Spy Holms Barrow

 

The forest is peppered with prehistoric Bronze Age barrows, 200 or so, cremation depositories for the elite class of the communities that shaped the open heath of the forest we see today. Many have been badly degraded by time, the elements and subsequent activities of man and beast, their height slighted, now their ditched filled; once though they'd have stood proud, socially important markers in the prehistoric landscape.

Spy Holms barrow

There are four Bronze Age barrows (two loose pairs) on Spy Holms, roughly dating from around 2000 to 1500 BC, of which the barrow in the photo would've been the biggest. Although centuries of forestry have no doubt destroyed many, there are still 2000 or so Bronze Age barrows surviving on the New Forest's heaths.  We have the builders of these barrows, and their Neolithic forebears, to thank for the landscape we see today. It was they who originally cleared the land for farming, only to find the soils too poor to sustain agriculture, though perfect for the development of heathland. It's difficult to identify which type of barrow it originally was, thousands of years of the elements and wildlife have somewhat slighted what must have been a substantial and important burial mound, though I'd suggest it was a bowl barrow. 

 

 

Bratley Plain barrow (one of)

Above is one of a cluster of seven Bronze Age Barrows which themselves form part of the larger and well dispersed Bratley Plain Barrow cemetery. This barrow is one of the better preserved of the group, at about 7m wide, and reduced by time and robbing/'excavation' from it's original height to about 1m or.  In the centre of the mound is an irregular hollow, evidence of the earlier robbing/'excavation'. The mound would've been surrounded by a ditch which is now for the most part filled with debris excavated from the mound, with only a small partially filled section remaining visible. There are in excess of 400 barrows remaining across the new forest suggesting a sizeable Bronze Age population.

Ferny Knap Barrow

Jack had been busy in the forest overnight, the moat of Ferny Knap's larger Iron Age Round Barrow was frozen solid, and the heather and browned bracken which cover and surround in were dusted crunchy white. A stunning winter world.  It's been a long while since we've seen the forest like this, too long in fact. This is premium walking weather, and rare enough for it to be really savoured and enjoyed.

Lineage in the landscape

Landscape tells the story of our collective journey through the ages via a myriad of individual stories played out and memorialised on it's surface. And it's everywhere. This morning birds flocked fresh furrows as a farmer tilled his field to a fine tilth; the crest of the field is crowned by two fine large Bronze Age round barrows, even after 4000 years of weathering remaining striking features in the terrain. As we passed below the field the fresh furrows channelled my view directly towards a barrow, highlighting a direct linage in the landscape. These barrows were put here by successful farming communities; settled farming communities that even by the Bronze Age had worked these fertile soils for 2000 years (older Neolithic long barrows are commonplace in these parts). That's 6000 years of uninterrupted farming so far....and counting. I thought, if you could raise one of these ancient farmers, once you'd stopped them freaking out, they'd understand exactly what was going on, they'd recognise farming as the fundamentals have changed little. Cool, eh. 

Separately, as we returned home listening to the radio, blah blah climate crisis, financial crisis, corona crisis, death doom blah blah and so on, just for a moment I was in the opening sequence of one of those epic apocalyptic disaster movies. Strange days.

And did those feet?

And did those feet in ancient time, walk upon England's mountains green? You bet they did, and they left plenty of traces of their passing by too. England's quite small really, so it's no surprise that the landscape is so abundant in the relics of foregone times. Again today we found ourselves walking the rural byways of Dorset and as if to perfectly illustrate my opening statement, through time. We parked up at the Kingston Lacy end of the 700 tree Beech Avenue created in 1835; past the Bronze Age round barrows of King Down (above); on past a really rare Romano-British barrow (35m diameter and 6m high, surrounded by a partially filled ditch); on past the architecturally fantastic farm buildings of Hemsworth with it's origins in the 16th century; past the earthen remains of a an earlier medieval settlement, listed as Hemedeswordes in the Doomsday Book; past the site of a 4th Century Roman Villa famed for it's fine mosaics; past woodland hiding the foundations of wartime accommodation; across the World War Two airfield of Tarrant Rushton from where, on D-Day, the gliders took off for the famous attack on Pegasus Bridge, the first allied troop in occupied Europe; along the Ackling Dyke Roman Road; below the ramparts of the majestic Iron Age hillfort of the Durotriges, Badbury Rings; and finally back to where we began. And that doesn't take into account the history I don't know, or that which remains hidden. A real walk through time I'm sure you'd agree.    

Old straight track

Bridleway you say? If you're an elf riding a stoat, maybe. This section of the old Roman road, Ackling Dyke, just north of Badbury Rings, is tightly flanked by thick towering country hedge, making the already slim path, very narrow indeed. It felt akin to being in a maze, just a long unimaginative straight maze; The Ackling Dyke runs across the softly rolling chalk farmland like this for about half a mile. It's a long time since I've walked these tracks, not since Norris got too old to walk them, 5 or so years ago. I like this landscape, although predominantly farmland there's diversity too, and a lot lies hidden too, less walked tracks to find, secluded spots and views are just amazing. Obviously, this shot doesn't show those views to their best. 

I can see for miles

There are two pairs of Bronze Age round barrows on the plateau of Spy Holms, the largest one is positioned squarely in the centre of the open grass and heather expanse. Although now much reduced in height by time and the elements this low profile barrow affords clear views in all directions, what with Spy Holms being rather flat and all. You'll often see one of the forest's ponies taking advantage of the elevation to survey strings of ponies scattered around the holms.

Martin Down

The Chase (Cranborne Chase) is a versatile landscape, a mosaic of woodland, grassland  and farmland, mostly arable, though some grazing. Today we were roaming Martin Down, an extensive tract of chalk grassland. This landscape has been favoured by our ancestors for thousands of years; they've hunted it, farmed it, occupied it and ritualized it, their works litter the land, layer over layer of rich history.  The photo is taken from a robbed out Bronze Age Round Barrow, whether robbed by 'archaeologists' in antiquity or by treasure hunters, I don't know off hand, although the scar left by their endeavours is clearly visible. Lovely day for walking, I was glad to have got out early, mind, as it was really warming up by late morning.  

The New Forest

When people think of the New Forest I'm sure it's of expansive woodlands, of which there are some 230 sq mi of broadleaved woodlands and enclosed mixed plantation, although there are also 59 sq mi of open grassland, heathland and wetland. The photo above is representative of much of the forests heathland, a mixture of dry heathland with pockets of wetland heath, wetland and carr woodland filling hollows in the undulating landscape. Many of the wetland heath areas are impassible, especially through the wet seasons, punctuated as they are by wetland proper, you'll often find yourself following the contours of the land, making a 5 minute walk as the crow flies, a 20 walk.  This view is of the lower reaches of Duck Hole and Duck Hole Bog taken from one of the Bronze Age Round Barrows which border Ferny Knap enclosure (one of the smaller enclosures 21 acres, enclosed 1843. Lovely morning.

Nine Barrow Down

There are few trees hardy enough to consider attempting tenure on the seaward side of the Purbeck Hills, even fewer on the summit, rarely free of strong winds as it is. There's no season in which the Isle of Purbeck isn't at the mercy of the weather, and today was no exception, a brisk chill wind raked the hills. There's one tree though, a Hawthorn, which stands, or rather bows, on the bare ridge, close to a group of prehistoric burial mounds, the oldest over 5000 years. It's right to see Hawthorn and mound together, both having close association with the fay, both being home to faeries or gateway's to their world. The hawthorn looks as if weirdly trained by a mad arborist, though it's been shaped by the elements, or rather, one element. It's strength and tenacity in holding firm against that element is visible in its contorted form, it has clearly adopted a bend rather than break mentality, and that has served it well. It's still here, the winds haven't won, as yet. 

Isle of the dead

'The Butt' a substantial Bronze Age bowl barrow on Janesmore Plain in the north of the forest. I've long wondered if the origin of our 'Isle of the Dead' references in story, legend and myth isn't in this type of prehistoric monument. This barrow is after all, when it's surrounding ditch is water filled, an island which houses the dead. Or, maybe the barrow was designed to symbolize just that, and the original story stretches right back into prehistory. Whatever, I know there's a connection. Prehistoric people revered water and watery places, these were magical, life giving places where deities dwelt; they saw mounds as symbolic too, often as portals, or places to move between, of transition.  Anyway, this barrow (best in the forest, in my mind) perfectly symbolizes an isle of the dead.

Bare Barrow

Although Spring is almost upon us, the trees are still bare on Knowltons' 6m high Great Barrow. Constructed in the late Neolithic or early Bronze Age it's the largest barrow in Dorset. The Knowlton complex must have been something to see in prehistory and a very significant regional ritual/spiritual site. Even today with many of those prehistoric features ploughed out, levelled and invisible, what remains are still striking, the ruined church at the henges' centre, in-particular, can be spotted from a distance and on a misty day appears ghostly. Knowlton's are real gem, and whether it's the archaeology, the history, the landscape or the vibe, Knowlton well worth a visit. Walk the bank of the Neolithic henge, wander the ruined medieval church , take in a sunrise/sunset, picnic, or just site a take it all in. You'll love it.

Isles of the dead

I've often wondered whether the water filled ditches of ancient Bronze Age round barrows influenced our later myths and legends around Isles of the Dead, Isles of the Young, Summer Isles and such like.  Were these stories born from the remembered tales and half truths of ancient ritual, practice and perceptions around death and the beyond, which had been passed down through the generations orally? Are other elements within our myths and legends also derived from the periods ritual, practice and perceptions? If so, what could we learn? We know that a barrow wasn't just a burial, and would have played an important part in community cohesion and reinforcing the shared narrative, amongst other things. As Timothy Darvill wrote, 'Individual barrows witnessed extended and complicated ceremonies and rituals. There were clearly many rules, precedents and taboos surrounding the ways barrows and their burials were created'. So, did these Bronze Age barrows symbolize the original Isles to which the the dead travelled? Was the builders intention for the ditches to fill with water symbolizing an island?  Are the journeys which the dead often take in these stories symbolic or an echo of  the burial ritual? Do the ancillary characters in these stories represent the main protagonists, after the deceased, in the burial rituals of the Bronze Age, members of the family/priests/shaman? Where's a Bronze Age person to ask when you need one! 

All these questions whirred around my head as I lay atop this forest barrow, surrounded (all but for a causeway facing South East), by a water filled ditch. At which point, bathed in the Suns' promise of what's to come, I promptly fell asleep. I awoke none the wiser.  Sadly, those in the mound were keeping schtum.

What got me thinking, was an article I recently read about fairy tales being much older than the 400 or so years we thought. In fact, dating as far back as the Bronze Age. Makes you think.

http://www.theguardian.com/books/2016/jan/20/fairytales-much-older-than-previously-thought-say-researchers