Beech avenue

 Beech avenue, Wilverely.

Highland Water

Highland Water running through Holmhill enclosure.

Wilverely

Fall is nearly done, as autumn comes to an end and the deciduous canopy grows increasingly naked and skeletal, I'm starting to be drawn into the evergreen glades of the forest. This morning it was into one of my favourite coniferous blocks of Wilverley's mosaic; entering it is like entering a foreign world. 

Berried Mistletoe abounds

Our roam this morning took us through an area populated by numerous trees harbouring clumps Mistletoe (Viscum album), their clumps are certainly laden with berries this year. They're quite the sight.

Old road

I enjoy walking along this old section of road, I like seeing the views once common, though now invisible; to the road users that is. I think it's the archaeologist in me. I enjoy exploring the phenomenology of how people experience/would have experienced landscapes, be they ancient or less so; the difference in aspect between the old and new road courses in this case. This is a 500m or so former length of the A35 sweeping down Markway Hill; the new course of the road now running through a cutting a couple of dozen meters to the left of this photo, the former over the brow of the hill with expansive views across the forest...how different the forest looks from the old course. I don't know when exactly (I'm imaging the 60's/70's) or why the road was changed, though I'd imagine it was a combination of the sweeping corner in front and the blind summit behind me; still, this section of old road is remains replete with stone curbing, residual metalling and even the occasional cats eye. I'm amazed sometimes at the mundane things that interest me, but they do.

Bombe

You'd be surprised at how many World War Two bomb craters there are littering the forest, for the most part (beyond Ashley Ranges) dropped by the German Luftwaffe; whether dropped in anger on purpose/target or dumped before returning home for safety is often less certain.

Denny Lodge flood

A pipe carrying a drainage ditch under one of the forest tracks running through Denny Lodge enclosure has collapsed and flooded the woodland behind it. Weird to come across flooded woodland well away from any stream; an unusual occurrence.

Highland Water

Highland Water way up in Highland Water enclosure, only a couple of miles or so from it's sources. Without a doubt my favourite of the forest's streams. Lovely walking too.

Today the rain reigned

It was raining we began our walk this morning, it continued to rain as we walked, and it was still raining when we finished our walk. Today the rain reigned.

Roe

The day didn't start like this, in fact for the first nearly 8 miles of our walk (15 miler in total) the sky was grey and overcast, though by the time we'd reached Roe enclosure the clouds had broken and sunlight began to flood the stands. Lovely. Roe's another of the forest’s older enclosures with it's nucleus dating from 1700 (later expanded in 1811); many of the enclosure's original trees have long gone, replaced by tall coniferous stands themselves now marked for harvesting. Following some of Roe's lesser walked paths my mind flooded with memories of previous wanderings here; the main tracks are great for covering distance at speed, and yeah you can see some lovely forest from them, but you can't beat the smaller, more obscure, ephemeral paths, they're the ones that allow a more intimate connection, the ones that get the synapses sparking. As I walked a particular path I fondly recalled walks with friends some 30 years ago, and later ones with my children; and of other paths in Roe I'd like to walk again...if I can find them, if they're still there. I did say that some were ephemeral, and maybe now they're only walk-able through my memories. 

Parky

This morning was the first one of the season to feel proper cold; parky as it was though, I was dressed for it, I was moving and the Sun retained a good degree of warmth to it, so I was still warmer than I've been sitting at home. Which was nice.

Red Rise Brook

The waters have subsided and the forest's streams flow calmly within their banks once more; on Tuesday Red Rise Brook rampaged across it's flood plain and through the stands, this morning it's the image of tranquillity.

Highland Water

The signs of the extent to which the forest flooded during last nights rain were clear to see, the environs of Highland Water above Millyford Bridge have been scoured of detritus, replaced instead by slick viscus surfaces which make walking quite treacherous. The woodland detritus which once littered the forest floor now forms impromptu dams along the length of the stream; the one filmed had formed at a particularly narrow choke spot between some trees, we could hear it's song long before we could see it. The excess water which created the floods may have subsided, though still Highland Water only just runs within it's banks in places.

More fallen

I see them with such frequency that I thought I'd grown immune to seeing uprooted, truncated and otherwise slighted trees, I'd become hardened to the inevitable consequences of our erratic weather on the forest's veterans; I haven't though. The face of the forest is changing so rapidly. The trees in the photos above are just a couple of examples, two good sized oaks, one of them a veteran, both stood on the meandering bank of Highland Water not too far from each other, both had subsided and toppled over and into the stream. There were so many fallen or damaged trees, so many innumerable ripped and severed boughs on our walk  through Great Huntley Bank and Brinken Wood this morning; a good number of them large enough to have caused additional collateral to the trees about them as the fell; it was impossible not to be affected by the sight of such carnage.   

Insurmountable inundation

Our route from Spy Holms to Burley Old was blocked this morning by an insurmountable inundation; Red Rise Brook had breached it's banks and now covered swathes of it's environs. There were no crossing points to be found, and we looked; the bridges were inaccessible, the fords deep under water, jump spots had splashdowns rather than landings, and any overhanging boughs were untraversable. I considered wading to a bridge, it would've only been knee deep; I ummed and ahhed, then asked the coin - the coin said no, so our walk was truncated. I should've known better really, and approached from a different direction after heavy rain. On a positive note, it was always an intended outcome of stream restoration that the forest flooded as it would've historically; so, nice to see the plan worked.

Keep off the tracks

If you want to find the real forest, those secluded glades rarely visited by human feet or lesser seen views, you've got to free yourself from the forest's regular tracks and paths; pursue instead one of the multifarious animal tracks that criss cross heath and stand, they're sometimes so ephemeral you may need use the 'force' to follow them, though the rewards are always worth your efforts.

Smokin'

I love the smell of distant wood smoke in the air, it reminds me of camping, festivals and of sitting around a fire with friends; I'm not so enamoured though when the wood smoke dominates the air, especially as suffering a degree of seasonal asthma/chestiness. The forestry were burning off the detritus remaining from previously thinned or cleared areas amongst The Knowles which border Acres Down. Plumes of smoke rose above the tree line, although due to the still nature of the morning they immediately slumped back into the stands, choking them, and making for difficult breathing. We altered our route accordingly, and made haste for fresher forest climes.

So why not keep it simple (profanity alert)

  

In the words of esteemed presenter Roger Mellie (the man on the telly) 'so why not keep it simple, how about cunts!' I mean seriously, what wankers get their jollies fucking up disabled toilets, I mean, there's not that many public amenities in the forest as it is. Arseholes! Geoff and I were on the return leg of our Sunday long walk, it had been a lovely walk too, when as we approached Anderwood I noticed a large bough down in from of the toilets, the mystery was where had it fallen from, on getting closer it became apparent it hadn't fallen at all; some fucktard had randomly chainsawed a tree down, cut into another larger tree behind (which will now need removing), cut through and down the rails around the public toilet block, cleaved the men's and disabled doors in half; I didn't go in so don't know what damage may have been done to the interior. Fucking pricks. I regularly moan that the New Forest National Parks Authority don't maintain the forest's infrastructure, shit like this isn't going to help; I'd imagine the bill for repairs will run into the thousands, not to mention the man hours; or maybe they just board it up or knock it down and another public amenity will be lost.  Any wonder Britain's broken, we really are a country of turds.

Black Water

 Black Water above Gravelly Ford.

Nik Turner; Stonehenge 1984

I don't normally comment here on a musician's death, though I'm going to make an exception; today I heard of Nik Turner's passing at 82. Nik Turner, space rocker extraordinaire, vocalist, sax player, and flautist of such influential bands as Hawkwind, Hawklords, Sphynx, Inner City Unit, Space Ritual, with more solo projects, quest appearances and collaborations than you could shake a stick at. I first saw Nik Turner perform with Hawkwind on the 'main' stage at Stonehenge Free Festival in 1984. By the early 80's I'd become what would've been colloquially described as a 'hippy'. I'd seen festival legends the Here and Now band in the autumn of 83', and they'd knocked on a door for me, though it was at  Stonehenge 84' that that door was kicked wide open. Without doubt Stonehenge 84' was one of the most influential, life shaping events of my youth; Hawkwind and Nik Turner's performances were foundational in that period of personal, creative and spiritual evolution. As you'd imagine, there were a variety of drugs available at free festivals, and it would've been rude not to indulge, so to be honest a lot of the bands and events of that week remain more as feelings than definable memories, not Hawkwind though, my memory of them endures. I remember the music and the atmosphere of their performance, though it's Nik Turner and his dancers that are seared into my memory most vividly; Turner dressed in a full body white leotard, white face with broad black band across his eyes and a forelock of orange hair protruding from what looked like a skateboard helmet, a striking figure; whilst the dancers cavorted in white dresses with white faces and blacken eyes. I'd say the music, atmosphere, and drugs combined to create a heady almost magical ritual environment that night; as night gave way to day and the sky lightened Hawkwind performed a second 'dawn set', continuing the magic. I remember listening to their improvised tripped out psychedelic set as I watched, in an altered state, the Druids gathering amongst the ancient stones to welcome the solstice sunrise; for me a spell was cast. I returned from the Stonehenge festival changed; my horizons broadened, with new paths and worlds to explore; drawing, archaeology, druidry/paganism, all things I cherish now grew from seeds sown then. That was the last free festival allowed at Stonehenge, and I feel truly blessed to have been able to experience it. So, thank you Nik Turner for your part in my transformation, thank you for the music I still enjoy today which connects me to my past; may your ancestors welcome you in the Summerlands, and let your song raise the rafters of their great halls. Hail and farewell.  

New causeway

Credit where credit is due. I'm regularly berating the New Forest National Parks Authority for their failure to maintain the forest's infrastructure, therefore in the pursuit of balance I commend them on crating a new causeway across a notoriously seasonally impassible wet area which feeds Duck Hole Bog; so bravo. Now I going to sound churlish, though, and it's a criticism I've recently voiced, knowing this spot I fear the causeway, cool and welcome as it is, may find itself inaccessible in aforementioned wet area when wet proper; I think it may have benefited from having longer raised approaches. Time will tell.  Still, it was very useful today, replacing as it has a jumble of wooden flotsam and jetsam that you used to have to try and negotiate.    

Autumnal tints

There's colour in the forest's canopy and floor for sure, though it lacks the depth and range of hues you'd usually hope for; so far that is, the show's not over yet.

Nice out

The weather continues to manifest unseasonally, one day it's damp and cold, the next it's veritably balmy; it's just not right. How anyone could deny that the climate is changing and with it the certainty of seasonal norms is either invested in saying otherwise, has not been paying attention or is a full hamper short of a picnic. COP27 though, meh; I'll give it the benefit of the doubt and suggest that for the most part the attendees are motivated by noble intent, or at least non nefarious intent, 'for the most part'. Although with 5 of the top 6 carbon emitters (who contribute magnitudes more CO2 than others at 61.33% in 2020) not in attendance, it's a gathering rendered morally virtuous though effectively worthless. Harsh? Maybe, but in reality we should've begun dealing with climate change 40 years ago, instead of kicking the can down the road; now the clock's ticking and we need to raise a tide that lifts us all. Though all the narratives to date lack credibility or any detail on what the alternative future might look like. The idea that we can effectively maintain the status quo through green technology is just a bogus narrative on every level when the change required needs to see a massive reduction in global material/resource consumption, and I don't foresee a global consensus on that issue, nor billions of people buying into it, particularly those already impoverished; or is the plan some dystopian sci-fi social model. Who knows. That's not to say we shouldn't try to do our bit, though I think the best that we'll achieve is going to be assuaging our guilt; collectively, the idea that us (Britain) going 'green' will have any meaningful impart on climate change (our contribution to global CO2 in 2020 was 0.87%) or that we'd influence the rest of the world with our actions, is simply a manifestation of the hubris of our hugely inflated national ego. Still, nice out today, and we should enjoy these days as who knows what the climate has in store for us. 

South Oakley

The forest was gorgeous walking this morning, nice light, quiet and still, and not a soul in sight, we had the place to ourselves.

Warwickshade Cutting, Brinken Wood

Warwickshade Cutting, Brinken Wood

A bridge too far

Oh ha ha, the joke you never tire of; it's that time of year when the New Forest National Parks Authority like to prank walkers by providing bridges you can't access. Of course they could say there are bridges 0.5miles up and down stream from this one, but both are a walk of 1.5miles off route to get to, and upon reaching the up stream bridge you'll likely find a similar situation. Why they don't sort the common issue out is beyond me (and it is commonplace), it wouldn't take much, and it would save a lot of bother. Instead they create Jim Bowen bridges; here a bridge you could've crossed. 

Only just begun

With the first proper winds in a while, come their first casualties; this veteran lady slighted in Burley Old wasn't alone, throughout the stands topped out trees, fallen limbs and boughs are commonplace. Winds and leaf clothed trees are a recipe for disaster, and those ingredients are being thrown together with alarming frequency these days. And, the damage has only just begun.

Rainbow Moon

Not a particularly good shot I'll grant you, though this is what the Moon looked like just now when I took Geoff out for his evening constitutional; ringed in a rainbow, it reminded me of the Helix Nebula, the 'Eye of Creation'. Very nice.

Use your imagination

The natural world is a magical place steeped in myth and mystery, none more so that our ancient woodlands, and if you open your eyes to her wonders and give your imagination free rein to roam it's amazing the things that'll be revealed to you; take this skull of a dragon or more likely a crested griffin we stumbled across in Burley Old this morning. Well, that's what it looked like to me anyway, although I suppose it's like clouds, everyone sees something different. Whatever, in an increasingly commodified world, one which disenfranchises so many from so much, our imagination remains free and offers us opportunity for at least temporary respite and escape from the weight life heaps upon us. We'd be mad not to use it.

This is more like it

Well this is more like it, this is what you should expect to find around the forest streams and wet heathland at this time of year when it properly rains; water, lots of water.

Oxbow in the making

 

Our walk this morning took in a stretch of Black Water; it's flowing well again after a bare bottomed summer, it's environs looking lovely too dressed in autumnal hues. This section of Black Water throws out some big meanders, one of the necks between said meander bends has been breached, toppling a couple of saplings in the process; I'd imagine the winter flow will ensure the breach is permanent, for a while at least an island may form, though it won't be long before a new oxbow lake begins forming as the stream becomes established in it's new course.

Cauliflower fungus

Cauliflower Fungus (Sparassis crispa). Nice.

I spy

Sawn and chopped wood stored discretely under the trunk of a large fallen tree; I see you wild camper. Well played; not just for the forethought of your squirrelled fuel stash, but for the fact of there being no other sign of your having camped here.  You'd be amazed at how dry these under trunk spots can remain, even after the heaviest of rains; I'll often to do my Jo practice out in Burly Old, though don't always fancy carrying a staff with me, so have one similarly hidden. Another thing that amazes me is the extent to which wild camping is illegal in England, generally without permission you no rights to camp anywhere, including the New Forest; the one place I know you can is in on Dartmoor (now that a real treat too). That said, I've practised wild camping since I was in my early teens, and have camped all over, there's nothing like it; there's something cruel and draconian about denying us what should be our natural right to sleep in the arms of nature out under the stars. I've long believed if people had more opportunities to socialise with nature they'd respect her more, treat her better and be easier to mobilise at this time of climate crisis, who knows, had we not become so disconnected from the natural world maybe we wouldn't find ourselves in a crisis in the first place.