Witchampton

Geoff and I were up and out early this morning to avoid the heat, out wandering the myriad paths and tracks which criss cross the farming landscape above Badbury Rings around Witchampton. I think sometimes people can view farmland as second class walking, though they're wrong, you'd be surprised just how much there is to see out here, it's a much more diverse landscape than you'd think. This rich chalkland, the land, the flora and fauna, it's tracks, all have been moulded and shaped by millennia of evolving farming practices and human activity.  Of course not all of the practices and activities have benefited the landscape, farming expanded destructively through the 20th century, though I've definitely seen a huge increase in sympathetic farming and nature conservancy of the last 30 years. The hedged trackways and shaded paths, the copses and larger woods, the chalk grassland are all brimming with life, and the field boundaries too, are often now rough grass and wild flowers. All this landscape has been walked throughout those millennia by those doing the shaping too. So you're really walking in the footsteps of our ancestors. Connected walking sparks your imagination, and mine soars when plugged into the land. Our walk today was just over 10 miles, and very nice it was too.

Waste or what?

I was really surprised to see so much grain left behind after a local field of wheat had been harvested, the field was covered in it. I wondered whether this was normal or whether it was a result of the weather or maybe it had just failed in some way. This can't be normal can it? It would surely be too wasteful to produce grain like this. I mean, it really was quite a sight, I searched my memory and couldn't remember seeing this before. No. Then I wondered, is this a climate change thing? Well, you don't know, do you. I'll ask a farmer if I get the opportunity.

Fun filled field

Fun was had in the field this morning.

Back to the Chase

Our Walk through Cranborne Chase today, looked like this. From the top: we began our ramble early this morning taking the Ackling Dyke (Roman Road) through Knighton Wood, emerging on the ridgeway we followed the Romam Road through ripening fields of Barley, enjoying fabulous views along Croucheston Drove and into Croucheston Hollow, continuing on the Roman Road we descended into the Faulston Drove, with it's stunning view out over Throope Down, we chilled for a while by the cold clear River Ebble, before following the Ebble Valley with the high ridge towering above us to Broad Chalk, where we rose up to the ridgeway again via Church Bottom. Nine miles this morning of absolute perfection and back to the car before 10.00 and the heat of the day. Again, fabulous walking, and again, few folk about. A real tonic body and soul.

Apples

The Common's apple trees are all doing well this year, their boughs are beginning to bow under the weight of their developing fruits. 

Use the force

Use the force Luke! At present walking some of the common's smaller paths requires belief that they're actually there as evidence of their presence is currently absent, as the common, currently swamped in over head high bracken and willow herb, makes their existence impossible to ascertain. When the common's like this I feel my inner child awaken, memories of summer camps, of secret pathways and games played amongst a temporary world of green.

Meadow Sweet

Covid, it's associated effects and consequences on aspects across society served to accelerate my already reawakened interest into the medical attributes of wild plants. Wild plants, and particularly herbalism, was something a group of friends and I were right into back in the late 80's early 90's; later it became the focus of my under graduate dissertation whilst studying for my degree. I never really abandoned my interest, although life and stuff pushed it to the periphery, only coming into play here and there, or when asked advice about herbal remedies. Over the last couple of years it returned to the fore with the potential social degradation and shortages threatened by a brexit; it was one thread of my preparation efforts.  I know, I sound like a loon, though I'm not (of course, that's what a loon would say). Though, I think there's growing evidence to suggest that our society and it's structures are buckling under an unprecedented combination of coalescing and possibly insurmountable problems; the climate crisis, an resurgence of  populist politicians too inept to govern (maybe purposely) and late stage capitalism's 24/7 imperative to consume ever decreasing and finite resources.  In the light of these potential and maybe existential risks I've been polishing up my survivalist skills, such as they are, just in case, in the hope they'd be of some use.   

So, in light of the above, #1 in my occasional and proposed ongoing overview of useful plants I give you......Meadowsweet (Filipendula ulmaria). Meadowsweet is commonly found in damp areas all over Britain, in reality you'll often find it growing in the most niche of damp spots. It stands one to two meters tall, with a reddy stem, dark green leaves and incredibly tight clusters of abundant creamy-white strong sweet smelling flowers. As with so many wild plants it has myriad uses: Medicinally, the aids digestion, helpful in healing ulcers, treating heartburn, hyper-acidity, gastritis, and diarrhoea. It contains salicylic acid and so has excellent anti-inflammatory properties making it suitable for treating rheumatism, and unlike other sources of salicylic acid is gentle on the stomach. Meadowsweet also has immuno-modulatory properties, it's used to treat infections, chest complains such as bronchitis, fevers and colds. The parts used are the leaves and flowers, usually in tea form. Kitchen, traditionally meadowsweet  has been used to flavour beers, wines, meads and vinegars, the flowers added to jams and stewed fruits imbue a subtle almond flavour. Other uses, historically the whole plant was valued as a strewing herb for it's sweet smell, and a black dye can be obtained from it's roots.

River Test

The River Test, renowned as one of the finest lowland rivers in the country, a much famed chalk stream sporting an abundance and richness in flora and fauna unsurpassed in England.  Absolutely gorgeous, man. You really can't beat a chalk stream, the verdancy of their banks and the crystal clarity of their water make their appeal like no other.

Cherry Plum

A non native (Orig. South Eastern Europe/Western Asia) although long naturalised fruiting shrub the Cherry Plum (Prunus cerasifera) is 'fairly' common, although in my experience I've always found them in association with sites of 18th/19th century activity. There were several Cherry Plum growing along the tow path of the Romsey Barge Canal, along with a couple of apples (eaters) and of course plenty of the usual wild fruits/nut culprits, Blackberry, Sloe, Haw and hazel. I always feel the presence of semi wild fruit and domestic fruit in the mix at sites indicate human agency, that they didn't get here of their own accord. It's easy to forget how spoilt we are today with numerous shops and the wide scale availability of a broad range of food stuffs; it's hard for us to imagine what it would've been like back in the day. If you travelled up and down the canal networks, or travelled the green lanes or similar, it would've been to your advantage to cultivate fruity treats here and there along the way, cherry plums here, an apple tree there. It's also easy to forget how far removed we've become from our natural world compared to our forebears, even our quite recent ones. You know, if we think about it, we've seen the 'forgetting' for ourselves; when I was younger blackberry picking, or say, chestnut collecting, were established seasonal family activities, now though for the most part the fruits wither on the bush and nuts litter the woodland floor, with folk preferring to buy both from the food fortress. Strange days indeed, a sign of where we went wrong...maybe?

Romsey Barge Canal walk

Our car had it's MOT this morning in Romsey, which meant two and a half hours hanging about in another town, in another county; Romsey being about 45min drive away. Usually I'd do a trawl of the local charity shops and look around the Abbey, a magnificent edifice, although during this time of pandemic and social distancing, that was far less appealing. So, I decided instead to seek an alternative way to spend a couple of hours which didn't include increased fear, and upon checking out a map last night I discovered that Romsey had a canal, job done. I'd never imagined Romsey had a canal, apparently it was opened in 1794, and ran 22 miles from Andover to Southampton water (with the 2 mile section running north of Romsey being one of the few remaining sections); the canal's use was short lived closing by the mid 19th century, the spreading of the train network signalled the end for many of these smaller canals. The path of canal winds out of town through a corridor of green, but for the occasional sight of a house through the bordering woodland, you'd never know you were walking through an urban environment. The canal itself is a mix of narrow open water fringed with dense foliage, and long sections of open shallow water. On one side is an extensive wetland wildlife reserve (Fishlake Meadows) boasting a staggering number and diversity of wildlife (bird, mammal, insect and flora) beyond which the canal, by now fully choked with vegetation, continues through open countryside before just stopping, truncated by the A3057. The further along the old tow path I walked the fewer and fewer people I saw, until the last mile I walked in isolation, which was nice, even leaving me feeling at ease enough to sit a while, taking some time to breath and meditate. A really Lovely walk and a total surprise, if you're in the area and need to waste some time, I thoroughly recommend it.

Second cutting

Back at the beginning of May a lush and vibrant crop of grass for silage was harvested from these fields above Walkford Moor Copse. The grass grew back, though thinner, tougher and less verdant. Now this too was being cropped this morning. I got talking to the farmer and asked if this too was going to become silage, and learnt that it wasn't. No, this crop was grown for seed, seed that wouldn't be used on this farm either, rather passed on to other farmers...that's how it goes. So I learnt something new today, and gained more understanding of what I'm seeing, and the processes going on, in the fields. Walking away I realised I'd not why the seed went on to other farms, a question for another day, I'll have hypothesise until then.

Becton Bunny

Just beyond Barton on Sea, on the New Forest coast is Becton Bunny (bunny being the local name for a chine), a narrow valley carrying a small stream of the same name towards the sea.  The bit that people really know as the bunny though is the 400m before the sea, where as steep sided ravine it opens through the sandy cliffs. This section runs obliquely to the cliff creating a rather thin promontory, and the sandy/gravelly nature of the geology here makes that promontory susceptible to weathering. And, man, has it weathered in recent years. Coastal erosion has really taken it's toll, and once that promontory has gone I don't think the bunny will be a feature, or a feature of any substance, here for many more decades (the average rate at which the cliff retreats along this section of coastline is 1m per year); it'll become merely a scoop in the cliff line (like the nearby Taddiford Gap) and hollow in the coastline. Maybe then the stream will reach the beach as a waterfall, though maybe that'd cut a new ravine over time...time will tell. The stream itself isn't that long, maybe a mile and a half or so, originating just below New Milton. It's a nice spot.

The Chase

Our Walk through Cranborne Chase today, looked like this. From the top: through Stonedown Wood up on to the Ox Drove, across Woodminton Down and into the Ebble Valley, up Marlycombe Hill, through West Woodyates, With Penbury Hill on the horizon, and wispy clouds above. Eight miles of pure loveliness; we would've gone further, though even when we arrived at 08.00 it was hot and I knew it would become too hot for Geoff, and so I clipped here and there, taking some shorter or more direct routes; it was a good move too, as by mid morning it was scorching and all our water had already gone. Fabulous walking though, and again, few folk about, other than we walked through farms or hamlets.

Magic Bus, The Earth Years

All aboard! Devon's psychedelic dreamers Magic Bus have pulled into town bringing with them a brand new collection of their distinctively joyful psychotropic tunage. Continuing their unbroken run of excellence Magic Bus's brand spanking new release 'The Earth Years' is a wonderful tonic in these dire times; place the needle on the record and the dark clouds part, the sun shines through, and that's all in the front room of your mind! Apt really, as their splendid 'The Road to La Mezquita' (my favourite track, I love that 70's funky strut) talks of indoor travelling. It's been three years since the Totnes troubadours released an album (too long...boo!) in which time they've gone from strength to strength, recently touring with the fabulous Chris Robinson Band. I maybe sense subtle CRB influence on tracks like 'New Day', though for the most part the band have built on, and further developed, their own inimitable brand of lovely sun drenched progtastic psychedelia. The Magic Bus sound encapsulates and blends the best of the decade between 65' and 75' from both sides of the pond (though I'd say this side weighted), with all the chaff removed and well informed by the subsequent decades, these West country wizards consistently create aural magic which keeps an ember of the summer of love alive and carries it forward. Front man Paul Evens has a wonderful voice, so evocative of the 70's Canterbury scene, and Jay Darlington's delightful organ reinforces that 70's British vibe magnificently, echoes of Canterbury's finest 'Audience' pepper the album, I think that's also due, in part, to Terrance Waldstradt's stellar guitar; 'Squirrel' puts me in mind of that Canterbury scene sound, a wisp of Nektar flavoured prog too. You'll also hear the influence of cultural legends Gong on tracks like 'Barleycorn', well, you would though wouldn't you, the band all have long hair, and some even have beards! Don't misunderstand me, Magic Bus sound like Magic Bus, and for what they've sipped from the prog/psyche well, they've renewed, replenished and expanded that well's elixir ten fold with their offerings. Mention must also be given to the Stirling contributions of Connor Spring's perfectly pitched drumming, and the laid back bad-ass bass of Wihll Mellorz, whose work in the engine room ensures every track has oodles of groovy rhythm. Like all Magic Bus albums 'The Earth Years' is beautifully paced, a lovely journey to take, conjuring a feeling of Mmmmm throughout.  The album ends with the sublime 60's infused  'We are one', a wrapped in a blanket watching the sunset kind of a song, which has the uplifting lyric 'hope is coming', love 'em.....fecking hippies. This is the bands first release without the heavenly flute and backing vocals of Viv Goodwin, that, I miss; you know what it's like when a band you dig has a line up change. That aside, there's absolutely nothing not to like; no, not to love about this album. It's a beautiful thing in itself too, a nice heavy weight clean cut vinyl, packaged in a sturdy gate-fold sleeve, with the most gorgeous artwork by Martin Ross Butler, lovely colours, man. No, hang on! There is one thing not to like...it's not long enough, I usually have to play it through twice so more-ish is it. That's four top-drawer albums in a succession from Magic Bus. Bravo y'all! Check it out. Shit, check them all out! And, if you dig what you hear and really what to experience the pure joy of Magic Bus, when the 'Rona's' passed make sure to catch them perform live...deep joy!

Eric 44

Discovered this wartime graffiti at Steamer Point this morning, just in time I reckon, the bark's become powdery and is beginning to disintegrate, it wont be long before Eric 44 disappears from the record. I wonder who Eric was? During World War Two there were coastal batteries here, there were pillboxes along the foreshore, the USAAF were stationed nearby, and it was also the site of a secret radar and communications research facility, maybe that's how Eric found himself here, or maybe he was a passing soldier on his way to Europe?  

Writing this, 'Eric 44' seemed familiar, and on checking past posts I found I'd recorded and posted about 'Eric 44' at Steamer Point back in 2015. Now, here's a thing, it wasn't this graffiti, it was another 'Eric 44'. Looking closely though the style and form do suggest that it -could- be the same scribe for both pieces of graffiti. I thought, it could indicate that Eric was indeed stationed here, and maybe graffiti was his way of alleviating the boredom. As always with graffiti and my imagination, there's a lot of shifting assumption. My mission now is check all the suitable trees on the site to see if I can identify any more. You never know.

Beer and bread

We walked through acre upon acre of beer and bread on our wander this morning. Well, the genesis of beer and bread anyway. As we approach Lughnasadh (still a few weeks away) the landscape of this part of the Chase is taking on it's seasonal golden hue, at the moment it's a deep and rich colour, though as we getter closer it'll fade to a more sandy colour. The land above 'The Tarrants' is a patchwork of mainly cereal crops and pockets of woodland, it's rather pleasant walking, we did just shy of 10 miles this morning, and beyond farmers in distant tractors and the odd passing vehicle on the few road sections, we only saw two people.....nice.   

Septarian nodules

Exposed by the recent removal of sands and gravels by the sea, Septarian nodules originally eroded out of the green-blue Eocene period Barton Clays litter the intertidal of Naish Beach this morning.  Today's walk was an atmospheric one under moody skies, the sea was grey and foreboding, the tide was in, and again we had the narrow beach to ourselves.

Buff Tailed Bumblebee

We saw a few pairs of shagging Buff Tailed Bumblebees (Bombus terristris) on this morning's walk, it must be that time of the year. A couple of observations: the queen is a fair size bigger than the male/worker; they were exposed and vulnerable to predators, of which they have many, though so consumed in the moment they appeared to care not; and finally they were not at all phased by a giant voyeuristic ape and fascinated canine gawping at them. Credit to them, I'm sure I'd have been put off in their position.

Beach thief

The beach thief has struck again. The intertidal is a region in flux, this is no more apparent than along Naish beach. Since we walked here last week the face of the beach has changed from being a gently sloping profile, there's now a 0.3 to 0.5 meter step at the top of the beach. A huge amount of material, sand, clay and gravel has been excavated by the sea and transported by long shore drift further east. This is only temporary, mind, this cycle is perpetual, it wont be long before the beach is replenished and it's gently sloping profile restored. Then, it wont be long before it's scoured again, you get the picture. Further along the beach there's a finger of Barton clay now extending across the beach into the surf, there's been an isolated slippage creating an effect barrier to walkers unless the tide's out...which may account for there being no bugger down here, honestly, it was like a winter walk, not a soul about. Events like these are usually more, though not entirely, associated with the winter months, however these days 'usually' is becoming quite a redundant phrase in relation to natures moods.

Early Blackberries

An early showing for this most abundant of wild fruits. The humble Blackberry. First I've seen this season.

And did those feet?

And did those feet in ancient time, walk upon England's mountains green? You bet they did, and they left plenty of traces of their passing by too. England's quite small really, so it's no surprise that the landscape is so abundant in the relics of foregone times. Again today we found ourselves walking the rural byways of Dorset and as if to perfectly illustrate my opening statement, through time. We parked up at the Kingston Lacy end of the 700 tree Beech Avenue created in 1835; past the Bronze Age round barrows of King Down (above); on past a really rare Romano-British barrow (35m diameter and 6m high, surrounded by a partially filled ditch); on past the architecturally fantastic farm buildings of Hemsworth with it's origins in the 16th century; past the earthen remains of a an earlier medieval settlement, listed as Hemedeswordes in the Doomsday Book; past the site of a 4th Century Roman Villa famed for it's fine mosaics; past woodland hiding the foundations of wartime accommodation; across the World War Two airfield of Tarrant Rushton from where, on D-Day, the gliders took off for the famous attack on Pegasus Bridge, the first allied troop in occupied Europe; along the Ackling Dyke Roman Road; below the ramparts of the majestic Iron Age hillfort of the Durotriges, Badbury Rings; and finally back to where we began. And that doesn't take into account the history I don't know, or that which remains hidden. A real walk through time I'm sure you'd agree.