Cowslip

Mother nature lets all her children shine, everything in her world has its moment...it's currently Cowslips time. Cowslips (Primula veris) are one springs stars, a favourite of mine, and a colourful herald of summers approach. When seen on mass in open grassland, it really is a spectacle.

April showers

Drops of April rain hang on the unfurling leaves of the forests Beech. It's one of those walks when rain is never far away, although never present enough to become an inconvenience. I'm not moaning, I love it when things do what they are supposed to, and April is supposed to be synonymous with showers. 

Marshmallow trees

If you've ever wondered where the tiny marshmallows you find in Rocky Road cakes and fancy hot chocolates came from, wonder no more. They grow on magical trees deep in the forest and are gathered by the woodland folk who together operate as a co-operative. These are some trees in flower, later the tiny correspondingly coloured mallows appear. Well, that's what I've been led to understand.

Great Huntley Bank

There's nothing better than an evening walk in the forest.

Even more Moor

Waterfalls and cascading fingers of rapid were frequent features of today’s walk. Water was rushing from the land to join the Dart at every opportunity. And it looked bloody lovely! Sounded great too.

More Moor

For the return journey from Dartmeet I decided to take a higher path. I'd cooled down a bit stopping for lunch, and the climb out of the Dart Valley was hard going. There's a path between Combestone and Venford Reservoir, below the Holne Moor Leat and skirting the top fringes of the Dart Valley woodland. It's a wonderful rocky path, which hugs the contours of the land. It passes through boulder strewn and moss covered stands, in addition to the moss the trees are lichen covered too. I heard a cuckoo, first of the year. Every turn, every gap in the canopy reveals stunning views over the steep Dart Valley, and glimpses of its bubbling river. The trees are still naked and, for the most part, you can see good distances through the woodland, that wont last for long though, when the canopy comes to leaf the woodland and valley will close in on themselves, adding to the magic. It'll be a different world completely. From Venford I returned to the familiar path that skirts the river down to New Bridge, a path we've walked countless time, though a path that never loses its appeal. Back in the deeply cut gorge, more moss covered rocks and tenacious trees cover the steep slopes above you, and again the sound of the thundering Dart is your walking music. Wonderful. Too soon I was back at New Bridge and walks end. I say too soon, it was, though I'd set off with strains, sprains and pains, I have to admit to overdoing it and that the return leg of the walk was increasingly hard going. Still, the walk was just what I needed. Dartmoor oozes an energy and magic which you soak up like a sponge, the thing is, life wrings it out of you. I suppose the solution is to visit more often...sounds good to me.  

Stepping stones

There's a road bridge over the East Dart, though there's no such luxury if you're crossing the West Dart at Dartmeet, here there are stepping stones. Stepping stones which today were barely above the water in places, although if you didn't hesitate too much, moved with focus and determination, it wasn't too sketchy. Not to hesitate too much is the key. Safely across I sat on the far bank and tucked into my lunch. Two walkers approached the stones, from the start they hesitated, put off by the wet stones, after a while they'd made it to the middle, where their confidence faltered, they'd got 'the fear'. I helped by ensuring them that my camera was at the ready to capture any calamity, well, it's good to help.  The walkers were two sisters, after a while one made it across whilst the other had completely lost her confidence, it's easy to do, and when you do it takes focus to get it back. The three of us chatted for a while, when the landed sister asked if I'd mind giving the other sister a hand, 'of course not' I said, 'I'd been unsure whether to ask or not'. Both were clearly experienced walkers and I didn't what to appear condescending or something. Once over the stone which had become the mental barrier, the walker was cool, and after more chatting we were off on our walks again. It's a funny world, I thought how the walkers situation in the river weirdly reflected mine on the bank. The walker had lost her confidence to cross and I'd lost my confidence to help, not being sure of whether it was right to offer. Then I thought how that was reflective of society as a whole, so desperate not to do/say something wrong, that we hesitate, and end up doing nothing. Then I thought, 'I think too much', and tuned back into the moor.

Dartmoor

Dartmoor's been calling me for some time now, always drifting around the peripheries of my mind, popping up in my dreams and thoughts, and over the last week its draw had become intense. What could I do? I had to go. Ever since I first went to Dartmoor over 30 years ago it's had a hold on me. I couldn't tell you the times we've visited or camped in the folds of this magical rugged landscape. Dartmoor is one of the few places in our tiny country that still retains a semblance of its primal wildness, and somewhere we can feel an echo of the connection we once would have shared with the land. Dartmoor is a sacred place to me, steeped in memories too. It was 0830 as I struck out from New Bridge, I'd made good time travelling through two counties before the hurly burly of the day had got going. Now heading up the right bank of the Dart I was excited, although we've walked this section of the Dart countless times we'd never completed the walk from New Bridge and Dartmeet on this side of the river. It was as cool as I'd imagined, discovering the unfamiliar in somewhere familiar always is. I could feel the knots that bind me loosen and fall as a genuinely felt smile broke the jaded expression I currently wear, it feels so good to be here, so energizing. Good energy, natural energy. The walking was immersive, you're in a deeply cut gorge, moss covered rocks and tenacious trees rise above you, the sound of the thundering Dart fills your ears, and clean ionized air fills your lungs. My senses are overwhelmed, and my smile is now fixed. I follow a narrow winding path just above the river, past hidden pools and secret spots. I call it a path although a lot of the time you're required to use something akin to the 'force' to define it. The familiar river looks so different from this bank, there are several long islands above New Bridge and I'd never seen this side of them. The walking was very different from the other bank, as I say, the path was less defined, that is until you reach the halfway point and Luckey Tor when there are many more areas of flat open space. Before I knew it I was approaching Dartmeet with it's ancient clapper bridge and more modern road bridge, and the furthest point of my venture, and my walk half done.

First Ramson flowers

The first Ramson flowers are just blooming, soon you'll be able to smell the woodlands with Ramsons well before you see them, though when you see a woodland decked in their white star like flowers, well, that's something else.

First born

First spring foal I've seen this year in the forest. Staying to close to its mother, this young foal really was new, it was still very unstable on its legs.

Blackthorn flowers

When spring comes proper, Blackthorn flowers are never sloe to bloom. Ay! Do you get it?

A walk to the shops

The changing season and changing weather brings new walking opportunities, even the regular mundane chore walks can take on new dimensions. I had several chores to attend to today, in a range of places. My travels took me along along cliff tops, sandy beaches and across 2 ferries, I crossed 2 rivers, one via two ferry rides and the other via a ferry ride and 2 bridges, I enjoyed a harbour walk, a wander amongst water meadows and reeds, I visited a museum (and could have visited another), passed a range of important prehistoric settlements, through an ancient Saxon Burh, by a Norman Keep and a priory which survived Henry VIII, as well as that I visited old haunts and again collected nettles for soup.  Thirteen miles, in all, a wonderful walk. As I walked I reflected on how lucky I was to live in a place where the walk to the chemist, shops and food fortress, can cover such wonders. 

Broken Britain

The governments program of local authority cut backs are really starting to bite, though the parks and leisure department continue to do their best to provide for the community. Broken Britain. 

Here kitty kitty.

Here kitty kitty.

Hurst shrine

It was looking like a lovely evening, so I decided on a coastal walk and chose Hurst Spit, a mile and a half walk along a pebble spit protruding into the Solent, not the easiest walking, but that's easily made up for my the views and the air. The spit curves gracefully round on itself, so that if you walk right to the furthest point, way past the castle, you look over sheltered salt marsh towards the route you'd taken out. It's a spot which depending on the weather can solicit an array of differing emotions, when stormy it's decidedly isolated and frightening, when misty it's weird and haunting, and when it's sunny or calm it's tranquil. The spit's ever changing, you can see that by the piers that are now inland or who's remnants lay inaccessible off shore. I was shocked to find the water lapping at the walls on the Solent facing side of Hurst's Victorian fortress, I'd not seen that before (that's not to say it doesn't happen, just it was new to me). Tucked away in one of the bricked up firing embrasures on the Solent side, a shrine of a type has developed. I don't think it's a shrine to anything or anyone in particular, as there's all sorts of themes, various dates, styles and purposes. I took a while to explore the deposits, and wondered how and why. Then turning the corner I wandered back under a peach/salmon pink coloured sky. Worth the pebbly walk, pebbles of course being just the worst.

The tree

Set in the burgeoning sea of stinging nettles that edges Creepy Woods stands the tree. It's not the only tree, there are four of them, four Oaks in a line, no doubt the former boundary to a field or paddock, although it's the only tree climbable, and with the capacity for three or four people to lounge.  We'd  meet at the 'tree' when foraging, or just if was a nice day. It was a favourite place to just hang out. I remember it being a great place for sunsets, the land gently rises and you're afforded an expansive canvas for the sun to express himself. Then the fields were far more extensive, a broad green buffer between Christchurch and Highcliffe. Though thirty years on, and several parcels of development later, the trees stand in a shrinking island of post agricultural land, a shadow of their former glory. Still, they, and the woodland, remain a haven for wildlife and a good place to forage wild resources.  It was stinging nettle again for me today. Well, it's free food, delicious and nutritious. I'd postponed my walk today because of rain, when I did set off I was well dressed, and I walked home in my t-shirt; that's when you know springs here proper. 

Highcliffe

Seeing Highcliffe Castle today you'd never imagine that by the 1980's is was a wrecked shell, after fires in the late 60's had left it derelict and years of neglect had led it to ruin. I remember in fenced off, covered in brambles and invasive shrubs, a fascinating and very dangerous place to explore. Now look at it. Restoration works have been going on since the 90's, with a huge proportion of the building either restored or in the process of being restored. The conservators eye has now fallen on the wider grounds. Between the castle and Steamer Point a parcel of woodland was inaccessible for years, a dense jumble behind fence and gate. The area has now been opened up, much over the overgrown shrubs removed and a series of different level paths exposed and restored. I imagine it would've been part of a romanticized woodland walk which would have extended into what is now Steamer Point nature reserve (the path depressions and low banks continue into there).  How the other half lived, and still do.

Great Huntley Bank

It appeared that in places Camel Green and Brinken Wood were wetter than Highland Water, whose gravel banks were showing through if not exposed in places. Crazy that with so much rain, evident in how waterlogged the land is, that the streams are flowing so low. Though even the land, which as I say is waterlogged, is not as waterlogged as it could be. I suppose really it's been another dry winter, for the most part. That said, the environs beyond the banks of Highland Water were too sodden for walking, and hugging the stream banks was the driest and most sure footed path to take. It's nice that way anyway, you get to see the wrinkles in the stream, the overlooked places and the inevitable changes up close as you meander. Having walked these parts for decades I can almost thumb a 40 year plus flip-book in my mind of the changes, sketchy in places, maybe, but it's there. I sat against a gnarled moss covered trunk in one of the meanders in Great Huntley Bank and listened to the woodland. I got more comfortable and relaxed in mossy repose, as birdsong filled my ears, the more I listen the deeper and richer the combined singing became, so many different conversations, until in completely filled my auditory sense. Then about 25 minutes later I woke up.  I know 'forest bathing' is recommended for well-being, but I recommend 'forest snoozing' too, snooze whilst bathing (though of course, don't snooze while actually bathing, no, don't do that).

What is it?

What do you think you're looking at?

Where's Pathy?

Where's pathy? It's like 'Where's Wally?', but with paths. It's a fun (or tedious) game for all the family round these parts. I was wandering Resource Woods (real name Great Woar Copse, know by us as Resource Woods due to the high number of resources available), and following a well used path, when all of a sudden the path had vanished. It had simply ceased to be. I found myself adrift in proper bog woodland.

Wood Anemone

With Spring proper comes a noticeable increase in flowers, an environment in which that's most apparent is woodland. Resource Woods, a part neglected Hazel copse, is our local Bluebell wood; you know, there'll be a wood near you that you know is the place to go see a proper Bluebell show. Although before that the Wood Anemone's (Anemone nemorosa) reign. A woodland blessed with an abundance is a beautiful scene to behold, that's all, mind, as the Wood Anemone is pretty toxic to man and beast. Like Bluebells or Ramsons, they're a good sign that the woodland is old, especially when found on mass.

Skin

Freed from winters constraints the sun shone brightly, warming the air and raising your spirits. The weather wizards predict that these clear skies will be short lived, with a grey blanket once again being drawn up over us by the weekend. Still, that's not today, and anyway, that's spring for you, April showers and all that. Today’s walking venue, Hurst Spit, a long curving shingle spit extending into the western mouth of the Solent, and crowned with a multi period fortress with its origins in Tudor fears.  The spit is high and although battered by the sea at times to the point of near breach, it affords protection to the salt marsh and tiny harbour at  Keyhaven beyond. We walked the length of the spit and round to its furthest point, way beyond the castle. The one thing a beach is always guaranteed to do is show you something new, it's their way. The worlds flotsam and jetsam is continuously on a grand tour, and nature is forever revealing her strangeness; I find no end of weird shit where the land meets the sea. Take these stones, shrink wrapped in sheer seaweed. I couldn't help wonder if somewhere in that there might not be a solution to part of our packaging problems. Groovy looking, whatever.

Nettle

Collected my first Stinging Nettles of the year whilst walking back from the food fortress today. I was near Creepy Woods, it had rained, everything was looking green and nettles popped to mind. Of course they would, spring and Creepy, means it's nettle time. We've been collecting nettles from Creepy Woods for 30 years. Creepy isn't the real name of the woodland, I don't think it has one, but that's how we've always known it, so called after Creepy Mansion, a posh home which for many years stood derelict and dilapidated on the edge of the woods. Nettles are one of our many overlooked free foods, delicious, nutritious and versatile, use them in soup, as a veg or dry them for later use when they take on a Nori quality and flavour.  They are a well used resource in this abode. And, I love that we've collected the same natural resources from the same places year on year, for so many years.

From tiny acorns

At the end of September I mentioned the forestry commission had harvested a block of mature conifers in Burley Old Enclosure. I passed that way again today and found the forestry have already replanted the block, and this time it appears to be with Oaks.  It's so easy to forget that swathes of the forest we know and love are an artificial construct, the creation of necessity and commerce.

Ear, ear!

One of the few edible mushroom resources available at this time of year, the Jew Ear or Jelly Ear (Auricularia auricula-judae) is distinctive, looking exactly as it's name would suggest like an ear.  It grows most frequently on old Elder, which is how it got the name Jews Ear, Elder being the tree Judas was said to have hung himself from, it was originally called Judas's Ear, though through time it got shortened.  It's not been a much valued mushroom in this part of the world, though is much more popular in China and South East Asia. For that reason I've found it best cooked in soups or with noodley things.

Death by ?

I frequently come across bones and skulls when out walking, probably as I have some trouble keeping to paths, and choose those less walked, but two skulls together is a first for me. Two deer skulls amongst a jumble of disarticulated bones, Roe Deer I think, quite small skulls, juveniles, I'm not sure whether they aren't different genders too. An odd find. Usually I'd put a single skull or skeleton down to natural causes of some kind, disease or trauma, but two together suggest something else, foul play of some kind, maybe. I wonder what went on here?

Cranborne

Walking through Cranborne can feel like walking back through time, it wouldn't surprise you if a horse drawn haywain or pre-war tractor appeared around the corner of a hedgerow or emerged from a sunken drove. There's something timeless and ancient about the land. I think it's that it embodies every aspect of what we traditionally define as the English rural landscape; sweeping grassland escarpments dotted with sheep, hidden wooded valleys brimming with game birds, ploughed fields, thick hedgerows, sunken tree lined droves and deer silhouetted on the horizon. The heavily carved ancient beech which line the Faulston drove as it climbs out Bishopstone and the Ebble Valley confirm reinforce the idea of this being old land. Graffiti on the trees celebrate loves, holiday visits and all manner of life's events and memories, as well as historic events, the silver jubilee of George the 5th and the sinking of the Lusitania in 1915, right up to more recent scribblings. This landscape has seen life in all it's shades. The drove itself will be of ancient date, nearby medieval strip lytchets and even older field systems can still be seen, as can the even older barrows, long and round, which hold the remains of the oldest inhabitants of this place. Like I say, a timeless and ancient land where if you look you can glimpse history.