Oh deer

I mentioned only yesterday what a harsh and unforgiving environment our beautiful and peaceful forest can be. Walking round the other side of Clay Hill Bottom this morning I came across evidence of it. A deer skull and bone, from a young deer I reckon, the rest of the remains long ago scattered. If you take your own path across the land, you'll often come across the remains of forest inhabitants who'd come to the end of their journey, or just didn't make through. In fact I came across another body through Clay Hill Bottom, that of a pony, I haven't posted that picture, it was still a bit soft tissuey. That said, I have thought about doing a photo post on the topic of death in the forest, we'll see.

Clay Hill Bottom

I was out in the forest early this morning, wandering through Clay Hill Bottom.  A dusting of very light snow covered the heathland, any exposed water had a solid crust and a piercing wind scoured the undulating landscape. Although the ponies looked unmoved as they stood in defiance of the elements, though this can be a harsh and unforgiving environment, and they do well to survive unaided. Man, it was cold, bloody cold.

Really?

Who the bally heck had the bright idea of producing a 7'' single with a 45rpm side and a 33.3rpm side? Why is that a thing? Why would you do that?  I've never come across a single like this before, or I can't remember anyway. The whys aside, I picked up a groovy 7'' single in a charity shop today; Ten Year After's 1970 'Love Like a Man', one side the studio version at 45rpm, and on the other a version recorded live at 33.3rpm. Although the labels have been defaced with scribble, the actual disc plays clean. It's a great single, a great track, from a classic British blues rock band of the late 1960's early 1970's and both versions are good listening. If you have to change the belt to change the speed on your turntable, as I do, I'm still confused as to whether this single is hindrance or help. Still, nice find.

Down and out

Walking through Burley Old this morning I saw that another four ancient/veteran beech trees have been taken out by this weekend's strong winds. Bummer, man. Each tree downed means another, or bigger, hole in the canopy, which in turn creates a weak point and another opportunity for destructive winds to get amongst the stands and wreak havoc. I've seen the number of trees slighted by the elements increase throughout the forest in recent years, although the destruction wrought is nowhere more apparent than here in Burley Old and out in Bratley Wood. In both Burley Old and Bratley the extent of the damage and the changes in the nature of the spaces caused are striking. Parts of Burley Old's floor are now becoming congested with debris, a tangle of trunk and bough, you can't take a straight course through the wood any more. It can sometimes be bitter sweet walking though the stands. Of course, it could merely be that since the forestry stopped removing fallen wood, that destruction has become more noticeable, whereas it occurred previously though because of removal was  invisible. I know everything changes and it's natural for trees to topple and new ones take their places, although there's a worrying lack of samplings coming up to replace the fallen. A huge increase in the populations of deer and pony over the last 20 years have led to over grazing on a now destructive level, where it's not just the samplings being eaten but also an increase in beech and holly bark being stripped, sometimes in the case of beech, to fatal consequences. I fear for the forests future.

Tenacious tree

Tenacious or plain cheeky? Or is it just one tree helping out another? This Holly sapling has taken advantage and made a home high up in the this damaged Scots Pine's bough.You've got to admire natures adaptability and determination to survive.

The chase

The Chase was stunning this afternoon. Walking through the Chase is like walking through a magical realm, a walk through time and space. For nearly two millennia people have taken the route I chose up onto the chalk ridge, today it's a picturesque coppiced hazel lined path, although its course is defined by a much earlier Roman road. People have, of course, walked this landscape for far longer, the land here bears testament to thousands of years of human activity through layer upon layer of archaeological monument and fieldwork. The top of the chalk ridge is exposed and the chill wind bites hard, but, man, the views, from up here you can see for miles, you can see so far you're looking into other counties. Above there are only a few smudges of cloud in a halcyon blue sky, and they're swiftly dispatched by the piercing winds. Flocks of birds resting amongst the ridges naked canopies, occasionally take flight in unison, swirling around before disappearing back in to the canopy, whilst high above larger birds circle and soar, gracefully following the contours of the terrain out of view. Throughout the afternoon the young sun tried valiantly to warm the world, and in the hollows he made some headway, though on the hills, no chance, here the hatches required battening down, the cold could not be overlooked. Along the sunken trackways the hedgerows rustle and every copse you pass is filled with the sound invisible activity, clearly not all the land's as asleep as you'd imagine. Now down around the base of the hills, shining threads weave through the valley, the Ebble, a glistening crystal clear chalk stream which bubbles and gurgles as it rolls over its gravelly bed. I love chalk streams, to me they epitomise the waters of life, they're always so clear and inviting, they've a magical quality. I follow a tree lined drove back up from the Ebble Valley towards the ridge, it winds its way slowly up the hillside through the warren of valleys and hollows. The day is drawing on now, the shadows were beginning to lengthen, and as they do darkness spills over the land consuming knolls and woodland as it spreads. It made for a lovely world of contrasting rich green hues. Soon the Roman road came in the view and the walk neared its end. What fantastic walking though. I'm the only human in this expansive landscape, I saw not another soul. The Chase was stunning this afternoon.

The Incongruous Beech

I enjoy my meetings with the magical Incongruous Beech. Tucked away as she is in a woodland of predominantly Ash and semi neglected Hazel coppice, she stands proud, towering above her peers, a majestic leviathan with no competition in sight, and respected by those around her who keep their distance. She's a bare naked lady at this time of year, the tangled intricacies of her myriad branches easier to explore. It's striking the difference between natural form trees, and those I'm more used to seeing, which were historically grown and nurtured for timber, far cleaner trunks. It's rarer to see these wilder more free growing forms in the forest, although when you do I think it'd reasonable to assume they stand outside of forestry practices, so are possibly older too. A lovely tree, I look forward to enjoying her dappled shade when spring arrives. 

Dinner table

It was never going to be a bright day, the weather wizards had stated such, and the elements weren't going to contradict their predictions. Flat grey was the order of the day, along with an occasional side helping of mizzle, through this we made our way tacross the Bratley valley from Mogshade to Bratley Wood. Bratley Wood I've described before, ancient and veteran trees, with the odd block of juveniles, all in an open setting (sadly more open in recent years), many of the trees have suffered from storms and the ravages of time, though rather than fall they stand their ground in gnarly obstinance. The most glorious of woods, and in the right circumstances enchanting to the point of moving. Eventually even the most resilient trees must fall, still though, when they bud no more, and they return to whence they came, they retain their place in the wood.  Here a once proud leviathan, now little more than a hulk, serves as a dinner table, the site of last nights feast. On the menu, pigeon, it's invariably pigeon, they appear the fast food of the woods. But, whose dinner? For a moment the sun breaks through, it warms and transforms the whole scene, the stands come to life. This is more like it. The light brings out the rich palette of a damp woodland in winter, all greens and browns, earthy colours, apt really as the remains of our tree are literally turning to earth. The burst of sunlight is fleeting though, soon grey triumphs and Bratley somehow fades as the light flattens. Still magical, although its beauty hidden beyond a veil.  

Defiance

It's quite the wonder how some of the forest's ancient and veteran leviathans endure in the face of time and the elements. Their defiance and determination in the face of what appears overwhelming adversity is inspiring.  

Modern Archaeology

A while ago whilst wandering along Markway Hill I came across some steelwork sticking our of the hillside, threaded bar with a tensioner or something on it. The archaeologist in me loves finding things, and I wondered what it might be. After some thought I came the conclusion it was a anchor end of a wire anchor guy, and must be the remains of a pole carrying telephone or electricity cables. I checked on my forest maps, I have a few different 20th century OS's, though none showed any services. Still, I was sure that was what it represented. Today whilst out walking along Markway Hill towards Rock Hills we wandered through the area burnt in May 2017 and I noticed something protruding from the ground. On inspection it turns out to be an insulator, for telephone or electricity, I'm not sure which. What I do know is that it's made of Bakelite and looks to have carried 2 cables, which, if I'm right, may suggest telephone cables. An illuminating find though, which certainly adds credence to my pole carrying telephone or electricity cables theory. That's archaeology for you, a puzzle, you  need to find the pieces to build the picture. The more pieces, the clearer the picture. I'll keep on looking. 

Jack in the woods

Jack's been out spreading icy mischief about the forest, any exposed water is  adorned in a crunchy glaze, every frond and leaf languishing in the frosty shade is dusted like a chilly doughnut and still his shivery breath fills the hollows, piercing any exposed skin. The forest's cold, I know, it should be, it's winter, and the addition of a northerly wind ensures you really feel it. Even a increasingly determined sun lends little relief, though any momentary relief is welcomed and embraced, no matter how weak or fleeting. Lovely walking mind.

Carry me

And together in this mad land
Far from the truest of hands
Well I'll carry you
If you'll carry me
Carry me
Carry me friend
Oh carry me 

The Levellers, Carry me, 1990

Wooden trackway

I followed a feint track through Burley Old, the track maybe feint, though it's old too and I've trodden for years, it winds around woodland features and obstacles, and also appears to have been recently and deliberately cleared of leaves in sections, or maybe I'm seeing what I want to. The track continues to wind on through the stands, over one of the grassed forestry tracks where it crosses the head of a shallow, and seasonally wet, hollow. When it's wet you just deviate the path and avoid the damp patch, merely another wind in the track, I've done it many times. No, someone has purposely, and with effort and consideration, build a short section of wooden trackway. The track is made of branches roughly the same gauge, and the same length. A lot of unnecessary effort, to my mind anyway. Another woodland anomaly, I often come across them, just someone taken with an idea. Though in this case maybe not, as after the hollow the track leads on towards the deliberate clearing I came across a while ago. I wonder if the track winding through the stands, freshly cleared, the wooden trackway and the clearing are all connected? It's possible. Maybe, as I mused, an eleborate and romantic marriage proposal. Maybe something more pagan, maybe someone's creating a ritual pathway, a symbolic journey of some sort, whatever it is, these things are being created for a reason, connected or not, though I feel the former. I'm going to be extra vigilant as I walk, see if I can find anymore bits of the puzzle, if there are any to be found.  Whatever, it just adds another layer of magic and mystery to my already wondrous forest roams.

January moon

I'm going to try and get a shot of every full moon this year, here's January's moon.

Beech Beds

Beech Beds, enclosed in 1830. 

Rooks Bridge Wood

A few years ago, where Mill Lawn Brook becomes Red Ride Brook, narrows and splits into two channels which encircle Rooks Bridge Wood, brook became choked debris. One channel was completely blocked, that coupled with the general slowing of the stream through restoration, led to the waters backing up to the point where the other channel couldn't cope either and burst its banks. Since then the blocked channel has all but ceased to flow, now the excess waters flood Rooks Bridge Wood, before they find their way back into that blocked channel about 50m past the blockage through dozens of small cascades, and the brook again is on course. Eventually, after a few more years (I don't think it's policy any more for forestry to intervene, after all, this is what the restoration project set out to create, bog woodland environments), a new course through the wood will become properly established and the woodland will be water free again. Until the next time, that is. The forest, as tranquil and timeless as it appears, is a landscape continually changing. Take a good look along the environs of any of the woodland streams, and you'll see myriad previous courses covering hundreds of years. This is the forest living.

What did the Romans ever do for us?

When I walk, I walk for a variety of reasons, it's health and fitness, for the hound, to escape, to think, to connect with nature or to connect with our past. If I'm lucky, I can tick several of those boxes in a walk, and if I'm really lucky I can achieve all of them. Today I was really lucky. Cranborne Chase the destination, our route, a stretch of the Acking Dyke, a Roman road constructed shortly after the invasion of 43AD by the Second Legion Augusta, and which after all the intervening years still remains remarkably well preserved in places. Musing on the Roman road, the ''What did the Romans ever do for us?'' sketch from 'The Life of Brian' came to mind. I thought of the many technological advance the Romans had brought us which faded, along with the Romans after their departure in 410AD, all eventually to be completely forgotten. And asked myself, how does that to happen? Why would a people allow that to happen? Why wouldn't life just carry on as it was, how did they just stop living in one set circumstance, opting instead for a far lesser ones. There's evidence of deserted villas being squatted, though not inside, rather shanty shacks built against the outside walls. We stopped building in stone, building roads, maintaining infrastructure and buildings, the urban population left the towns, the quality of our wares deceased, and industries collapsed, institutions too. Why? Why turn your back on advancement wholesale. Did they fear Roman influence, was it superstition and beliefs or was it out of disdain for the colonizer, the outsider? Even though those colonizers, who'd come from across the known world, had been here for nearly 400 years by then. Whatever it was, it was self defeating, an act of cultural, economic and technological devolution, which took us centuries to crawl out of. Of course, we didn't really need to take that path. We chose to. That got me thinking about Brexit, is 'cutting our noses off to spite our collective faces' a particularly British/English thing? The comparison is compelling. I think, even though the Romans left us, and this time it's us leaving Europe, the end result will surely be comparable...degrees of cultural and economic collapse.  I'm all for Living History, although this is taking it too far! 

Ferny Knapp in black and white

Same photos of Ferny Knapp's smoky conifers rendered in black and white. I couldn't decide which I like best.

Woodsmoke

Tis the season for controlled burning out in the forest. Today several flaming pyres of woodland detritus sent sweet smelling smoke billowing through the coniferous planting which still surrounds part of Ferny Knapp. Combined with the bright winter sun, the smoke added interesting aspects to a normally quite boring conifer plantation.

Stag Party

We (Geoff and I) came across this stag party of eight along Uber Water this afternoon. Passing real close to them, they didn't seem too bothered by us, they watched us carefully though held their ground. A couple had nicely developed racks, the rest, antlers of various sizes; antler size does not represent age, more the health of the deer. New antler are grown each year in only a couple of months, ready for mating season. These antlers will undoubtedly be last seasons antlers, ready for shedding any time now, and then in April we'll see the new ones develop. A wonderful sight, indeed. I wonder if they were watching me knowing I've taken that skull and rack from the forest for a project, I promised I'd return them and later in the year I will.

Clearing in the woods

I just love stuff like this. Someone, or more likely a group of folk have created a varying height stockade from branches and woodland detritus around an area they've then cleared of leaves and needles. I say a group of people as it's quite an extensive area and would have involved a lot of time and effort. The enclosed area has defined entrances, there are a couple of trees within the area including a mighty Douglas Fir, the ground's been meticulously cleared and the leaf litter piled against the wooden stockade. The site's quite well camouflaged, and easily overlooked if not paying attention, later in the year when the bracken grows up, you'd never see it. It's a really well executed affair.  As I said, I love stuff like this, it really grabs my imagination. What's it all about? Who? Why? It's a lot of work if it's without purpose. Of course, it could be a piece of art, and there's purpose fulfilled. Although I don't know. I feel there's more to it than that, it feels like it has a purpose beyond just being. The pagan in me says 'ritual' or some such, predictably, the prehistorian in me agrees (archaeology joke, there). There are no signs of a fire or anything like that, no signs of occupation, and no sign of any offerings. It could be that the purpose of the site has yet to be fulfilled, and what I'm seeing is a site prepared. Of course, if there were ritual involved, it could be that it may not be pagan at all, over recent years I've seen increasing evidence of marriage proposals out in the woods, from carved proposals to far more elaborate set ups.  I discovered the site towards the end of our walk, and I was on the clock, so only really gave a cursory investigation, and I may well have missed things. Interesting woodland feature though, I'll certainly keep my eye on it.

The hollow one

Dotted throughout the forest, nature, forestry and human agency have conspired to create numerous woodland sculptures. Burley Old has many of these 'sculptures'. Take this hollow stump which has lain here for years, way over 20 years, I can't even remember it not being here. It was once a mighty tree, I'd say it must have fallen many many years ago, as the bulk of the trunk was removed, and they haven't removed any fallen wood from Burley Old in an age now. Although long slighted, truncated and completely hollow, this huge stump feels solid, and it maintains it's structural integrity. Over the years I'd noticed the remains of the roots slowly disappearing, now they've all but gone. I only ever remember it being hollow and assume it must have been so whilst still standing, it's big enough to get into, you'd probably be able to sleep in it. Now there's an idea.

Spy Holms sunset

It's quite a while since I've taken time to watch a sunset, life can sometimes get in the way, I've seen glimpses, though not really absorbed one. Tonight was a good night to choose to change that. Tonight’s sunset was a real doozy, man, the colours were spectacular. Transformation after colourful transformation, the sky was a continually morphing palette. We were viewing it from Rock Hills, a grand name for what's really a shallow scarp between the dry heath of Spy Holms and the wet heath adjacent to Red Rise Brook. Early on, across Spy Holms, an azure sky melted into yellowy greens, I love the subtlety of colour during this phase of a sunset. Those yellows were soon gone, consumed by a rich palette of oranges, whilst the clouds developed smoky greys hues. Very cool. Then finally, the oranges became deep reds and night began to draw its veil. As the sun went down, behind us ethereal mists began to seep up through the wet heath, filling the low land and flowing eerily into Red Rise woods and Burley Old beyond. Stunning.

St Catherine's Hill sunrise

St Catherine's Hill sunrise.

Tree prison

It's not right. They're all forced to stand in lines in the tree prison.

Danger marker

Studland is an oasis of tranquillity, especially through the winter when the beach and dunes are bereft of sun worshippers. It's difficult to imagine that the area was so contaminated with ordinance of ever calibre ofter World War 2, that it took nearly two decades for the beach to be opened again to the public, and even then there were areas that were deemed unsafe. It was Ukrainians who cleared the dunes of rockets and shells, rather that than return and face Uncle Joe. The interior which was still thought unsafe was marked by concrete markers. Over the years several have disappeared under the shifting dune, others though remain visible, spaced about 5m apart, some still even display the remnants of red paint. I don't know whether the whole things were painted red or a red band was painted around them, or whether the word 'Danger' was painted on them, I know it's in my head, I've come here all my life and I remember them, I just can't access that particular memory.  A few years back, whilst surveying and searching for Second World War remains, I had call to contact Bomb Disposal after discovering the tail fins of a bombardment rocket sticking out from the dunes at 45 degrees.

Worbarrow Bay

The opportunity arose for a walk over Purbeck's Jurassic Coast, and well, you'd have been mad not to on such a glorious day. Taking advantage of the ranges still being open we opted for Worbarrow Bay and Flowers Barrow for today's destinations.  We parked up on the Purbeck Hills, and walked down towards the Worbarrow Bay, as we walked we were afforded fantastic views along the Tyneham Valley, and of the ruins of the village which until the Second World War thrived there. The exploded hulks of tanks and armoured vehicles litter the Gad Cliff side (seaward side) of the valley, though there's no firing today, all's serene. On reaching the tide was out and you could see the steep angle of the pebbly beach at the Worbarrow tout end (eastern end) of the bay. I don't like swimming here, it's like Mupe Bay opposite, it gets very deep, too quickly for me for a beach. It's not too bad walking around the bay today, with the tide out you could walk on more stable intertidal, much easier. Once you've passed the colourful sedimentary strata of the Wealden Beds, reminding me of Alum Chine on the Isle of Wight, you come to the high chalk cliffs of Cow Corner and the end of the bays beach. High above is Flowers Barrow, the western end of the Purbeck Hills ridge, capped with the ramparts and ditches of an Iron Age Hillfort, and our next destination. The ascent was going to be tricky, the whole cliff face below the hillfort has suffered extensive slides in recent years, leaving an alien landscape of boulders, scree and mud. Certainly on the recommended route, although one we've taken for years, and in it's current state one we traversed as quickly as we could. Eventually, after a scree scramble, and then the slow climb up the hills steep grassy flanks, we sat within the ancient fortifications. Our reward, views, man, spectacular views. What a fabulous walk, in a fantastic landscape.

Up on the hill

Up St Catherine's Hill early this morning, and it was lovely. A beautifully rich and warm orange hue flooded the Avon Valley and lit the trees and slopes of the hill. Nice way to start the day.

Old Range

For the most part unseen and forgotten, remnants of our past lay tucked away in every corner. Take the ruinous remains of this early 20th century firing range on the Avon Valley side of St Catherine's Hill. If it weren't for the remains of the concrete and brick markers gallery and the rusting target mechanisms, you'd not know it was there, the firing platforms are long overgrown, engulfed by flora, as is the range itself. We used to hangout here as kids. Initially collecting the metal jacketed projectiles which can still be found eroding out of the adjacent natural sandy butt and letting our imaginations run wild, though as we got older it was just a place to chill. Time (and maybe some vandalism) hasn't been kind to the remains of the markers gallery, which back in the day still provided some degree of shelter, now it's all but collapsed. Although the remains of the target mechanisms appear to have changed little from the late 70's, as far as I remember, anyway.  As for the site itself, it looks just as I remember it, well, not 'just as' though still easily recognizable. It interests the archaeologist in me to see sites decay, see how the fall from use and subsequently from memory, how slowly nature consumes them, until they're hidden for future archaeologists to find.

Swyre Head

I took Geoff for his first walk over the Purbeck coast today. In fact I took him for two Purbeck walks today. First out to Swyre Head, at 208m it's the highest point on the Purbeck coast and is blessed with magnificent views both east and west along the Jurassic Coast. Fast moving clouds allowed the intermittent sunlight to dance across the hill and cliffs, highlighting features as the passed. Absolutely stunning. Then we stopped at Rempstone Stone Circle, a truncated Bronze Age Stone circle at the base of the Purbeck Hills, and made our way up the steep wooded path to the exposed grassland of Nine Barrow Down. Again the views were stunning. A good walk(s) to start 2019.