Patterns

A visit to the illustrated tree over in Pinnick Wood. Lovely patterns and textures on this wonderfully unique dwarf Oak tree, a tree with real presence.

Twist and brake

Well, shake it up, baby, now, twist and brake (twist and brake).  The forces that must be required to cause this type of damage to a strong veteran/ancient Oak are staggering. This Oak must have been thrashing about, shaking and twisting, before it finally succumbed and splintered apart. What must that have sounded like? It must be a singularly terrifying and exciting spectacle/experience to behold. This part of Pinnick Wood is quite elevated and exposed, and it's clear is regularly scoured by storm winds. The woodland floor is littered with the torn boughs and discarded branches of the inhabitants, few of which don't exhibit damage to some degree, and a few which are little more than damage. 

Bilröst

The Bilröst is opened and someone/something crosses the rainbow bridge between Midgard and Asgard, or......... it could be the reflection, refraction and dispersion of light in water droplets. Your perceptions are your own. Though, I'm sure I heard the Gjallarhorn echo through the stands.

Wax Caps

Wax Caps look like the kind of mushrooms which lurked in the backgrounds of fairy tale illustrations, appearing as they do in a bewildering array of vibrant colours and hues.  Sometimes they even look artificial.  They're a common sight in the autumn forest on the exposed short grass lawns and around the woodland edges. This example 'I think' is a Hygrocybe miniata or maybe a Scarlet Hood (Hygrocybe coccinea), though I think the former is most probable.  Of the extensive Wax Cap family some are edible, some are not, and some are classified as 'edibility unknown'; even the edible group varies, for example  H. coccinea 'edible good' whereas H. miniata 'edible not recommended'. Any mushroom group like Hygrocybe which are easily misidentified through subtle colour changes and weathering are most definitely off my wild food menu. Groovy things to see, mind.

Black Water

Autumns dappled light falls on an old meander of Black Water's, now a small oxbow lake, the old tree lined bank is easy to see.  Autumn's a lovely season in the forest.

Warwickslade Cutting

Not a cutting any more. Warwickslade Cutting, once a straight, deep cut, forest drain, now meanders gracefully between the open stands of Warwick Slade, a beautiful and vibrant stream.  You'd not know, the transformation still amazes me every time I walk here. Already the Slade is becoming boggy, and care is needed when walking the course of the stream, or before you know it, you'll be shin deep with wet feet. I got wet feet. There's no doubt the forest is much wetter, and for much longer, than it was 20 years ago. The affects of bog woodland restoration have been pronounced in this part of the forest particularly. During the wettest periods the open areas, and woodland, are underwater for days or even weeks at a time, and areas of that standing water will endure until late spring. Calm walking today, lovely, the air was clean too.

Silent walking

The forest felt proper autumnal this afternoon, it was warm and dank, a light rain blanketed the landscape, softening everything, it had moistened the leaves on the woodland floor just enough for you to move unheard through the stands. Periodically the tiny raindrops which clung to the canopy way up above, would merge and tumble earthwards in isolated down pours.  I became aware that I made no noise as I walked, I listened for any give away sound I may make as I move, though heard nothing. Nothing but for the drip drop of the rain and the occasional acorn, Burley Old was silent and still. And I moved silently through it. I'm fairly invisible too in my usual forest toned cloths. Though clearly not invisible enough, as although I freeze as soon as I see him, a fine white stag has clocked my approach, disappearing through the bracken he moves off with his girls at speed, and is lost in autumns jumble. A couple of ponies looked up, though realizing there's nothing going on, quickly return to their chomping.  And the stands are silent and still again. Burley Old is beautiful today, subtly lit through the holes in its canopy left by the fallen. I stand a while in tranquillity and take in the beauty of the woodland, I breath it in, it's magical, it's an antidote to some of the crappier elements of modernity, it's reviving and rejuvenating. Nice. Restored, I continued on with my damp walk leaving Burley Old and its inhabitants in peace. I'm grateful for the forest.

30 years fallen

It was 30 years ago today that the 'Great Storm' ravaged the South Coast, wreaking havoc and destruction. The forest suffered, especially the older trees. Swathes of adolescent timber plantation were felled, sad, though easily replaced. Not so easy to replace were veteran and ancient leviathan trees who'd watched over the forest for centuries. They'd seen the works of man in the forest come and go, coppice, pollard, graze, enclose, bound, drain, plant, extract, repeat. Standing firm and resolute these ancients had weathered countless previous storms with maybe only a battle scar, though this storm was to be their downfall, quite literally. Bratley Wood, exposed as it is on high open ground, took a pounding in the storm. I remember the prostrate hulks, shattered trunks and fallen boughs of many of it's inhabitants. Bratley felt like an appropriate place to walk today. Bratley Wood's a beautiful open woodland, never enclosed, it's old and knows it, it holds an air of timeless tranquillity, along with the memory of the forest in it's huge Beech and Oak. It also holds a history of storms in its rotting relics, a history which extends well before 1987 and right up to the present day, and some of those stumps of trunks and fallen remains are the result of 30 years ago. 30 years and still a presence in the woodland. Some of the trees were truncated in the style of a brutal pollarding, though even some of these still produce leaf each year, and some have become fertile homes to seeds from other species, and live on. How cool are trees.

Great Huntley Beech

Veteran Beech in Great Huntley Bank, timeless.

Waterside Rocks

I climbed one of the wooden shooting towers on the edge Great Huntley Bank and Camel Green. It's an older tower and the tops of the uprights have hollowed through weathering, in one of the hollows was a stone painted pink with a pair of blue and yellow eyes. On the underside of the stone creature was 'Find Waterside Rocks FB Have Fun'. Apparently it's a thing, a community based around Southampton who paint rocks and leave them places for people to find. Cool. I like the idea of leaving art for people to find, and I like the idea of the connections that can create and the community which could develop.   

Fatties

I saw these couple of fatties out in the forest. Mad looking bikes. The frame clearances look outlandish, though they have to be to fit the tyres, tyres which are huge, 4.8'' fitting as they do 100mm wide rims. The guys said the great for mud and sand, and are a lot of fun. Must be slow riding though, and hard going on the road. The top bike is a Surly Moonlander, and the bottom a Cube e-fatbike, the Cube also had a motor.  If I had loads of money I'd have a range of bikes to fit terrain, conditions and mood. Though I haven't, so I think I'll stick to my Santa Cruz, it may not like the deep mud or sand, but it's versatile on and off road. It's funny what you see out.

Underground art

A nice piece of subway art found in the subway under the A31 near the Spreading Oak and Winding Stonard. Simple and effective colours used well in classic NYC style. I have no objection to art like this, it brightens a dull concrete subway and adds something unexpected to your walk.

St Aldhelm's Head to Emmett's Hill

The path between St Aldhelm's Head to Emmett's Hill.

St Aldhelm's Head and Chapmans Pool

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We were over Purbeck today, exploring the rugged terrain of the Jurassic Coast, and to make it more challenging, for most of the walk (walk really being a misnomer) we created our own route over, or followed animal tracks over, a rough boulder strewn landscape, across acute slopes of loose dried clay or through a dense carpet of bramble and thorn.  It made for an interesting outing. It started with a bracing stroll out to Houns Tout with its beautiful views into the Encombe Bowl and the Jurassic Coast as it unfolds west, before we descended to Chapman's Pool. Between Chapman's Pool and the western slope of St Aldhelm's Head there has always been a narrow path, it's course would occasional change, through the path remained a constant, not so now. Although some sections of the path remain, for the most part the path is gone; the sea has eroded so much in recent years, the coast is raw and fluid, blasted with pebbles flung by the waves. There's no path to follow. There's something primeval about making your own way through nature, you are forced to take notice of your surroundings more, to look ahead as well as your footfall. Over the years, as with everywhere else, the brambles here have invaded and colonized the boulders, rocks and quarry waste beneath St Aldhelm's Head, they tangle your feet or rap themselves around your legs with incredible efficiency, they really are a pain the arse.  Though the views we were afforded as we moved up and around the headlands were more than compensation for our injuries. Eventually we climbed out of the old quarry mouth, turning to take in the dramatic view back into the quarry and the sea a 100 meters below us. It struck me how green the post industrial landscape had become, when we started coming here in the 80's the scene was one of starkness a bare stone landscape. How much its changed. The views from St Aldhelm's Head in all directions are phenomenal. Kicking back in a depression of long rough grass, I think, I could lay here all afternoon soaking in the autumn sun and scenery.  Though we're not sat for long, before it's off west in the direction of Emmett's Hill and Chapman's Pool. This time the paths are defined and well kept, easier walking but for the deeply cut blunt valley between the two headlands, which is all steep stairs and aching. The light catches the cattle lines which mark the valley's steep grassy sides. It's not only the cattle tracks which are picked out, but also depressions and hollows, and a track which cuts diagonally across the slope and which once would have reached the tiny bay below, though now ends abruptly meters above the sea. A testament to the erosion of the years. Once around Emmett's Hill we drop into Hill Bottom, it's wooded core holds a secret. Over the fence (for sometimes you just must) and you're into a deeply cut wooded gorge through which a stream flows. A gentle stream today, though in the wet season a torrent. It's a magical place of gnarled trees, waterfalls, sparkling pools and luscious ferns. If you chose to get off the path and roam, nature will always show you her wonders.  We left Hill Bottom and made our way up through grassy fields and nettle choked footpaths until we'd returned to our start point in Kingston. Fabulous walk immersed in natures glory, in good company and under a generous Autumn sun.  

Dirty protest

And what are they protesting? Their apparent right to be shit thick and ignorant. I mean, really! What is wrong with these people?  Their ignorance and disregard for others and the environment dumbfounds me as much as annoys me. The worst bit about picking up dog poo, is picking it up, and if you've got a dog you know you get used to it, once you've picked up the rest is easy; or so you'd think. Obviously not for these morons, and they're out there in huge numbers too, no, they choose to festoon trees with their bags of shite. Why! I don't understand. I'd be ashamed if I left a bag of poo, though they appear proud and want to display their ignorance for all to see. It's bad enough when you see their dirty protests in the local park, but out here in the forest it just seems weirder and worse. What the f*ck is wrong with these people?

Going nuts

The forest is going nuts at the moment. It's been a really good year for nuts all round, and the moment now belongs to the Sweet Chestnut (Castanea sativa). Recent winds have dislodged the cracked open spiky cases, littering the woodland floor around the trees with hundreds of fair sized nuts and empty cases. That's a thing I've noticed this year, 2015 and 2016's nutting seasons saw the chestnuts unfairly divided between a portion of very good sized nuts (30%) though with the bulk of the nuts being of a poor size or near hollow (70%), whereas, this season the nuts appear to be predominantly (70%) a more uniform size, a reasonable and still useful size. This situation isn't restricted to one site either, it appears to be the same wherever I've walked in the forest of late. If you wanted some sweet chestnuts now is the time to get out there, you'd collect your fill in no time at all.

Holmhill Cottage

If you look carefully around the forest you may spot incongruous features which could be clues to past activity or events. It's astounding what history hides from us in plain sight, only seen if we really look. It could be earthworks of some kind, hidden footings, boundaries, pieces of masonry or in this case non native plants. At Holmhill you'll see a plantation of non native Eucalyptus trees, and in the spring, clusters of daffodils, these mark the site of Holmhill Cottage. Holmhill had seen occupation from at least the 1600's and was described in 1670 as a place ''very much delightful for the feeding and harbouring of his Majesties deer'' (New Forest Notes by Anthony Pasmore), and a cottage stood here right up until the late 70's when the last occupant died and the buildings were demolished. The only physical remnant of the cottage is a significant piece of brickwork, possibly a chimney, about 100m down hill wedged in a drainage ditch.  When the cottage, stables and out buildings were gone the Forestry Commission ploughed the whole site and planted these Eucalyptus trees. So you're looking at what Eucalyptus trees growing in Britain look like after 40 years. Holmhill Cottage must have been a magnificent place to live back in the day, rudimentary maybe with no services and limited amenities, though set as it was in such splendid isolation, I'm sure you could overlook those. 

Ocknell Arch Oak

In the valley through which the head waters of Highland Water flow, the Ocknell Arch Oak towers above its surrounding neighbours. A majestic ancient Oak, the Ocknell Arch Oak is reaching the end of its leaf bearing days. For the most part it's naked, a few branches have the fading semblance of leafing twigs, but only a few. The last 10 years have seen it decline markedly, I wondered if it would leaf at all next year. Though even if they don't and no more leaves burst from its boughs, it will still have a presence in the forest for decades to come.

The sound of silence

The hushed woods were a paradox, they were so still today, so quiet, that you could hear everything.

Gills

Gills.

Saga Vols. 4 to 6

I've just binge read volumes 4 through 6 of Saga, and it just keeps getting better as the characters, universe and story grows and unfolds. Written masterfully by Brian K. Vaughan and illustrated beautifully by Fiona Staples, it far exceeds most of it's contemporaries in consistency and quality, and really is a graphic masterpiece. The story continues to engage and moves at just the right pace, not rushing the story, nor not getting bogged down. If you don't know the story. It's a story as old as stories get, boy and girl from different warring sides meet, one has horns the other wings, they fall in love and everybody's pissed off about it. Vaughan tells it in such an original and imaginative way, and Staples illustrates it sumptuously, every page is a visual feast of line and colour. It never fails to surprise, and often shocks. The universe Vaughan and Staples have created is complexed and colourful, a universe engaged in an ages old war, every star system and race enlisted, a universe where technology and magic blend seamlessly. When our main protagonists fall in love and have a child (Hazel), the entrenched sides see the offspring of their union as an abomination rather than a blessing. I'm tickled that the afore mentioned main protagonists bonded and built a relationship, a dream, over a pulp book by underrated writer Mister Heist; inspiration can come from anywhere. The characters have depth and originality, you just accept them, no matter how weird or outlandish. You accept that Prince Robot IV is essentially a human with a tv screen head, there's a cat that knows if you're lying and a spectral half bodied girl Izabel is a member of the family; it's a wonderfully rich universe populated by endlessly weird characters. These 3 volumes continue telling the story through Hazel's narration, of her recollections and perspective. There's separation, reunion and loss, there's sadness and humour, good helpings of humour both in the writing and the illustrations. There's soap opera shenanigans, drugs, bounty hunters looking for revenge, revolutionaries, deception, loyalty, sacrifice and a quest for healing monster jizz.  I can't go into any detail without giving spoilers. So, you're just going to have to read them yourself. And hey, you'd be mad not to, this is comics at their best.

Corfe

Corfe, the castle they couldn't take, one of the most formidable castles in the realm and one which was never taken nor slighted in battle. The romantic ruins set in the Purbeck hills you see today are the consequence of what happened after battle, not through it. The castle was held by the Royalists during the second Civil War to great effect, untouchable and unaffected by the Parliamentarian attacks and siege, the castle only fell through an act of betrayal. Afterwards the Parliamentarians set about ensuring the castle could never be used against them again, with mining and explosives, though still it remains defiantly.  Corfe has a fascinating history and is well worth a visit and read up.

Swyre Head walk

Lime Kilm

Chapmans Pool and St Aldhelms Head from Swyre Head

West from Swyre Head

Encombe Bowl

Corfe Castle

Purbeck was stunning today, I say today, Purbeck is always stunning, no matter what season or weather it's a landscape that stirs the spirit. Purbeck is a landscape with millennia of human activity etched into it, though never really tamed, it remains in essence a wild place. Yeah, on a sunny day it looks the rural idyll, but walk it in bad weather and it can transform into a formidable and foreboding environment. Still, today was the former and beautiful walking it was.

Harvest Moon

The Harvest Moon was beautiful this evening. Harvest Moon is the name given to the full moon closest to the Autumn Equinox, tonight was the first time Harvest Moon fell in October since 2009. It was a good night for a full moon fire, we were blessed with a clear sky to show off the moon in all her glory.  I over did the fire a few times, possibly on account of me consuming a few to many shots of brown liquor on an empty stomach before I started. The fire pit area, nestled amongst the trees as it is was at times fully illuminated and I was pushed to the edge by the heat of my own stupidity. I slouched, blunted, along the fire side bench staring up at the full moon through our Hazel tree as shadows cast by the fire danced and flicked around me. Listening to Cary Grace's 'Projections' my alcohol muddled mind drifted up through the branches with the smoke rising from the fire. Projections is a fine album of a proggy psyche flavour, it's very atmospheric, and suited my melancholic mood well. It has been a mournful month since the last full moon, a full moon which was met with relief and thanks, though which sadly heralded a period heartache and upset. In fact, for the most part, the whole of September was a pile of shite.

Knopper Gall

Here's a weird looking thing, it's a Oak Knopper Gall caused by a small Gall Wasp (Andricus quercuscalicis), the gall is home to the wasp in their grub form. The irregular shaped gall isn't where the weird stops. The Gall Wasp (Andricus quercuscalicis) has a two part life-cycle which requires our native Pedunculate Oak (Quercus robur) and the fairly recently introduced Turkey Oak (Quercus Cerris).  The Turkey Oak was only introduced into Britain in the mid 1700's. The Gall Wasp itself wasn't known in Britain before the 1960's, though by the end of the 70's they had become well established, spreading as far north as Scotland by the end of the last century. Nature's always changing, adapting to new opportunities. There were concerns that they'd cause untold damage to our native oak population, though that hasn't happened, and our mighty oaks, crowded with life as they are, just adopted the foreign gall wasps and carried on. There's a message for our times there.

Stick house

And the second little piggy built his house out of sticks, and it wasn't too shabby, neither. The best stick shelter I've seen in a while. On the Pennington Marsh walk there's only one small tract of woodland near Keyhaven, on the return route. It really is small, immature trees stunted by the harshness of their environment.  Approaching it I thought the view through the woodland looked clearer than I remembered it, at first I though the trees had grown a lot, but not in the few years we'd not walked here, surely. I saw a shelter and thought I'd take a peek, on closer examination I noticed a lot of sawn branches in its mix, then looking around I saw that most of the accessible branches on the surrounding trees were gone, hence the clear look of the wood. That and they'd used every piece of fallen wood too, making the woodland floor artificially clean too. From a forestry and timber production point of view the shelter builders have done the trees a favour and not really done any damage. Although, I don't think that was in their minds at the time, bad little piggies. Still, a well built shelter.

Pennington Marsh

We used to walk the sea wall which protects Pennington Marshes from the Solent regularly when the forest became too wet and muddy. Starting and finishing at Keyhaven, you can take a really nice circular route all along the coast and return via a variety of interesting inland tracks, with lovely views throughout. There's no shelter on this walk, it's open to what the elements have to share and although beautiful this morning, it can be very different in bad weather, still stunning, though. We hadn't walked here for some years though, as Norris got older he developed arthritis in his front paws, the sea wall path is hard packed aggregates and became too difficult for him to manage.  Unlike many of the walks we neglected in recent years, this one hasn't changed a bit. Nice way to start the day.

Beech

The magnificent veteran and ancient Beech are, each and every one, majestic queens of the forest.

A Fruits de Mer day

It's always time to celebrate when a Fruits de Mer Records package pops through your letter box. Fruits de Mer Records are purveyors of the finest psychedelic flavoured music, real gems that your ears got to hear, records that are always of superb quality and fairly priced. I'd heard of them through a friend raved about them for years, and rightly so, everything I've got through them gives me immense listening pleasure. Today's delivery was of two singles I'd pre-ordered, 'Always Here' by psychedelic rockers from Spain, Stay and 'Lovely Cuppa Tea' by psychedelic popsters, The Chemistry Set. As with FdM packages, invariably there's a little extra thrown in, in this case a couple of promotional tea bags, a lyric sheet for 'Lovely Cuppa Tea' and a free CD by folkist Scott William Urquhart. Very nice. Now to give them all a thorough listening to!

Hard pigs

I'd read in an article over the weekend that there were a gang of rowdy pigs roaming the Mill Lawn area attacking folk. One guy even got knocked over and bitten!  So as I was walking nearby I thought I'd seek said gang out, and see if they were as hard as people made out. They were! I didn't have search too far for them, I followed the sound of a barking dog, the sort of bark that suggests 'look what I've found', and sure enough a small hound was bothering and being bothered by a group of 5 pigs. Just as I got near, the dog buggered off and the pigs got on with snuffling. All 5 pigs were a fair size, soft fawny brown with black spots, fine examples of their breed, no doubt.  The area where they were grubbing has plenty of cover, so it was easy to sneak up quite close. They didn't notice me for a while, too busy with their searching.  The photo is taken at the moment they did notice me, and only seconds before they ran at me. As the article had suggested, they were indeed aggressive, feisty and looking for trouble. I'd equipped myself with a sturdy stick, with the intention of standing my ground and showing them I wasn't scared. Though I quickly dropped that plan in favour of running away as fast as I could. Luckily they weren't that persistent, as I'm not certain I could have out run them if they kept coming.  Man, could they move fast. Really fast! Even taking into account the dog bothering them, I'd say these were the most aggressive pigs I've come across in any pannage. Normally they're inquisitive and will come right up to you, although tentatively and would withdraw at any sudden move. Still, fun in the forest.

Coniferous canopy

Many of the exotics you see in the forest today were planted around the mid 19th century; I think it was all the rage in posh circles. The most famous, and the most visited is Rhinefield's Ornamental Drive of redwoods and firs, which was created for the nearby manor house in 1859. The Coast Douglas Fir is a favourite exotic seen about. All over the forest there are Coast Douglas Firs (Pseudotsuga menziesii) dotted around, most will have been planted about 150 years or so ago, so still have a good 400 left to grow, and they're already very tall, projecting well above the surrounding deciduous canopy.  Towards their tops their trunks are covered in numerous small straight branches, which remind me of 'Kerplunk'. They look like they'd made it easy to climb, though I don't think those branches are that sturdy, and how you'd scale the meters of near bare trunk to get up to them to start with, is uncertain.

Hanging around

One of the first stretches of forest drain to be restored to it's earlier course, maybe 25 years ago, Blackensford Brook now runs through a diverse corridor of bog woodland flora, tufted grasses mingle between trunk and shrub. The restoration plan is working, the brook now drains the surrounding land more slowly and over the intervening years there's no doubt that the woodland along the environs of the brook are becoming wetter. Trying to walk along the bank of the brook today was like walking through Mirkwood, with every conceivable opportunity to string a web taken, every bramble, bough, tuft, tussock and fern were joined by a filigree of gossamer. A spider waited in the center of each these bejewelled traps.

Bratley from Backley

Across the wet valley in which Blackensford Brook is born, the ancient Bratley Wood as seen from Backley Enclosure. The forest was wet today, wet just hung there in the air and clung to everything, every fern and tuft of grass. The wet air muffled the forest, all you could hear was water, dripping from the boughs, flowing through the gullies, rattling over gravel and bursting over the detritus dams which frequently appear in the forest streams. That and the noise of your feet splashing with every step. Did I mention it was wet. Still, it was nice out.