect was a powerful one, I picked a pocket full, though knowing, really I already had enough at home. Millennia of hunter gathering may have been marginalized by modernity, but can't be easily removed or replaced within us. Or can it? Earlier I'd seen bags of Sweet Chestnuts on sale in the local supermarket at premium prices, and here people were walking by them, not even acknowledging their presence, when they could, with ease, collect masses of Sweet Chestnuts for free. When I was a child, family missions to collect Sweet Chestnuts were a seasonal event, as were Blackberry picking or collecting so many other of natures bounties; pastimes I recall fondly and continued with my own children. Though on the whole, mass participation in and perpetuation of these activities appears to have all but vanished from modern society. Makes me wondered if people remember what's out there or is it that they just can't be bothered.
Has the world gone nuts?

Flat Oak

Almost invisible amongst the cluttered jumble of other trees of various types and ages, this mighty old Oak rests in secluded solitude. Although located in a triangle of woodland created by two converging forest paths, you could, oh so easily, pass by without noticing it, never knowing it was even there. I feel blessed to have met with him, and other, woodland leviathans and I put that down to not feeling obligated to confine myself to the designated forest paths and tracks. It's those smaller animal tracks or less walked paths, which lead into the real forest, the unseen forest and into unexpected meeting with the woodland inhabitants, be they flora or fauna. The Flat Oak is just that, a wide, flat on two sides, ancient Oak, which must be at least 600 years old and will have witnessed, and maybe wondered, at the many comings and goings of human kind over those years. A great tree.

Purple Haze

The vibrant purples of the Amethyst Deceiver (Laccaria amethystina) are now peppering the leaf litter as their population explodes throughout the deciduous woodland of the forest.

Horn of Plenty

Trompetts also known as Black Trumpets, trumpet of the dead or Horns of plenty (Craterellus cornucopioides) are a wonderful find, if you can find them, which is far from easy as they're not the easiest fungi to gather. Usually found growing in the mossy patches amongst leaf litter around Beech and Oak, they can reappear in the same spots for several years. When young (as above) they're small and incredibly well camouflaged amongst the leaf litter of autumn. As they mature they can get much larger and then take on the broad mouthed trumpet look which gives them several of their common names. Even when fully grown they get no easier to find, still mimicking the colours and forms of decaying leaf litter, as the age they turn almost black making them, if possible, even harder to locate. They comprise of one long hollow funnel shaped fruiting body, dark brown grey/black on the inside and lighter grey on the outside, the underside can be lightly wrinkled, though they have no gills or anything, they can appear in large quantities. They'll grow to about 10cm in height with a 6cm, or so, diameter with rolled margins. Quite easy to identify, though as with all fungi use the 110% rule. I usually collect Trompetts with scissors, trying to avoid damaging their root systems. I didn't collect the ones I found today as I'm hoping they'll get bigger. Although not looking that appealing Trompetts are a sort after mushroom, used fresh, or as I prefer dried, they make a great addition to soups, sauces and stews.

Sweet Chestnuts

If you're up for collecting Sweet Chestnuts now might be the time. They were falling like hard rain today, open cases and scattered nuts littered the ground around most of the mature Sweet Chestnut trees. The animals have been quick to take advantage of the wind fall, with lots of empty cases to be seen. Still, if you're quick there's still plenty to go round; it's only fair we share.

Splintered Oak

The force required to shatter and splinter this large Oak must have been staggering, not just toppled it appear that the trunk exploded at about 3m above the ground.  Large splinters like giants tooth picks lay scattered about, with smaller splinters spread out in all directions for about 15m. The remaining upstanding trunk is shredded right down to ground level. Unbelievable. I can only assume this to be the result of a lightning strike or something akin, as the tree doesn't appear to exhibit the usual signs of a tree slighted by high winds and you see a lot of trees humbled in that way. I could be mistaken of course. No, this really was a sight to behold and I spent some time lost in wonder as I examined from every angle and every detail of the fascinating remains.

Amethyst Deceiver

Here's a great little forest gem, the Amethyst Deceiver (Laccaria amethystina). Soon they'll be covering many of our woodland floors. Bright purple when young they fade as they age, their tiny button caps also open with age and can become distorted, their stems are course and fibrous; if collected young they are quite hard to misidentify as they are so small and notably purple. As with other laccaria the Amethyst Deceiver is edible and although small you can collect them in large numbers during a good season, it's best just picking off the cap (discarding the stem) for cooking and adding to a mushroom medley, risotto or similar. The cap will retain its colour, so great to add to meals if you want to weird people out.

More Ceps.

Each new downpour brings a new flush of fungi. The Ceps are still not up to speed, though with preservation yielding enough to provide regular meals and some to dry.  No complaints.

Kings and Queens

You often see paired trees amongst the forest stands, I think their planting must be by design as so frequent are they. Here, as so often in other pairings, the forest monarchs grow together; the Oak King and the Beech Queen. I wonder why pairs were planted. I'd understand if two of the same species were planted together, as sometimes they are, but two different species. Is there a benefit to each in this bonding? Or was the reason more esoteric and now lost to us? Maybe the old woods men, who'd have been brought up to understand and respect tree lore, planted them together merely because they were King and Queen, and it would only be right. These two were spotted embracing on the boundary bank of Burley New Enclosure (1700).

Rose Bay Willow Herb

The Rose Bay Willow Herb which brightened the common so with its abundant pink flowers, has passed, all the seed pods have opened and the seeds dissipated, leaving a myriad of empty pods which create fields of twisting sculptures swaying gently in the breeze.

Autumn

Autumn now has a firm grip on the forest. The leafs on the trees are still predominantly green, though their verdance fades with every day, as more russet tones appear. You can feel Autumn bedding in. The forest is quieter now, the woodland communities hunker down for they know what's to come. The canopies aren't quiet though, no, the wind rakes through them shouting its intent and all about the sweet rich petrichor of autumns first rains fills the air and your senses. Although by their nature seasons are change,  it's through Autumn and Spring that you can really feel the transformational nature of.....nature. Sit a while, immerse yourself, take it all in; you'll feel all the better for it.

Great Huntley Bank

The rivers rise and fall with the passing of each rain shower which washes clean the forest. All the dingy pools of which many huddled in the meanders and dried up gravel beds of the summer season have been flushed and the forests streams once again run clear. The rains haven't penetrated much though, for the most part the ground remains firm under foot; no, on contact with the hardened forest floor rain merely heads for the nearest stream or brook, to be whisked beyond the forest bounds and off out to sea. Soon you wont be able to ford most of the bigger streams, like here on Highland Water, well not without the high chance of a dunking or at the least filled boots. All the seasons present different challenges to the walker, insisting you change many of your regular routes and roams. There are routes that soon I shalt walk again until spring or early summer and other that I'll return to now,  having left them un-walked, by me anyways, since spring gone. A change is as good as a rest and it's always cool to return to a much loved route with juxtaposed emotions; walking the old well known tracks with renewed vigor and wonder, as is walking them for the first time.

They're coming!

To paraphrase Country Joe 'Hold on they're coming, hold on they're very near', Ceps are becoming more bountiful with each passing rainstorm. Still quite sparse on the ground, with a bit of a hunt and a keen eye I managed a respectable haul of Ceps this morning. Most were young and firm, although I did notice that several of those picked from the wetter ditch/stream side areas had already become maggoty and few so much so that I discarded them. Still, you'll hear no grumbling from me, not with my sack filled so nicely.

Signs of distant days

It's clear from the detritus you find about, that the forest was once more intensively used or at least used in different ways than it is today. Crushed tin baths are a phenomena throughout the wooded parts of the forest. Whether signs of a long ago settled itinerant  population, the forest was once famed for it Gypsy communities, or evidence of one of the many hastily constructed and subsequently hastily abandoned temporary camps created amongst the forests shading stands in the run up to D Day during the latter part of the Second World War, is uncertain. Tin bath finds though are a very common find. Often other artifacts can be identified nearby, similarly they too share a cultural and period ambiguity making association with specific groups or periods near impossible.

Berry good times

At this time of year whilst we're out walking, faces fixed on the ground like hounds following a scent in our pursuit of mushrooms, it's worth taking a moment to look up and see what other of natures bounties surrounds us. This year has been a bumper year for berries in particular, a valuable resource group. There are traditional lores regarding the picking of many of our hedgerow/woodland fruits, one that is synonymous with autumnal berry collecting, and particularly with the three above, is that they should be picked after the first frosts. I've been thinking about this over the last few years and with the increasing effects of climate change I feel these lores are being rendered redundant. If you waited for the first frosts, the berries would be gone or have gone over on the plants. So I'd suggest pick now whilst they in abundance and if need be refrigerate or freeze over night to simulate a frost.  Good picking. 

Hawthorn (Crataegus monogyna). Hawthorns are commonly seen throughout the forest, their red berries adding points of vibrant colour to the stands as the surrounding forest colour drains. Commonly found in archaeological deposits from the prehistoric period onwards, it's clear Haws have always been a valued food and medicinal resource. The berries are known as Haws and have a multitude of culinary uses from wine, savory and sweet jellies and jams.

Blackthorn, (Prunus spinosa). The Blackthorn has been used by humans for centuries, their fruits commonly known as Sloes, stones of which have been found on prehistoric settlement sites and notably in the stomach of Otzi, the frozen prehistoric body found in the Alps. The berries can be made into jam, used in fruit pies, to make wine, the traditional winter favourite Sloe gin (or vodka if so disposed) and preserved in vinegar. 

Dog Rose (Rosa Canina). The fruits of the dog rose are called Hips and have been used as a traditional folk medicine and food again since prehistoric times.  These fruits are brightest of reds and easily spotted in the fading forest. High in vitamin C rose hips have traditionally been used to make a rich rosehip syrup, though they can also be used to flavour herbal teas, make wines and sweet jellies.

Mushroom medlee

A nice haul of fungi this morning, some hedgehogs (Hydnum repandum), some ceps (Boletus edulis) and a chunk of cauliflower fungus (Sparassis crispa), all collected with a wild mushroom risotto in mind. The forest remains very dry though and what little rain is falling doesn't appear to be soaking in, more draining off into the rivers, with streams rising fast and falling just as quickly. We'll need to have far more rain to enjoy a good mushroom season this year.

Ancient Oak

This old fella I've named 'the old man of Pinnick Wood' sometimes referred to as 'the illustrated tree'. A gnarly ancient Oak, well into his third trimester (Oaks are said to have 300 years growing, 300 years living and 300 years declining), no longer producing leaf, in fact on the whole no longer having much bark or anything left on him at all. He's been like this for as long as I've known him, which is many years now; though still a commanding presence in the woods. His remaining trunk and boughs are covered in the most incredible patterning of swirls and mounds all conspiring to create a tripped out feast for the eyes. In a forest full of wonderful trees, this old fella is high on the list of notable ones.

Holly berries

This year Holly berries cluster around the twigs of the Holly trees in a way which suggests the trees more berry than leafs. They've quickly turned red, it wasn't that long ago that I remember them green. You can walk the forest paths year on year and miss so much of what's going on around you. I've never taken much notice of the holly berries before they've shone red amongst their dark green foliage. But this year, maybe due to their massive quantities, I became aware of the berries whilst they were still green and have watched them turn through yellow green to orange and now to the deepest of reds, with what feels like lightning speed. I wonder how many will still be about when it comes time to be making our Yule wreaths.