Ice flow

Ice flow nowhere to go, lost in the blinding whiteness of the tundra (Boosh 2004). Well, it's not actually that bad, though still at -4 degrees and with many of the forest's smaller tributaries, even stretches of the bigger streams frozen, the ground solid under foot and walking through the frozen leaf litter sounding like walking through corn flakes, it feels very Baltic...to a soft Southerner's sensibilities anyway.  That's not to say it's not nice out, because it is; the Sun, although shedding little discernible warmer, shines in a clear blue sky and the forest's wonderful walking. Just bloody cold.

Buckherd Bottom

This morning we were chased through Buckherd Bottom by horses which took a dislike to us, or rather a dislike to Geoff. Normally the New Forest Ponies carry themselves with a air of stoic indifference, not this white one and her crew. Of course Geoff was made up, believing the ponies were finally game for playing he bounded about excitedly, dodging and weaving...them in pursuit. Me, I wasn't enjoying the excited Geoff / excited ponies dynamic so much, and I was happy when we eventually put some ground between us. 

Buckherd Bottom

 

Buckherd Bottom

Bottom inspector

We were back on the forests high plains for our walk this morning, although today on the other side of the A31. What a difference from yesterdays wet walk, ominous clouds may have skipped across the sky above us and huddled on the horizon, though they were loose enough and moved fast enough to allow ample winter sun to illuminate the landscape. Today I was to be a bottom inspector, from up here on the high plain we had glorious views over and into the folded landscape and a selection of attractive bottoms. First there was Picket Bottom, next was Akercome Bottom and finally we passed Buckherd Bottom, For the most part not a soul in sight either, which is increasingly a bonus with the forest's new found allure.