Warwickslade Cutting

Water is beginning to settle in the forest, the ground has noticeably softened, to the point where every footfall is now accompanied by a splash.  Amongst the wetter lower lying stands every ditch and hollow has become a watery obstacle, there come times in the forest when your boots never properly dry, now is shaping up to be one of those times. Throughout the forest the tiny tributaries and smaller water courses are coming into their own, the landscape is changed. For much of the year you can easily step over Warwickslade Cutting (a former straight drain restored to its former meandering course, here running through Camel Green), though the recent rains have brought about a transformation, its become a proper stream  and will probably stay like this until spring. This is a lovely spot and one we'll return to as autumn continues towards it's colourful crescendo, the reflection of autumn's tints in the puddled terrain are beautiful.  

You lookin' at me?

You lookin' at me? You lookin' at me? You lookin' at me? Then who the hell else are you  lookin' at? You  lookin' at  me? Well, I'm the only one here. Who do the f*** do you think you're  lookin' at? Oh, yeah? Ok. This stag was clearly a De Niro fan.

Magical misty morning

You can't beat mornings like these, the eerie diffused light, with all the landscape's colours drained and muted, that rich earthy petrichor smell filling your senses, and the soft muffled sounds combine to create a unique magic. It resonates deeply with you on several different levels, conscious and subconscious.

Panther Cap

A somewhat out of focus photo of a Panther Cap (Amanita pantherina), a shame, as it was a perfect example, caught at just the right time. 

Red Rise risen

Today Red Rise Brook has risen making places to cross limited, the usually gentle and docile stream is running well beyond it's banks, with crossings limited to the forestry bridges and a couple of fortuitously placed trees. Of course, it can extend much further, to the point where as a consequence of flooding even the bridges are redundant, although today's still a timely reminder of the shape of the wet season forest, and it's associated navigational considerations. 

Nature's mycelic cornucopia

I've not seen the forest's Cep (Boletus edulis) community expressing it's fecundity to the present extremes for many years, it's a rare and beautiful event. There were so many Ceps that it was hard not to tread on them as we wandered through the stands. Ceps of all sizes, from small perfectly formed buttons and the eponymous bun to the tea-plate sized ones, made for drying. Ceps have burst through in places I know them to grow, though rarely see them there and even in spots I don't remember ever seeing them. We've been foraging amongst these oak stands for 30 years, and this is something special, it might well be the most prolific I've ever seen them... it's a mycelic cornucopia. 

Master of all he surveys

Geoff checks out activity across in Stag Brake this morning.

Late arrivals.

The rains have brought out a flush of Parasol mushrooms (Macrolepiota procera) across Spy Holms, there are dozens of them tucked away amongst the fading heather, trooped and singular. It's the best show of them that I've seen here in years. Normally they'd have been out for a while now, dotted here and there, although the dry nature of this year's summer/early autumn has inhibited them. They're certainly making up for it now.

Houns Tout loop

Today we were back out to Purbeck, well, it would be rude not to on a morning as glorious as this. Today we took the ridge out to Houns Tout from Kingston, it was lovely. For me, the views from the ridge into the Encombe Valley and over towards Swyre Head never lose their shine, nor do those from Houns Tout, which was windswept. I'm not too fond of heights and the Tout is exposed with a narrow path across it, quite nerve wracking, although nothing compared with the steep descent towards Chapmans Pool with an excited Geoff, the angle of the slope and the length of Geoff's lead were at odds with each other. I calmed myself with a mantra of profanity, usually works. There are very steep steps down, a lot of steps, steps which feel too close together, and as so are hard to negotiate. It was not a comfortable descent, and I was grateful to reach the bottom of the steps without incident, then promptly fell on my arse...gave me a laugh. One last look across Chapmans Pool at Emmett's Hill and St Aldhelm's Head beautifully illuminated in the autumn sun, and it was back off towards Kingston.  A bracing, if not briefly terrifying, Sunday walk.

Burley Old #?

Burley Old #? I'm not sure how many times I've posted about some aspect or other of Burley Old enclosure, or just a photo. It's certainly one of our favoured stands and undoubtedly a place imbued with oodles of natural magic. Maybe that's why we're called back to it so frequently. And, I'm sure we're not the only ones who thinks so either, judging by all the varied signs of activity we come across. This morning it was really still, beyond the stands a dense mist blanketed the forest, though only manifest lightly amongst Burley Old's veteran Beech adding a fairytale air, sounds were muffled and quiet reigned. It was nice.

Red Rise Brook

Where the surface of the forest is still so dry any rain that does fall, quickly drains off the land through a myriad of bogs and rivulets into the forests arterial streams. One of the reasons behind the restoration of the forest streams meanders is to slow their flow and encourage the forest's retention of water. Naturally much of the New Forest environment is an expansive sponge, the Victorian forestry drains and stream straightening changed all that to the detriment of the forest's habitat diversity, and the increased frequency of flooding down stream. The restoration's working and the forest is getting year round generally wetter, and wetland diversity again blossoms. Now, in a really wet season the streams fill their surrounding environs for weeks at a time, to the point where you often can't make out their course. Then when the rain stops, within days you're back to near exposed beds (although the forest itself remaining soggy and spongy), as is shown here with the gravel bed of Red Rise Brook beginning to show again in more and more places. Of course, here we're only a couple of miles from the streams head waters, so the gravels show more frequently, whereas further down stream less and less gravel is ever on show as the streams become small rivers and finally the Lymington River and then off into the Solent. We sat for a while today by the burbling brook, autumn sun dancing through the canopy, it was lovely, tranquillity personified.

Psilo-season

The Psilocybe semilanceata are arriving late again in the forest this year. They favour a wetter September, a thing we've not had for a few years now, as it is they're still very few in number and limited to pockets of longer wetter grass, the ground remaining too dry for the most part. As with all fungi I'm constantly amazed at the range of shape and form in which each species manifests. In cropped grass  usually quite small and uniform, although amongst the longer grass the uniformity of Psilocybe semilanceata's size and shape goes right out of the window. 

Perfection

Although winter's still a long way off, for the first time you could feel Jack's icy fingers grasping for you. A chill wind raced across the browned heather expanse of Spy Holms, by no means hard, although it was enough to remind you that the wheel turns towards winter...and turns at a pace. Still, descending towards Rooks Bridge autumn returned in all her radiant glory. Mill Lawn Brook sparkled in the morning sun, whose warmth could now be felt away from the exposed plain. I lack the words, or maybe the skills, to describe days like this properly, there's just a certain something, an air of perfection that suggests that everything is as it should be. The forest was simply glorious. Sat under my old Beech in Burley Old I took in the sights, sounds and smells of the stands, who although bathed in tranquillity and the last days of gorgeous dappled light continued to be a hive of activity. The forest inhabitants must have also felt Jack's breath at their shoulder. 

Forest flotsam

Walking through nature is akin to walking through an open air organic art gallery and sculpture park packed with endless ever changing and evolving installations. Just like any gallery, you get the best out of your visit when you really take time to look, take in all the detail. Everywhere you look you'll find groovy patterns, interesting shapes and textures, from the large sculptural pieces of the stands through the forests infinite minutia, and everything in between, it's all there to be seen. This piece was created by recent flood waters breaching the banks of Red Rise Brook and scouring the floor of its wooded environs, dumping blended graded smears of woodland flotsam as it receded. Honestly, it's as if the woodland floor has been swept clean. It serves to highlight the extent to which these small forest streams flood and with what force, you'd be surprised. 

Storm damage

Only just entering the bad weather season and the recent winds have already slighted another of Burley Old's veterans, a mighty one too, a huge three trunked beech that's now reduced to one trunk. It was only the other day, whilst walking through with a friend, I'd mentioned the growing holes in the canopy, one of those holes is significantly bigger now. It's a worry. Over the last 10 years I've seen these holes develop, and below them, in sharp contrast to the rest of the leaf litter floor, green oasis’s of grass, bracken and bramble thrive. Seeing how Burley Old is going puts me in mind of Bratley Woods with its open aspect, I imagine (and the hulks and stumps scattered about support the idea) that Bratley was once like Burley Old and that in years to come Burley Old will be like Bratley. The woodland really is a scene of weather wrought destruction, it's impossible now to walk a straight path through...which at one time you could have easily done.      

Ceptember

The rains have worked their magic and the mycelial communities have reacted with a show of appreciation, mushrooms of all kinds are coming up all over the place, dozens of varieties are represented. There were plenty of Ceps about, and that's always a good thing. I really didn't have to check much of my favourite mushroom roam this morning to collect all I wanted, a couple of breakfasts and a sheets worth for drying.  Over the years foraging I've learnt the way to make sure you've got dried mushrooms to last, is to collect just a few for drying each time you collect to eat. That way you slowly built up a store without risking leaving it too late and being tempted to over pick in some desperate mass harvesting/processing operation, I don't hold with that sort of picking, I always try and leave mushrooms behind. What I noticed today was that even though many of the Ceps I collected were still quite small and young (I was only walking this way Friday), the stems of most had been well maggoted as had a couple of the caps, still cool for drying though.

Rude trees

I know you'd think trees are cool, and all that, but they can be rude too. This cheeky bugger stuck his tongue out at me as I passed by. It was an Oak of course, Rush warned us about the Oaks.

Stag Brake

Even before the trees go all rainbow hued, the forest was a riot of subtle autumnal colour on this mornings walk. The light was just right, highlighting the rich palette of colours being deployed across the wet heath below Markway Hill perfectly.

Burley Old.....again!

I say 'Burley Old.....again!', as if I'm suffering from Burley Old fatigue, though in reality I love this area of woodland, it holds a special place in my heart and I never get bored of spending time with it. Being one of the oldest enclosures in the forest, created in the first tranche of enclosing in 1700 immediately after the 1698 New Forest Act, it naturally feels imbued by age with an air of dignity and holds itself as one who has stoically endured the elemental ravages of time. The light through the stands was particularly magical this morning, showing the subtle seasonal changes to good effect. I reckon it's near impossible to capture that essence of subtle seasonal change in a photo taken on the fly, if you can capture it at all, although with that in mind I still regularly take a punt at recording the beauty I see on our daily walks in natures wonderland. Burley Old never gets old for me.

Hold on

To paraphrase Country Joe 'hold on they're coming, hold on they're nearly here', the torrential rains have awoken the forest's sleeping mycelial community. Over night throughout my roam mushrooms of all kinds have been rising exponentially. Something that puzzles me though, is why do mushrooms grow in one place and not another? What I mean is, why in this particular roam of mine, which is good throughout for Ceps (boletus edulis), and appears ostensibly to have a uniform underlying geology and surface floral matrix, do the Ceps appear at differing times throughout the shrooming season around afore mentioned roam. Why is that? What subtle variant am I missing?

Deluge

What a difference a day makes. Yesterday I could easily cross Red Rise Brook's exposed gravel beds, today, after last night's deluge the mild mannered brook had risen over half a meter and is impassible other than it's bridges. In fact, the whole nature of the forest had changed over night, every seasonal waterway and low lying hollow is filled, making paths you'd taken for granted impassible. And so it'll be until spring now, maybe not all the time, though for the majority of it.  All hail the seasons, I wouldn't be without them. As attractive as perpetual sunny days my appear, I couldn't and wouldn't want to live that.

Autumn Equinox

Man, that came around disturbingly quick, the Autumnal Equinox is here already! I say that, though out in the forest you know it. Today may be a point of equilibrium, though this cycle is definitely coming to an end, the forest and it's inhabitants are all winding down, and you can almost see the colour draining from the land as you walk through it. That's fair enough, nature deserves a well earned rest, it's done well under challenging conditions. That's not to say there's not stuff still going on. It's second harvest after all, and a time to gather in nuts (the Cob and Hazel in our garden have been prolific this year) and the last of the fruits, as well as a time to collect seeds for the future. It'll soon be mushroom season too, fingers crossed, now that the much needed rains have arrived. It's a good point to take stock of our blessing and give thanks. I hope that Alban Elfed finds your basket brimming, with all the seeds you planted earlier in the year falling on fertile ground and growing to rude fruition. Equinox blessings y'all. 

Brinken Wood

You'd believe me if I said I just saw Mr Tumnus, wouldn't you.

Grove

There are a couple of places scattered about my favoured roams that we'll regularly visit and hang out a while. One is a spot in Burley Old, where I'll sit amongst the mossy buttressed roots of a veteran Beech, taking it all in, connecting, whilst Geoff does his thing. This cycle I've paid particular attention to the roof of my favoured grove, noticing the faint changes which precede the more profound transformations. The whole hue of the woodland has subtly changed, as has the nature of the light, everything has lost its lustre. It's most noticeable in the canopy, which although still dense and full, is beginning to look tired, now with the odd flush of gold hinting at what's to come. The sound and smell of the stands is changing too, the woodland is audibly quieter, the bird song seems to have less urgency and the trees are holding their breath in anticipation. Sound is also beginning to carry again, so you can hear further out, and still it's quiet. Each season has an identifying smell, and the forest is starting to smell autumnal, all we need now is some rain and we'll be there.  It's a lovely season autumn, so many facets to enjoy. There's really something to be said for getting to know the groves you frequent more intimately.   

Burley Old ride

One of the rides through Burley Old.

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.

Bokerley Dyke

Believed to have originated in the Bronze Age, 3000 years or so later and Bokerley Dyke still remains a striking feature as it cuts through the sweeping chalk grassland of Martin Down in Cranborne Chase.

Penbury Knoll Camp

Penbury Knoll Camp is designated as an early prehistoric hillfort, with an irregular single rampart and ditch, and an interior suffering from later quarrying. I'll be honest, in it's present condition and scant visible remains (beyond a section of shallow ditch and slight bank), it's hard to see this site as a hillfort, it's very small too. It's definitely something prehistoric. There are several causeways across the visible shallow ditch, and I could see it being a causewayed enclosure, and interestingly there are good assemblages (from surface finds) of Mesolithic and Neolithic flint work from the knoll.  Nice spot, with some good vistas over the Chase and towards the New Forest, you can see why it would have been the focus of human activity.

Rainbow Web

The dewy cobwebs strung across the Common's gorse bushes were catching the sun beautifully this morning, they were a wonderfully subtle rainbow hue.

The autumn forest

The autumn forest. Red Rise Wood and Shade with Burley Old beyond, as seen from Rock Hills on the edge of Spy Holms. A view you never tire of, and lovely route to take into the forest.

A vinyl release for Custard Flux's Helium

Oh happy day! My vinyl copy of Custard Flux's 'Helium' arrived this morning and as you'd expect, man, it sounds absolutely marvellous. High quality is always assured where Gregory Curvey's concerned and this release maintains those high standards in every regard. It goes without saying that the musical content represents the finest in psychedelic rock/pop/prog delivered by one of the genres foremost proponents and most talented writers and multi-instrumentalists. Here's my review of 'Helium' on it's initial release. I loved it then and love it now, best release of 2018. And, here's what I said when on hearing 'Helium' was getting a vinyl release, featuring all 16 songs included on both Helium and the bonus material included in the album's deluxe CD box set addition. The vinyl release of 'Helium' is an all round quality package, it's a nice clean pressing, the two Raspberry coloured 180g LPs are subtly marbled, nice, there's a lyric sheet, a sticker, a 6” x 8” postcard, and it's all housed in a 1/4” spined, high grade card jacket, packaged in a reusable plastic bag. The first 10 ordered had a set of cards which had been included in the deluxe CD box set, which was very cool. There was also a CD copy of Helium's fabulous companion album 'Echo', if you like Helium then you'll love Echo (Here's my review of 'Echo'). I recommend you buy this album now, thus avoiding yourself inevitable future disappointment on realizing they've sold out. 

Geoff

This afternoon we met up with some of Geoff's extended family at Kings Park. It was the first dog family meet we'd been too, and Geoff was a bit taken aback by it all. Well, it was quite a sight, there were 33 Golden Retrievers of various ages, all related to one another. Lovely hounds all (and nice people too). It was a sort of organized chaos, and the dogs all loved it. After good walk in the forest this morning and the excitement of the afternoon meet up, Geoff was wiped out. 

Oh Beehive

Two faces of bees in the forest, professional bee keeping hives placed out to exploit the forests heathery bee gardens, and a wild colony hidden in one of Red Rise's oaks. You see the professional hives out every year (soften a dozen or so grouped together), the forest has one of the largest beekeeping associations in the country, and produces some fine honey. The wild colony I first spotted one spring some years back, each year I've checked on the colony, and they appear to be doing okay. I don't know how long it'll endure though, a queen only has a 3 to 4 year lifespan. I don't know if the colony then disbands or another queen steps up and the colony continues on.  Thinking about it, I'm sure it was longer than 4 years ago I first came this tree.

Cranborne chase

  One of the faces of Cranborne Chase.

The Ox Drove

How many feet have passed this way over the last, say, 5000 years. There's something wonderfully connective about walking these ancient tracks, you're connected with the landscape and connected to our collective ancestors. Sometimes the path well trodden has as much value to it as the path less trodden.

MIstleberry enclosure

MIstleberry enclosure in Mistleberry Wood near Sixpenny Handley in the Chase, recorded as an Iron Age Hillfort, and I'd suggest a misclassification. A lovely spot though. It’s certainly an enclosure of some kind, although with such slight ditches and ramparts (which are hardly defencive) and its open ended oval shape, and tapering in depth, width and height earthen features, I don't believe it's a hillfort. So what might it be? Maybe it could possibly be an unfinished hillfort (although it's not that big), a defended farmstead, or communal corral or meeting place maybe, or is it the prehistorians go to, and my particular favourite, a ritual site.  I don't know. I don't know if much or any research has been undertaken, beyond the cursory site visit by the Historic Monuments commission sometime early/middle last century leading to its classification. A desk top investigation might be a nice little project.  

Nature / nurture

As I've mentioned previously, the landscape we see and enjoy in the New Forest, like the landscape of much of these isles, is far from the natural environment we imagine. The hand of humans agency has been at play for thousands of years since before the first farmers settled. Many of the landscape types we're used to, such as chalk grassland or here in the forest, both woodland and heathland, are the direct consequence of human intervention and subsequent continuous management. Looking around the Duck Hole landscape this morning it was clear to see that left to her own devices nature will quickly return to her natural form. Every year, for the last few years, more and more saplings have become established over the heathland, predominantly conifers there are also numerous birch and fruiting shrubs, and in the wetter hollows willow too. I wonder how long it'll be before the forestry will clear them, or whether they will actually clear them, or just let them be. It's interesting to think that a reduction in EU funding may impact on the forest appearance, people really didn't understand what the EU 'did for us'. Further on our walk, now crossing Ober Water near Rhinefield, evidence of the forests current management programs is clear. Along the bank of Ober Water the thicket of willow, hawthorn and blackthorn has been cleared, opening up the stream-side woodland...purely cosmetic, to keep the 'nature' of the New Forest picturesque scenes. It's as if we don't like nature in her natural forms.

For the chop

Here's a thing, roaming through Brinken Wood this morning we stumbled upon something interesting, two adjacent young Oaks, of near identical girth, have been chopped down with axes. At first I wondered whether it was some bushcraft project, though no, the trunks remained where they'd fallen. Maybe it was a felling competition or something. Whatever, it seems a touch wasteful to fell timber for no purpose. The stumps are weathered and the branches of the trunks are all but weathered away, these trees were felled some years ago. The archaeologist in me found the age of the event interesting and I wondered how long such evidence of human activity survives and what messages the might have purveyed? In the past when people were more mobile or when the country was less inhabited features like felled trees would certainly have suggested you may have entered already occupied/used territory, they could've been used as territorial markers or marked seasonal camping sites. Of course, I tend to over think things. The facets on the stumps suggest that smallish axes were used, something like a small forest axe or hatchet, and wood-chips could still be identified amongst the leaf litter. I reckon by the weathering and state of preservation, these trees were downed a decade (?) ago. I'll never know what the motivations were here, beyond chopping down a couple of trees, of course. Another story in the forest's infinite library, listed under 'mystery', the library's most expansive section.

Awen

Awen flowing through the stands.

Parasol Mushroom

Parasol Mushroom growing on the gassy slopes of The Warren.