Denny's all opened up

Denny enclosure's all opened up, swathes of mainly coniferous woodlands have been clear cut and the ground they stood completely cleared and graded; I'm excited to see how this landscape regenerates; the face of the forest is changing all over. This morning Denny enclosure's heathland restoration reminded me of the days on the Newbury bypass in the mid 90's; a damp and dank misty day, smoke from debris fires hanging is the air, and clumps of spared trees silhouetted on a scoured landscape; except today was devoid of people and machines, and the works being undertaken were for restorative rather than destructive ends. 

Sunset

 

It's good to feel the days slowly lengthening.  

Icicle falls

Our route this morning took us along the narrow meanderings of Bratley Water  as it snakes it's way through North Oakley and Smokey Hole before joining Blackersford Brook; I love the young forest streams, there's a particular feel of wilderness to them that I enjoy.  As I said yesterday, winter's far from done and that's nowhere more apparent that out here in the forest where Jack still reigns supreme. In places the puddle ice remains 30/40mm thick, even the edges and deeper pools in the meander bends retain a thin icy frosting, and where woodland debris congregates to form natural dams those dams are turned into sculptures of ice and icicle. Very nice too.

Stirring

 

Although even the most cursory glance outside will tell you (if you weren't already aware) that winter's grip is far from loosening, the landscape slowly wakes as Imbolc approaches; in the belly of the land the future stirs as above the first heralds of spring break through.

Old Harry Rocks and one of the Pinnacles

At the furthest east point of the Purbeck Ridge are Old Harry Rocks and the Pinnacles; if you look east in the distance you'll just see The Needles and The Isle of Wight, once these two chalk headlands would've been joined as a continuous chalk ridge. If you know Purbeck and you ever visit to the The Isle of Wight you'll spot the similarity in geology and environment immediately.

Studland beach

You know it must be bloody cold out when Jack Frost is able to leave his mark on the salty environment of coastal sands; but this morning he did, and in spades. Nice out though, and as usual with an early start on our outward stretch we had the beach to ourselves. It was an early start too, as yet again the chain ferry between Sandbanks to South Haven Point is out of action and we had the long drive around Poole Harbour (25 miles or so); the ferry was supposed to be back running weeks ago after a service, although it was badly damaged on it's journey to Falmouth for aforementioned service so wont return until the end of February at the earliest. It's fated to troubles, man, it seems to have suffered issue after issue in recent years.

Ever changing, though always staying the same

 

It's fascinating to watch the gravel banks of the forest's streams shift and morph through the seasons every year. Gravel crossing points and banks disappear or change sides, making navigating my usual routes impossible, only to re-emerge months later in the same spot or a few meters down stream; some can vanish for years and then reappear, it's as if even though the elements are constantly in motion there's a default setting to which the stream inevitably returns. I watched as over a couple of months the ebb and flow of the Red Rise Brook moved a stream of gravel across the water course from one side to the other, up onto the bank, across a bulge in the bank and deposited back in the stream on the other side. I know though that by the end of spring all the crossing points I've traditionally utilized will be where they've always been.

Little Egret

Approaching behind cover Geoff and I managed to creep up on a Little Egret (Egretta garzetta) chilling on the banks of Red Rise Brook, or at least I believe it to be a Little Egret not an Egret Egret. We would've got closer but Geoff  broke cover like a chump, though luckily I had my camera ready at hand and grabbed my best shot yet (still piss poor I know) of this flighty bird. Over the last few years Egrets and Herons have become a familiar sight along this stretch of stream, a testament to the health of the waterway.

Chilly bottom

 

Parky out. Gone is the soaked forest all soggy underfoot, gone are the waterlogged paths and puddles; well, not gone, more transformed. Overnight the temperature dropped significantly and we arrived this morning to find the forest dusted in white frost, the ground hard under foot, and the paths traversing Clay Hill Bottom no longer a series of narrow streams now turned into treacherous tracks of icy glass requiring a jazz hands walking stance. Quite the transformation.  

Still there!

Wow, the discarded running shoes I commented on at the beginning of the month are still there! Very odd indeed; surely they'd have been returned for.

Uncanny Avengers

Being laid up with covid (11 boring days testing positive) in the box room, no TV or computer, watching old television comedy and stuff on the YouTube via a phone screen (how young folks do that shit as the norm is beyond me) I leaned heavily into reading, a highlight of which was volume 1 of the Uncanny Avengers. Uncanny Avengers Vol.1 covers issues 1 through 25 (2012-2015) and includes the stories: The Red Shadow, The Apocalypse Twins, Ragnarok Now, Average the Earth and Axis prelude in just over 700 pages. Written throughout by Rick Remender, who for my money is one of the finest comic writers/storytellers of our time, Uncanny Avengers Vol. 1 is superhero storytelling at it's very best; Remender's writing is magnificently complemented by the fantastic artwork of pencillers John Cassaday, Daniel Acuña and Steve McNiven, the crisp lines of inker John Dell and the beautiful colour palette of colourist Laura Martin who combined created quite the dilemma; the writing had you eager to turn the page, although the sumptuous artwork had you lingering as you soaked up all the detail. The story includes and extensive list of heroes and villains and takes place after the events of AVX with Captain America offering Havok the lead in a new Avengers unity team; I'm tempted to wax lyrically about what happens next but that would be a spoiler fest, the twists, turns and surprises come thick and fast as the story races along at a fair pace and is best read first hand. What I can say though is that I can't recommend this run highly enough, this is the good shit.

Wetter

 

I return to blogging after a covid hiatus to find my forest roams in a similar state to that which they were before I left, wet. Well, to be honest it would be more accurate to describe them as wetter. This is the highest the water's reached at the Dames Slough bridge for a while. Days of what's seemed like near endless rain sees the forest's stream corridors inundated, becoming broad linear lakes snaking between the stands, whilst the rivulets and drains that feed them have all broken their banks their wet fingers spreading out amongst the trees, even some of the forestry tracks have been made impassible or at least difficult to negotiate due to lengths of running/standing water. What I'm try to say is the forest's bloody wet.

How queer!

 

What appear a serviceable, if not good nick, pair of Evadict mt2 trail running shoes (About £80) discarded in the forest; not near a car park, or on a track or anywhere else you could envisage changing then forgetting/losing your shoes, but on the edge wet heathland/bogland at the base of Markway Hill near Stag Brake. How queer. I can't imagine the story here; why they would've been abandoned is beyond me. Another forest mystery.

Perpetually in flower

Perpetually in flower, at any time of the year somewhere in the forest the Gorse (Ulex) is flowering and adding colour to the landscape.

Here comes the rain again

The rain ran down the forest's trees in streams this morning, a testament to it's intensity. The video's on it's side (I couldn't work out how to reorientate it), but you can see the persistent flow.

Hot pants

The forest's graffiti comes in all shapes and sizes, here the shape is comely if not somewhat exaggerated, and the size is quarter scale-ish. It's a weird one for sure. No doubt a fantasy image of a woman, although the way the carver has proportioned the body and something in the stance lends the graffiti a strange masculinity. It's notoriously difficult to age tree carved graffiti, so many factors at play, though I'm going to suggest 70's/80's by the style of hot pants. Another carving I'll never know the story behind and another addition to what's becoming quite a collection of images.

Southern discomfort

 

When the forest's like this it always puts me in minds of the film 'Southern Comfort', a thriller set in the swampy woodlands of Louisiana; of course difference being Hampshire's New Forest is colder, and doesn't have any alligators or angry Cajuns with guns. Unless you stay on the main paths and forestry tracks moving cross country when the forest is like this would be more aptly described as Southern discomfort.

Rhinefield Bridge

Rhinefield Bridge

Black Water

For years since our boys were young we've enjoyed our Christmas feast on Christmas Eve, continental stylee; logistically it made sense, I couldn't cook a Christmas dinner and put together three children's toys at the same time; it became our family tradition. Another tradition is our short Christmas day walk, which in recent years has been along the stretch of Black Water between Black Water Bridge and Gravelly Ford; it's a nice stretch of stream with a high meander ratio, picturesque and easy walking, set amongst the open mature Oaks in Vinny Ridge enclosure (1859). As you'd imagine, the forest was very quiet this morning. 

Wet wilderness

Winter's inclement weather changes the forest, turning it into a totally different beast from it's usual welcoming environment. It's at times like this, with swathes of the forest inundated and impassible or at least unnavigable, I imagine the forest of yesteryear; less formal or managed, a real wilderness where keeping to a route or travelling at a reasonable pace is near impossible. Year on year since the stream restoration project began over 20 years ago you've seen the forest's stream environs regain some of that wildness; its not just the streams themselves either, all the rivulets that feed them back up too, filling the surrounding woodland, creating an even more extensive obstacle. It makes for interesting walks.

Solstice blessings

Well, the wheel's turned, and the promised new Sun was born; another cycle has begun as we initiate our slow march towards the warmer longer days of summer. Although I was up and out well before dawn this morning there was no sunrise to be seen; though the horizon was obscured by clouds, I'm sure it was there. Solstice blessing to y'all; let's toast our forthcoming trip around the Sun and may it see us bountifully blessed with flags, flax, fodder and Frigg, and all we'd wish for ourselves. /|\

Winter Solstice

Being deeply connected to the natural world our ancestors knew the importance of the Winter Solstice and it's pivotal point in the turning of the seasonal wheel, as a consequence many of their prehistoric monuments have alignments which mark the midwinter sunset; most notable locally being the 10km long Dorset Cursus. Today many pagans favour the following morning's sunrise to celebrate their Solstice and the birth of the new Sun. I used to only observe the latter though for some years now I've observed both. So today I did my bit for the ancestors by observing what I could of the shortest day's sundown over the harbour. Personally, the winter Solstice has always been one of my most important celebrations, it marks the end of a period of refection begun at Samhain; whilst tomorrow's sunrise marks the chance of new beginnings. Over the period since Samhain I've reflected on how the year's gone, where I'm at, what I've achieved (all very meh if I'm honest), and what I want for the coming year. My conclusion has been that after the last few very thin years in isolation I really need to reconnect; reconnect with valued people/communities, with activities/interests and especially with creativity. I'm sure it's going to be easier said than done, stuck in a deep rut as I am, but I fear myself disappearing into the long grass permanently if I don't.

Murky

Overnight the weather changed, this morning gone was the icy crispness and dry cold which defined the last week or so, and today could best be described as damp, dank and dull. That said, we still enjoyed a good walk in an empty forest. 

Wood eddies

 Wood eddies.

Forest ride

Some of the broad paths through the forest's woodland are known as 'rides', typically as they've traditionally been used for horse riding. Although established routes these are often less formal (unmade, natural surface, not gravelled) than some of the other tracks in the forest, and always have lovely aspects to them.

Ice flow

Ice flow nowhere to go, lost in the blinding whiteness of the tundra (Boosh 2004). Well, it's not actually that bad, though still at -4 degrees and with many of the forest's smaller tributaries, even stretches of the bigger streams frozen, the ground solid under foot and walking through the frozen leaf litter sounding like walking through corn flakes, it feels very Baltic...to a soft Southerner's sensibilities anyway.  That's not to say it's not nice out, because it is; the Sun, although shedding little discernible warmer, shines in a clear blue sky and the forest's wonderful walking. Just bloody cold.

Oh happy day

 

Have you ever had a much loved/listen to album that's either given up the ghost or disappeared? I'm sure you have, it's a bummer. Back in the mid 80's a friend did me a recording of an album someone had done him a recording of (as was the way of the times), proggy as f*ck, I loved it, and it became a regular listen. Over the years the tape, as tapes often do, degraded until it became unplayable. The cassette just had 'Gandalf' scribbled on it; I'd always thought Gandalf had been the name of a band, and searched for it as such, always coming up with either a 60's American psyche rock band or on later searches a Finnish death metal band; I'd also searched 'Gandalf' as album title, again no joy. Roll on the years, whilst yoga-ing this morning listening to 'Veterans of the psych wars' a favourite Youtube channel, my ears pricked, I looked up from downward dog and to my surprise saw 'Gandalf', another album but certainly drawn from the same well. My mistake was it turns out Gandalf wasn't the name of a band, nor of an album, but rather the pseudonym of Austrian musician/composer Heinz Strobl. Who'd have thought! Short of it is, I've found a much loved and thought lost album, along with a whole library by the same artist. Oh happy day.

Knight Wood - Warwick Slade

Knight Wood - Warwick Slade

Ringed pine

Something new, I've not seen this practice in the forest before; a loose spread of just over a dozen conifers set amongst the mixed deciduous stands of the lower reaches of James's Hill have had their trunks broadly ringed by the forestry. Known as 'ring barking' or 'girdling', the aim of ringing a tree is to kill it, or sometimes to stimulate coppice growth, it this case I'm saying the former; removing the band of living bark stops the essential movement of fluids around the tree causing stress, promoting dieback and/or disease. I'm imagining the reasons for using this method are the difficulty moving machinery over/through this terrain without causing damage, or maybe the desire to create dead upstanding wood - once dead these trees could remain standing for years. Whatever, an interesting and unusual sight.

Brass monkeys

I thought it was cold yesterday morning, though I hadn't considered that that was at 0930 after the Sun had risen and taken the edge off, dawn this morning was so much colder. Dusted in frost the forest was quiet and still, little stirred; there were very few animals about, I imagined them hunkered down somewhere out of the worst of the chill; very few people about too, also probably avoiding the chill. Nice out though, worth the effort. A bracing walk was had; 13 miles of bracing walk in fact.

Old Ford to long gone wood

 

You'd be forgiven for not recognizing it, though this was once the site of a well used track from Red Rise into Red Rise Furze Brake; at this point the track crossed what was the old course of Red Rise Brook (now the restored course) and was the site of seasonal ford. Now open heathland back in the early 90's Red Rise Furze Brake was all tightly packed conifers, a dark claustrophobic companion to the open and airy deciduous stands of Red Rise. Even though nearly 30 years have passed, the stream's been restored and the conifers have gone, when ever we pass by my minds eye still sees the spot as it was all those years ago, and I'm looking into a woodland that's no longer there; it's funny how vividly images can stick in your mind.

Frosty Scrape Bottom

This morning, with an icy frosting under a clear blue sky, Scrape Bottom was the epitome of a winter landscape. It was bloody cold too! You'd better be wrapped up warm, Jack's frigid fingers are probing for any exposed spots; don't be misunderstanding me, this is what winter's supposed to feel like and I for one embrace it. Well, outside I embrace it; this cold snap poses a challenge for those of us doing our best to keep the heating off.

Harbour sunset

 Harbour sunset

First proper frost

The wheel's turned and autumn's given way to winter, and winter's leaned into it's duties with relish; this morning saw the first proper frost of the year, and Jack's dusting endured throughout the day.

Berry Wood quarry

The forest's underlying geology is sand, gravel and clays, all useful resources and as a consequence the landscape is pitted with redundant quarries from a variety of historic periods and of all sizes. Many of these hollows will seasonally fill with water creating reflective pools that'll endure into early summer the following year.

Burley Old

 I never tire of visiting Burley Old.

A hard winter ahead?

I've seen a lot of heavily berry laden Holly (Ilex aquifolium) trees on our recent walks; folklore says that a glut of berries is a sign of a harsh winter to come, and that the Mother Goddess is ensuring ample foods are available for her winged charges. Time will tell. Separately, Holly's a traditional staple of Yule/Christmas decorations, commonly wreaths and table centrepieces, and those licensed to harvest the forest's Holly are out at the moment filling giant sacks with it.

Park Hill Heathland restoration

As part of this morning's long roam we walked through Park Hill enclosure; we'd last passed this way back in January when signs proclaimed that the area was to undergo Heathland restoration. Well, that project appears well under way; cleared mainly coniferous timber lays neatly stacked on the sides of the enclosure's tracks; the landscape beyond cleared except for the occasional clump of or solitary deciduous tree; felling debris litters the cleared land, ready to be raked and burnt. It all looks a bit disruptive and messed up at the moment, though it wont be too many years before the restored heathland will be teeming with diverse flora, birds, reptiles and insects; and you'd never know it had ever been any different.

Heads up

Depending on who's teaching, there are either 5 or 7 S's of successful camouflage and concealment, our friend the deer here broke 3 of them; with a sudden movement she caught my eye, the shape and colour pattern of her head were incongruous with the surrounding heather and coupled with the silhouette she created popping her head above the flora she stuck out like a sore thumb.

Over there

Throughout our walk this morning the Sun always appeared to be shining somewhere else, somewhere over there, through the stands over there, across the open ground over there, never quite where we were walking. I don't know what I'd done wrong, or why the Sun refused to shine on me. But it didn't.