The Run

Living by the coast in an area seasonally popular with tourists you have to share; half a year belongs to the 'grockles' and the other half is ours, I'm happy to share, I don't begrudge them. We've until Easter to take advantage of the empty beaches, and no matter what the weather a walk on the beach is guaranteed to be glorious.

Alder carr

 

Alder (Alnus glutinosa) carr is common along some stretches of the forest's streams; take a closer look and you'll often spot that many of these trees show evidence of past coppicing, a common forestry practice. Back in World War Two the forest's Alder was called to national service, and were mass harvested in order to be turned into high grade charcoal for the 40 million gas masks required to protect the nation...that's a lot of charcoal. Charcoal production is one of the oldest of the forest industries, an important activity it was practiced throughout history; a tradition which continues in the forest today, albeit on a vastly reduced scale today at Pondhead.

Holmhill

 

Holmhill woods

Spreads

The marshy regions where the forest's streams are born are known as 'spreads' or 'collects'; often out on the open heath and always amongst the stands muddled `carr woodland is present, especially where the streams first form proper. These always feel some of the wilder places in the forest, uncomfortable regions to navigate, wet, tangled and fraught with obstacles, fallen trunks and boot sucking quagmire; best avoided, though at the same time oozing with allure, their magic seems to draw you in. They represent an aspect of the timeless landscape of fairy tale and myth. Where do myths start, maybe it was an inherent magic that first led our prehistoric ancestors to favour these wet areas for ritual and ceremony; maybe how you experience such places is an echo of genetic memory, my ancestors reminding me of the sacred nature these places held in their world view. Maybe.

Denny's all opened up

Denny enclosure's all opened up, swathes of mainly coniferous woodlands have been clear cut and the ground they stood completely cleared and graded; I'm excited to see how this landscape regenerates; the face of the forest is changing all over. This morning Denny enclosure's heathland restoration reminded me of the days on the Newbury bypass in the mid 90's; a damp and dank misty day, smoke from debris fires hanging is the air, and clumps of spared trees silhouetted on a scoured landscape; except today was devoid of people and machines, and the works being undertaken were for restorative rather than destructive ends. 

Sunset

 

It's good to feel the days slowly lengthening.  

Icicle falls

Our route this morning took us along the narrow meanderings of Bratley Water  as it snakes it's way through North Oakley and Smokey Hole before joining Blackersford Brook; I love the young forest streams, there's a particular feel of wilderness to them that I enjoy.  As I said yesterday, winter's far from done and that's nowhere more apparent that out here in the forest where Jack still reigns supreme. In places the puddle ice remains 30/40mm thick, even the edges and deeper pools in the meander bends retain a thin icy frosting, and where woodland debris congregates to form natural dams those dams are turned into sculptures of ice and icicle. Very nice too.

Stirring

 

Although even the most cursory glance outside will tell you (if you weren't already aware) that winter's grip is far from loosening, the landscape slowly wakes as Imbolc approaches; in the belly of the land the future stirs as above the first heralds of spring break through.

Old Harry Rocks and one of the Pinnacles

At the furthest east point of the Purbeck Ridge are Old Harry Rocks and the Pinnacles; if you look east in the distance you'll just see The Needles and The Isle of Wight, once these two chalk headlands would've been joined as a continuous chalk ridge. If you know Purbeck and you ever visit to the The Isle of Wight you'll spot the similarity in geology and environment immediately.

Studland beach

You know it must be bloody cold out when Jack Frost is able to leave his mark on the salty environment of coastal sands; but this morning he did, and in spades. Nice out though, and as usual with an early start on our outward stretch we had the beach to ourselves. It was an early start too, as yet again the chain ferry between Sandbanks to South Haven Point is out of action and we had the long drive around Poole Harbour (25 miles or so); the ferry was supposed to be back running weeks ago after a service, although it was badly damaged on it's journey to Falmouth for aforementioned service so wont return until the end of February at the earliest. It's fated to troubles, man, it seems to have suffered issue after issue in recent years.

Ever changing, though always staying the same

 

It's fascinating to watch the gravel banks of the forest's streams shift and morph through the seasons every year. Gravel crossing points and banks disappear or change sides, making navigating my usual routes impossible, only to re-emerge months later in the same spot or a few meters down stream; some can vanish for years and then reappear, it's as if even though the elements are constantly in motion there's a default setting to which the stream inevitably returns. I watched as over a couple of months the ebb and flow of the Red Rise Brook moved a stream of gravel across the water course from one side to the other, up onto the bank, across a bulge in the bank and deposited back in the stream on the other side. I know though that by the end of spring all the crossing points I've traditionally utilized will be where they've always been.

Little Egret

Approaching behind cover Geoff and I managed to creep up on a Little Egret (Egretta garzetta) chilling on the banks of Red Rise Brook, or at least I believe it to be a Little Egret not an Egret Egret. We would've got closer but Geoff  broke cover like a chump, though luckily I had my camera ready at hand and grabbed my best shot yet (still piss poor I know) of this flighty bird. Over the last few years Egrets and Herons have become a familiar sight along this stretch of stream, a testament to the health of the waterway.

Chilly bottom

 

Parky out. Gone is the soaked forest all soggy underfoot, gone are the waterlogged paths and puddles; well, not gone, more transformed. Overnight the temperature dropped significantly and we arrived this morning to find the forest dusted in white frost, the ground hard under foot, and the paths traversing Clay Hill Bottom no longer a series of narrow streams now turned into treacherous tracks of icy glass requiring a jazz hands walking stance. Quite the transformation.  

Still there!

Wow, the discarded running shoes I commented on at the beginning of the month are still there! Very odd indeed; surely they'd have been returned for.

Uncanny Avengers

Being laid up with covid (11 boring days testing positive) in the box room, no TV or computer, watching old television comedy and stuff on the YouTube via a phone screen (how young folks do that shit as the norm is beyond me) I leaned heavily into reading, a highlight of which was volume 1 of the Uncanny Avengers. Uncanny Avengers Vol.1 covers issues 1 through 25 (2012-2015) and includes the stories: The Red Shadow, The Apocalypse Twins, Ragnarok Now, Average the Earth and Axis prelude in just over 700 pages. Written throughout by Rick Remender, who for my money is one of the finest comic writers/storytellers of our time, Uncanny Avengers Vol. 1 is superhero storytelling at it's very best; Remender's writing is magnificently complemented by the fantastic artwork of pencillers John Cassaday, Daniel Acuña and Steve McNiven, the crisp lines of inker John Dell and the beautiful colour palette of colourist Laura Martin who combined created quite the dilemma; the writing had you eager to turn the page, although the sumptuous artwork had you lingering as you soaked up all the detail. The story includes and extensive list of heroes and villains and takes place after the events of AVX with Captain America offering Havok the lead in a new Avengers unity team; I'm tempted to wax lyrically about what happens next but that would be a spoiler fest, the twists, turns and surprises come thick and fast as the story races along at a fair pace and is best read first hand. What I can say though is that I can't recommend this run highly enough, this is the good shit.

Wetter

 

I return to blogging after a covid hiatus to find my forest roams in a similar state to that which they were before I left, wet. Well, to be honest it would be more accurate to describe them as wetter. This is the highest the water's reached at the Dames Slough bridge for a while. Days of what's seemed like near endless rain sees the forest's stream corridors inundated, becoming broad linear lakes snaking between the stands, whilst the rivulets and drains that feed them have all broken their banks their wet fingers spreading out amongst the trees, even some of the forestry tracks have been made impassible or at least difficult to negotiate due to lengths of running/standing water. What I'm try to say is the forest's bloody wet.

How queer!

 

What appear a serviceable, if not good nick, pair of Evadict mt2 trail running shoes (About £80) discarded in the forest; not near a car park, or on a track or anywhere else you could envisage changing then forgetting/losing your shoes, but on the edge wet heathland/bogland at the base of Markway Hill near Stag Brake. How queer. I can't imagine the story here; why they would've been abandoned is beyond me. Another forest mystery.

Perpetually in flower

Perpetually in flower, at any time of the year somewhere in the forest the Gorse (Ulex) is flowering and adding colour to the landscape.