Chase

It dawned on me that we'd not been out to the Chase in a while, very remiss I thought. So this morning we took off inland for the chalk hills and rolling arable farmland of the Dorset/Wiltshire border, and the heart of Cranborne Chase AONB. There was no one about as we made our way through the traditionally managed  coppice of Garston Wood, which over the years I've watched rise and fall through the coppice cycle. On along the fringe of Mistleberry Wood with its ancient earthworks, recently they've been managing the woodland through here too, cutting and clearing the woodland fringe and in so opening the boundary path right up. Then through the Forestry Commission mosaic woodland of  Stonedown Wood, before arriving atop the high chalk ridge and the Ox Drove. The views from the Ox Drove are expansive, you can see into 4 counties on a good day, and today was a good day. As we walked along the Ox Drove I soaked up as much of the scenery as I could, below the Ebble Valley revealed itself, with new sights continually coming into view as others disappeared behind pockets of woodland or were obscured by the undulous landscape. Lovely walking the high road, though it wasn't long before we took another track and disappeared back down into Stonedown Wood and our return journey. A majestic landscape, for sure.

Iconic

The iconic Supermarine Spitfire.

Autumn lady’s tresses

Autumn lady’s tresses (Spiranthes spiralis), are one of the forests easily overlooked floral treasures. A small and delicate member of the orchid family, Autumn lady’s tresses flower from late summer through to mid autumn, and in a good season Spy Holms can be covered in them. 

Hard rain

The sound of acorns falling earthward followed us on our walk through Burley Old and along the wooded corridor of Red Rise Brook this morning...it was near continuous. It's been a good year for the acorn, with oaks boughs hanging low, soon you'll be treading them underfoot as they begin to cover the forest floor. The pigs will be happy though, in a few weeks it'll be pannage. Pannage in the New Forest dates back to AD1079, when during September around 600 pigs (much greater numbers were released in previous centuries) are released into the forest stands for a minimum of two months to eat their fill of Oaknuts (as well as other nuts). A feast for the pigs and a blessing for the New Forest ponies; acorns are poisonous to ponies. I look forward to seeing the pigs roaming the woodland, they're animals with character. You need to watch out, mind, not all of them are friendly, although that said, most are, and very inquisitive too. 

Seasonal stories

The wheel turns, autumn approaches and it's that time of year again when elements of the media, particularly the local press, attempt to manufacture outrage and indignation around mushroom collecting in the New Forest with seasonal stories of mycelial mischief. Of course, they're all nonsense, more myth than fact, although that doesn't stop them.  Furthermore, any small issues which may exist the media ramp up and over play. The irony being that if there are any genuine issues in the forest of over mushroom picking or illegal commercial mushroom picking, and I must emphasise that the if is a big if, they're the consequence of the media's fictitious stories in the first place. Stories telling of foreign pickers profiting handsomely, telling how you could get rich selling mushrooms to fancy restaurants and other such silliness. I can't say that gangs of commercial mushroom pickers don't operate in the forest, although I can say that in 30 years of mushrooming in the forest that I've never seen them, and also, that over that period I've not noticed the range and quantities of the forest's fungal communities decline, beyond natures natural rhythms. You know, thinking about it, the myth of the commercial mushroom picker was born of the same family of xenophobic tropes which brought us to brexit. And, like the straight bananas and Johnson's kippers, it was bollocks...foreigners coming over here and stealing our great British mushroom. First they blamed van loads of Italians, that didn't get traction though, most people liked Italians, their culture, wine, food and so on. So, next they blamed the Eastern Europeans, now, they were foreign enough to dislike and so the myth got traction and became accepted, even though no evidence was ever produced.  It was a plethora of stories like these fed to a gullible and inherently passively racist British population over 40 years that assured that when offered a vote, enough believers would vote self harm...what a glorious nation. I despise the narratives and the ideology behind brexit, and those behind the enterprise, though you have to begrudgingly respect the success of their long game tactics...you have to, they did it, their drip drip over 40 years strategy championed in the face of overwhelming logic and evidence to the contrary.  Anyway, mushrooms are coming.    

Great Huntley Bank bridge

The light and aspect of the forest this morning were just so gorgeous. It was impossible not to be walking along grinning like a fool in awe and wonderment at the magnificence of it all. Uplifting walk. 

Greengage

For years now I've been creating a mind map of the wild resources to be found around my various roams, the Forest, the Chase, Purbeck, where ever I wander. Over the years it's become more and more expansive, you'd be surprised what out there to found, what nature has to offer. I'm for ever adding new finds and locations. Today I added another wild resource to my map of things, one that I'd not logged before, even though I'd passed them countless times, a group of Greengage (Prunus domestica) trees amongst the ruins of the fishing settlement at Worbarrow Bay. Nice.

Here we go again

Sunday's meant Purbeck of late, well, why wouldn't it, the weather's been very conducive to fabulous walking and the Jurassic Coast is a fabulous landscape to walk. Up and out early, again we had the morning to ourselves, and glorious it was. Having enjoyed last week's walk so much, we decided to take the same route again, the Povington Hill down to Tyneham Village, out to Worbarrow and up to Flowers Barrow, then back along the ridgeway to Povington Hill loop, not long, about 4.5 miles. And again it was wonderful walking, just as last week. Although it was considerably hotter from the get go this morning, by 0900 it had become a sweat fest with Old Bel showing he wasn't spent yet, the air was still and warm too, affording no relief. I can't imagine how hot it must've been by midday, Another thing different this week was that Worbarrow Bay was filled with yachts at anchor, I say filled, there were 15 or so, and you could understand why, what stunning views to wake to.

Graffiti

I love a bit of stumbled upon art, and I love a bit of graffiti too, this morning I was able to combine the two. We stumbled upon a long piece of graffiti featuring stylised birds and flowing shapes in the underpass between Spaniards Hole and Whitley Wood. My first response was 'nice', my second was how much it reminded me of Barclay James Harvest's 1971 'Once Again' album cover. It's the lines and form, as well as to a lesser degree the colours used. It's a nice piece which brings life to the underpasses lifeless drab concrete, and there's the rub, for me.  There was clearly more graffiti by the same artist on the opposite wall which had been daubed over in white by the art police, it was still visible through the wash...and I thought, why do they bother? If it's not obscene or offensive, why not leave it, it brightens a dull concrete feature, and it enhances your walking experience...surely no one can be offended or angered by that.  More now than ever, the world needs art.  

Morning has broken

Highland Water, as it flows through Camel Green, looked like this today.

Chuck

First Chicken of the woods I've seen this season, much later than I'd usually expect too. It's been a sparse year for Chicken of the woods, well, at least it has been in through my roams. It's been particularly noticeable as for the last few years they've been bountiful, I'd regularly been seeing a dozen good sized clumps whilst out wandering. It doesn't worry me too much though, I've been collecting fungi in the forest for 30 years and I'm used to these yearly fluctuations, and have not noticed any long term changes in frequency, quantity or distribution. I think it's just natural cycles at play. Lovely colourful clump though. Fresh too.

Ch, ch, ch, changes.

There's change afoot amongst the stands, a subtle change maybe, but it's definitely there. The verdancy of the trees is fading, as slowly the colour drains from the canopies under the influence of autumns sweet caress. I've noticed over the past decade or so that one aspect of the climate crisis on the seasons is how  it's altered their duration. The tenure of the more perceivably fixed seasons, Summer and Winter, has reduced, whilst the tenure of the more mutable seasons of transition, Spring and Autumn, have expanded their range. I have to be honest, it's a change that suits my sensibilities, having always had a deep love and affinity with Spring and Autumn in particular, their fluidity and strikingly different beauties as a consequence. And, it's not just the seasons which are changing. I'd read/listened to an article shared online by a friend before our walk this morning, and it weighed heavily on my mind as sat in contemplation amongst a cluster of trees I favour, against the mossy trunk of a veteran oak I've known for years. How do you come to terms with living through the beginning of the end of everything? It sounds extreme I know, and maybe as if I've given up any hope of change, though more and more it becomes the realistic trajectory on which humanity has set itself. I'm hoping that acceptance will stop me from falling further down the fear-anger-hate rabbit hole. I suppose there's some solace to be found in knowing that the planet will endure, we may not, much of the flora and fauna we know and love may not, but the world most certainly will, she will green herself and flourish again. As I mused on, the forest butted in, 'Oi, I'm still here' it said, and I though yeah, enjoy it why we can, because everything is changing.

Flowers Barrow

Sunday again means Purbeck, and once again we found ourselves in the Kimmeridge/Tyneham region of the Jurassic Coast. This time we parked at Povington Hill, high on the Purbeck Ridge above Tyneham. The drive out had been through moderate rain and I was beginning doubt the weather wizards, though I kept faith and as we approached the Isle of Purbeck the rain eased, clouds began to dissipate and by the time we reached the ridge old Sol was making his presence felt. I knew, as Bill Withers had prophesied,  it was ''gonna be, a lovely day...lovely day''. Walking down towards the ruinous Tyneham Village not a soul stirred, the access road down was still closed (we were out early again) and we had the valley to ourselves. It was the type of morning where you breath a bit deeper, your gait has extra bounce and you really feel the land and the elements you're walking through...you feel alive. Not a bad feeling. It wasn't long before we were down on the coast at the tout, looking at formidable hill rising before us and wondering if I'd made the right choice of route. We are were we were though, so upward then. Geoff's in his element out here, he loves his walks, though seems to really enjoy our Purbeck missions. The climb up to Flowers Barrow never gets any easier (why I think it would be is beyond me), it's not the steepest in Purbeck, although it's up there. A deceptive slow burner, and before you realise it you're engaged in a real steep slog, a muscle draining, lung stretching, slog. Although on reaching the summit and Flowers Barrow your reward for taking the challenge is clear, with majestic 360 degree views of nature glories. Whilst out I usually take the opportunity to connect with a bit of chanting or meditation, today was no different, standing, I take the traditional three element connected breaths. Today they really resonated, I was standing on the ancient earthen ramparts of the Iron Age hillfort built on cliffs spanning 185 millions years of geology, high in the sunny sky being caressed by a gentle fresh breeze, looking out over a beautiful clear blue sea which stretched clear to the horizon. Far out. I soaked up as much of the views and atmosphere as I could before we moved on. Flowers Barrow is sited towards the far eastern end of the Purbeck Ridge which starts way over on Ballard Down, our return route along the ridge will be far less arduous than our outward journey. It's all gently rolling ridge top trackway, a route that will have been utilized for millennia, down Rings Hill, on which Flowers Barrow is sited (hence the hills name), the over Whiteway Hill with its trig point marking its status, and finally back up Povington Hill,  and all the way along great views over Tyneham Valley and Povington Heath. Another magnificent Purbeck walk.  

Close but no cigar

You see this quite a bit nowadays, some one has had a BBQ out in the forest. Whoever it is has thought about the effects of the hot BBQ on the dry grass/earth, unfortunately, good as their idea appeared, it never really works. It shows willing though lack of experience/knowledge. The funny thing is when you see remains of this nature they're inevitably next to streams (that's the source of the stones), and the perfect safe place for a BBQ or small fire* is on a area of exposed gravelly stream bed. Another things is, although maybe not so important in light of the heat of a BBQ, is the type of stones commonly found in the forest are usually silica based flints and cherts which will explode if exposed to prolonged or intense heat, sending razor shards flying in all directions. Still, close but no cigar. And hey, it may be part of someone’s learning journey, and we all had to learn. 

*fires are forbidden in the forest, as too few people know sufficient bushcraft skills to undertake, what should be, rudimentary human activities. It's not really peoples problem, it a societal one, on the whole folk are disenfranchised from those aspects of human behaviour and the natural environment, and as a consequence are rarely socialized or educated as to how to be part of nature...rather than an alien in it.  

Testing, testing

Button boletes are popping up here and there around my favourite mushroom roam, it's still early days really for Cep (Boletus edulis) season, and I'm not expecting much at this point. They're just testing the ground. At one point I came across a cluster of a dozen or two buttons, most were way small and probably wouldn't develop beyond where they are at this time in the season. A few though were just edible size.

August full moon

A messy moon, representing a messed up evening. I was hoping to get out and see some bands at a local venue, and then have my full moon fire afterwards, though the fates had other plans...as they often do.  Still, it was a nice evening for a fire, which was some solace.

Flat Oak

It's strange how even though they're considerably grander than their companions, how these ancient trees can so easily be overlooked, as if they're purposely hiding from you. You could easily pass by this majestic leviathan and never know it was there. It was lovely to visit the Flat Oak this morning, it's been too long, must have been at least a couple of years since I've passed this way.  I was pleased the find the old fella in good health.

Crabby

The boughs of the forests Crab Apple trees (Malus sylvestris) are hanging low with nice sized fruits throughout Red Rise Shade. Hardy buggers the forest crab apples, you'll still see fruits hanging on right through the winter months. Fingers crossed, I'm hoping to makes some vodka based crab apple liqueur, come fall. I've not made it before, though it's pretty much the same as making sloe gin/vodka by all accounts, which is straight forward enough.

What a relief

I approached our walk through Burley Old this morning with trepidation, those winds had been quite strong, with even stronger gusts, and the enclosure's seen more than its fair share of damage over recent years. I was relieved to find that on this occasion my fears where, for the most part, unfounded. There was plenty of fallen deadwood, a good covering torn off leaf too, although no large boughs  down and I only saw one tree humbled, a Silver Birch which had fallen covering and blocking one of the main rides through Burley Old. What a relief, the enclosure could do with some luck, it really has taken a battering in recent years, with too many veteran trees brought to ground.

Kimmeridge Bowl

Just as yesterday in the forest, Autumn stalked the countryside again today, only this time we were over in Purbeck, and the windswept ridge above Kimmeridge. Kimmeridge sits in a bowl surrounded by a ridge, the other side of which are the Tyneham and Corfe Valleys, it was that ridge we were walking today (the same ridge we took out to Tyneham Cap last week). The day was confused, a strong wind scoured the landscape, again Bel was a reluctant player, playing peek-a-boo between the thick grey clouds which scud across the sky, though it was still t-shirt walking weather. Odd indeed. As always, the Purbeck Hills were magnificent this morning, ancient and weathered, with their timeless wild feel, and a certain, on the edge of the world quality to them. Purbeck really is a magical isle. Getting out here early, having the tracks to yourselves, your mind lost in the rugged landscape, it's hard to imagine you're only a few miles from one of the South Coast's biggest conurbations. You might as well be a hundred miles away, and hundreds of years back in time. Today’s walking was good for ails you walking. 

Wheel keeps turning

It felt as if autumn was stalking us in the forest today.

Juniper

The battered Juniper (Juniperus communis) tree, the only one 'I' know of miles, still thrives even though it's weathered trunk is nearly horizontal and most of its roots are exposed. I was thinking, if the tree was upright it would stand a good 4 or 5 meters tall...a good size for the species. This year, in keeping it would appear with other fruiting flora, it's covered in really healthy looking berries. I must remember to harvest some berries this year, I'd like to have a go at cultivating some saplings in the hope of  propagating this threatened native species. 

Burley Old barricade

Burly Old enclosure continues to to modified by human hands, the winding pathway, the corded causeway, the large shelter, the enclosed clearing and all manner of smaller features are now joined by a barricade across one of the old forestry rides. A substantial construction of woodland debris reduce the rides width by half. Why? I don't know, it means something to somebody. It could be that they're all part of some grand design born of someone’s imagination, or it could be that they're all unconnected, it doesn't really matter, they all add something to the magic of the woodland and stoke my imagination. I've thought about creating a narrative and map around these woodland features...then again, I've thought about a lot of things.

Tales from the river bank

Even though I'd already been out walking with Geoff, I had to get out today, it was one of those days. So I made my way out into the forest to meditate for a while. Out to a spot where I knew I'd be alone, a section of Black Water along which I'd never seen another soul. Of course, there are probably dozens of others who think the same way as I do about that section of stream. It turned out to be a strange retreat. Firstly, I'd settled down on the streams exposed gravel, with the water slowly flowing through a greatly reduced channel in front of me, and the gently swaying surrounding canopy casting a wonderful dappled light, I was drifting off when a stone hit loudly on the gravel next to me. It was as if it were thrown from the opposite bank? I stood up and surveyed my surroundings for a few minutes, though could see nor hear anyone. Very strange, I still can't fathom what that was about. Anyway, I settled back down, closed my eyes and began to focus on my breathing, the woodland was quiet and the air still and warm, it was just what was needed, soon I was melting into the woodland and feeling all the better for it. Suddenly I became aware of a dog approaching through the woodland behind me, it sounded almost upon me, having hounds you become attuned to their sounds and this one was snuffling through the undergrowth, a sound I'm familiar with from Geoff (and Norris before him). The only thing is, there was no dog in sight, I got up expecting to see an approaching walker and dog, though nothing. After a couple of minutes scanning, feeling slightly perturbed (although not too much, the forest is a strange place), I led back down and returned to my meditation, soon melting back into the woods again.  A few minutes later the same thing happened, the sound of a snuffling hound right behind me. This time I got up and wandered about for a good look, still nothing, no sight, no sound. Weird. That pretty much curtailed my meditating, I merely sat taking in the woodland, it was suffice, and was disturbed by spectral happening no more. I wonder when things like this happen (and they do more often that you'd think), whether I'm hearing memories held by the land. The woods can be weird, or maybe it's just me. 

By gads it's Tyneham Cap

Another early start over to Purbeck this morning, this time though Bel was having none of it and remained hidden beyond the cloud, the coastline was shrouded in sea mists too, lending this magnificent rugged landscape an eerie air. This mornings walk was westwards along the ridge of the Kimmeridge Bowl out to Tyneham Cap and Townley Shenton's Seat...and as always the views were stunning. On reaching Tyneham Cap I was surprised (and a touch dismayed) to find Townley Shenton's Seat missing! I don't know what that's about, though I hope it returns as it's become a bit of a landmark for me, a place to sit and take the views that Townley so much enjoyed. I didn't know Townley, although I know he loved these views, the views he hoped we'd enjoy too (I know that because it said so on the memorial plaque on the afore mentioned missing seat). As always fabulous walking.

The Soft Hearted Scientists 'Please read Me' from Fruits de Mer Records

There was one item in particular in my recent Fruits de Mer Records package that I was especially looking forward to, a 7" single from The Soft Hearted Scientists. A few years ago a very good friend gifted me a special copy of the Fruits de Mer Records compilation 'What Ever Happened To The Soft Hearted Scientists' saying he thought I'd like it. I didn't, I absolutely loved it, everything about it and have been a fan ever since. The Soft Hearted Scientists herald from Wales and follow in the footsteps of that nations venerable son Taliesin, being both lyrical and musical bards of the highest grade. There's a certain je ne sais quoi about the Soft Hearted Scientists remarkable (hard to properly categorize) sound, if you haven't checked them out, you really must.

So, on to the single, the 'A' side is a dazzling interpretation of The Bee Gees 1967 'Please read Me'. You can't go wrong with the Bee Gees, what ever they did, they just did so well. Of course, The Soft Hearted Scientists have sprinkled on their unique magic, breathing new life into a 50 year old track, raising it even higher. They've done a sterling job too, creating a thoroughly listenable slice of quality psychedelic pop with one foot rooted in the history of the genre, whilst the other stands firmly in the here and now. The arrangement is perfection, with a slightly increased tempo which lifts the melody beautifully, Nathan Halls soothing vocals and the wonderful accompanying harmonies, I'm certain the Gibb brothers would approve of the bands endeavours. 

The 'B' side, 'Moths mistook us for the Moon' is classic Soft Hearted Scientists, an enchanting melody bathed in gentle melancholy, Nathan's wonderfully magical lyrics, accentuated by his gloriously honeyed vocals, the addition of some beautifully subtle though powerful harmonies, all add to the tracks already transcendent ethereal atmosphere. Pure bliss, the trade mark of the Soft Hearted Scientists. Nathan is an peerless wordsmith, on some level or other his lyrics often pack a deceptive emotional punch, which sometimes you see coming though more often it's hidden, creeping up on you. Always the tracks melody is the perfect vehicle for delivering the emotive payload, and this track does that so gracefully, a floaty tempo carries you upwards towards the moon just like the eponymous moths, and throughout the arrangement is sublime, crammed with delightful flourishes and so much more, all rendered perfectly, a track of marvellous psyche pop replete with substance, warmth and depth. It's bloody lovely listening.  

I know scientists are currently maligned in our anti-expert culture, though no one could possibly doubt that these scientists really know their musical onions. The Soft Hearted Scientists certainly stand out from the crowd as the purveyors of the finest in contemporary psychedelic folk tinged pop, their unique style shines brightly, and what you've got here are two tracks which highlight why. As you'd expect from Fruits de Mer Records it's a quality product, beautifully packaged, a high grade sleeve holds a nice 7" single coloured pressing on white mix (pastel purple) vinyl. Go visit Fruits de Mer Records and pick up a copy of this glorious release for a mere £6!  Or, a digital copy of the single (plus two additional instrumental tracks) is available from the Soft Hearted Scientists bandcamp page. 

A blessed Lughnasadh

So, first harvest is upon us, how fast the wheel turns. I hope that the seeds you sowed in spring fell on fertile ground, and that you are now beginning to reap the rewards.  Lughnasadh blessings y'all.