Steamer Point

We wandered along Highcliffe beach this morning, amongst the dunes that are developing below Steamer Point. You'd imagine that the name Steamer Point may refer to a location you'd catch a steamer from. Well, nearly. There once was a Streamer here, although it wasn't going anywhere...it had reached it's final destination. When the nearby Highcliffe Castle was being built, a steamer was beached and then hauled aways inland where it was wedged in place between two large trees and used as the site office. Afterwards it remained as a beach house until around 1900.  Later during the war Steamer Point was home to a secret military establishment researching radar and communications, post war SRDE developed Britain's first satellite communications system... locally famous for it's distinctive white golf ball like dome which housed a satellite dish. Today although the steamer's long gone (the military too) the name remains, and the site is now a wildlife reserve with a section of undeveloped beach below it. Nice spot. Historically the premier location for beach parties...before the banning of fun.

Mudeford Wood

An urban walk for us today, delivering/collecting fat and cocoa based goods to celebrate the festival of chocolate Jesus. Our route took us through Mudeford Wood, an important wildlife corridor of woodland, wet woodland and ponds which flank the River Mude from Somerford roundabout across what was Christchurch Airfield/RAF Christchurch. Little evidence of the airfield remain, I think it's just a couple of pillboxes now. I remember when there was a section of taxiway near one of the pillboxes too, though friends brought up here remember loads more, including a bunker which they say was half underground....which sounds like a Battlefield HQ to me (?). It's striking how much the urban sprawl has spread, even in my memory. These pockets of natural oasis create vital spaces for wildlife to hold their ground and resist us from, each little niche world. If you plan your walk carefully and you're prepared to sometimes take a slightly longer route, you can weave your way through the urban sprawl using these natural oasis. I feel these isolated islands, all that remain of a broader rural/natural landscape long consumed by modernity, allow us, to a degree, to connected and walk that past world. From these pockets, boundary lines of mature trees, old maps and photos I extrapolate and render the landscape of my minds eye with what I imagine the land would have looked like...and I enjoy walking through that. 

 

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.

St Catherine's Hill graffiti

The reservoirs atop St Catherine's Hill have long been canvases for local graffiti artist, with most faces adorned by pieces, words or tags...some nice works too. Periodically the faces are repainted by the authorities, which merely serves to create a fresh canvas, sometimes older pieces are overwritten by new ones. There are a couple of new works on the round reservoir since last we walked up here, good stuff.  I noticed one piece was by 'Camo'(top), the same artist whose work we saw in the forest underpass, a 70's flavoured offering, very tidy. There were a couple of others as well, one used silver paint to great affect, the other had a sort of Terry Gilliam-ness to it. I love to see public art, we should celebrate art more, including graffiti, it has so much value, it adds colour and energy to our too often drab man made environments and edifices.

The Marshes

Another local walk today. A local walk for local people, Christchurch can be a bit that way. I think in reality, everywhere can be a bit local, it's human nature. Today we walked over the marshes, that'll be Stanpit Marsh. Man, we used to be over the marshes all the time, there are so many memories connected to this piece of land bordering Christchurch harbour, and Hengistbury Head over the harbour. The 'Head' was the first place I wild camped when I was 14, disastrous of course. It was lovely walking here today, it's decades after I first set foot over here, and to be honest little if anything has changed, and in our current ever changing world that's a rare achievement. Strangely reassuring and comforting.

The dump

I've seen Christchurch grow and change over the years, in some respects beyond recognition as time and unrestrained urban sprawl marches on relentlessly. Often the changes feel negative, as if something is being lost, which is usually true as pockets of nature are nibbled, bitten off and consumed. This afternoon I cycled into town, along the coast, past Mudeford Quay and over Stanpit. When I was a child Stanpit was the site of the dump, an open council rubbish tip. I remember grubbing about amongst the rubbish like 'Stig of the dump', finding all manner of curiosities, well, it was the 70's. Years later the whole site was buried and landscaped, and subsequently turned into a 9 hole golf course. That golf course has now gone, and the landscape turned into a wildlife area, only in it's infancy the area has massive potential and is a fantastic addition the natural character of the harbour. From the former golf course's raised position you've got great views over the reed flanked rivers of the Stour and Avon, across the marshes, and over the tidal harbour to Hengistbury Head, and all around you nature has already begun to exert dominion, reclaiming what's rightfully hers. This is a positive change I can happily embrace.

St Catherine's Hill sunrise

St Catherine's Hill sunrise.

Up on the hill

Up St Catherine's Hill early this morning, and it was lovely. A beautifully rich and warm orange hue flooded the Avon Valley and lit the trees and slopes of the hill. Nice way to start the day.

Old Range

For the most part unseen and forgotten, remnants of our past lay tucked away in every corner. Take the ruinous remains of this early 20th century firing range on the Avon Valley side of St Catherine's Hill. If it weren't for the remains of the concrete and brick markers gallery and the rusting target mechanisms, you'd not know it was there, the firing platforms are long overgrown, engulfed by flora, as is the range itself. We used to hangout here as kids. Initially collecting the metal jacketed projectiles which can still be found eroding out of the adjacent natural sandy butt and letting our imaginations run wild, though as we got older it was just a place to chill. Time (and maybe some vandalism) hasn't been kind to the remains of the markers gallery, which back in the day still provided some degree of shelter, now it's all but collapsed. Although the remains of the target mechanisms appear to have changed little from the late 70's, as far as I remember, anyway.  As for the site itself, it looks just as I remember it, well, not 'just as' though still easily recognizable. It interests the archaeologist in me to see sites decay, see how the fall from use and subsequently from memory, how slowly nature consumes them, until they're hidden for future archaeologists to find.

Strawberry tree

Native to the Mediterranean, and first introduced into Britain in the 16th century, over the centuries the Strawberry tree (Arbutus unedo) has become naturalized in the lower half of Britain. Though I don't commonly see this tree about, there are several examples growing up the hill. It's a tree worth knowing, as it has an amazing range of properties: it's an astringent, diuretic, urinary anti-septic, antiseptic, intoxicant, rheumatism, a tonic, a source of antioxidants, it's used in the treatment of hypertension and diabetes, and it's leaves have anti inflammatory qualities. Not only that, you can eat the fruits which have a high sugar content. Natures bounty never ceases to amaze me. 

Christchurch Priory

I was reminded today, whilst walking into Christchurch across Stanpit Marsh, how impressive and awe inspiring ecclesiastical buildings must have been to people who, say, lived in the middle ages (or even much more recent times) and only really knew modest wooden or cob thatched buildings, beyond that of their small local church. They're still very impressive buildings today, though now too often ecclesiastical buildings are surrounded by imposing modern buildings or smothered in a sea of urbanization, which detracts from them. From a mile out, approaching across the marsh, you're afforded an opportunity to glimpse what the priory might have looked like in an age before development.

Sunset strip

Sunset strip

Adder

Right in the middle of the main track across St Catherine's Hill, a young Adder (Vipera berus) makes its way slowly into the emerging day (I was out early today). Our only poisonous snake, they say the young small ones give the worst bite, whether that's an urban myth, I don't know and am not eager to find out.  

The Hill

When I first visited St Catherine's Hill is was pretty much all scorched earth and charcoal trees. It was late 1976, after the long hot summer and its accompanying fires, and it remained charred for the next few years. Then in subsequent years self seeded pine, gorse and the dreaded rhododendron invaded, colonized and eventually consumed the hill. It remained like that for years, all choked up. Though in recent times, through the work mostly of volunteers, the hill has been born again. Gone are the invasive flora, the landscape opened up, the heathland flora and fauna are recolonizing.  I imagine the landscape looks much as it should do. It was nice to see it so invigorated, something long overdue. 

A walk to the shops

The changing season and changing weather brings new walking opportunities, even the regular mundane chore walks can take on new dimensions. I had several chores to attend to today, in a range of places. My travels took me along along cliff tops, sandy beaches and across 2 ferries, I crossed 2 rivers, one via two ferry rides and the other via a ferry ride and 2 bridges, I enjoyed a harbour walk, a wander amongst water meadows and reeds, I visited a museum (and could have visited another), passed a range of important prehistoric settlements, through an ancient Saxon Burh, by a Norman Keep and a priory which survived Henry VIII, as well as that I visited old haunts and again collected nettles for soup.  Thirteen miles, in all, a wonderful walk. As I walked I reflected on how lucky I was to live in a place where the walk to the chemist, shops and food fortress, can cover such wonders. 

Gus

There are a few places I walk that have that strange air about them, you know, there's something disconcerting about them, something that unnerves you, and you can't really put your finger on what it is. Usually I walk in mental abandon, lost in thought or in the beauty surrounding me, calm and relaxed, comfortable with the land and my place in it. Usually. Then there are some places, and I know it sounds a touch clichéd, that really give you an uneasy sense of being watched, and of unseen menace. Gus Common is one of those places. Whenever I walk through or around Gus I feel uneasy. You could say, 'man, your creating a self fore-filling prophecy', though I'd disagree. When out walking my mind will be miles away, totally distracted in thought, when feelings of unease begin to intrude, first manifesting themselves physically, like your hackles rising or that strangle tingle you get running up your spine, then on an emotional level. Chewton Common, has always solicited the same sensations in me, and in that I know I'm not alone. Why do some places effect you like that? Can a place retain emotional residue that can still be sensed? Do places harbour memory, again, that could be sensed?  If so, what happened here? The name 'Gus' (which most locals know the common as, the real name of the common being Burton Common) comes from a long abandoned hamlet which stood there. There are connections to smuggling. And, I read somewhere that a disreputable coven may have practiced here at some time. I know, that just sounds mental. Or, could it be our response to some natural phenomena, magnetic fields or some such. Other animals are able sense things beyond our range of perception. I don't know how to explain the different feelings you get from some places to an other, although I do know they feel real, and have a tangible effect on you.

Swan song

Why do we still use overhead power lines? Why isn't all that shit buried, it's ugly and dangerous. A beautiful swan, a big bird too, done by an unseen power line down the lanes. Cycling the lanes recently I'd noticed a few groups of swans settled in fields, apparently they enjoy grazing in them.  You'd have thought with the rivers and harbour nearby, and the high numbers of waterfowl, migratory and otherwise in the area, that more lines would be marked with bird diverters. Or even better, put overheads underground, like the other utilities; pylons and expanses of wire appear so archaic.

The Green Man

Whilst out cycling today I happened upon this Green Man wood sculpture, I must have seen it before, though I have no recollection. I like seeing art out, especially art with an organic aspect, and even more so when it has a spiritual/folklore element.