Chapmans Pool to St Aldhelm's Head and back again; part 3, Emmetts Hill

Rested and St Aldhelm's Head conquered, it was time for the return leg of the walk. The views from St Aldhelm's Head along the Jurassic coast are outstanding; different headlands and coastal features highlighting the regions unique geological mix of limestones, chalks, clays and sands; a World Heritage Site after all. You'd have hoped that reaching the top of the head the walking thereafter would all be relatively level, but you'd be mistaken; first the two huge sets of stairs that run down, through, and up the other side of a steep sided valley between St Aldhelm's Head and Emmetts Hill had to be conquered. The stairs down are one thing, the stairs up are something else; though once completed the remainder of the walk is a cakewalk; follow the well trodden cliff top path that winds around Emmett's Hill, and take in the lovely vista of Chapmans Pool and the coast beyond as you go. At just 4 miles, not a long walk; although beyond the very beginning and the Emmett's Hill section, it was technical and challenging throughout. You can't beat walking in Purbeck for blowing away the cobwebs.

Chapmans Pool to St Aldhelm's Head and back again; part 2, St Albhelm's Head

 

If I thought the under-cliff around Chapmans Pool was difficult terrain I was in for a shock; the terrain on the second portion of my walk upped the ante somewhat. I continued along the shoreline, rather than the escarpment route; a decision which in retrospect I came to regret. There'd been a fair amount of slippage and collapse, and most of my passage around the coast was over and through various sized boulders and loose rock; it was quite intense going, and looking at my course ahead I began to question how sensible my choice of path had been...of course, the alternative could've been just as problematic. As it happened, the climb up the escapement wasn't much better; jumping between bramble and ivy covered boulders, gave way to loose wobbling rocks and shifting rock scree; by the time I'd reached the top of the escarpment I'd got all hot under the collar (I'm not good with heights; sometimes worse than others...today was a 'sometimes worse' day); everything appeared steeper today, more extreme, more sketchy than I remembered. I'd intended to explore and chill for a while before I undertook the last climb up out of the quarry, although I scrubbed that deciding instead to make the climb right now; I feared it may have become insurmountable in my mind, and I didn't relish retracing my steps. Even though I'd taken this route hundreds of times before, and it's not particularly difficult, the ascent was made challenging by my over-thinking of it; still, in the end I made short shrift of it and after scrambling and reaching the quarry top lay in the hot sun catching my breath, my hands shaking. A bit of adventure.

Chapmans Pool to St Aldhelm's Head and back again; part1, Chapman's Pool

 

It was destination Purbeck this morning; to be specific Chapmans Pool and St Aldhelm's Head. An age old track leads down through Hill Bottom to the rocky cove of Chapmans Pool; where you'll find a couple of fisherman's huts clustered around a small slipway and sea wall. Like many of the spots along this section of the Jurassic Coast it's a picturesque pearl set in a rugged forbidding landscape. My route this morning was going to be along the coastline out to St Aldhelm's  Head, and along the cliff top back. As long as I can remember there's been a winding path which wound through the rough grass and tenacious shrub of the under cliff just above the rocky shore (the term 'path' is used loosely); in recent years erosion appears to have done for a lot of the path, making for a difficult traverse; it's surprising how much this apparently timeless landscape can change in just a couple or so years. One aspect that hadn't changed was the towering cliff capped escarpment that dominates Chapmans Pool, it still looked magnificent; I've roamed this Jurassic island for decades, and over those years my wonder at the majesty of the place has not dulled. I'm sure in time a new route along the under cliff will develop; in the meantime the broken and uneven rocky terrain is more full body workout than walk. One observation I made was that I didn't see a single piece of rubbish on this portion of my walk; of course it could've been that all my senses were engaged it keeping myself upright, though I think not, there was just no shit on the shore...which was nice.

March Moon

Another full moon, and another perfect evening for a full moon fire.

Burley Old

Burley Old

Barton Cliff

 Barton Cliff bleeds into the sea.

Bathing blooms

Willow (Salix) blooms enjoying the spring showers.

 

Lily

 'Lily was here 7th April 1969' 

It's not often you come across female graffiti, or is it? On finding Lily's scribe in Anses Wood, I was struck by an assumption I've always made about the graffiti I find...that for the most part it's been carved by boys/men.  I suppose it just seems a male thing to do, as does carrying the penknife; often the subject matter too would support that assumption. I understand modern Graffiti/street art, which you'd have imagined to be more equitable gender wise is still dominated by males creating the bulk of work. Taking that into consideration, and how gendered past societies have been, I still believe that I don't come across female graffiti very often, and that the great majority of the historic carved graffiti in the forest would've been carved by males, and that that probably continues to be the case for contemporary carvings.

Ivy

Winter in the forest is a thin time for grazing, and the ponies will take any opportunity to snack down on a tasty morsel; here they've taken great care to strip clean the soft outer bark off a filigree of Ivy (Hedera helix) wrapped around a fallen veteran oak.

Useless

The perennial forest question 'when is a bridge not a bridge'. The above scenario is played out  throughout the forest, although none more so than on Mill Lawn Brook through Ober Water; where four bridges in succession are regularly unusable. Here a perfectly serviceable bridge made useless by being cut off by flood water; surely this situation could easily by avoided with a little forethought in design. I had to attempt some physics defying mad crane like run to bridge the water gap; enough to say, I only achieved limited success in walking on water. 

Verge clearance

With the A35 closed the authorities have taken the opportunity to cut some of the verges back hard; I don't remember them ever being so clear. The transformation is highlighted by the uncut verge opposite; a striking difference. The clearance has certainly opened up the road, as well as the views across Ober Water below Markway Bridge. 

Avon Water

You'd never imagine that as recently as 2017 Avon Water was a broad straightened deep cut stream; now it's definitely one of the forest's stream restoration projects that has most quickly born results; today Avon Water is completely unrecognisable from the stream and landscape it was. A part of me embraces the change, positive as it is, although another part of me laments the loss of a loved stream side walk; nowadays at this time of year even defining where the stream flows is problematic, and even in the drier season the re-establishing carr/bog woodland environment remains soft and wet underfoot; though today with some judicious hops, skips and jumps, some nimble footwork across lain branches and sticks, and a bit of occasional clambering, a sort of stream side walk route was negotiable. Although 'walking' didn't really describe our outing this morning; still, nice out mind.

Gorse burning

 

Continuing my regular theme of the curated forest; another vital yearly maintenance activity is burning the gorse (Ulex). Around the forest gorse and heather are burnt ostensibly to generate new growth that'll benefit conservation projects, and to reduce the risks of wild fires; but also to keep in check colonisation by gorse, which would become invasive if left to their own devices. 

Early blossom

I spied my first Blackthorn (Prunus spinosa) blossom of the year on the bank of Avon Water near Ossemsley Ford; ’twas the only I saw too, and there were plenty of Blackthorn around; just a handful of flowers brightening a solitary branch. Flowering way before the pollinators take flight, Blackthorn being hermaphrodites, can please themselves. 

Graffiti on the hill

The local graffiti artists have been busy again; I discovered some fantastic new works of art around the water tank up on St Catherine's Hill. The water tanks, especially the circular one, have become galleries displaying the latest works of spray-can excellence; this 'crew', I'm assuming they're an established collective of artists, are using some interesting techniques and use colours, creating some nice effects. I say more of this type of thing. 

Stair Hole

Stair Hole just west of Lulworth Cove. The Isle of Purbeck is home to some globally important and unique geology, hence it's World Heritage status; to have such a landscape on your doorstep is a blessing; a blessing I've long been grateful for.  An island connected by land, adjacent to an urban sprawl and yet somehow retaining an air of wild isolation used associate with isle; a rugged landscape where the elements of earth and water collide, and natural magic reigns.

Bungy Head

I didn't realise it had been so long since I'd walked this way; looking back through my posts it was back in 2015. The plan was to walk down to St Oswald's Bay, around the base of Dungy Head and along Dungy Beach, climbing the steep grassy slope back up when we reached Church Rock; it's often easier, and safer, climbing up rather than sliding down. It wasn't to be though, the sea was having none of it; so after a while taking in the waves, the steep grassy slope down to Church Rock it was. Dungy under-cliff and beach is one of those hidden corners of the coast that takes some effort to find, and even more effort to reach, though it's worth when you do; a lovely spot, with a powerful sense of wild.   

Breaker breakers

This morning the sea under Dungy Head had some spirit to it; waves of white horses galloped across St Oswald's Bay, smashing on to the ancient jagged rocks in explosions of foamy jade and white.

Heathland haircut

 

I've mentioned in the past how the forest is a far from natural environment requiring endless maintenance to preserve the status quo; a couple of weeks past, piles of young conifers, Scots pines, were testament to this continuous process; removed to conserve the open heathland environment. Today they were gone, evidence of their presence reduced to ash; the illusion of the timeless unchanging forest preserved in aspic is perpetuated. I imagine a couple of decades with no human interference would create a forest landscape unrecognisable to us; it wouldn't take long for woodland to encroach upon  and colonise the open heathland. Reminds you that, for the most part, woodland would be the dominant environment without out interference.

Mark Ash Wood

Mark Ash Wood

Murkwood

 A damp and murky morning on James's Hill.

Inner light

As is so often the way, the picture doesn’t capture what the eye does, or maybe what the minds eye does. This recently slighted and split young Scots Pine shone through Beech Beds enclosure, through the stands it's inner wood appeared to issue a golden luminescence; such a striking sight that on first spying it I was momentarily stopped in my tracks as my mind searched for an explanation. I don't know what caused it; maybe the light on the day was just right to cause an optical illusion or similar, or maybe it was something else, the forest is a magical place after all.