View from the Old Salisbury Drove

 

View from the Old Salisbury Drove down into the Chalke Valley.

Lichen

 

Lichens are bioindicators revealing the quality of the local air, and by their abundance about the forest I feel confident suggesting the forests' air quality is good. Lichen festoons the trees in some stands, giving the woodland an ancient fairytale feel. I'm sure it has increased in prevalence during my time wandering the forest, as have the wealth of mosses which blanket trunk and bough, forming plush carpets amongst shaded coniferous stands. I'm not sure what the term is for the woodland not quite classifiable as Temperate Rainforest, but the New Forest has a lot of contenders.

Danger!

 

For sure the highest grade of danger.

Samways House

 

An avenue of trees directs your eye to Samways House circa 1700's, one of Cranborne Chases' countless fancy houses. 

I see you

 

Suffering from leucism, a partial deficiency in pigmentation, this fallow deer sticks out like a sore thumb. I wondered if it knew it was a different colour from its peers, or it's peers knew, though they don't seen to mind or ostracise it, even though they're a total give away and surely a liability. Often if it wasn't for the white deer you'd miss a tucked away rangle of deer altogether.

Highland Water

 

Highland Water

 

Witch mark?

 

I'm wondering whether this piece of graffiti set of a beaten track, or at least away from current beaten tracks, could be a simple 'Witch Mark' carved for protection; or I've seen a similar piece described as a carving to trap demons. If a Witch Mark, maybe it could be unfinished, left missing the central hexafoil or daisy wheel. I reckon it's got some age to it, mid 20th century, quite possibly earlier maybe.

Coastal path

In part our walk back from White Nothe was along the undulating coastal path, back towards Durdle Door. It's a well worn route as shown by it's multiple narrow deep cut paths. At this point of the walk both the ups and downs were taking a toll on tired legs. But the views. Man, the views. And on such a smashing day too. Have I ever mentioned how blessed we are living in this part of the country. 

White Nothe smugglers path

White Nothe is a 160m high chalk headland overlooking Weymouth and Portland, it marks the western end of the high Cliffs which begin in Swanage, the coast beyond known as the Weymouth lowlands, although lovely, is far less dramatic. The headland is most famous for its zigzag smugglers Path up from the undercliff, which is thought to be the smugglers path featured in the 19th century novel Moonfleet. The path is one of the best on the Purbeck coast. Mind, the smugglers path is not for the weak hearted or those with a fear of heights, it's really steep and at one point buttock clenchingly scary. Even though I've navigated the path countless times over the years it still gives me the willies, the exhilaration and views though on completion are worth it.     

White Nothe undercliff

White Nothe undercliff

Gorse burning

 

Running from November to March gorse burning is an annual sight across the forest, it's a main feature of heathland management and conservation, apparently it has several fauna and flora benefits. I don't know, man. I'm quite convinced by Monbiots' description of conservation in Feral 2013 as keeping land in a state of heavily managed degradation. As I've previously said, lovely as it is, very little about the forest is natural, rewilding it has to be a better course.

River Ebble

 

It's been quite a while since we've walked the chase, May of 2023 in fact, and it was good to be back in archetypal England, a region of chalk hills and chalk streams. The latter a rare beast indeed. They reckon there's only about 200 chalk streams in the world, and 160 of those are in South and East England. One is the beautiful crystal clear River Ebble which runs through the Chalke Valley. This morning we crossed the icey cold Ebble via a clapper bridge at Fifield Bavant, a manor mentioned in the 1086 Doomsday Book as Fifehide held by Alvred of Marleborough. On its' way to join the River Avon, the Ebble quietly rushed through the valley.

Otter?

 

You know, I'm by no means certain, but I think these could be otter tracks left in a muddy bank on Highland Water. I want it to be otter tracks, because that'd be cool.  Eurasian otters have established themselves an active community along the coastal region of the New Forest, and have been known to follow streams inland in the pursuit of food. So. Maybe? Of course the tracks could be those of a badger, both otters and badgers have 5 toes leaving prints roughly the same size, though normally the claws of a badger are more pronounced. You see myriad tracks this time of year, these caught my eye as different, though I am no expert.

Black Water

We've enjoyed quite a few misty mornings in the forest this winter, and I for one am not complaining. The presence of mist only adds another layer of mystery to the forest and therefore to our roams.

Markway in the mist

 

Markway in the mist

Primrose

The Primrose (Primula vulgaris), surely the most beautiful of our new year flowers, its' sunny demeanour reminding us of warmer days to come. We tend to think of the Snowdrop (Galanthus nivalis) as our traditional first sign of spring, although it wasn't always so, in truth the Snowdrop only arrived in Britain from France in the 1500's to grace Tudor gardens and wasn't recorded in the wild until 1770. So really it's the Primrose that should rightly hold the title of first sign of spring.

Frosted glass

Jack Frost continues to haunt the forest, this morning the puddles and pools were as frosted glass, I mean they looked just like it. 
 

Below Wilverely plain

Another bright start to the day, the sun was really trying, though it was too cold for him to make much of an impact, everything remained dusted white, an icy glaze crowned puddles and pools, and as a consequence mists lingered over the mires and in the hollows below Wilverely plain. You know, beyond the heather canvas of the photo all the flora present are deemed 'invasive', mostly native though not in keeping with the chocolate box image created of the forest. Personally I'd love to see nature recolonize the landscapes it's been previously evicted from.

Brownsea

Every time I pass Brownsea Island I'm reminded that I've never been there, and am puzzled as to why. I need to rectify that.

Fry

It's amazing how resilient the forests' inhabitants are. I find it astonishing that fry can thrive in the shallow ponds and headwater streams, even with ice framing their homes. Beyond their hardiness, their presence is testament to the forests' streams going from strength to strength, and the scale of their presence is testified to by the increased numbers of Herons and Egrets frequenting the waterways.