Colourful trunk

Even as the mighty forest leviathans decay that add colour to the woods. Here in Burley Old enclosure, illuminated by the a strengthening Spring Sun, a Beech exhibits a wide range of colours. Greens, blues, greys, browns, reds all are represented. Sadly, my photo doesn't do the colours justice, so you'll just have to take my word.

714th

Ah, graffiti, always posing questions, and mostly unanswerable ones too. 714th, what's that all about then? Graffiti by it's nature is linked to a personal moment and often with no context for us to set it against, and so hard to tie down or understand. Though sometimes it may be possible to create a picture, whether that picture really represents is another matter. So, 714th, my first thought is that it could represent a military unit, they commonly use such designators and there were many active units in or passing through the forest during previous conflicts. Well, it appears the 12th Armored Division passed through from Wiltshire to Southampton for embarkation in 1944 and that a 714th Tank Battalion was part of the 12th. Could it have been one of them?  Over the years I've identified maybe, 7 or 8 other pieces of graffiti from this area of woodland all from 1944 and several of them include US or USA. Could they be other members of the 714th? Are these pieces connected? Could be. I'll see what else I can find out.

Hazel stool

Far from damaging or shortening the life of a tree, coppicing and pollarding increase the trees health, vitality and longevity.  A Hazel tree has an average lifespan of about 80 years, though if coppiced that lifespan can be increased to several hundred years. Some of the Hazel stools we saw today must have well exceeded the average age. It's nice to see them coaxed back to life. 

Beyond the clouds

On the darkest, windiest, stormiest, wettest of days, beyond the clouds the Sun's still shining in a clear blue sky. It's a funny old world.

Full steam ahead

Pardon me sir is that the chattanooga choo choo? No, don't be daft it's the 15.45 from Swanage to Corfe.  Whilst out walking today we fortuitously arrived at the foot crossing just as the train rounded the corner towards us belching smoke and steam. A remnant of our once extensive integrated public transport system, which after avoiding Dr Beechings axe the line fell foul of later government closures in 1972 and lay dormant for several years. After a creeping restoration starting in 1979 the line finally opened between Swanage to Corfe in 1995.  The sound of the whistle and the plumes of smoke and steam add to the feeling that Purbeck is timeless and only go to strengthen my feelings of gratefulness that Purbeck, touch wood, has managed to avoid much of the creeping destruction and urbanization of the last 30 years. Visit Swanage and it still feels like it did 35 years ago when I'd go there as a child; I don't know many places like it, it should be treasured.

Primrose

The Primroses (Primula vulgaris) are starting to bloom. A lovely flower, to me they're a herald of spring and soon they'll be everywhere, bringing littles touches of gold and brightening the hedgerows and woodland fringes As with most of nature they also have a use; did you know, the flowers and leaves are both edible and the flowers can be used to make a delicate spring flower wine. Nice.  

Mud, glorious mud

When it rains for any length of time it doesn't take long before the local paths become increasingly difficult to negotiate, and these paths, although used are not exactly busy.  I can imagine if they were busy paths it wouldn't be long before they became useless and impassible, as in prolonged bad weather they frequently are. That got me thinking as to how muddy and how much of an inconvenience that mud would have been to past communities. A village, small community or even a farmstead all would have become quagmires in no time, and people must have become resigned to being caked in mud. The first archaeological evidence for engineered trackways in Britain is found in the Neolithic associated with wetland environments and were constructed of timber.  Some were very sophisticated, such as the Sweet Track in Somerset, though most were brush wood or corduroyed timber. We only know about these engineered tracks due the environmental conditions which preserved them, although it's likely that such tracks would have been common. They must have been! You can see why. These engineered tracks would have represented major communal routes, and as was still common until the beginning of the last century, step beyond these 'A' roads and you'd have on your own. I find mud a real pain in the arse, making hard to get about and causing more work, cleaning. It must have been a nightmare for past communities.

Langton West Wood

One of the new places we found out walking today is Langton West Wood, a lovely woodland nature reserve tucked near the bottom of the fold between the inland Purbeck Hills and the ridge along the Purbeck coast. A fragment of ancient deciduous woodland as indicated by some of the incumbent species, though at some point, now long neglected, areas have been managed as coppice. It has a stream running through it, fed by many rivulets and springs. A magical space and a most fortuitous find, said to be best visited in Spring, when it's flushed with wild flowers. I look forward to it.

Over the hills

Today was a taste of Spring to come, hopefully. As we made our way up along the well worn sunken track-way through Brenscombe Wood and up onto the Purbeck Hills above, the low sun shone brightly through the trees, casting long shadows. The views from the ridge are spectacular. Purbeck is radiant, bathed in energizing light. We walked paths old and new today. To us anyway. Paths which meandered along the edges of fields, through wood fringed sunken tracks and fragmentary patches of a once all encompassing woodland. We found places we'd never seen before; I love finding new places or walking new paths in areas through which I've walked for years, it's that juxtaposition of the familiar and the unfamiliar. The Isle of Purbeck is so beautiful. Everywhere the birds are singing as life all about prepares for Springs arrival proper. Trees are bursting to bud and you can't walk for green sprouts reaching for the Sun. You can feel it, the energy, it feels familiar, then it is really, as we've experienced the cycle many times before. It's not just you've actually experienced it physically, it's in our DNA, a deep connection with our natural environment.  There would have been a time when we felt the seasons and their changes even more strongly, just like the other animals. All we feel know are the echoes of our primal connection with the land. Nowadays we don't need to be so aware of natures changes, with our networks and systems, though once it would have been fundamental to our very survival.  And may well be again. On many levels it's always worthwhile trying to rebuild that connection.

Dissected circle

I'm sure I've seen graffitied dissected circles like this elsewhere in the forest. Maybe it's an old foresters mark, indicating where the timber is destined to end up; like the Admiralty arrows on many forest trees. I'll have to keep my eyes open for other examples.

Flow

Water level

It's been a dry winter really, the ground is wet, yes, but not sodden, and the streams, the streams, other than the occasional overflow, have stayed firmly within their banks. In fact, on the whole, the streams have shown gravel for months now.  I know that such things can, and will, fluctuate, although you can't help wondering if what we're seeing is a more permanent shift to cycles of more extreme episodes as a consequence of climate change kicking in.  Extended periods of dry, punctuated by episodes, long and short, of inundation and flooding; it's these extremes butting up against each other which create the right condition for environmental degradation and erosion. In recent years the number of trees slighted by the combination of adverse environmental conditions have soared, and the number of stream side trees undermined and now laying prostrate across the streams has increased too. The wooded parts of the forest look battered. Still, it's a lovely day and following Highland Water above Millyford Bridge, along some of its upper stretches, the forest stirs. The Sun has broken through, giving a sense of approaching spring, and it feels good.

Sun at sunset #1

The day has been another wet one, with dark grey clouds, heavy with rain, scudding across the sky dropping their loads when it takes their fancy. Though towards the end of the day the clouds broke, releasing the Sun only for it to disappear below the horizon, although it did make a splendid disappearance.

Shell

Shell, contributing to environment degradation since 1907.  I maybe singling out Shell here, that's because its friendly corporate logo was easy to identify amongst the human detritus scattered along the beach, this beach, or any beach really, our species are feckless, though efficient polluters. Though Shell was by no means alone, with many other recognizable logos visible, along with those unfamiliar; to record them all would be a tedious and misery/anger inducing enterprise.  It's sad that we're so stupid.

Corkscrew picket

A Barbed Wire Corkscrew Picket? An unusual find and not what I was expecting to find at this location. Used to secure barbed wire in order to create obstacles or defences, they were often used in conjunction with other features such as machine gun positions, trenches or pillboxes; none of those are apparent at first glance, though further exploration may lead to something.  Being near the east/west main line and near a crossing point, so it is likely it's defence necessitated wire and pickets.  There's certainly no pillbox in the vicinity, not that I've seen or seen recorded anyway; there are two nearby though, about .5 mile in each direction, again at crossing points, although more significant ones.  Worth a bit more investigation I think.

Story tree

I think of these trees, the ones which are easily accessible with lots of boughs forming, like, open up turned hands, fingers spread, as story trees or parliament trees. Trees where people, usually young folk, gather and as by the wear on the boughs, have gathered for years. We had one of the park near where I lived as a child, in the holidays it would be full of youth, up in all the branches like a troop of monkeys.  I have many memories of times at our tree. Here we'd plan our games or mighty adventures, arguments would be settled, things discussed and, in such a stereotypical way for the 70's, the older kids would read lurid saucy and most definitely fraudulent stories of the sort commonly found in 'hedge porn'.  See, 'hedge porn' is a rare thing today, though a common find in the 70's. Not specialist sauce for gardeners or another niche group, no, 'hedge porn' was simply porn one found in a hedge, made redundant nowadays by the internet. Now, I'm not saying anything about the morality of porn either way, although it was a much gentler exposure to sex and the naked female form through hedge porn than todays extremes. Not gynecological or hardcore or nasty or anal; what is the modern obsession with anal anyway? No, essentially you saw nothing other than some boob and thicket, really it all remained a mystery; and the stories didn't impart genuine or useful information either, other than to suggest the the adult world was full of fantasists, it had to be...and it is. Things were so much simpler then, we remained naive for longer, kept are innocence; it was better, or am I just looking through rose coloured glasses. No, it was better. Sorry, I've digressed from the tree, having been taken down a time tunnel to my 70's youth; the 70's, what a strange decade.  Anyway, I hope this tree still sees use in the planning of games and adventures, though sadly I doubt it, children grow so fast, forced up by a corporate media just itching to exploit them; no time for games or adventure...grow up fast and buy shit's the message now.

Worked wood

As much as I love the wilder places, and I really do, I also love to see a managed deciduous woodland. Particularly woodland managed in a traditional way, by traditional means; horses to draw the timber, all the composite parts of the tree used to their best to create numerous products on site and all that, naturally in harmony, products which otherwise would require complexed environmentally damaging processes to produce. I see them as evidence that we can life in balance with our environment, in a sustainable way. What I'd advocate is a mosaic approach with mixed areas of wild and managed sustainable environments. In my model woods would provide us with a wide range of craft and food resources if managed well, they could go toward creating more locally produced resource based economies/communities.  I see neglected woodland all over, and for the most part I love them for their wildness and embrace their re-wilding, though I am also heartened to see an increase in woodland being brought back to sustainable productivity. Balance, man, that's were the future lays, balance and community.

Subtle Sunset

Mmmmm, nice.

Purbeck

Oh Purbeck, how I love thee.

Caught in a trap

Bathed in light, suspended by gossamer threads, pearls of water hang shining in time and space amongst the boughs of long lived trees. Boundless beauty can be found throughout the forest, in the broadest of views and in the smallest of places. Nature's good like that.

Old Oakie

I'm sure that the younger forest trees collude to hide the older trees.  When upon them, such as this mighty 6m circumference Oak, you're awed by their size and presence, but get a few meters away and they appear to disappear, melt into the forest.  Maybe that's how these leviathans have survived to the age they have; and what an age they are.  This Oak would have been a mere sapling when Elizabeth the first was on the thrown.  It will have seen so many changes in the world of man and as a consequence of mans actions, so many changes in the land. 500 years, such a small period in geological history, and to a lesser degree even in human history, but it might as well be a world apart for the changes we've ensued and the damage we've wrought. What must the wild wood have been like?

A dusting

That's all be got today, a dusting. As we journeyed out to the woods you could see the snow, which had been falling in large flakes and had formed a good covering layer over everything, melt away as the Sun flooded through the clouds. This was all that was left by the time we reached Brinken Wood.

Imbolc

Imbolc's here and all around the Earth stirs from winters embrace. Although the air is still chill and Jack stalks the clear nights, our Sun grows stronger and the Goddess having now recovered, re-awakens, as seen by the first green shoots poking through, the small buds just forming on the trees and the young animals in the pasture. Blessings at this time of new beginnings. 

Dungy Head and St Oswalds Bay

Beyond Stair Hole to the west, up past the big houses, if you follow the footpath you'll come out on the cliff top path which runs along Dungy Head. If you're feeling adventurous you can make you way down the steep grassy slope here to the rocky shoreline below the head. Obviously, that's not a recommendation. The grass is course and slippery, although does afford something to hold onto when you start to slip, which you will, it's a hairy decent. I know I say this about everywhere I go in Purbeck, but what a lovely piece of coastline. The shore line is dotted with huge boulders displaced from the cliffs above, cliffs which are a mix of rough grasses and scree, topped in places with fragile limestone faces. We've visited here many times over the years, though one occasion sticks in my mind, probably because I've recounted it so many times, it remains fresh and vivid. It was way back in the 80's, when a group of us would regularly, every Sunday, go walking over Purbeck. Now, I've never been one for heights and on this occasion we had attempted to scale the a very grassy/rocky section between two rock outcrops. I say attempted, everybody else made it up, not me though. I got stuck halfway up a rocky section.  I couldn't go any further upwards and had scared myself so, that I couldn't get back down either. Of course my chums laughed, finding much hilarity in my predicament. How do you think they helped me, what was the best they could do? No, it wasn't encouragement or a helping hand. No. They threw stones at me. Afterwards they said it was to help me, and yes, after a while I was encouraged to get down; though I doubt this was their primary motivation.  Back on the shoreline I still had to get up. I spotted a route that although steep afforded more security, with big rocks to climb around, rocks that would act as back stops if you slipped. I plucked up the courage and set off at speed up the slope. My heart was pounding, but I forced myself on, up and up, past the rocks, slipping here and there, but eventually I was over the cliff top to safety.  Oh how we laughed. As I say, I'll never forget that day; it's one of many good memories of great times.

Bindon Fossil Forest

Between Mupe Bay and Lulworth Cove is the Fossil Forest. Reached by a steep staircase, down which you descend through geological time, back to the Jurassic land surface of the Fossil Forest ledge. Don't be expecting to see fossilized trees though, that's not what the fossils represent. Rather what you see are the fossilized remains of the algae (through the millenia turned into thrombilites) which once grew around the bases of coniferous trees, probably akin to Cypresses. Like the geology at nearby Bacon hole the stratigraphy lays at 45 degrees from horizontal. Directly above the thrombilite level is a thick band of exposed Broken Beds which allows you to see just how fragile and jumbled these beds are. The pieces stone which form the main constituent of the broken beds appear to have been laid down in bands, and then these bands have been smashed to pieces and those pieces concreted back into bands. I don't know, I'm no geologist.  I do know though, that it's sites like this which make our Jurassic Coast so important.

Mupe

Like a large section of the Purbeck coast Mupe is only usually accessible at weekends and so holds an air of rarity in my mind. We've been here many times over the years, though far fewer than many of our other favourite walks. So any visit to Mupe is a rare treat. There are three routes to Mupe, around Lulworth Cove over its pebbly beach, along the hilly coast from Flowers Barrow or the direct route from Lulworth village over Bindon Hill; we chose the latter. The climb up Bindon is steep, but worthwhile as the views from the summit in each direction along the coast are glorious, even when being chased by a scouring chill wind as was present today. As a consequence of that chill wind though we didn't hang about aloft too long and quickly made our way down to Mupe. The geology of Mupe is confused. On the open bay side are Wealdon clays, whilst around Mupe Rocks and Bacon Hole the stratigraphy lays upturned at 45 degrees from horizontal having been put under some fantastic pressures back in time. The forces of the natural world never cease to provide wonders.  Huge slabs of limestone protrude out from the cliff, and out into the sea in the form of rocky islands and ledges. Between these slabs of solidity, the horizons are fragile, a mix of Wealdon clays and loose broken beds. This is particularly so in Bacon Hole.  At the far end of which, between two slabs of limestone where the softer horizons have been eroded, there's a smugglers cave where contraband was once hidden awaiting transit inland for dispersal. Mupe Rocks and Bacon Hole are rugged places, full of natural energy, wild places even on a fine day and frightening places in foul weather. It should be noted that the fragile nature of some of the geology means vigilance and care are required, but whatever the conditions a visit is always rewarding.