Roundhouse

 

There's a single standing stone, or menhir, appeared in Church Bottom, not far from the Iron Age roundhouse reconstruction. It looks great. The Iron Age roundhouse is a living history feature, part of the Chalke History Festival, I'm imagining the standing stone performs a similar function. It's good to see projects like this; archaeological reconstructions and living history are such effective methods of public engagement and education. They put flesh on archaeological bones.

Pyramidal orchid

A Pyramidal orchid (Anacamptis pyramidalis), an orchid fond of chalk grassland, so right at home on the rampart of Chiselbury Camp.

Woodminton Down

Woodminton Down, with the Chalke Valley beyond.

 

Moody's Gore

 Ramsons in Moody’s Gore.

Ebble at Faulston

The River Ebble beside Faulston House.

Almost a castle

There's a rather grand dovecote in the garden of Faulston House, a circular tower of bands of dressed stone and squared flint. Although a dovecote now, the wall suggests a long history of alteration and a series of phases of use. Indeed, the tower is one of four build in the 14th century when the owner was granted licence to defend his manor house with dressed stone and squared flint crenelated walls, towers, moat and drawbridge. Almost a castle. By the mid 17th century after the Civil War the moat was filled, the walls and 3 towers pulled down, with only the tower we see today still standing.

Bluebell wood

Bluebells reign through Knighton Wood and Reddish Gore. Is there any sight more uplifting than the countryside in spring; our temperate land blesses us with  springs of unassailable verdance and gentle beauty. 

The opportunist

Nature, the great opportunist. How long do you reckon it would take for nature to completely obscure the works of man if left unchecked. I'd wager not so long.

Elcombe Down Holloway

 

After Sundays' walk I returned home minus a piece of kit. I thoroughly searched the car and thoroughly searched my rucksack, then thoroughly searched them both again. Nothing. No matter how forlorn a hope I make a point of searching for any items I loose, and the Gods are often kind. So we where back in Cranborne this morning walking with a purpose. Sundays' walk had been just over 13 miles, so there were plenty of places to look, and a handful of distinct possibilities. Halfway through we made our way along the holloway snaking up Elcombe Down to one of those possibilities, the spot we'd stopped for lunch. Nothing. In fact nothing all round, and I returned to the car empty handed and disappointed. I really do hate losing things, though sat in the car I accepted it as a lesson I obviously needed to relearn, and hoped someone found my piece of kit useful. Then for no conscious reason I reached into the door tray, where surprised I pulled out aforementioned missing item. I had to laugh.

View from the Old Salisbury Drove

 

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

Samways House

 

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

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.

Hold on they're coming.

Hold on they're coming, hold on they're nearly here. The buds are all there, bursting to open, and it wont be long before the entire floor of this wood will be carpeted in white and pungent Ramson flowers. I love this time of year; all energy and anticipation.

This is England

 

I love this landscape, this for me is England. Don't misunderstand me, I love the New Forest's stands and heaths, I love the Purbeck hills and it's rocky coast, but if I was asked to describe a quintessential English landscape then it would have to be the Chase. To me the Chase' valleys, it's streams, copses, tree lined fields and archetypal hamlets, nestled between rolling hills and high ridgeways marked by the works of our ancestors epitomise rural England, or at least an imagined one. I've wondered why I feel that emotional response to the Chase, and I've come to the conclusion that it's because until recently, just a couple of centuries or so ago, our lives would've been intrinsically linked to landscapes like this and the seasons, and  if landscapes have any capacity as a repository of memory then Cranborne Chase represents a well stocked library, the valleys and hills well illustrated wide open books.

Hares

We ventured inland again for Sunday's big walk, again returning to Cranborne Chase. What a difference from last weekend though, this morning the sun shone bright and warm from the get go. By what ever metric you choose The Chase is a magnificent landscape full of wonderful sights. A particular thrill for me is the frequency you get to see hares. Always a joy watch, and we'd snuck up close on three hares taking in the morning as we trod the Faulston Drove, what a privilege; of course on clocking us the spell was broken and they were off making for the far field boundary and invisibility. Hares have always held a special importance in spirituality, being associated with the Moon, rebirth, beginnings and growth; three hares forming an endless circle was a common motif of medieval Britain too, whether to ward off evil or solicit good fortune is still debated; I'll take either. 

Chase Avenue

What a difference. All the way through our outward journey the mists endured, though as we reached Berwick Down and the beginning of our return leg the mists slowly evaporated to the point that our walk along the Chase Avenue was bathed in radiant sunlight. What a day.

The scent of spring

Ramsons (Allium ursinum) are a common sight amongst Cranborne's woodlands where they frequently form heavily scented lush green carpets. A Wild Garlic wood has to be one of my favourite, if not my favourite Spring sights (and scents). 

Stonard morning

We were out early doors this morning, beginning our walk over Cranborne Chase ways shortly after sunrise. Mist clung amongst the stands. Stonard Wood looked like a set from Robin of Sherwood or Middle Earth. Not a soul about, lovely, just the subtle sound and movement of nature changing shifts to the dawn chorus. The conditions under foot were such that even travelling at a good pace you could move near silently, I find it's a nice way to move through the land, lends your walk an ethereal feel. I thought the woods misty, though nothing compared to the Ridgeway where visibility was down to 50 meters at times; like walking through the clouds. What a day.

Round House

A small Iron Age roundhouse reconstruction in Church Bottom, a nicely executed example too. Very cool indeed.

Old track

I love this avenue of Beech trees flanking the Faulston Drove as it descends into the Ebble Valley from Faulston Down. The drove is the course of a Roman road, quiet possibly a trackway long before that, one which has seen continuous use right up to present day. The graffiti scribed into the drove's venerable trees have stories to tell too, of loves and lives in a rural setting, and broader events of national importance, such as the coronation of Edward the VII and the sinking of the Lusitania. It's a veritable walk through the ages; and on a morning such as this morning a sublime one.