Reed bed

I cant remember the last time I took the track through the reed bed between Stanpit Marsh and the River Avon. It must be over 20 years. Even though you're on the edge of a sprawling conurbation once surrounded by the reeds it feels wild and isolated.

Swansong

Back again to Mudeford Quay to take in the days' swansong. The clouds a touch thicker and darker this evening; we were gifted a lovely sunset nonetheless. I wasn't the only one taking it the sinking Sun; I wonder if and how other creatures register and experience things like sunsets.

Mudeford quay

 

We used to holiday each year in Cornwall, we loved it, and as you'd expect every day we'd find ourselves somewhere on the coast. This evening I was sat on the edge of the harbour at Mudeford Quay watching the Sun's westward transit, around me the sound of happy chatter, the smell of fish and chips, on the water swans, gliding paddle boarders and the parade of small boats making their way single file up The Run into the harbour at days end, and my mind drifted off; then the dawning realization, this feels just like Cornwall. A warm wave of nostalgia washed over me, then I thought, why don't we come here more often? How could we neglect this local gem. One of the aspects we loved about Cornwall is right here at the end of the road, always has been, and we're such rare visitors. The type of dawning realization that experience tells me I'm undoubtedly destined to repeat.

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.

Sunset

 

It's good to feel the days slowly lengthening.  

Winter Solstice

Being deeply connected to the natural world our ancestors knew the importance of the Winter Solstice and it's pivotal point in the turning of the seasonal wheel, as a consequence many of their prehistoric monuments have alignments which mark the midwinter sunset; most notable locally being the 10km long Dorset Cursus. Today many pagans favour the following morning's sunrise to celebrate their Solstice and the birth of the new Sun. I used to only observe the latter though for some years now I've observed both. So today I did my bit for the ancestors by observing what I could of the shortest day's sundown over the harbour. Personally, the winter Solstice has always been one of my most important celebrations, it marks the end of a period of refection begun at Samhain; whilst tomorrow's sunrise marks the chance of new beginnings. Over the period since Samhain I've reflected on how the year's gone, where I'm at, what I've achieved (all very meh if I'm honest), and what I want for the coming year. My conclusion has been that after the last few very thin years in isolation I really need to reconnect; reconnect with valued people/communities, with activities/interests and especially with creativity. I'm sure it's going to be easier said than done, stuck in a deep rut as I am, but I fear myself disappearing into the long grass permanently if I don't.

Harbour sunset

 Harbour sunset

Beside the seaside

 

Oh I do like to live beside the seaside, oh I do. The view from the 'High Cliff' which gives Highcliffe it's current name; well, Highcliffe on Sea, if you want to pretentious about it, as some of our would be lardy da types do; delusions of grandeur really for a village which until the late 19th century was called 'Slop Pond'. Though I digress. From near to far we have; Christchurch Bay; Mudeford Quay, and the 'Run'; Christchurch Harbour and Hengistbury Head; Bournemouth Bay, with the just visible line of sand being the dunes of Studland Beach; capped off by the Isle of Purbeck at the western end of the Purbeck Ridge, including the high point of Godlingston Hill. Not a bad view really.

Orange sunset over Christchurch harbour

Orange sunset over Christchurch harbour.

A perfect end to the day.

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. 

 

Water Lilies

I thought how the 'Head' has changed over the years as I walked through memories and time there this morning.  It feels as if Hengistury Head has always featured in my life.  Childhood days out with kites, or Noddy Train rides and the beach.  A favoured adventure land in my young teens, skiving school, jumping the Noddy Train, being chased by the Noddy Train drivers as well as the first place I wild camped. It appeared much wilder then, it was much wilder then, more removed, that said, it's still wild-ish now. It became a different type of adventure land in my later teens, substances ensured that. It's always been somewhere I've walked too. When I worked in the engineers department at the local authority we'd survey the Head regularly to record the rate of erosion, it took a couple of days, and we did that a few times a year. Nice work as I remember. Halfway down the harbour face of the Head are ponds above the waste tips created by quarrying in previous centuries. These, now thriving wildlife ponds, used to be near lifeless murky puddles, in fact the whole landscape had a tangible post industrial feel to it as I remember, a bare nakedness beyond first colonisers and invasive flora. So many memories connected with this place, I'm connected with this place. And, I know I'm just one of many over the centuries to have felt that connection. Hengistbury Head has been the focus of human activity for millennia, 14,000 year ago Upper Palaeolithic hunters utilized the headland, as did the our Mesolithic ancestors, the Bronze Age saw the harbour developing and the promontory was a focus of Round Barrow burials, the Iron Age saw the harbour port continue to develop as an important centre for trade, this continued throughout the Roman period. Later centuries saw smuggling, quarrying and defence all feature, in-between long periods of pastoral obscurity. So I'm not just walking through my history, I'm walking through the history of the country, human and natural, and I just love that. 

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.

Cold lesson

I made a rookie error today, especially for someone who has spent the majority of his life living on the coast. I didn't check the tides. Rookie, mistake, man. I'd planned to take harbour side route out round Hengistbury Head, and was pledged to my path by the time it disappeared into the harbour, even the bridges (whose position was marked by their balusters) were under water. The water looked shallow, and there grassy island dotted about, so I though carry on regardless. For the most part the water was shallow-ish though reaching mid shins at points, and at first I thought the waters were quite bracing, that swiftly shifted to cold, soon becoming painful, I was committed by now, the prospect of going back less appealing that soldiering on. Moving through the water as quickly as I could without ending up in a deeper hollow or such, I rested on the grassy islets, when I could to allow my feet to warm (warm not really being what they became, just less cold). It was worth it though, just to have done it, the near empty sands of Mudeford spit were a bonus.

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. 

Neither or both

It was a revolving themed walk today, it was coat closed coat open, hood up hood down, repeat. Driven by high winds the clouds scud across the sky, banks of grey sodden cloud dumped their chilly loads, sometimes heavily. These banks of cloud were regularly broken by expansive patches of clear blue from which a growing spring sun shone. Both weathers blended at their seams, and both were quite intense when established. The sky resolved itself so frequently. I found myself buttoning my coat and putting my hood up to protect from the cold rain, only to have to unbutton my coat and put my hood down as the sun came out and I heated up,  only again to be buttoning my coat and putting my hood up to protect from cold rain, only to........you get the picture. The day really couldn't decide what it wanted to be, it just kept repeating it's options, and I had to go with it. 

Sunset

I spent 40 minutes watching the sun disappear below the Purbeck Hills this evening; it was time well spent. I watched as the sky slowly slowly absorbed colour until the intense colour flooded it. I watched as those colours endlessly morphed into ever deepening rich hues. I think my mouth may have been open, slack jawed local style, as I watched transfixed. Finally after reaching their zenith I watched as those colours darkened faded and slowly drained as twilight fell.What my photos can't show is the sound of bird-call which filled the air, a symphony of sound, which although you could only see a few birds, was surely the sound of hundreds of birds in unison and completion.  Tonight’s sunset was a spiritual thing, for sure. 

Winter sunset at the quay

It rained throughout the day until just before sundown, though it was too late for any sun beyond a thin line on the horizon above the Purbeck Hills.

Mudeford sunset #13

Mudeford sunset #13 A sunset of autumnal hues.

Mudeford sunset #11

Mudeford sunset #11