Sunday, January 22
Blow you Bugger, Blow
Thanks folks for the kind welcome back.
Back from where? Ah that's another tale, and one that will have to wait awhile.
For the moment - some snaps from today's New Forest saunter.
Whitten Pond near Burley is usually a place of peace and tranquility. However today's gusts seemed to think this a little tame, insisting on trying to push the pond content's down to one end.
First time I've seen waves like this on an inland NF pool.
(yes I know its side on. Bloody Smartphone cameras. You'll find a "rotated" version below but the sound and picture are even worse)
And later, wandering away from my usual route, I chanced upon this victim of the local gales.
These snaps don't really show the wind force - the trunk is approx one metre thick, but still its been cleanly snapped off at a point some 3-4 metres above ground.
Oops there goes my hat again!
Labels: ; New Forest, nature
Wednesday, December 1
A dog's life ......... A Final Chapter
On Monday evening I shook off my current (and wholly accidental) period of Blogging low profile to leave a comment on Darren's site on reading of his loss of a dear and well loved friend.
It was only when I sat down to pen this short piece for those acquainted with the Hee entourage, that I spotted the perverse timing of that seemingly innocuous event.
Life does throw up some freaky circumstances at times, so it seems.
(Happier times. Primrose days)
Having 'lost' Midge (left) a little over two years ago, Bob (right) has become my solitary companion on all my local outdoor wanderings. Especially so during recent months.
Little did I realised that shortly after penning my meagre words of condolence on that Monday evening that our own dog, Bob, would suddenly exhibit strange behaviour for a few minutes.
Erratic movement. Poor motor control. And most distressing of all his driving desire to urgently get physically close to family members.
As quickly as this behaviour began, it had ceased. And despite our close attention following this event, he appeared to have returned to normal, albeit a little quieter than usual.
Tuesday morning there was the usual waggy tailed greeting with its polite (but ever insistent) demand for food. Still unsure as to the cause of the previous night's episode we mentally shrugged and life in household Hee continued as normal.
Until Tuesday afternoon.
As the first of the snow started to fall locally there was an alarming repeat of the erratic staggering & Bob's need for physical closeness. Being on my own at the time, and with the clear distress of an animal in need, an emergency trip to the local vet was essential, with a hurried call to Mrs H along the way.
The diagnosis - a stroke. Cause - unknown. Treatment - drugs, close nursing & a trust that the next few days would show whether this had been a singular episode, or an indication of darker matters.
Sadly our vibrant and deeply loved companion of many years was not to bounce back this time.
Bob and myself spent the night together dossed down on the living room floor. My backpacking sleeping kit, normally used for happy circumstances, now turned to a darker occasion for one in need. Myself, frustrated by the limited means to comfort him, silent but ardently encouraging him to improve.
Sadly his physical and mental decline continued.
This dog that we had walked with out in a frosty New Forest only last Monday afternoon. He as usual eager to please. Somehow so suddenly gone. Leaving in its place this husk of a a shallowly panting & long inert shadow as a cruel reminder.
As the cold morning light dispiritedly lit the room the decision was inevitable. This being was slowly slipping away before us. The body not in pain, at present. But that vital & vibrant life force was going. The surviving body before us clearly declining to an unavoidable conclusion.
The vet visited later. Kind words were said. Stout hearts ripped. Tears were shed, or choked back.
Tonight my companion of many years lies alone on a cold garage floor, awaiting his final walk.
As I lay him there earlier I found myself wrapping the body in an extra blanket to keep out the exceptional cold. And tonight my ears occasionally hear a familiar noise in the house. I start to turn before remembering that the assumed source of the particular sound can no longer be the cause.
Tomorrow, even if the ground remains frozen, the earth's crust will be ripped apart so that Bob's remains can properly be laid to rest beside his long time companion Midge.
But tonight ..... for first time in many decades ...... the Hee household is empty of any animal companions.
And is a much poorer place as a result.
RIP Bob.
Labels: nature
Thursday, July 15
Back home on the Sunny South Coast
After the variable weather that Dartmoor had to show me over the last few days its just so nice to be back by on the local seashore to enjoy the rest of my Summer break.
Paramo won't cut it here. More like a wet suit day I think.
(Highcliffe Beach - spot the tourist)
Rather than just lie in the garden soaking up the sun's rays I guess I could start transcribing my trip report notes for your perusal. Labels: nature
Friday, April 2
UK Waterfalls - Database of locations
My last mutterings gave me a long overdue nudge to mention a new on-line resource dedicated to mapping UK waterfalls - Waterfalls.me
"This website is dedicated to all the wonderful waterfalls throughout the United Kingdom.
I'm hoping to compile a database of all the major and many minor waterfalls, with a map of their location and hopefully photographs of each of the falls. There are a few other websites listing the falls throughout the UK .......... but I have yet to find a site where you can view a map and find any local falls to the area you are in.
I hope this will be of use to somebody out there, whether on your holidays or making special trips to see the falls"
I chatted via one of the UK Outdoor News Groups (yes they do still exist) with the site author following his appeal for additional waterfall information.
So if there's one you know of that you think should be added - why not drop him an e-mail?
Labels: blog media, nature
Sunday, March 21
New Forest Waterfall
Another period of rainfall during the last 24 hours.
Burbush waterfall is back in residency once more & all just a few steps away from a usually busy car parking area.
Hope the New Forest Authority don't cotton onto this as a potential tourist attraction!Labels: National Park, nature, New Forest
Monday, March 8
Dinner Companion
A friend flew in for lunch earlier today ............
Just some bird I'd been introduced to over a meal.
Didn't catch the name - had to fly off.
Labels: nature
Sunday, March 7
Smoke on The Water: New Forest Style
Looks like Spring is a-sprung as locals welcome the new tourist season with their Old Tradition of Setting Fire to the First Caravan of the New Season.
Apparently not. More like the semi-regular gorse burning to take advantage of the wet ground underfoot, before it starts to dry & harden.
At last. Its been a long Winter this year.Labels: National Park, nature, New Forest
Saturday, January 30
A Once in a Lifetime Event
The seed had fallen to the ground some twenty years before, one small hope amongst several thousand siblings. They succumbed to drought, starvation or local predators.
But not this one.
Feet dug ever deeper into the soil beneath. Grey trunk body thickened year by year whilst branching arms stretched newly bursting bud tips ever higher towards the sky with the start of each Spring.
Oh yes it was hard work.
Older & stronger trees had claimed this ground scores of years before when the seedling's parent was little more than the same hopeful shoot hidden deep in the undergrowth.
But the niche the seedling had carved out for itself was a careful one. Balancing nutrient from the earth around about, while threading its head upwards in a continual challenge to touch the sun despite the growing shade crown of mightier neighbours.
And even whilst competing for that light our tree & its neighbours talked together, as trees so often do. If only one stops to listen.
On calm sunny days little was said. The sun's life force beaming down made all else secondary.
But bare branched, during winter gales, the trees swayed and rocked as one. Chattering to each other as they told tales of mighty storms now long past. The movement of their branches exciting a temporary camaraderie.
Today that feeling was a distant memory. Maybe something that would not occur again.
For something was not right.
An orange spot, a splash of paint, had appeared on the tree's trunk. One chosen alongside others across the area. The mark of Cain? Or a sign of promising things ahead?
No matter - what will be will be. The tree waited. For it lived patience.
A lone walker, black and white dog at heel, appeared at the crest of the rise moving steadily down the track alongside the tree's domain.
And then it happened.
It arrived with that wisdom of inevitability. A product of hindsight's clear path to the moment when a world changes.
The tree felt its solid grasp on the earth's surface slip. Slowly it started to topple. Its airy head moving towards the ground far below.
The walker looked up at the sudden noise of something heavy tearing through woodland. Looking groundwards he expect to see a regular movement of deer. Or perhaps a few bulky New Forest cattle crashing through the dead bracken.
Instead a blur of green swaying leaves moving above his eye line grabbed at his attention.
He concentrated on the sight until the fall was complete.
The tree, after one storm too many & the increasing weight of rampant ivy around its trunk, had accepted the inevitability of physical laws and toppled to the ground.
Not with a crash. More a gentle murmur of rustling foliage, before a final dullen flat thud. The shared noise that comes with any large & very heavy object returning to earth.
For a few moments the walker continue to stare, taken aback by the event's suddenness.
And then, leaving the path, he walked over to the tree. Leaves once again still after a final airy flight. Roots snapped clean. The ground from whence they had been torn already resettling. This disturbance, obvious now, to quickly disappear with a few weeks of rain & frost.
One uniquely precise & fleeting moment. An infinitesimal hap chance amongst endless trillions of complex life force interactions across the Earth. And of all space and time.
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I went for a walk in the New Forest today.
By chance I saw a tree fall to the ground.
No-one else was around.
And yes, it made a sound......or rather two.
One while it fell.
And a second that still rings deep inside me at the incredible odds of seeing it happen.Labels: ; New Forest, nature
Sunday, January 10
Whitten Pond - Ice Bound
A few snaps from this afternoon's wander near Burley in the New Forest.
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The camera flash creating a strangely moody image at my regular crossing point on this pond outlet stream. A place where I've occasionally spotted a swimming snake - but certainly not today.
The beam traverse may be short but it requires a steady nerve & careful balance to avoid the potential early dip. Not that that has happened to me. Yet.
But today it is an easier passage with careful short sliding steps across the surface of thick ice.
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A few steps further on lies Whitten Pond, a large pool of water easily visible from the Burley/Bransgore road.
I remain wary of the variable nature of the icy conditions underfoot. So those who decided a trip out onto the ice, and so far from shore, were foolhardy to say the least.
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In places the steeping ground requires careful attention to avoid a loss of footing. Necessary caution.
Occasionally the path route leads across a flat areas of snowy ground. Too flat to be solid ground I belatedly realise with ominous sounds of cracking ice underfoot. A reminder of the vast quantity of stored water potential awaiting the inevitable thaw before returning the New Forest tracks back to muddy quagmire for the winter months ahead.
Dark was falling as I finally returned to the car park, today's walking pace reduced by the need for wariness.
As I carefully maneuvered the car towards the icy incline at the car park exit other vehicles were still arriving to start their own excursions out into the dark and mildly treacherous conditions.
Well at least the cold will keep any victim suitably embalmed for easy body ID.Labels: nature, New Forest
Friday, January 8
Seize the day - looking with different sight
Don't know if you spotted it, but we've had a bit of snow recently.
Hereabouts its nothing like the heaps of stuff that the rest of the country continue to suffer. But in East Dorset, and near to the coast, the local micro climate isn't conducive to the white stuff appearing. And when it does it tends not to hang around for very long.
Even rarer is this continual period of low temperature. Something that has been with us for so long that popping outdoors in -2C feels positively balmy at present.
Today's free day (hurrah-finally a day's holiday) is to be spent exploring a local spot near Ringwood, just off side from the the Avon Valley Footpath. An area of open common land, forest, and water pools.
Its not a very long circular wander. However it does have the benefit of being rarely visited both due to the location & the fact that its a path that doesn't actually go anywhere, except back to its starting point.
But a deliberate choice on my part. Large areas of snow covered ground, and no car tracks or human footprints to disturb the flat white surface. A rare opportunity to investigate the various and bountiful animal tracks that today are hard frozen into the snow, recording tales of recent animal activity.
I'd never realised that rabbits keep to such regular routes, even when crossing open land. But the little pounded pathways formed by their many distinctive prints tell their own tale.
I see a few deer tracks in an area where I've never spotted them before. Something to look out for more carefully now I know they are present.
Near the frozen lake a slow brown buzzard barely bothers to move off beyond my eye line. Keeping to the low branches to search avidly today for something, anything, to make a meal.
However the little egret, stark white against the backdrop of long dead reeds, remains wary. The short area of open water, but a minuscule portion of the thickly iced lake, makes for a lacklustre fishing ground.
Another predator likely to find failure as the aquatic world remains in safe hibernation. A natural reaction to the plunging temperature.
A walk with a rare difference.
An unique opportunity to catch a glimpse into the local routines of Nature.Labels: nature
Saturday, January 2
New Year. New Forest. Old Haunts.
The local cold snap continues unabated. With local low lying areas exhibiting their seasonal floods the persistence of hard & frozen ground is at present an useful advantage. Boggy and potentially treacherous areas have for a brief time become firm routes of iron surfaced mud and thick ice.
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Well mostly. As I found out today - the sun may be far away, and brief in daytime appearance - but it still has the power to weaken icy surfaces. So crossing some of the flooded paths turned at times into an adventure of ice skating & river crossing, all within a few footsteps.
Strange to think I had sat on this bridge a few months earlier, munching sandwiches and watching a small New Forest stream trickle down below, firmly in its watercourse.
Signs also of the recent gales. Not yet up to the full strength of the Feb/March winds that will blow hard and long straight across from the nearby coast. But already impressive enough to knock about some less secure victims.
I like this hidden spot.
In fact I once bivvied the night here. Intending to sojourn with nature & pass a night with the deer herd that I can guarantee to find whatever the time of year & wandering tourists. Instead I discovered what horses can get up to during the dark hours
(The curious amongst you should follow the link)
But that's the joy of the British seasonal variation.
Familiar land & bye ways transform as vegetation growth rises & then falls, whilst the ground underfoot changes in response to the influence of sun, water & wind.
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The deer didn't disappoint. Three heads bobbing up at a distance. Eyesight poor, but noses as keen as ever. The cold weather and low vegetation at this time of year making them less reluctant to flee with their usual alacrity.
(Spotted them yet?)
A pleasant way to pass a couple of hours on a sunny day. Five miles of crunching underfoot, with only the occasional crack/splash along the way as my usually accurate footfall adjustments were mislead by nature's cheeky jests.
My audio accompaniment today - a documentary about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. World famous for his literary colossus Sherlock Holmes. But slightly less familiar as the man who introduced skiing to Switzerland, Portsmouth FC player (pre pro days), regular MCC team turnout & the catalyst behind the creation of the Court of Criminal Appeal.
Wonder if he had managed all this if he'd had TV in his day?Labels: nature, New Forest
Sunday, December 20
Christmas WanderLand
I love this time of year in the run up to Christmas.
No, not the stupidity of office parties, excessive drinking, & stop-until-you-drop-shopping.
For me it's the peace and quiet that can be found for these few special days when walking local paths.
For the moment the semi occasional visitors now have other places to be. Which is fine by me as it means my weekend wanderings in the New Forest are of a solitary nature, save for an occasional habitual dog walker, similarly benefiting from a lack of human activity.
Despite the car thermometer showing 3 degrees, in the forest puddles are frozen with thick ice, and the ground underfoot is hard & still frozen. Boggy areas, usually a hop skip & splash traverse, today are easily crossed, ice crunching underfoot as I take the straight line ahead.
Sun shine, although weak, is appreciated for the extra warmth offered as I move out from under the shade of the trees. On impulse I decide to extend my route onto Holmsley Tearooms. Usually a hive of activity, especially with the day tripping fraternity, today it is peaceful.
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Dog and myself have the garden area to ourselves as we await our lunchtime repast.
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We return along the old railway track, preparing to dive back down into deep woodland. Unexpectedly the mix of solitude, sun, and a clear path leading off into the distance unexpectedly brings one of those rare moments of Bliss.
That feeling of oneness with my surroundings; Open to the forces of nature all around me.
Its something I find quite regularly in the hills, especially after a couple of days wildcamping.
But to stumble across it today, on a short and familiar route, is a welcome surprise. And a reminder why I continue to seek the outdoor world, and saviour its offerings.
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Christmas - well I can take or leave it personally.
But the rare joy that comes from visiting familiar areas, but finding unexpected joy, is my own gift to myself this Xmas time.
And to share with you, if you only care to go out there and look for yourself.
Oh - and as you can see the new mobile telephone has a much better camera with which to try & capture moments along the way.
Labels: nature, New Forest
Saturday, December 5
Lake District Weatherline - New telephone number
I've one telephone number stored away on my mobile phone that whilst infrequently used, will never be deleted. When wildcamping high on Lakeland fells part of my evening routine is to call, phone signal permitting, The Lake District Weatherline service.
Over the years I've found the forecasts to be accurate, detailed & (for a solo hillwalker), key when pondering the next day's route.
To go high…..or low?
An important question for a walker travelling with no schedule to keep, other than to see what's beyond the next range of felltops.
But no matter what my intent, realism dictates that I should bend with the weather's vagaries, especially where extreme conditions are forecast.
(Wildcamping - ah so pretty)
Even in less inclement weather the choice between a high ridge walk in dense rain cloud, or a valley meander accompanied by patchy showers, can be the difference between a hard day with little enjoyment or an pleasant day of exploration.
(Wildcamping - ugh not so pretty)
That's even more relevant when high wind speeds are the alternative between safe passage low down or the increased risk of being knocked off my feet when ridging along exposed tops.
So thanks to the latest TGO Magazine for alerting me to the fact that the telephone no. for The Lake District Weatherline has recently changed to 0844 846 2444.
(Being curious, I tried the old number earlier today, only to be met with a recorded message giving a company's name and address details. But not a lot of guidance as to whether it will rain in Keswick tomorrow)
And whilst on the subject of Lakeland weather - fancy a job as a Fell Top Assessor?
"….report on the fell conditions from the summit area of Helvellyn from December through to April. Working seven days on and seven days off, including weekends and bank holidays, you will need to be able to climb from Glenridding to the summit of Helvellyn and back in four hours"
Well that’s probably me out of the running.
Then again the daily commute from the south coast might just get me down in the end.
Wonder whether any of the Assessors have ever thought about just wildcamping for their week in a nearby sheltered spot?
Now there's an idea.
And to get paid for it as well.
HmmmmLabels: Lake District, National Park, nature
Saturday, November 14
Blow you Bugger Blow
Early breakfast at Avon Beach, Mudeford.
The short walk from the clifftop parking spot down to the café is accompanied by a steadily hazing of vision as my spectacles slowly coat with a mixture of sea spray, salt and sand. All whipping onto the land as the wind leaves off pushing surf up onto the shoreline, and turns to other games to play instead.
A group of Oyster catchers, seemingly oblivious to the elemental force, busily bob along the tidal sand, looking for their breakfast. At times one takes to the air, making only a short distance, before quickly returning to earth. The desire for flight lessened today by the effort required to maintain it.
Warm inside the café we watch as the birds continue their hunt for tide borne bonanza. The fry up arrives.
Dog and myself for once alone at this usually busy spot. We wander along the ridge that of St Catherine's Hill, Christchurch.
As we pass by the twin mobile telephone masts the steady thrum of a plane is heard as it passes overhead. I pause to watch the sway of the thinner tower, rock embedded at the foot, but the upper section flexing as it bends so easily to wind whim.
The plane continues to fly overhead. What still?
I realise it’s the sound of the wind resonating the mast struts of the towers, with an irregular drumming as gusts bounce off some of the bulbous equipment bolted high above.
A personal orchestral offering - courtesy of Mother Nature and BT.
I love the change of perspective that the natural world can bring out in the everyday world.Labels: nature
Tuesday, September 29
Three things to do to Enjoy England
As you may have spotted on other sites some outdoor Bloggers have been approached by Jam to contribute to the Guardian's forthcoming ‘Enjoy England’ feature.
Speed reading the invitation my initial thought was 'Great! Finally hit the big time. A chance to kick over the traces of the day job".
Regrettably, a later slower perusal revealed a less glittering outcome.
But hey-ho; Ideas for these ramblings of mine can come from any direction and are all encouraged in whatever guise they might arise. So here's tonight's jottings, based around a common theme.
Solitude
According to recent government statistics the UK will soon only have living room for 423,138 more people before our landmass achieves its maximum level of population saturation.
New laws, allegedly being drafted as I write, plan to introduce measures that will require all UK inhabitants to take Breaths-In & Breaths-Out in an alternative mode to their nearest neighbour, rather than risk those in coastal areas being slowly edged off into the sea as the majority of the populace inhale simultaneously.
A little like a living Penny Fall shuffle fairground machine.
Well perhaps things aren't quite that bad. Yet. I may even have (whisper it gently) exaggerated so very slightly. But its true that urban living, now encompassing anyplace, short of living at the bottom of a lake, is becoming increasingly over populated & pressurised.
Here's a secret. This is a facet of modern society which can be so easily thwarted with a little personal effort.
Park the car. Start walking away from the road, and into your nearest piece of countryside. Take care to avoid well worn footpaths & tracks. Just keep going, veering clear of any signs of human habitation. Especially tourist features (Particularly Forestry Commission attractions. Honey pot to the Urban Daytripper. A wasp filled jam-jar to this writer)
Now Stop.
Take a deep breath.
And just listen to that glorious sound of ..... your own sweet self. Finally alone with nature.
Like this early morning alarm clock during my Dartmoor Dawdle in June 2008
"I had a lie-in until the sun poked its nose over the ridge, giving me the chance stay in my sleeping bag and listen to the song of the skylarks for twenty minutes of so. And I mean really listen. Lying there with no other distraction my concentration was fully given over to their repetitive trills, before their song veered on to yet another melody. No other background noise to taint the sound. A sublime experience"
Wildcamping
Despite somewhat draconian camping constraints under English law there are still pockets of wild uninhabited places in England that allow one to simply disappear from everyday humanity with little fuss, effort or expense.
With minimal equipment & a easy willingness to dispense with life's trappings & fripperies whole areas of England, rarely visited by most of the population are opened up.
Entry is free!
True it requires some degree of self-reliance & self confidence. In turn the benefit is a self-awareness at a level that most people would find difficult to comprehend. The easily discovered ability to spend a night in a wild place, somewhere apparently uninhabitable for so many, builds a bond with the natural world that once experienced cannot be forgotten.
Unlike so many shiny promises offered in our ' enlightened' times a repeat of this experience always seems to triggers some primordial Sigh from deep down within the brain's limbic region.
Freeze, Flight or Fight?
Not necessarily. Some of us know of a fourth way (Grasshopper).
Reckon I should start a cult?
Dartmoor
A desolately inhabited place of some 368 square miles, and yet an area both within easy access of millions of urbanites with major road access, and a place that positively encourages Wildcamping.
To the majority, trundling across tight moorland roads, it may seem an endless expanse of open land & weirdly sculpted Tor tops, mostly shrouded in thick mist & heartily driven rain. To guests of the HMP Dartmoor establishment, at Princetown, possibly a beckoning view, somewhere green & encouraging beyond thick Napoleonic walls of retribution.
For some an equally scary proposition when viewed from the comfort of a car. But after a few visits into Dartmoor's interior, by foot, the rich history of earlier human habitation springs into being. Neolithic stone rows to the more recent historic drippings of mine tramways, all underline that this was once one of the more densely populated place in England during past eras when a wooded valley was a places of Danger & Threat.
Forget the forlorn baying of the Sherlock Holme's Baskerville Hound. Instead learn to celebrate a place once full of life, and eager to share its secrets, many long forgotten, for those prepared to explore away from the modern day tarmacadam detour of bland conformity.
Or just stay inside the safety of that car.
Going from Nowhere. Leading to Nowhere. Please exit at the cliffside departure gate along with your fellow lemmings.
Was that Three Things to Do in England? Perhaps not quite what the Guardian invitation had in mind?
Whatever - just get out into some distant English wild place, and soak up its true nature. Far from the crush of humanity.
Better be quick. Tourist No. 423,139 arrives in 4 years time. And then this island starts to slowly sink into the sea.
Me? I'll be on Yes Tor. Having a brew & watching the sunset.
Glug .... glug .... glug.
Labels: dartmoor, media, Mental Health, National Park, nature
Friday, September 25
Wildcamp - Travel - Wildcamp
To Travel.
Definition: "To go from one place to another …..To advance or proceed"
By inference an act requiring physical movement from one position/place to another.
True, there's no rule to say that Wildcamps cannot be static. To remain at the same site for more than one night.
But mostly wildcamping is about spatial transition. The act of swapping one remote & lonely spot for a different perspective. Usually another remote & lonely spot. A daily change of place.
Or .............. perhaps that should be a change of perspective on life ?
Whatever - it makes no difference. The act itself suffices for many.
For me? Well......
To tap into the Great Unknown. Become one, once more, with the deep Om of life.
To touch, however fleetingly, that underlying rhythmic beat of energy. For so much of our lives unheeded as it throbs far below our everyday event threshold that is termed Living In The Real World'.
To sleep a night. Solitary & defenceless in some wild and inhospitable place. Remote, perhaps even uninhabitable for many.
To awake at dawn's approach. Mentally & physically renewed.
Early morning grumbling of sinews & bones, unaccustomed to the previous day's physical activity, quietening as the essence of At One with a natural life force, are sensed deep within one's self.
An unexpected deep sigh of contentment at ……
At..?
Well at nothing tangible really.
Except the act of being part of the Real World.
Breathing.
Sharing rainfall run-off with beck or tarn as it heeds the pull of gravity.
Wind veer caressing bare skin; Rain sting on cheeks;
The welcoming warmth of weak sunlight on a frosty morning.
The cool relief freely given by deep shade of rock's shadow at the height of Summer.
Another day greeted. Rucksack settled onto back for the hours of movement ahead.
The last act.
A final lingering glance backwards to the night's resting place. Checking for mislaid kit and signs of human presence? Or more a quiet & silent salute to a place now special in memory & time.
To travel.
No, not movement from place to place, towards some journey's end.
Merely an excuse to saviour stops along the way & touch, fleetingly, the closeness of the Natural World & Reality.
Until the next time.
Maybe I'm alone in silently greeting a wildcamp site on arrival; And on departure bidding a fond farewell. To a familiar friend who's presence I meet with from time to time? And from place to place.
Or then again ..... maybe not.
Perhaps I'm just weird?Labels: nature
Monday, August 31
The Weather Man is a Drip
Did you enjoy today's sunny weather? Hopefully that won't be the last gasp of this derisory summer just yet.
But who knows for sure?
Maybe the Meteorological Office & its ubiquitous stooge the TV Weatherman?
Perhaps.
Or then again.......Nope - probably not with their track record over recent times.
For this weekend was the last straw for me in treating seriously the dire content of the dumbed down weather forecast for the masses.
Take Saturday's TV forecast beamed out around 22:00 in the evening on BBC1.
'Bad weather on Sunday for the south of England, but not until around 5pm' cheerily pronounced the Metman's grinning monkey, 'Enjoy the Sunday sunshine while you can'.
Meanwhile, blue screen background behind him, the forecaster waved his arms with enthusiastic animation as a computer generated model of the weather for the next 24 hours silently confirmed his projection. Its crude overview indicating clouds and rain cruising across from Ireland, and due to reach my own locale until late on Sunday.
It must be true - the time was at the bottom of the cartoon after all.
Plans made accordingly I departed to bed. Why then did I look out of the window early Sunday morning to see thick cloud cover. Which by lunchtime had built into light drizzle for the rest of the afternoon? By then I'd given up in disgust and was watching the rain blow in from the coast whilst getting some work sorted in the office.
(Well it seemed like a good way to use the time bearing in mind the happier alternatives that had gone by the board)
How is it the high tech, multi million pound Met Office weather models can be so inept about weather only 12 hours ahead?
That's not the worse case I can relate. The TV forecasts have been getting progressively more dreadful over a period of many months. Its almost as if the senseless drive to make the forecast more "accessible" to the drooling TV couch potato has up-ended any accuracy they once had.
And for what?
The conditions Outdoor are largely irrelevant for Mr Lardy Arse TV Watcher.
Nope. I've had it with the TV & Radio forecasts from now on.
Here's my three top tips on how to predict the forthcoming weather:
1. In hilly areas, refer to the Mountain Weather Information Service's report for the next 1-2 days. These tend to have a very high level of accuracy & are essential reading for high hill walking at times of bad weather.
2. Learn to read & interpret a pressure chart. I like this site, although the level of detail can be intimidating for the uninitiated at first (click on the dates at the foot of the page).
Another excellent source is on the MWIS site.
Or there's this over on the European Centre for Medium-Range Weather Forecasts site
3. DIY. Look out of the window & go outdoors. Check the flow of air movement especially in comparison to the clouds overhead. Sense the air temperature - colder or warmer than earlier? Look at the clouds and the formations. Then back indoors to tap the barometer to see if its rising or falling.
Then take your best guess!
4. Finally - down to the seashore & pick up some seaweed.
Only a fraction of the cost of the Met Office's new "second most powerful computer in the UK" but probably a damn sight more accurate than the drivel fed to us from the goggle box each day.
Better still - sod the forecast - just get outside anyway.
And pack a waterproof, just in case.
Monday, August 24
Walkers & Cattle - Advice
The Enemy #1 - The Cow
Genetically over engineered over many centuries into a meat & milk provider. Typically two tone in colour. Heavy nasal drooling at one end. And a different sort of drooling at the other.
If in doubt carefully use a scratch & sniff test to quickly distinguish the key differences. Try not to lick your fingers afterwards.
The Enemy #2 - The Bullock
The juvenile male. Often identified by a tendency to unexpectedly demonstrate their sexual awakening by attempting to mount each other. Often repeatedly. Despite mixed success.
Intensely curious and prone to rapidly cover a field's length seconds after you've strayed within the barb wire/electrified boundary fence fortification.
The Owner - The Cattle Farmer
Some believe this to be a mix of the two genres. Often distinguished by the use of green wellingtons, dung coloured (typically blue) overalls, & a loud greeting call "Gerroff-my-land-you-townies".
Well ok I may be guilty of ever egging those descriptions a little.
Except for the green wellies.
But more seriously today's BBC reports have hi-lighted certain dangers associated with these usually tranquil beasts (I meant the cows by the way)
Beware of cows with their calves. Especially if you encounter them whilst accompanied by a dog.
Personally, even when not dog accompanied, I have a tendency to avoid any beast weighing in excess of 1/2 ton and capable of short bursts of speed in my general direction. No matter what its motivation may be.
The NFU advice has been issued as a result of the deaths of 3 walkers in 3 months.
Their advice to walkers
"if you have a dog with you, keep it under close control, but do not hang on to it should a cow or bull start acting aggressively. If you feel threatened, just carry on as normal, do not run, move to the edge of the field and if possible find another way round the field, returning to the original path as soon as is possible. And remember to close the gate".
(I love that mention of the gate. A good idea to prevent yet another headlong chase down the next field, but at the same time rather a recognisable farmy piece of advice)
The main problem for those of not familiar with bovine nature - what is aggressive behaviour?
Most cattle will wander over to a stile if they spot a walker. After all chewing cud and trying to mount your brothers can becomes tedious after a few weeks of such wild experiences.
I regularly walk across a large open expanse of common land watching the behaviour of cattle.
Based, I assume on their previous encounters, a few cattle will hang back from the main herd, effectively acting as scouts. These will initiate a rapid move towards the cause of any disquiet, bringing the rest of the herd cavorting behind them, feet drumming hard.
Not a pleasant prospect if you happen to be that cause.
Unfortunately the latest victim was a farmer. But back at the Royal Welsh Show in July the FUW (think NFU Wales) was quoted as saying that "Cases of potentially-deadly stampeding cattle unwittingly spooked by dog walkers are almost certainly set to rise"
(Lets ignore the comment "In part it was due to cash-strapped "townies" holidaying in the UK at a time of recession and heading for the countryside to relax")
Here's my advice, based on years of experience using farm paths. Its personal, so make up your own mind at your own risk.
1. Don’t keep the dog on a lead, but do keep it under control at all times.
If its not sufficiently well trained to stay to heel, or be sent away, you really shouldn't be out with it amongst farm animals.
2. By all means carry a stout stick. But as most people, including myself, do not carry one try picking up a few small stones (not rocks!) before entering a field.
It’s a last ditch deterrent. Better a few stings on a cow's thick hide, and a potential dressing down from a farmer, than being knocked over & injured by a fast moving herd.
3. If the beasts move towards you, make loud single syllable noises, such as they'd expect from the cowhand (cowherd?) also make yourself look bigger, but try not to wave your hands about alarmingly. Not so much noise that they become spooked, but enough to give you time for a rapid & controlled exit, whilst they try to work out just what the hell you are.
Thinking herding noises.
(I used this on my last Dartmoor trip for a couple of miles, in an area covered with impenetrable gorse thickets and narrow paths. A river was on one side. A steep rise on the other. The cows & their calves wouldn’t take the hint to veer away, despite my vectoring approaches. As this was the only way off the moor unless I turned back for a five mile detour, near the end of a long day I had little choice on this occasion.
4. Don’t (completely) turn your back or try to out sprint them. Back away steadily whilst ensuring you remain upright & prepared to move off to one side to avoid any confrontation.
5. Keep an eye out for all potential exit routes, moving well around any herd where possible. Remember that most of the boundary hedgerows will be hiding barbed wire. Its meant to prevent the escape of large curious animals. That works the same where you are concerned as well.
Its not a good time to find this out when entangled in this as part of any rapid exit.
Remember Steve McQueen in the Great Escape?
6. If it does come to a close up encounter I'm told a hard slap across the snout will work wonders.
Personally I've not test this particular tip. Not do I ever intend to get into a situation where I need to test the hypothesis.
If someone slapped me across the snout I’d tend to thrash about a fair bit, or take it as an attack. But quite what a 1/2 ton beast may do …..?
7. Finally (or should this be firstly?) if in doubt make a detour to avoid crossing the field.
I'm not too proud to admit I've done this on many occasions where cows/horses have shown rather too much interest in my presence before I've even entered the field.
This is one circumstance where Flight before Fight is A Good Thing
Any more tips - leave a comment please.Labels: nature
Sunday, August 2
Its Summer? No its Autumn? Just take your pick
An early Sunday start prepping two motorcycles ready for a long weekend at a Well Known Event (but more on that later in the week perhaps)
Whilst I'm on the topic, when did the centre-stand become surplus to requirement? Trying single handed to get each bike on a paddock stand, for simple chain maintenance (a five minute job) became a heart stopping half hour if the end result wasn't to be one's pride and joy lying lifeless on its side after toppling over during the stand/mounting process.
Since when did a centre stand become a luxury item?
So imagine my joy when I wandered back indoors only to find my pc screen infected with a rather nasty Trojan virus which required some major low level surgery to eradicate.
And yes, I do use current Firewall & Anti-Virus packages.
Two hours later that was sorted, leaving many more hours to run some alternative malware/spyware software and complete a low level purge.
Time for a walk then? More like essential.
Out to Burbush in the New Forest for a bit of contemplative R&R, accompanied by a MP3 player of very loud rock music. Always works well when I'm in an anti-social frame of mind.
Predictably, given the summer season, the rural back roads were busy & the New Forest car park a seething mass of humanity. Why does the term 'tourist on holiday' seem to require leaving their brain & common sense in a small pail by the holiday accommodation's front door each day?
Oh well - a quiet route was essential today, far away from marked paths and over publicised guidebook routes.
A success in that I saw no-one else once I'd left the vicinity of the car park. Sort of a success in a spur of the moment decision to try something a little more physically challenging by hopping off the back of my first route to link up with a longer outlying circuit.
It was via bog land. It wasn't any surprise. I know the land here abouts is liable to be undercut by narrow rivulets of flowing water, especially after rain. Adopting the trusted bog hop gait that Darren knows so well I quickly crossed onto the lower slopes of the far valley side, and picked up a pony track up to the pine topped mount ahead, in which nestled a World War II searchlight emplacement.
All going spiffing so far. A good workout over rough ground, much akin to Dartmoor in some places, and at a fast pace. Dog by my side, we moved ever onwards.
As I followed the ridge I was watching the boggy land below looking for a better track to cut across to rejoin the original route. An excellent & quiet circular if it wasn't for 400m of path crossing a major watershed plateau. Even the sinking of various peat and straw bales a few years earlier had failed to turn it into better than an inevitable paddle even during drought conditions. So its always been a bugbear of mine to find someway to hop this impassable section without getting a guaranteed soaking.
Today I thought I had cracked it. Spotting a clear pony track down I headed to the valley for a short 200m traverse to the far slope.
Along the way my path meandered by a solitary blackberry bush, already full of ripe fruit. A pause briefly to saviour a couple of large juicy berries unadulterated by proximity to car or human activity. Its going to be a bumper crop this year.
But hang on - doesn't ripe fruit signify the End of The Summer. A sign that Autumn's days are announcing their turn to become the seasonal host?
Maybe. Personally I'm yet to get my head around the fact its Summer, even as the evenings drawn in with each dusk arriving earlier than the previous one.
Onwards then into what turned out to be one of the worst pieces of broken ground I've walked over for some time. No make that walked through. Or maybe even under.
Initially hopping from tussock to tussock I turned to make sure Dog was ok. He'd disappeared. Nope there he was, the only sign of his passage the top of long sedge grasses moving, as he followed a track deep deep down in the undergrowth.
I persevered. Carefully. This was ankle snapping territory. The trusted bog hop gait, so suavely demonstrated not half an hour before soon became an arm whirling, keep the balance, plummet forward until finally the inevitable happened.
My foot went into a pool of water, far below and out of sight, with the result - a boot filled with a tantalising mixture of rain water and Grade A fresh bog land mulch (and all free of charge)
Bugger - this is the sort of incident that rarely happens to me. Even then it should be in some wild and harsh environment. Not 50m from the dry & well worn path in front of me.
I finished the rest of the walk with a noticeable squelch each time my right foot hit the deck. But I had to smile along the way.
Putting the valley's water levels down to this summer's rainfall level I mentally marked the route as passable, but with care and at the right time of the year.
So why, when I came to one of the Forest's permanent pool of standing water was it's level 2-3m below its normal mark; Foreshore mud clearly visible? A typical mid summer scene in fact.
Is this still a wet Summer this year? Or maybe a warm season with periods of rainfall that have coloured the general perception of inclement weather.
Or has the high season already passed, leaving us to face an early Autumn? One that indicates the
non Winter season is now one extended period of warm & occasionally wet weather?
Well I don't know, and I doubt whether the Met Office are truly qualified these days to proffer an opinion that anyone would trust.
I squelched my way back into the typical Soddam & Gomorrah scene surrounding the car park. As I started homewards to renew battle with a pc clean-up, I skirted Forest ponies obstructing the main access routes & road. Their particular season in full swing having relearnt the quickest way to get Oohs & Aahs from day trippers and more relevantly their free handouts.
I really need to get away soon!Labels: nature, New Forest, walks
Friday, July 24
Running fast. Standing still.
A combination of work, home and the usual day to day life drudge means that any time spent in front of this damned mono visual blinking radiation emitting time wasting device (aka Internet PC) are few and far between at present.
I've managed to keep up with my regular blog/forum reads each day, although any interaction in those places has also been similarly limited by time & energy.
Regrettably my fine record of monthly wildcamps that started so well (and so early this year), has turned to a pile of mush in response to circumstance. Many of these beyond my direct control, but all requiring the mature & supportive responses that I like to think is part of what make me Who I Am.
But today, at the end of yet another endlessly milling week I've uncovered a few hours of my own. Time to sit back & spend some solitary moments on my own whims. Something that during the last few weeks I've felt increasingly driven to saviour during the pell-mell rush that seems to be my waking existence.
Now is that time, more than ever, when I feel drawn to find that special renewal of spirit that comes with a few night's wildcamping in some lonely and desolate wild location. Far from my fellow human, but so close to the true reality of existence. Water. Shelter. Food. Nature. Bliss.
But for the moment my dismally puny recharge comes as I think back to some of those high ridge wildcamps. Places where I sat savouring the blending of Time, Space & Solitude.
The quiet gap that follows the end of a long day's trek.
The wildcamp pitch. Refuelling the body's needs.
And then an opportunity to fill the gap before sleep by busily doing nothing in particular but become one with the surroundings. True - only a transitory visitor. But one open to the measure and pleasure of the temporary resting place.
Meanwhile there are the trip reports from fellow Outdoor Bloggers as they discuss their recent sorties out in the Great Outdoors (You lucky sods!)
All this helps keep me on the right side of sanity. Although those who have met me know that such a description is always applied a little warily when citing my general demeanour.
So for now I teeter (titter?) along life's own high ridge. Balancing The Present alongside The Past. Awaiting The Future where control of my own moments & movements can one again be retaken in a more selfish manner.
So what if this summer is yet again turning out to be damp and changeable?
The weather is warm. The grass is full grown. Tree crowns are dark and leaf laden.
Get out there if you are able. Saviour these moments.
To store up pleasant memories for colder days ahead.
And I don't mean the Winter.Labels: Mental Health, nature
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
Back from where? Ah that's another tale, and one that will have to wait awhile.
For the moment - some snaps from today's New Forest saunter.
Whitten Pond near Burley is usually a place of peace and tranquility. However today's gusts seemed to think this a little tame, insisting on trying to push the pond content's down to one end.
First time I've seen waves like this on an inland NF pool.
(yes I know its side on. Bloody Smartphone cameras. You'll find a "rotated" version below but the sound and picture are even worse)
And later, wandering away from my usual route, I chanced upon this victim of the local gales.
These snaps don't really show the wind force - the trunk is approx one metre thick, but still its been cleanly snapped off at a point some 3-4 metres above ground.
Oops there goes my hat again!
Labels: ; New Forest, nature
A dog's life ......... A Final Chapter
On Monday evening I shook off my current (and wholly accidental) period of Blogging low profile to leave a comment on Darren's site on reading of his loss of a dear and well loved friend.
It was only when I sat down to pen this short piece for those acquainted with the Hee entourage, that I spotted the perverse timing of that seemingly innocuous event.
Life does throw up some freaky circumstances at times, so it seems.
(Happier times. Primrose days)
Having 'lost' Midge (left) a little over two years ago, Bob (right) has become my solitary companion on all my local outdoor wanderings. Especially so during recent months.
Little did I realised that shortly after penning my meagre words of condolence on that Monday evening that our own dog, Bob, would suddenly exhibit strange behaviour for a few minutes.
Erratic movement. Poor motor control. And most distressing of all his driving desire to urgently get physically close to family members.
As quickly as this behaviour began, it had ceased. And despite our close attention following this event, he appeared to have returned to normal, albeit a little quieter than usual.
Tuesday morning there was the usual waggy tailed greeting with its polite (but ever insistent) demand for food. Still unsure as to the cause of the previous night's episode we mentally shrugged and life in household Hee continued as normal.
Until Tuesday afternoon.
As the first of the snow started to fall locally there was an alarming repeat of the erratic staggering & Bob's need for physical closeness. Being on my own at the time, and with the clear distress of an animal in need, an emergency trip to the local vet was essential, with a hurried call to Mrs H along the way.
The diagnosis - a stroke. Cause - unknown. Treatment - drugs, close nursing & a trust that the next few days would show whether this had been a singular episode, or an indication of darker matters.
Sadly our vibrant and deeply loved companion of many years was not to bounce back this time.
Bob and myself spent the night together dossed down on the living room floor. My backpacking sleeping kit, normally used for happy circumstances, now turned to a darker occasion for one in need. Myself, frustrated by the limited means to comfort him, silent but ardently encouraging him to improve.
Sadly his physical and mental decline continued.
This dog that we had walked with out in a frosty New Forest only last Monday afternoon. He as usual eager to please. Somehow so suddenly gone. Leaving in its place this husk of a a shallowly panting & long inert shadow as a cruel reminder.
As the cold morning light dispiritedly lit the room the decision was inevitable. This being was slowly slipping away before us. The body not in pain, at present. But that vital & vibrant life force was going. The surviving body before us clearly declining to an unavoidable conclusion.
The vet visited later. Kind words were said. Stout hearts ripped. Tears were shed, or choked back.
Tonight my companion of many years lies alone on a cold garage floor, awaiting his final walk.
As I lay him there earlier I found myself wrapping the body in an extra blanket to keep out the exceptional cold. And tonight my ears occasionally hear a familiar noise in the house. I start to turn before remembering that the assumed source of the particular sound can no longer be the cause.
Tomorrow, even if the ground remains frozen, the earth's crust will be ripped apart so that Bob's remains can properly be laid to rest beside his long time companion Midge.
But tonight ..... for first time in many decades ...... the Hee household is empty of any animal companions.
And is a much poorer place as a result.
RIP Bob.
Labels: nature
Thursday, July 15
Back home on the Sunny South Coast
After the variable weather that Dartmoor had to show me over the last few days its just so nice to be back by on the local seashore to enjoy the rest of my Summer break.
Paramo won't cut it here. More like a wet suit day I think.
(Highcliffe Beach - spot the tourist)
Rather than just lie in the garden soaking up the sun's rays I guess I could start transcribing my trip report notes for your perusal. Labels: nature
Friday, April 2
UK Waterfalls - Database of locations
My last mutterings gave me a long overdue nudge to mention a new on-line resource dedicated to mapping UK waterfalls - Waterfalls.me
"This website is dedicated to all the wonderful waterfalls throughout the United Kingdom.
I'm hoping to compile a database of all the major and many minor waterfalls, with a map of their location and hopefully photographs of each of the falls. There are a few other websites listing the falls throughout the UK .......... but I have yet to find a site where you can view a map and find any local falls to the area you are in.
I hope this will be of use to somebody out there, whether on your holidays or making special trips to see the falls"
I chatted via one of the UK Outdoor News Groups (yes they do still exist) with the site author following his appeal for additional waterfall information.
So if there's one you know of that you think should be added - why not drop him an e-mail?
Labels: blog media, nature
Sunday, March 21
New Forest Waterfall
Another period of rainfall during the last 24 hours.
Burbush waterfall is back in residency once more & all just a few steps away from a usually busy car parking area.
Hope the New Forest Authority don't cotton onto this as a potential tourist attraction!Labels: National Park, nature, New Forest
Monday, March 8
Dinner Companion
A friend flew in for lunch earlier today ............
Just some bird I'd been introduced to over a meal.
Didn't catch the name - had to fly off.
Labels: nature
Sunday, March 7
Smoke on The Water: New Forest Style
Looks like Spring is a-sprung as locals welcome the new tourist season with their Old Tradition of Setting Fire to the First Caravan of the New Season.
Apparently not. More like the semi-regular gorse burning to take advantage of the wet ground underfoot, before it starts to dry & harden.
At last. Its been a long Winter this year.Labels: National Park, nature, New Forest
Saturday, January 30
A Once in a Lifetime Event
The seed had fallen to the ground some twenty years before, one small hope amongst several thousand siblings. They succumbed to drought, starvation or local predators.
But not this one.
Feet dug ever deeper into the soil beneath. Grey trunk body thickened year by year whilst branching arms stretched newly bursting bud tips ever higher towards the sky with the start of each Spring.
Oh yes it was hard work.
Older & stronger trees had claimed this ground scores of years before when the seedling's parent was little more than the same hopeful shoot hidden deep in the undergrowth.
But the niche the seedling had carved out for itself was a careful one. Balancing nutrient from the earth around about, while threading its head upwards in a continual challenge to touch the sun despite the growing shade crown of mightier neighbours.
And even whilst competing for that light our tree & its neighbours talked together, as trees so often do. If only one stops to listen.
On calm sunny days little was said. The sun's life force beaming down made all else secondary.
But bare branched, during winter gales, the trees swayed and rocked as one. Chattering to each other as they told tales of mighty storms now long past. The movement of their branches exciting a temporary camaraderie.
Today that feeling was a distant memory. Maybe something that would not occur again.
For something was not right.
An orange spot, a splash of paint, had appeared on the tree's trunk. One chosen alongside others across the area. The mark of Cain? Or a sign of promising things ahead?
No matter - what will be will be. The tree waited. For it lived patience.
A lone walker, black and white dog at heel, appeared at the crest of the rise moving steadily down the track alongside the tree's domain.
And then it happened.
It arrived with that wisdom of inevitability. A product of hindsight's clear path to the moment when a world changes.
The tree felt its solid grasp on the earth's surface slip. Slowly it started to topple. Its airy head moving towards the ground far below.
The walker looked up at the sudden noise of something heavy tearing through woodland. Looking groundwards he expect to see a regular movement of deer. Or perhaps a few bulky New Forest cattle crashing through the dead bracken.
Instead a blur of green swaying leaves moving above his eye line grabbed at his attention.
He concentrated on the sight until the fall was complete.
The tree, after one storm too many & the increasing weight of rampant ivy around its trunk, had accepted the inevitability of physical laws and toppled to the ground.
Not with a crash. More a gentle murmur of rustling foliage, before a final dullen flat thud. The shared noise that comes with any large & very heavy object returning to earth.
For a few moments the walker continue to stare, taken aback by the event's suddenness.
And then, leaving the path, he walked over to the tree. Leaves once again still after a final airy flight. Roots snapped clean. The ground from whence they had been torn already resettling. This disturbance, obvious now, to quickly disappear with a few weeks of rain & frost.
One uniquely precise & fleeting moment. An infinitesimal hap chance amongst endless trillions of complex life force interactions across the Earth. And of all space and time.
I went for a walk in the New Forest today.
By chance I saw a tree fall to the ground.
No-one else was around.
And yes, it made a sound......or rather two.
One while it fell.
And a second that still rings deep inside me at the incredible odds of seeing it happen.Labels: ; New Forest, nature
Sunday, January 10
Whitten Pond - Ice Bound
A few snaps from this afternoon's wander near Burley in the New Forest.
The camera flash creating a strangely moody image at my regular crossing point on this pond outlet stream. A place where I've occasionally spotted a swimming snake - but certainly not today.
The beam traverse may be short but it requires a steady nerve & careful balance to avoid the potential early dip. Not that that has happened to me. Yet.
But today it is an easier passage with careful short sliding steps across the surface of thick ice.
A few steps further on lies Whitten Pond, a large pool of water easily visible from the Burley/Bransgore road.
I remain wary of the variable nature of the icy conditions underfoot. So those who decided a trip out onto the ice, and so far from shore, were foolhardy to say the least.
In places the steeping ground requires careful attention to avoid a loss of footing. Necessary caution.
Occasionally the path route leads across a flat areas of snowy ground. Too flat to be solid ground I belatedly realise with ominous sounds of cracking ice underfoot. A reminder of the vast quantity of stored water potential awaiting the inevitable thaw before returning the New Forest tracks back to muddy quagmire for the winter months ahead.
Dark was falling as I finally returned to the car park, today's walking pace reduced by the need for wariness.
As I carefully maneuvered the car towards the icy incline at the car park exit other vehicles were still arriving to start their own excursions out into the dark and mildly treacherous conditions.
Well at least the cold will keep any victim suitably embalmed for easy body ID.Labels: nature, New Forest
Friday, January 8
Seize the day - looking with different sight
Don't know if you spotted it, but we've had a bit of snow recently.
Hereabouts its nothing like the heaps of stuff that the rest of the country continue to suffer. But in East Dorset, and near to the coast, the local micro climate isn't conducive to the white stuff appearing. And when it does it tends not to hang around for very long.
Even rarer is this continual period of low temperature. Something that has been with us for so long that popping outdoors in -2C feels positively balmy at present.
Today's free day (hurrah-finally a day's holiday) is to be spent exploring a local spot near Ringwood, just off side from the the Avon Valley Footpath. An area of open common land, forest, and water pools.
Its not a very long circular wander. However it does have the benefit of being rarely visited both due to the location & the fact that its a path that doesn't actually go anywhere, except back to its starting point.
But a deliberate choice on my part. Large areas of snow covered ground, and no car tracks or human footprints to disturb the flat white surface. A rare opportunity to investigate the various and bountiful animal tracks that today are hard frozen into the snow, recording tales of recent animal activity.
I'd never realised that rabbits keep to such regular routes, even when crossing open land. But the little pounded pathways formed by their many distinctive prints tell their own tale.
I see a few deer tracks in an area where I've never spotted them before. Something to look out for more carefully now I know they are present.
Near the frozen lake a slow brown buzzard barely bothers to move off beyond my eye line. Keeping to the low branches to search avidly today for something, anything, to make a meal.
However the little egret, stark white against the backdrop of long dead reeds, remains wary. The short area of open water, but a minuscule portion of the thickly iced lake, makes for a lacklustre fishing ground.
Another predator likely to find failure as the aquatic world remains in safe hibernation. A natural reaction to the plunging temperature.
A walk with a rare difference.
An unique opportunity to catch a glimpse into the local routines of Nature.Labels: nature
Saturday, January 2
New Year. New Forest. Old Haunts.
The local cold snap continues unabated. With local low lying areas exhibiting their seasonal floods the persistence of hard & frozen ground is at present an useful advantage. Boggy and potentially treacherous areas have for a brief time become firm routes of iron surfaced mud and thick ice.
Well mostly. As I found out today - the sun may be far away, and brief in daytime appearance - but it still has the power to weaken icy surfaces. So crossing some of the flooded paths turned at times into an adventure of ice skating & river crossing, all within a few footsteps.
Strange to think I had sat on this bridge a few months earlier, munching sandwiches and watching a small New Forest stream trickle down below, firmly in its watercourse.
Signs also of the recent gales. Not yet up to the full strength of the Feb/March winds that will blow hard and long straight across from the nearby coast. But already impressive enough to knock about some less secure victims.
I like this hidden spot.
In fact I once bivvied the night here. Intending to sojourn with nature & pass a night with the deer herd that I can guarantee to find whatever the time of year & wandering tourists. Instead I discovered what horses can get up to during the dark hours
(The curious amongst you should follow the link)
But that's the joy of the British seasonal variation.
Familiar land & bye ways transform as vegetation growth rises & then falls, whilst the ground underfoot changes in response to the influence of sun, water & wind.
The deer didn't disappoint. Three heads bobbing up at a distance. Eyesight poor, but noses as keen as ever. The cold weather and low vegetation at this time of year making them less reluctant to flee with their usual alacrity.
(Spotted them yet?)
A pleasant way to pass a couple of hours on a sunny day. Five miles of crunching underfoot, with only the occasional crack/splash along the way as my usually accurate footfall adjustments were mislead by nature's cheeky jests.
My audio accompaniment today - a documentary about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. World famous for his literary colossus Sherlock Holmes. But slightly less familiar as the man who introduced skiing to Switzerland, Portsmouth FC player (pre pro days), regular MCC team turnout & the catalyst behind the creation of the Court of Criminal Appeal.
Wonder if he had managed all this if he'd had TV in his day?Labels: nature, New Forest
Sunday, December 20
Christmas WanderLand
I love this time of year in the run up to Christmas.
No, not the stupidity of office parties, excessive drinking, & stop-until-you-drop-shopping.
For me it's the peace and quiet that can be found for these few special days when walking local paths.
For the moment the semi occasional visitors now have other places to be. Which is fine by me as it means my weekend wanderings in the New Forest are of a solitary nature, save for an occasional habitual dog walker, similarly benefiting from a lack of human activity.
Despite the car thermometer showing 3 degrees, in the forest puddles are frozen with thick ice, and the ground underfoot is hard & still frozen. Boggy areas, usually a hop skip & splash traverse, today are easily crossed, ice crunching underfoot as I take the straight line ahead.
Sun shine, although weak, is appreciated for the extra warmth offered as I move out from under the shade of the trees. On impulse I decide to extend my route onto Holmsley Tearooms. Usually a hive of activity, especially with the day tripping fraternity, today it is peaceful.
Dog and myself have the garden area to ourselves as we await our lunchtime repast.
We return along the old railway track, preparing to dive back down into deep woodland. Unexpectedly the mix of solitude, sun, and a clear path leading off into the distance unexpectedly brings one of those rare moments of Bliss.
That feeling of oneness with my surroundings; Open to the forces of nature all around me.
Its something I find quite regularly in the hills, especially after a couple of days wildcamping.
But to stumble across it today, on a short and familiar route, is a welcome surprise. And a reminder why I continue to seek the outdoor world, and saviour its offerings.
Christmas - well I can take or leave it personally.
But the rare joy that comes from visiting familiar areas, but finding unexpected joy, is my own gift to myself this Xmas time.
And to share with you, if you only care to go out there and look for yourself.
Oh - and as you can see the new mobile telephone has a much better camera with which to try & capture moments along the way.
Labels: nature, New Forest
Saturday, December 5
Lake District Weatherline - New telephone number
I've one telephone number stored away on my mobile phone that whilst infrequently used, will never be deleted. When wildcamping high on Lakeland fells part of my evening routine is to call, phone signal permitting, The Lake District Weatherline service.
Over the years I've found the forecasts to be accurate, detailed & (for a solo hillwalker), key when pondering the next day's route.
To go high…..or low?
An important question for a walker travelling with no schedule to keep, other than to see what's beyond the next range of felltops.
But no matter what my intent, realism dictates that I should bend with the weather's vagaries, especially where extreme conditions are forecast.
(Wildcamping - ah so pretty)
Even in less inclement weather the choice between a high ridge walk in dense rain cloud, or a valley meander accompanied by patchy showers, can be the difference between a hard day with little enjoyment or an pleasant day of exploration.
(Wildcamping - ugh not so pretty)
That's even more relevant when high wind speeds are the alternative between safe passage low down or the increased risk of being knocked off my feet when ridging along exposed tops.
So thanks to the latest TGO Magazine for alerting me to the fact that the telephone no. for The Lake District Weatherline has recently changed to 0844 846 2444.
(Being curious, I tried the old number earlier today, only to be met with a recorded message giving a company's name and address details. But not a lot of guidance as to whether it will rain in Keswick tomorrow)
And whilst on the subject of Lakeland weather - fancy a job as a Fell Top Assessor?
"….report on the fell conditions from the summit area of Helvellyn from December through to April. Working seven days on and seven days off, including weekends and bank holidays, you will need to be able to climb from Glenridding to the summit of Helvellyn and back in four hours"
Well that’s probably me out of the running.
Then again the daily commute from the south coast might just get me down in the end.
Wonder whether any of the Assessors have ever thought about just wildcamping for their week in a nearby sheltered spot?
Now there's an idea.
And to get paid for it as well.
HmmmmLabels: Lake District, National Park, nature
Saturday, November 14
Blow you Bugger Blow
Early breakfast at Avon Beach, Mudeford.
The short walk from the clifftop parking spot down to the café is accompanied by a steadily hazing of vision as my spectacles slowly coat with a mixture of sea spray, salt and sand. All whipping onto the land as the wind leaves off pushing surf up onto the shoreline, and turns to other games to play instead.
A group of Oyster catchers, seemingly oblivious to the elemental force, busily bob along the tidal sand, looking for their breakfast. At times one takes to the air, making only a short distance, before quickly returning to earth. The desire for flight lessened today by the effort required to maintain it.
Warm inside the café we watch as the birds continue their hunt for tide borne bonanza. The fry up arrives.
Dog and myself for once alone at this usually busy spot. We wander along the ridge that of St Catherine's Hill, Christchurch.
As we pass by the twin mobile telephone masts the steady thrum of a plane is heard as it passes overhead. I pause to watch the sway of the thinner tower, rock embedded at the foot, but the upper section flexing as it bends so easily to wind whim.
The plane continues to fly overhead. What still?
I realise it’s the sound of the wind resonating the mast struts of the towers, with an irregular drumming as gusts bounce off some of the bulbous equipment bolted high above.
A personal orchestral offering - courtesy of Mother Nature and BT.
I love the change of perspective that the natural world can bring out in the everyday world.Labels: nature
Tuesday, September 29
Three things to do to Enjoy England
As you may have spotted on other sites some outdoor Bloggers have been approached by Jam to contribute to the Guardian's forthcoming ‘Enjoy England’ feature.
Speed reading the invitation my initial thought was 'Great! Finally hit the big time. A chance to kick over the traces of the day job".
Regrettably, a later slower perusal revealed a less glittering outcome.
But hey-ho; Ideas for these ramblings of mine can come from any direction and are all encouraged in whatever guise they might arise. So here's tonight's jottings, based around a common theme.
Solitude
According to recent government statistics the UK will soon only have living room for 423,138 more people before our landmass achieves its maximum level of population saturation.
New laws, allegedly being drafted as I write, plan to introduce measures that will require all UK inhabitants to take Breaths-In & Breaths-Out in an alternative mode to their nearest neighbour, rather than risk those in coastal areas being slowly edged off into the sea as the majority of the populace inhale simultaneously.
A little like a living Penny Fall shuffle fairground machine.
Well perhaps things aren't quite that bad. Yet. I may even have (whisper it gently) exaggerated so very slightly. But its true that urban living, now encompassing anyplace, short of living at the bottom of a lake, is becoming increasingly over populated & pressurised.
Here's a secret. This is a facet of modern society which can be so easily thwarted with a little personal effort.
Park the car. Start walking away from the road, and into your nearest piece of countryside. Take care to avoid well worn footpaths & tracks. Just keep going, veering clear of any signs of human habitation. Especially tourist features (Particularly Forestry Commission attractions. Honey pot to the Urban Daytripper. A wasp filled jam-jar to this writer)
Now Stop.
Take a deep breath.
And just listen to that glorious sound of ..... your own sweet self. Finally alone with nature.
Like this early morning alarm clock during my Dartmoor Dawdle in June 2008
"I had a lie-in until the sun poked its nose over the ridge, giving me the chance stay in my sleeping bag and listen to the song of the skylarks for twenty minutes of so. And I mean really listen. Lying there with no other distraction my concentration was fully given over to their repetitive trills, before their song veered on to yet another melody. No other background noise to taint the sound. A sublime experience"
Wildcamping
Despite somewhat draconian camping constraints under English law there are still pockets of wild uninhabited places in England that allow one to simply disappear from everyday humanity with little fuss, effort or expense.
With minimal equipment & a easy willingness to dispense with life's trappings & fripperies whole areas of England, rarely visited by most of the population are opened up.
Entry is free!
True it requires some degree of self-reliance & self confidence. In turn the benefit is a self-awareness at a level that most people would find difficult to comprehend. The easily discovered ability to spend a night in a wild place, somewhere apparently uninhabitable for so many, builds a bond with the natural world that once experienced cannot be forgotten.
Unlike so many shiny promises offered in our ' enlightened' times a repeat of this experience always seems to triggers some primordial Sigh from deep down within the brain's limbic region.
Freeze, Flight or Fight?
Not necessarily. Some of us know of a fourth way (Grasshopper).
Reckon I should start a cult?
Dartmoor
A desolately inhabited place of some 368 square miles, and yet an area both within easy access of millions of urbanites with major road access, and a place that positively encourages Wildcamping.
To the majority, trundling across tight moorland roads, it may seem an endless expanse of open land & weirdly sculpted Tor tops, mostly shrouded in thick mist & heartily driven rain. To guests of the HMP Dartmoor establishment, at Princetown, possibly a beckoning view, somewhere green & encouraging beyond thick Napoleonic walls of retribution.
For some an equally scary proposition when viewed from the comfort of a car. But after a few visits into Dartmoor's interior, by foot, the rich history of earlier human habitation springs into being. Neolithic stone rows to the more recent historic drippings of mine tramways, all underline that this was once one of the more densely populated place in England during past eras when a wooded valley was a places of Danger & Threat.
Forget the forlorn baying of the Sherlock Holme's Baskerville Hound. Instead learn to celebrate a place once full of life, and eager to share its secrets, many long forgotten, for those prepared to explore away from the modern day tarmacadam detour of bland conformity.
Or just stay inside the safety of that car.
Going from Nowhere. Leading to Nowhere. Please exit at the cliffside departure gate along with your fellow lemmings.
Was that Three Things to Do in England? Perhaps not quite what the Guardian invitation had in mind?
Whatever - just get out into some distant English wild place, and soak up its true nature. Far from the crush of humanity.
Better be quick. Tourist No. 423,139 arrives in 4 years time. And then this island starts to slowly sink into the sea.
Me? I'll be on Yes Tor. Having a brew & watching the sunset.
Glug .... glug .... glug.
Labels: dartmoor, media, Mental Health, National Park, nature
Friday, September 25
Wildcamp - Travel - Wildcamp
To Travel.
Definition: "To go from one place to another …..To advance or proceed"
By inference an act requiring physical movement from one position/place to another.
True, there's no rule to say that Wildcamps cannot be static. To remain at the same site for more than one night.
But mostly wildcamping is about spatial transition. The act of swapping one remote & lonely spot for a different perspective. Usually another remote & lonely spot. A daily change of place.
Or .............. perhaps that should be a change of perspective on life ?
Whatever - it makes no difference. The act itself suffices for many.
For me? Well......
To tap into the Great Unknown. Become one, once more, with the deep Om of life.
To touch, however fleetingly, that underlying rhythmic beat of energy. For so much of our lives unheeded as it throbs far below our everyday event threshold that is termed Living In The Real World'.
To sleep a night. Solitary & defenceless in some wild and inhospitable place. Remote, perhaps even uninhabitable for many.
To awake at dawn's approach. Mentally & physically renewed.
Early morning grumbling of sinews & bones, unaccustomed to the previous day's physical activity, quietening as the essence of At One with a natural life force, are sensed deep within one's self.
An unexpected deep sigh of contentment at ……
At..?
Well at nothing tangible really.
Except the act of being part of the Real World.
Breathing.
Sharing rainfall run-off with beck or tarn as it heeds the pull of gravity.
Wind veer caressing bare skin; Rain sting on cheeks;
The welcoming warmth of weak sunlight on a frosty morning.
The cool relief freely given by deep shade of rock's shadow at the height of Summer.
Another day greeted. Rucksack settled onto back for the hours of movement ahead.
The last act.
A final lingering glance backwards to the night's resting place. Checking for mislaid kit and signs of human presence? Or more a quiet & silent salute to a place now special in memory & time.
To travel.
No, not movement from place to place, towards some journey's end.
Merely an excuse to saviour stops along the way & touch, fleetingly, the closeness of the Natural World & Reality.
Until the next time.
Maybe I'm alone in silently greeting a wildcamp site on arrival; And on departure bidding a fond farewell. To a familiar friend who's presence I meet with from time to time? And from place to place.
Or then again ..... maybe not.
Perhaps I'm just weird?Labels: nature
Monday, August 31
The Weather Man is a Drip
Did you enjoy today's sunny weather? Hopefully that won't be the last gasp of this derisory summer just yet.
But who knows for sure?
Maybe the Meteorological Office & its ubiquitous stooge the TV Weatherman?
Perhaps.
Or then again.......Nope - probably not with their track record over recent times.
For this weekend was the last straw for me in treating seriously the dire content of the dumbed down weather forecast for the masses.
Take Saturday's TV forecast beamed out around 22:00 in the evening on BBC1.
'Bad weather on Sunday for the south of England, but not until around 5pm' cheerily pronounced the Metman's grinning monkey, 'Enjoy the Sunday sunshine while you can'.
Meanwhile, blue screen background behind him, the forecaster waved his arms with enthusiastic animation as a computer generated model of the weather for the next 24 hours silently confirmed his projection. Its crude overview indicating clouds and rain cruising across from Ireland, and due to reach my own locale until late on Sunday.
It must be true - the time was at the bottom of the cartoon after all.
Plans made accordingly I departed to bed. Why then did I look out of the window early Sunday morning to see thick cloud cover. Which by lunchtime had built into light drizzle for the rest of the afternoon? By then I'd given up in disgust and was watching the rain blow in from the coast whilst getting some work sorted in the office.
(Well it seemed like a good way to use the time bearing in mind the happier alternatives that had gone by the board)
How is it the high tech, multi million pound Met Office weather models can be so inept about weather only 12 hours ahead?
That's not the worse case I can relate. The TV forecasts have been getting progressively more dreadful over a period of many months. Its almost as if the senseless drive to make the forecast more "accessible" to the drooling TV couch potato has up-ended any accuracy they once had.
And for what?
The conditions Outdoor are largely irrelevant for Mr Lardy Arse TV Watcher.
Nope. I've had it with the TV & Radio forecasts from now on.
Here's my three top tips on how to predict the forthcoming weather:
1. In hilly areas, refer to the Mountain Weather Information Service's report for the next 1-2 days. These tend to have a very high level of accuracy & are essential reading for high hill walking at times of bad weather.
2. Learn to read & interpret a pressure chart. I like this site, although the level of detail can be intimidating for the uninitiated at first (click on the dates at the foot of the page).
Another excellent source is on the MWIS site.
Or there's this over on the European Centre for Medium-Range Weather Forecasts site
3. DIY. Look out of the window & go outdoors. Check the flow of air movement especially in comparison to the clouds overhead. Sense the air temperature - colder or warmer than earlier? Look at the clouds and the formations. Then back indoors to tap the barometer to see if its rising or falling.
Then take your best guess!
4. Finally - down to the seashore & pick up some seaweed.
Only a fraction of the cost of the Met Office's new "second most powerful computer in the UK" but probably a damn sight more accurate than the drivel fed to us from the goggle box each day.
Better still - sod the forecast - just get outside anyway.
And pack a waterproof, just in case.
Monday, August 24
Walkers & Cattle - Advice
The Enemy #1 - The Cow
Genetically over engineered over many centuries into a meat & milk provider. Typically two tone in colour. Heavy nasal drooling at one end. And a different sort of drooling at the other.
If in doubt carefully use a scratch & sniff test to quickly distinguish the key differences. Try not to lick your fingers afterwards.
The Enemy #2 - The Bullock
The juvenile male. Often identified by a tendency to unexpectedly demonstrate their sexual awakening by attempting to mount each other. Often repeatedly. Despite mixed success.
Intensely curious and prone to rapidly cover a field's length seconds after you've strayed within the barb wire/electrified boundary fence fortification.
The Owner - The Cattle Farmer
Some believe this to be a mix of the two genres. Often distinguished by the use of green wellingtons, dung coloured (typically blue) overalls, & a loud greeting call "Gerroff-my-land-you-townies".
Well ok I may be guilty of ever egging those descriptions a little.
Except for the green wellies.
But more seriously today's BBC reports have hi-lighted certain dangers associated with these usually tranquil beasts (I meant the cows by the way)
Beware of cows with their calves. Especially if you encounter them whilst accompanied by a dog.
Personally, even when not dog accompanied, I have a tendency to avoid any beast weighing in excess of 1/2 ton and capable of short bursts of speed in my general direction. No matter what its motivation may be.
The NFU advice has been issued as a result of the deaths of 3 walkers in 3 months.
Their advice to walkers
"if you have a dog with you, keep it under close control, but do not hang on to it should a cow or bull start acting aggressively. If you feel threatened, just carry on as normal, do not run, move to the edge of the field and if possible find another way round the field, returning to the original path as soon as is possible. And remember to close the gate".
(I love that mention of the gate. A good idea to prevent yet another headlong chase down the next field, but at the same time rather a recognisable farmy piece of advice)
The main problem for those of not familiar with bovine nature - what is aggressive behaviour?
Most cattle will wander over to a stile if they spot a walker. After all chewing cud and trying to mount your brothers can becomes tedious after a few weeks of such wild experiences.
I regularly walk across a large open expanse of common land watching the behaviour of cattle.
Based, I assume on their previous encounters, a few cattle will hang back from the main herd, effectively acting as scouts. These will initiate a rapid move towards the cause of any disquiet, bringing the rest of the herd cavorting behind them, feet drumming hard.
Not a pleasant prospect if you happen to be that cause.
Unfortunately the latest victim was a farmer. But back at the Royal Welsh Show in July the FUW (think NFU Wales) was quoted as saying that "Cases of potentially-deadly stampeding cattle unwittingly spooked by dog walkers are almost certainly set to rise"
(Lets ignore the comment "In part it was due to cash-strapped "townies" holidaying in the UK at a time of recession and heading for the countryside to relax")
Here's my advice, based on years of experience using farm paths. Its personal, so make up your own mind at your own risk.
1. Don’t keep the dog on a lead, but do keep it under control at all times.
If its not sufficiently well trained to stay to heel, or be sent away, you really shouldn't be out with it amongst farm animals.
2. By all means carry a stout stick. But as most people, including myself, do not carry one try picking up a few small stones (not rocks!) before entering a field.
It’s a last ditch deterrent. Better a few stings on a cow's thick hide, and a potential dressing down from a farmer, than being knocked over & injured by a fast moving herd.
3. If the beasts move towards you, make loud single syllable noises, such as they'd expect from the cowhand (cowherd?) also make yourself look bigger, but try not to wave your hands about alarmingly. Not so much noise that they become spooked, but enough to give you time for a rapid & controlled exit, whilst they try to work out just what the hell you are.
Thinking herding noises.
(I used this on my last Dartmoor trip for a couple of miles, in an area covered with impenetrable gorse thickets and narrow paths. A river was on one side. A steep rise on the other. The cows & their calves wouldn’t take the hint to veer away, despite my vectoring approaches. As this was the only way off the moor unless I turned back for a five mile detour, near the end of a long day I had little choice on this occasion.
4. Don’t (completely) turn your back or try to out sprint them. Back away steadily whilst ensuring you remain upright & prepared to move off to one side to avoid any confrontation.
5. Keep an eye out for all potential exit routes, moving well around any herd where possible. Remember that most of the boundary hedgerows will be hiding barbed wire. Its meant to prevent the escape of large curious animals. That works the same where you are concerned as well.
Its not a good time to find this out when entangled in this as part of any rapid exit.
Remember Steve McQueen in the Great Escape?
6. If it does come to a close up encounter I'm told a hard slap across the snout will work wonders.
Personally I've not test this particular tip. Not do I ever intend to get into a situation where I need to test the hypothesis.
If someone slapped me across the snout I’d tend to thrash about a fair bit, or take it as an attack. But quite what a 1/2 ton beast may do …..?
7. Finally (or should this be firstly?) if in doubt make a detour to avoid crossing the field.
I'm not too proud to admit I've done this on many occasions where cows/horses have shown rather too much interest in my presence before I've even entered the field.
This is one circumstance where Flight before Fight is A Good Thing
Any more tips - leave a comment please.Labels: nature
Sunday, August 2
Its Summer? No its Autumn? Just take your pick
An early Sunday start prepping two motorcycles ready for a long weekend at a Well Known Event (but more on that later in the week perhaps)
Whilst I'm on the topic, when did the centre-stand become surplus to requirement? Trying single handed to get each bike on a paddock stand, for simple chain maintenance (a five minute job) became a heart stopping half hour if the end result wasn't to be one's pride and joy lying lifeless on its side after toppling over during the stand/mounting process.
Since when did a centre stand become a luxury item?
So imagine my joy when I wandered back indoors only to find my pc screen infected with a rather nasty Trojan virus which required some major low level surgery to eradicate.
And yes, I do use current Firewall & Anti-Virus packages.
Two hours later that was sorted, leaving many more hours to run some alternative malware/spyware software and complete a low level purge.
Time for a walk then? More like essential.
Out to Burbush in the New Forest for a bit of contemplative R&R, accompanied by a MP3 player of very loud rock music. Always works well when I'm in an anti-social frame of mind.
Predictably, given the summer season, the rural back roads were busy & the New Forest car park a seething mass of humanity. Why does the term 'tourist on holiday' seem to require leaving their brain & common sense in a small pail by the holiday accommodation's front door each day?
Oh well - a quiet route was essential today, far away from marked paths and over publicised guidebook routes.
A success in that I saw no-one else once I'd left the vicinity of the car park. Sort of a success in a spur of the moment decision to try something a little more physically challenging by hopping off the back of my first route to link up with a longer outlying circuit.
It was via bog land. It wasn't any surprise. I know the land here abouts is liable to be undercut by narrow rivulets of flowing water, especially after rain. Adopting the trusted bog hop gait that Darren knows so well I quickly crossed onto the lower slopes of the far valley side, and picked up a pony track up to the pine topped mount ahead, in which nestled a World War II searchlight emplacement.
All going spiffing so far. A good workout over rough ground, much akin to Dartmoor in some places, and at a fast pace. Dog by my side, we moved ever onwards.
As I followed the ridge I was watching the boggy land below looking for a better track to cut across to rejoin the original route. An excellent & quiet circular if it wasn't for 400m of path crossing a major watershed plateau. Even the sinking of various peat and straw bales a few years earlier had failed to turn it into better than an inevitable paddle even during drought conditions. So its always been a bugbear of mine to find someway to hop this impassable section without getting a guaranteed soaking.
Today I thought I had cracked it. Spotting a clear pony track down I headed to the valley for a short 200m traverse to the far slope.
Along the way my path meandered by a solitary blackberry bush, already full of ripe fruit. A pause briefly to saviour a couple of large juicy berries unadulterated by proximity to car or human activity. Its going to be a bumper crop this year.
But hang on - doesn't ripe fruit signify the End of The Summer. A sign that Autumn's days are announcing their turn to become the seasonal host?
Maybe. Personally I'm yet to get my head around the fact its Summer, even as the evenings drawn in with each dusk arriving earlier than the previous one.
Onwards then into what turned out to be one of the worst pieces of broken ground I've walked over for some time. No make that walked through. Or maybe even under.
Initially hopping from tussock to tussock I turned to make sure Dog was ok. He'd disappeared. Nope there he was, the only sign of his passage the top of long sedge grasses moving, as he followed a track deep deep down in the undergrowth.
I persevered. Carefully. This was ankle snapping territory. The trusted bog hop gait, so suavely demonstrated not half an hour before soon became an arm whirling, keep the balance, plummet forward until finally the inevitable happened.
My foot went into a pool of water, far below and out of sight, with the result - a boot filled with a tantalising mixture of rain water and Grade A fresh bog land mulch (and all free of charge)
Bugger - this is the sort of incident that rarely happens to me. Even then it should be in some wild and harsh environment. Not 50m from the dry & well worn path in front of me.
I finished the rest of the walk with a noticeable squelch each time my right foot hit the deck. But I had to smile along the way.
Putting the valley's water levels down to this summer's rainfall level I mentally marked the route as passable, but with care and at the right time of the year.
So why, when I came to one of the Forest's permanent pool of standing water was it's level 2-3m below its normal mark; Foreshore mud clearly visible? A typical mid summer scene in fact.
Is this still a wet Summer this year? Or maybe a warm season with periods of rainfall that have coloured the general perception of inclement weather.
Or has the high season already passed, leaving us to face an early Autumn? One that indicates the
non Winter season is now one extended period of warm & occasionally wet weather?
Well I don't know, and I doubt whether the Met Office are truly qualified these days to proffer an opinion that anyone would trust.
I squelched my way back into the typical Soddam & Gomorrah scene surrounding the car park. As I started homewards to renew battle with a pc clean-up, I skirted Forest ponies obstructing the main access routes & road. Their particular season in full swing having relearnt the quickest way to get Oohs & Aahs from day trippers and more relevantly their free handouts.
I really need to get away soon!Labels: nature, New Forest, walks
Friday, July 24
Running fast. Standing still.
A combination of work, home and the usual day to day life drudge means that any time spent in front of this damned mono visual blinking radiation emitting time wasting device (aka Internet PC) are few and far between at present.
I've managed to keep up with my regular blog/forum reads each day, although any interaction in those places has also been similarly limited by time & energy.
Regrettably my fine record of monthly wildcamps that started so well (and so early this year), has turned to a pile of mush in response to circumstance. Many of these beyond my direct control, but all requiring the mature & supportive responses that I like to think is part of what make me Who I Am.
But today, at the end of yet another endlessly milling week I've uncovered a few hours of my own. Time to sit back & spend some solitary moments on my own whims. Something that during the last few weeks I've felt increasingly driven to saviour during the pell-mell rush that seems to be my waking existence.
Now is that time, more than ever, when I feel drawn to find that special renewal of spirit that comes with a few night's wildcamping in some lonely and desolate wild location. Far from my fellow human, but so close to the true reality of existence. Water. Shelter. Food. Nature. Bliss.
But for the moment my dismally puny recharge comes as I think back to some of those high ridge wildcamps. Places where I sat savouring the blending of Time, Space & Solitude.
The quiet gap that follows the end of a long day's trek.
The wildcamp pitch. Refuelling the body's needs.
And then an opportunity to fill the gap before sleep by busily doing nothing in particular but become one with the surroundings. True - only a transitory visitor. But one open to the measure and pleasure of the temporary resting place.
Meanwhile there are the trip reports from fellow Outdoor Bloggers as they discuss their recent sorties out in the Great Outdoors (You lucky sods!)
All this helps keep me on the right side of sanity. Although those who have met me know that such a description is always applied a little warily when citing my general demeanour.
So for now I teeter (titter?) along life's own high ridge. Balancing The Present alongside The Past. Awaiting The Future where control of my own moments & movements can one again be retaken in a more selfish manner.
So what if this summer is yet again turning out to be damp and changeable?
The weather is warm. The grass is full grown. Tree crowns are dark and leaf laden.
Get out there if you are able. Saviour these moments.
To store up pleasant memories for colder days ahead.
And I don't mean the Winter.Labels: Mental Health, nature
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
It was only when I sat down to pen this short piece for those acquainted with the Hee entourage, that I spotted the perverse timing of that seemingly innocuous event.
Life does throw up some freaky circumstances at times, so it seems.
(Happier times. Primrose days)
Having 'lost' Midge (left) a little over two years ago, Bob (right) has become my solitary companion on all my local outdoor wanderings. Especially so during recent months.
Little did I realised that shortly after penning my meagre words of condolence on that Monday evening that our own dog, Bob, would suddenly exhibit strange behaviour for a few minutes.
Erratic movement. Poor motor control. And most distressing of all his driving desire to urgently get physically close to family members.
As quickly as this behaviour began, it had ceased. And despite our close attention following this event, he appeared to have returned to normal, albeit a little quieter than usual.
Tuesday morning there was the usual waggy tailed greeting with its polite (but ever insistent) demand for food. Still unsure as to the cause of the previous night's episode we mentally shrugged and life in household Hee continued as normal.
Until Tuesday afternoon.
As the first of the snow started to fall locally there was an alarming repeat of the erratic staggering & Bob's need for physical closeness. Being on my own at the time, and with the clear distress of an animal in need, an emergency trip to the local vet was essential, with a hurried call to Mrs H along the way.
The diagnosis - a stroke. Cause - unknown. Treatment - drugs, close nursing & a trust that the next few days would show whether this had been a singular episode, or an indication of darker matters.
Sadly our vibrant and deeply loved companion of many years was not to bounce back this time.
Bob and myself spent the night together dossed down on the living room floor. My backpacking sleeping kit, normally used for happy circumstances, now turned to a darker occasion for one in need. Myself, frustrated by the limited means to comfort him, silent but ardently encouraging him to improve.
Sadly his physical and mental decline continued.
This dog that we had walked with out in a frosty New Forest only last Monday afternoon. He as usual eager to please. Somehow so suddenly gone. Leaving in its place this husk of a a shallowly panting & long inert shadow as a cruel reminder.
As the cold morning light dispiritedly lit the room the decision was inevitable. This being was slowly slipping away before us. The body not in pain, at present. But that vital & vibrant life force was going. The surviving body before us clearly declining to an unavoidable conclusion.
The vet visited later. Kind words were said. Stout hearts ripped. Tears were shed, or choked back.
Tonight my companion of many years lies alone on a cold garage floor, awaiting his final walk.
As I lay him there earlier I found myself wrapping the body in an extra blanket to keep out the exceptional cold. And tonight my ears occasionally hear a familiar noise in the house. I start to turn before remembering that the assumed source of the particular sound can no longer be the cause.
Tomorrow, even if the ground remains frozen, the earth's crust will be ripped apart so that Bob's remains can properly be laid to rest beside his long time companion Midge.
But tonight ..... for first time in many decades ...... the Hee household is empty of any animal companions.
And is a much poorer place as a result.
RIP Bob.
Labels: nature
Back home on the Sunny South Coast
After the variable weather that Dartmoor had to show me over the last few days its just so nice to be back by on the local seashore to enjoy the rest of my Summer break.
Paramo won't cut it here. More like a wet suit day I think.
(Highcliffe Beach - spot the tourist)
Rather than just lie in the garden soaking up the sun's rays I guess I could start transcribing my trip report notes for your perusal. Labels: nature
Friday, April 2
UK Waterfalls - Database of locations
My last mutterings gave me a long overdue nudge to mention a new on-line resource dedicated to mapping UK waterfalls - Waterfalls.me
"This website is dedicated to all the wonderful waterfalls throughout the United Kingdom.
I'm hoping to compile a database of all the major and many minor waterfalls, with a map of their location and hopefully photographs of each of the falls. There are a few other websites listing the falls throughout the UK .......... but I have yet to find a site where you can view a map and find any local falls to the area you are in.
I hope this will be of use to somebody out there, whether on your holidays or making special trips to see the falls"
I chatted via one of the UK Outdoor News Groups (yes they do still exist) with the site author following his appeal for additional waterfall information.
So if there's one you know of that you think should be added - why not drop him an e-mail?
Labels: blog media, nature
Sunday, March 21
New Forest Waterfall
Another period of rainfall during the last 24 hours.
Burbush waterfall is back in residency once more & all just a few steps away from a usually busy car parking area.
Hope the New Forest Authority don't cotton onto this as a potential tourist attraction!Labels: National Park, nature, New Forest
Monday, March 8
Dinner Companion
A friend flew in for lunch earlier today ............
Just some bird I'd been introduced to over a meal.
Didn't catch the name - had to fly off.
Labels: nature
Sunday, March 7
Smoke on The Water: New Forest Style
Looks like Spring is a-sprung as locals welcome the new tourist season with their Old Tradition of Setting Fire to the First Caravan of the New Season.
Apparently not. More like the semi-regular gorse burning to take advantage of the wet ground underfoot, before it starts to dry & harden.
At last. Its been a long Winter this year.Labels: National Park, nature, New Forest
Saturday, January 30
A Once in a Lifetime Event
The seed had fallen to the ground some twenty years before, one small hope amongst several thousand siblings. They succumbed to drought, starvation or local predators.
But not this one.
Feet dug ever deeper into the soil beneath. Grey trunk body thickened year by year whilst branching arms stretched newly bursting bud tips ever higher towards the sky with the start of each Spring.
Oh yes it was hard work.
Older & stronger trees had claimed this ground scores of years before when the seedling's parent was little more than the same hopeful shoot hidden deep in the undergrowth.
But the niche the seedling had carved out for itself was a careful one. Balancing nutrient from the earth around about, while threading its head upwards in a continual challenge to touch the sun despite the growing shade crown of mightier neighbours.
And even whilst competing for that light our tree & its neighbours talked together, as trees so often do. If only one stops to listen.
On calm sunny days little was said. The sun's life force beaming down made all else secondary.
But bare branched, during winter gales, the trees swayed and rocked as one. Chattering to each other as they told tales of mighty storms now long past. The movement of their branches exciting a temporary camaraderie.
Today that feeling was a distant memory. Maybe something that would not occur again.
For something was not right.
An orange spot, a splash of paint, had appeared on the tree's trunk. One chosen alongside others across the area. The mark of Cain? Or a sign of promising things ahead?
No matter - what will be will be. The tree waited. For it lived patience.
A lone walker, black and white dog at heel, appeared at the crest of the rise moving steadily down the track alongside the tree's domain.
And then it happened.
It arrived with that wisdom of inevitability. A product of hindsight's clear path to the moment when a world changes.
The tree felt its solid grasp on the earth's surface slip. Slowly it started to topple. Its airy head moving towards the ground far below.
The walker looked up at the sudden noise of something heavy tearing through woodland. Looking groundwards he expect to see a regular movement of deer. Or perhaps a few bulky New Forest cattle crashing through the dead bracken.
Instead a blur of green swaying leaves moving above his eye line grabbed at his attention.
He concentrated on the sight until the fall was complete.
The tree, after one storm too many & the increasing weight of rampant ivy around its trunk, had accepted the inevitability of physical laws and toppled to the ground.
Not with a crash. More a gentle murmur of rustling foliage, before a final dullen flat thud. The shared noise that comes with any large & very heavy object returning to earth.
For a few moments the walker continue to stare, taken aback by the event's suddenness.
And then, leaving the path, he walked over to the tree. Leaves once again still after a final airy flight. Roots snapped clean. The ground from whence they had been torn already resettling. This disturbance, obvious now, to quickly disappear with a few weeks of rain & frost.
One uniquely precise & fleeting moment. An infinitesimal hap chance amongst endless trillions of complex life force interactions across the Earth. And of all space and time.
I went for a walk in the New Forest today.
By chance I saw a tree fall to the ground.
No-one else was around.
And yes, it made a sound......or rather two.
One while it fell.
And a second that still rings deep inside me at the incredible odds of seeing it happen.Labels: ; New Forest, nature
Sunday, January 10
Whitten Pond - Ice Bound
A few snaps from this afternoon's wander near Burley in the New Forest.
The camera flash creating a strangely moody image at my regular crossing point on this pond outlet stream. A place where I've occasionally spotted a swimming snake - but certainly not today.
The beam traverse may be short but it requires a steady nerve & careful balance to avoid the potential early dip. Not that that has happened to me. Yet.
But today it is an easier passage with careful short sliding steps across the surface of thick ice.
A few steps further on lies Whitten Pond, a large pool of water easily visible from the Burley/Bransgore road.
I remain wary of the variable nature of the icy conditions underfoot. So those who decided a trip out onto the ice, and so far from shore, were foolhardy to say the least.
In places the steeping ground requires careful attention to avoid a loss of footing. Necessary caution.
Occasionally the path route leads across a flat areas of snowy ground. Too flat to be solid ground I belatedly realise with ominous sounds of cracking ice underfoot. A reminder of the vast quantity of stored water potential awaiting the inevitable thaw before returning the New Forest tracks back to muddy quagmire for the winter months ahead.
Dark was falling as I finally returned to the car park, today's walking pace reduced by the need for wariness.
As I carefully maneuvered the car towards the icy incline at the car park exit other vehicles were still arriving to start their own excursions out into the dark and mildly treacherous conditions.
Well at least the cold will keep any victim suitably embalmed for easy body ID.Labels: nature, New Forest
Friday, January 8
Seize the day - looking with different sight
Don't know if you spotted it, but we've had a bit of snow recently.
Hereabouts its nothing like the heaps of stuff that the rest of the country continue to suffer. But in East Dorset, and near to the coast, the local micro climate isn't conducive to the white stuff appearing. And when it does it tends not to hang around for very long.
Even rarer is this continual period of low temperature. Something that has been with us for so long that popping outdoors in -2C feels positively balmy at present.
Today's free day (hurrah-finally a day's holiday) is to be spent exploring a local spot near Ringwood, just off side from the the Avon Valley Footpath. An area of open common land, forest, and water pools.
Its not a very long circular wander. However it does have the benefit of being rarely visited both due to the location & the fact that its a path that doesn't actually go anywhere, except back to its starting point.
But a deliberate choice on my part. Large areas of snow covered ground, and no car tracks or human footprints to disturb the flat white surface. A rare opportunity to investigate the various and bountiful animal tracks that today are hard frozen into the snow, recording tales of recent animal activity.
I'd never realised that rabbits keep to such regular routes, even when crossing open land. But the little pounded pathways formed by their many distinctive prints tell their own tale.
I see a few deer tracks in an area where I've never spotted them before. Something to look out for more carefully now I know they are present.
Near the frozen lake a slow brown buzzard barely bothers to move off beyond my eye line. Keeping to the low branches to search avidly today for something, anything, to make a meal.
However the little egret, stark white against the backdrop of long dead reeds, remains wary. The short area of open water, but a minuscule portion of the thickly iced lake, makes for a lacklustre fishing ground.
Another predator likely to find failure as the aquatic world remains in safe hibernation. A natural reaction to the plunging temperature.
A walk with a rare difference.
An unique opportunity to catch a glimpse into the local routines of Nature.Labels: nature
Saturday, January 2
New Year. New Forest. Old Haunts.
The local cold snap continues unabated. With local low lying areas exhibiting their seasonal floods the persistence of hard & frozen ground is at present an useful advantage. Boggy and potentially treacherous areas have for a brief time become firm routes of iron surfaced mud and thick ice.
Well mostly. As I found out today - the sun may be far away, and brief in daytime appearance - but it still has the power to weaken icy surfaces. So crossing some of the flooded paths turned at times into an adventure of ice skating & river crossing, all within a few footsteps.
Strange to think I had sat on this bridge a few months earlier, munching sandwiches and watching a small New Forest stream trickle down below, firmly in its watercourse.
Signs also of the recent gales. Not yet up to the full strength of the Feb/March winds that will blow hard and long straight across from the nearby coast. But already impressive enough to knock about some less secure victims.
I like this hidden spot.
In fact I once bivvied the night here. Intending to sojourn with nature & pass a night with the deer herd that I can guarantee to find whatever the time of year & wandering tourists. Instead I discovered what horses can get up to during the dark hours
(The curious amongst you should follow the link)
But that's the joy of the British seasonal variation.
Familiar land & bye ways transform as vegetation growth rises & then falls, whilst the ground underfoot changes in response to the influence of sun, water & wind.
The deer didn't disappoint. Three heads bobbing up at a distance. Eyesight poor, but noses as keen as ever. The cold weather and low vegetation at this time of year making them less reluctant to flee with their usual alacrity.
(Spotted them yet?)
A pleasant way to pass a couple of hours on a sunny day. Five miles of crunching underfoot, with only the occasional crack/splash along the way as my usually accurate footfall adjustments were mislead by nature's cheeky jests.
My audio accompaniment today - a documentary about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. World famous for his literary colossus Sherlock Holmes. But slightly less familiar as the man who introduced skiing to Switzerland, Portsmouth FC player (pre pro days), regular MCC team turnout & the catalyst behind the creation of the Court of Criminal Appeal.
Wonder if he had managed all this if he'd had TV in his day?Labels: nature, New Forest
Sunday, December 20
Christmas WanderLand
I love this time of year in the run up to Christmas.
No, not the stupidity of office parties, excessive drinking, & stop-until-you-drop-shopping.
For me it's the peace and quiet that can be found for these few special days when walking local paths.
For the moment the semi occasional visitors now have other places to be. Which is fine by me as it means my weekend wanderings in the New Forest are of a solitary nature, save for an occasional habitual dog walker, similarly benefiting from a lack of human activity.
Despite the car thermometer showing 3 degrees, in the forest puddles are frozen with thick ice, and the ground underfoot is hard & still frozen. Boggy areas, usually a hop skip & splash traverse, today are easily crossed, ice crunching underfoot as I take the straight line ahead.
Sun shine, although weak, is appreciated for the extra warmth offered as I move out from under the shade of the trees. On impulse I decide to extend my route onto Holmsley Tearooms. Usually a hive of activity, especially with the day tripping fraternity, today it is peaceful.
Dog and myself have the garden area to ourselves as we await our lunchtime repast.
We return along the old railway track, preparing to dive back down into deep woodland. Unexpectedly the mix of solitude, sun, and a clear path leading off into the distance unexpectedly brings one of those rare moments of Bliss.
That feeling of oneness with my surroundings; Open to the forces of nature all around me.
Its something I find quite regularly in the hills, especially after a couple of days wildcamping.
But to stumble across it today, on a short and familiar route, is a welcome surprise. And a reminder why I continue to seek the outdoor world, and saviour its offerings.
Christmas - well I can take or leave it personally.
But the rare joy that comes from visiting familiar areas, but finding unexpected joy, is my own gift to myself this Xmas time.
And to share with you, if you only care to go out there and look for yourself.
Oh - and as you can see the new mobile telephone has a much better camera with which to try & capture moments along the way.
Labels: nature, New Forest
Saturday, December 5
Lake District Weatherline - New telephone number
I've one telephone number stored away on my mobile phone that whilst infrequently used, will never be deleted. When wildcamping high on Lakeland fells part of my evening routine is to call, phone signal permitting, The Lake District Weatherline service.
Over the years I've found the forecasts to be accurate, detailed & (for a solo hillwalker), key when pondering the next day's route.
To go high…..or low?
An important question for a walker travelling with no schedule to keep, other than to see what's beyond the next range of felltops.
But no matter what my intent, realism dictates that I should bend with the weather's vagaries, especially where extreme conditions are forecast.
(Wildcamping - ah so pretty)
Even in less inclement weather the choice between a high ridge walk in dense rain cloud, or a valley meander accompanied by patchy showers, can be the difference between a hard day with little enjoyment or an pleasant day of exploration.
(Wildcamping - ugh not so pretty)
That's even more relevant when high wind speeds are the alternative between safe passage low down or the increased risk of being knocked off my feet when ridging along exposed tops.
So thanks to the latest TGO Magazine for alerting me to the fact that the telephone no. for The Lake District Weatherline has recently changed to 0844 846 2444.
(Being curious, I tried the old number earlier today, only to be met with a recorded message giving a company's name and address details. But not a lot of guidance as to whether it will rain in Keswick tomorrow)
And whilst on the subject of Lakeland weather - fancy a job as a Fell Top Assessor?
"….report on the fell conditions from the summit area of Helvellyn from December through to April. Working seven days on and seven days off, including weekends and bank holidays, you will need to be able to climb from Glenridding to the summit of Helvellyn and back in four hours"
Well that’s probably me out of the running.
Then again the daily commute from the south coast might just get me down in the end.
Wonder whether any of the Assessors have ever thought about just wildcamping for their week in a nearby sheltered spot?
Now there's an idea.
And to get paid for it as well.
HmmmmLabels: Lake District, National Park, nature
Saturday, November 14
Blow you Bugger Blow
Early breakfast at Avon Beach, Mudeford.
The short walk from the clifftop parking spot down to the café is accompanied by a steadily hazing of vision as my spectacles slowly coat with a mixture of sea spray, salt and sand. All whipping onto the land as the wind leaves off pushing surf up onto the shoreline, and turns to other games to play instead.
A group of Oyster catchers, seemingly oblivious to the elemental force, busily bob along the tidal sand, looking for their breakfast. At times one takes to the air, making only a short distance, before quickly returning to earth. The desire for flight lessened today by the effort required to maintain it.
Warm inside the café we watch as the birds continue their hunt for tide borne bonanza. The fry up arrives.
Dog and myself for once alone at this usually busy spot. We wander along the ridge that of St Catherine's Hill, Christchurch.
As we pass by the twin mobile telephone masts the steady thrum of a plane is heard as it passes overhead. I pause to watch the sway of the thinner tower, rock embedded at the foot, but the upper section flexing as it bends so easily to wind whim.
The plane continues to fly overhead. What still?
I realise it’s the sound of the wind resonating the mast struts of the towers, with an irregular drumming as gusts bounce off some of the bulbous equipment bolted high above.
A personal orchestral offering - courtesy of Mother Nature and BT.
I love the change of perspective that the natural world can bring out in the everyday world.Labels: nature
Tuesday, September 29
Three things to do to Enjoy England
As you may have spotted on other sites some outdoor Bloggers have been approached by Jam to contribute to the Guardian's forthcoming ‘Enjoy England’ feature.
Speed reading the invitation my initial thought was 'Great! Finally hit the big time. A chance to kick over the traces of the day job".
Regrettably, a later slower perusal revealed a less glittering outcome.
But hey-ho; Ideas for these ramblings of mine can come from any direction and are all encouraged in whatever guise they might arise. So here's tonight's jottings, based around a common theme.
Solitude
According to recent government statistics the UK will soon only have living room for 423,138 more people before our landmass achieves its maximum level of population saturation.
New laws, allegedly being drafted as I write, plan to introduce measures that will require all UK inhabitants to take Breaths-In & Breaths-Out in an alternative mode to their nearest neighbour, rather than risk those in coastal areas being slowly edged off into the sea as the majority of the populace inhale simultaneously.
A little like a living Penny Fall shuffle fairground machine.
Well perhaps things aren't quite that bad. Yet. I may even have (whisper it gently) exaggerated so very slightly. But its true that urban living, now encompassing anyplace, short of living at the bottom of a lake, is becoming increasingly over populated & pressurised.
Here's a secret. This is a facet of modern society which can be so easily thwarted with a little personal effort.
Park the car. Start walking away from the road, and into your nearest piece of countryside. Take care to avoid well worn footpaths & tracks. Just keep going, veering clear of any signs of human habitation. Especially tourist features (Particularly Forestry Commission attractions. Honey pot to the Urban Daytripper. A wasp filled jam-jar to this writer)
Now Stop.
Take a deep breath.
And just listen to that glorious sound of ..... your own sweet self. Finally alone with nature.
Like this early morning alarm clock during my Dartmoor Dawdle in June 2008
"I had a lie-in until the sun poked its nose over the ridge, giving me the chance stay in my sleeping bag and listen to the song of the skylarks for twenty minutes of so. And I mean really listen. Lying there with no other distraction my concentration was fully given over to their repetitive trills, before their song veered on to yet another melody. No other background noise to taint the sound. A sublime experience"
Wildcamping
Despite somewhat draconian camping constraints under English law there are still pockets of wild uninhabited places in England that allow one to simply disappear from everyday humanity with little fuss, effort or expense.
With minimal equipment & a easy willingness to dispense with life's trappings & fripperies whole areas of England, rarely visited by most of the population are opened up.
Entry is free!
True it requires some degree of self-reliance & self confidence. In turn the benefit is a self-awareness at a level that most people would find difficult to comprehend. The easily discovered ability to spend a night in a wild place, somewhere apparently uninhabitable for so many, builds a bond with the natural world that once experienced cannot be forgotten.
Unlike so many shiny promises offered in our ' enlightened' times a repeat of this experience always seems to triggers some primordial Sigh from deep down within the brain's limbic region.
Freeze, Flight or Fight?
Not necessarily. Some of us know of a fourth way (Grasshopper).
Reckon I should start a cult?
Dartmoor
A desolately inhabited place of some 368 square miles, and yet an area both within easy access of millions of urbanites with major road access, and a place that positively encourages Wildcamping.
To the majority, trundling across tight moorland roads, it may seem an endless expanse of open land & weirdly sculpted Tor tops, mostly shrouded in thick mist & heartily driven rain. To guests of the HMP Dartmoor establishment, at Princetown, possibly a beckoning view, somewhere green & encouraging beyond thick Napoleonic walls of retribution.
For some an equally scary proposition when viewed from the comfort of a car. But after a few visits into Dartmoor's interior, by foot, the rich history of earlier human habitation springs into being. Neolithic stone rows to the more recent historic drippings of mine tramways, all underline that this was once one of the more densely populated place in England during past eras when a wooded valley was a places of Danger & Threat.
Forget the forlorn baying of the Sherlock Holme's Baskerville Hound. Instead learn to celebrate a place once full of life, and eager to share its secrets, many long forgotten, for those prepared to explore away from the modern day tarmacadam detour of bland conformity.
Or just stay inside the safety of that car.
Going from Nowhere. Leading to Nowhere. Please exit at the cliffside departure gate along with your fellow lemmings.
Was that Three Things to Do in England? Perhaps not quite what the Guardian invitation had in mind?
Whatever - just get out into some distant English wild place, and soak up its true nature. Far from the crush of humanity.
Better be quick. Tourist No. 423,139 arrives in 4 years time. And then this island starts to slowly sink into the sea.
Me? I'll be on Yes Tor. Having a brew & watching the sunset.
Glug .... glug .... glug.
Labels: dartmoor, media, Mental Health, National Park, nature
Friday, September 25
Wildcamp - Travel - Wildcamp
To Travel.
Definition: "To go from one place to another …..To advance or proceed"
By inference an act requiring physical movement from one position/place to another.
True, there's no rule to say that Wildcamps cannot be static. To remain at the same site for more than one night.
But mostly wildcamping is about spatial transition. The act of swapping one remote & lonely spot for a different perspective. Usually another remote & lonely spot. A daily change of place.
Or .............. perhaps that should be a change of perspective on life ?
Whatever - it makes no difference. The act itself suffices for many.
For me? Well......
To tap into the Great Unknown. Become one, once more, with the deep Om of life.
To touch, however fleetingly, that underlying rhythmic beat of energy. For so much of our lives unheeded as it throbs far below our everyday event threshold that is termed Living In The Real World'.
To sleep a night. Solitary & defenceless in some wild and inhospitable place. Remote, perhaps even uninhabitable for many.
To awake at dawn's approach. Mentally & physically renewed.
Early morning grumbling of sinews & bones, unaccustomed to the previous day's physical activity, quietening as the essence of At One with a natural life force, are sensed deep within one's self.
An unexpected deep sigh of contentment at ……
At..?
Well at nothing tangible really.
Except the act of being part of the Real World.
Breathing.
Sharing rainfall run-off with beck or tarn as it heeds the pull of gravity.
Wind veer caressing bare skin; Rain sting on cheeks;
The welcoming warmth of weak sunlight on a frosty morning.
The cool relief freely given by deep shade of rock's shadow at the height of Summer.
Another day greeted. Rucksack settled onto back for the hours of movement ahead.
The last act.
A final lingering glance backwards to the night's resting place. Checking for mislaid kit and signs of human presence? Or more a quiet & silent salute to a place now special in memory & time.
To travel.
No, not movement from place to place, towards some journey's end.
Merely an excuse to saviour stops along the way & touch, fleetingly, the closeness of the Natural World & Reality.
Until the next time.
Maybe I'm alone in silently greeting a wildcamp site on arrival; And on departure bidding a fond farewell. To a familiar friend who's presence I meet with from time to time? And from place to place.
Or then again ..... maybe not.
Perhaps I'm just weird?Labels: nature
Monday, August 31
The Weather Man is a Drip
Did you enjoy today's sunny weather? Hopefully that won't be the last gasp of this derisory summer just yet.
But who knows for sure?
Maybe the Meteorological Office & its ubiquitous stooge the TV Weatherman?
Perhaps.
Or then again.......Nope - probably not with their track record over recent times.
For this weekend was the last straw for me in treating seriously the dire content of the dumbed down weather forecast for the masses.
Take Saturday's TV forecast beamed out around 22:00 in the evening on BBC1.
'Bad weather on Sunday for the south of England, but not until around 5pm' cheerily pronounced the Metman's grinning monkey, 'Enjoy the Sunday sunshine while you can'.
Meanwhile, blue screen background behind him, the forecaster waved his arms with enthusiastic animation as a computer generated model of the weather for the next 24 hours silently confirmed his projection. Its crude overview indicating clouds and rain cruising across from Ireland, and due to reach my own locale until late on Sunday.
It must be true - the time was at the bottom of the cartoon after all.
Plans made accordingly I departed to bed. Why then did I look out of the window early Sunday morning to see thick cloud cover. Which by lunchtime had built into light drizzle for the rest of the afternoon? By then I'd given up in disgust and was watching the rain blow in from the coast whilst getting some work sorted in the office.
(Well it seemed like a good way to use the time bearing in mind the happier alternatives that had gone by the board)
How is it the high tech, multi million pound Met Office weather models can be so inept about weather only 12 hours ahead?
That's not the worse case I can relate. The TV forecasts have been getting progressively more dreadful over a period of many months. Its almost as if the senseless drive to make the forecast more "accessible" to the drooling TV couch potato has up-ended any accuracy they once had.
And for what?
The conditions Outdoor are largely irrelevant for Mr Lardy Arse TV Watcher.
Nope. I've had it with the TV & Radio forecasts from now on.
Here's my three top tips on how to predict the forthcoming weather:
1. In hilly areas, refer to the Mountain Weather Information Service's report for the next 1-2 days. These tend to have a very high level of accuracy & are essential reading for high hill walking at times of bad weather.
2. Learn to read & interpret a pressure chart. I like this site, although the level of detail can be intimidating for the uninitiated at first (click on the dates at the foot of the page).
Another excellent source is on the MWIS site.
Or there's this over on the European Centre for Medium-Range Weather Forecasts site
3. DIY. Look out of the window & go outdoors. Check the flow of air movement especially in comparison to the clouds overhead. Sense the air temperature - colder or warmer than earlier? Look at the clouds and the formations. Then back indoors to tap the barometer to see if its rising or falling.
Then take your best guess!
4. Finally - down to the seashore & pick up some seaweed.
Only a fraction of the cost of the Met Office's new "second most powerful computer in the UK" but probably a damn sight more accurate than the drivel fed to us from the goggle box each day.
Better still - sod the forecast - just get outside anyway.
And pack a waterproof, just in case.
Monday, August 24
Walkers & Cattle - Advice
The Enemy #1 - The Cow
Genetically over engineered over many centuries into a meat & milk provider. Typically two tone in colour. Heavy nasal drooling at one end. And a different sort of drooling at the other.
If in doubt carefully use a scratch & sniff test to quickly distinguish the key differences. Try not to lick your fingers afterwards.
The Enemy #2 - The Bullock
The juvenile male. Often identified by a tendency to unexpectedly demonstrate their sexual awakening by attempting to mount each other. Often repeatedly. Despite mixed success.
Intensely curious and prone to rapidly cover a field's length seconds after you've strayed within the barb wire/electrified boundary fence fortification.
The Owner - The Cattle Farmer
Some believe this to be a mix of the two genres. Often distinguished by the use of green wellingtons, dung coloured (typically blue) overalls, & a loud greeting call "Gerroff-my-land-you-townies".
Well ok I may be guilty of ever egging those descriptions a little.
Except for the green wellies.
But more seriously today's BBC reports have hi-lighted certain dangers associated with these usually tranquil beasts (I meant the cows by the way)
Beware of cows with their calves. Especially if you encounter them whilst accompanied by a dog.
Personally, even when not dog accompanied, I have a tendency to avoid any beast weighing in excess of 1/2 ton and capable of short bursts of speed in my general direction. No matter what its motivation may be.
The NFU advice has been issued as a result of the deaths of 3 walkers in 3 months.
Their advice to walkers
"if you have a dog with you, keep it under close control, but do not hang on to it should a cow or bull start acting aggressively. If you feel threatened, just carry on as normal, do not run, move to the edge of the field and if possible find another way round the field, returning to the original path as soon as is possible. And remember to close the gate".
(I love that mention of the gate. A good idea to prevent yet another headlong chase down the next field, but at the same time rather a recognisable farmy piece of advice)
The main problem for those of not familiar with bovine nature - what is aggressive behaviour?
Most cattle will wander over to a stile if they spot a walker. After all chewing cud and trying to mount your brothers can becomes tedious after a few weeks of such wild experiences.
I regularly walk across a large open expanse of common land watching the behaviour of cattle.
Based, I assume on their previous encounters, a few cattle will hang back from the main herd, effectively acting as scouts. These will initiate a rapid move towards the cause of any disquiet, bringing the rest of the herd cavorting behind them, feet drumming hard.
Not a pleasant prospect if you happen to be that cause.
Unfortunately the latest victim was a farmer. But back at the Royal Welsh Show in July the FUW (think NFU Wales) was quoted as saying that "Cases of potentially-deadly stampeding cattle unwittingly spooked by dog walkers are almost certainly set to rise"
(Lets ignore the comment "In part it was due to cash-strapped "townies" holidaying in the UK at a time of recession and heading for the countryside to relax")
Here's my advice, based on years of experience using farm paths. Its personal, so make up your own mind at your own risk.
1. Don’t keep the dog on a lead, but do keep it under control at all times.
If its not sufficiently well trained to stay to heel, or be sent away, you really shouldn't be out with it amongst farm animals.
2. By all means carry a stout stick. But as most people, including myself, do not carry one try picking up a few small stones (not rocks!) before entering a field.
It’s a last ditch deterrent. Better a few stings on a cow's thick hide, and a potential dressing down from a farmer, than being knocked over & injured by a fast moving herd.
3. If the beasts move towards you, make loud single syllable noises, such as they'd expect from the cowhand (cowherd?) also make yourself look bigger, but try not to wave your hands about alarmingly. Not so much noise that they become spooked, but enough to give you time for a rapid & controlled exit, whilst they try to work out just what the hell you are.
Thinking herding noises.
(I used this on my last Dartmoor trip for a couple of miles, in an area covered with impenetrable gorse thickets and narrow paths. A river was on one side. A steep rise on the other. The cows & their calves wouldn’t take the hint to veer away, despite my vectoring approaches. As this was the only way off the moor unless I turned back for a five mile detour, near the end of a long day I had little choice on this occasion.
4. Don’t (completely) turn your back or try to out sprint them. Back away steadily whilst ensuring you remain upright & prepared to move off to one side to avoid any confrontation.
5. Keep an eye out for all potential exit routes, moving well around any herd where possible. Remember that most of the boundary hedgerows will be hiding barbed wire. Its meant to prevent the escape of large curious animals. That works the same where you are concerned as well.
Its not a good time to find this out when entangled in this as part of any rapid exit.
Remember Steve McQueen in the Great Escape?
6. If it does come to a close up encounter I'm told a hard slap across the snout will work wonders.
Personally I've not test this particular tip. Not do I ever intend to get into a situation where I need to test the hypothesis.
If someone slapped me across the snout I’d tend to thrash about a fair bit, or take it as an attack. But quite what a 1/2 ton beast may do …..?
7. Finally (or should this be firstly?) if in doubt make a detour to avoid crossing the field.
I'm not too proud to admit I've done this on many occasions where cows/horses have shown rather too much interest in my presence before I've even entered the field.
This is one circumstance where Flight before Fight is A Good Thing
Any more tips - leave a comment please.Labels: nature
Sunday, August 2
Its Summer? No its Autumn? Just take your pick
An early Sunday start prepping two motorcycles ready for a long weekend at a Well Known Event (but more on that later in the week perhaps)
Whilst I'm on the topic, when did the centre-stand become surplus to requirement? Trying single handed to get each bike on a paddock stand, for simple chain maintenance (a five minute job) became a heart stopping half hour if the end result wasn't to be one's pride and joy lying lifeless on its side after toppling over during the stand/mounting process.
Since when did a centre stand become a luxury item?
So imagine my joy when I wandered back indoors only to find my pc screen infected with a rather nasty Trojan virus which required some major low level surgery to eradicate.
And yes, I do use current Firewall & Anti-Virus packages.
Two hours later that was sorted, leaving many more hours to run some alternative malware/spyware software and complete a low level purge.
Time for a walk then? More like essential.
Out to Burbush in the New Forest for a bit of contemplative R&R, accompanied by a MP3 player of very loud rock music. Always works well when I'm in an anti-social frame of mind.
Predictably, given the summer season, the rural back roads were busy & the New Forest car park a seething mass of humanity. Why does the term 'tourist on holiday' seem to require leaving their brain & common sense in a small pail by the holiday accommodation's front door each day?
Oh well - a quiet route was essential today, far away from marked paths and over publicised guidebook routes.
A success in that I saw no-one else once I'd left the vicinity of the car park. Sort of a success in a spur of the moment decision to try something a little more physically challenging by hopping off the back of my first route to link up with a longer outlying circuit.
It was via bog land. It wasn't any surprise. I know the land here abouts is liable to be undercut by narrow rivulets of flowing water, especially after rain. Adopting the trusted bog hop gait that Darren knows so well I quickly crossed onto the lower slopes of the far valley side, and picked up a pony track up to the pine topped mount ahead, in which nestled a World War II searchlight emplacement.
All going spiffing so far. A good workout over rough ground, much akin to Dartmoor in some places, and at a fast pace. Dog by my side, we moved ever onwards.
As I followed the ridge I was watching the boggy land below looking for a better track to cut across to rejoin the original route. An excellent & quiet circular if it wasn't for 400m of path crossing a major watershed plateau. Even the sinking of various peat and straw bales a few years earlier had failed to turn it into better than an inevitable paddle even during drought conditions. So its always been a bugbear of mine to find someway to hop this impassable section without getting a guaranteed soaking.
Today I thought I had cracked it. Spotting a clear pony track down I headed to the valley for a short 200m traverse to the far slope.
Along the way my path meandered by a solitary blackberry bush, already full of ripe fruit. A pause briefly to saviour a couple of large juicy berries unadulterated by proximity to car or human activity. Its going to be a bumper crop this year.
But hang on - doesn't ripe fruit signify the End of The Summer. A sign that Autumn's days are announcing their turn to become the seasonal host?
Maybe. Personally I'm yet to get my head around the fact its Summer, even as the evenings drawn in with each dusk arriving earlier than the previous one.
Onwards then into what turned out to be one of the worst pieces of broken ground I've walked over for some time. No make that walked through. Or maybe even under.
Initially hopping from tussock to tussock I turned to make sure Dog was ok. He'd disappeared. Nope there he was, the only sign of his passage the top of long sedge grasses moving, as he followed a track deep deep down in the undergrowth.
I persevered. Carefully. This was ankle snapping territory. The trusted bog hop gait, so suavely demonstrated not half an hour before soon became an arm whirling, keep the balance, plummet forward until finally the inevitable happened.
My foot went into a pool of water, far below and out of sight, with the result - a boot filled with a tantalising mixture of rain water and Grade A fresh bog land mulch (and all free of charge)
Bugger - this is the sort of incident that rarely happens to me. Even then it should be in some wild and harsh environment. Not 50m from the dry & well worn path in front of me.
I finished the rest of the walk with a noticeable squelch each time my right foot hit the deck. But I had to smile along the way.
Putting the valley's water levels down to this summer's rainfall level I mentally marked the route as passable, but with care and at the right time of the year.
So why, when I came to one of the Forest's permanent pool of standing water was it's level 2-3m below its normal mark; Foreshore mud clearly visible? A typical mid summer scene in fact.
Is this still a wet Summer this year? Or maybe a warm season with periods of rainfall that have coloured the general perception of inclement weather.
Or has the high season already passed, leaving us to face an early Autumn? One that indicates the
non Winter season is now one extended period of warm & occasionally wet weather?
Well I don't know, and I doubt whether the Met Office are truly qualified these days to proffer an opinion that anyone would trust.
I squelched my way back into the typical Soddam & Gomorrah scene surrounding the car park. As I started homewards to renew battle with a pc clean-up, I skirted Forest ponies obstructing the main access routes & road. Their particular season in full swing having relearnt the quickest way to get Oohs & Aahs from day trippers and more relevantly their free handouts.
I really need to get away soon!Labels: nature, New Forest, walks
Friday, July 24
Running fast. Standing still.
A combination of work, home and the usual day to day life drudge means that any time spent in front of this damned mono visual blinking radiation emitting time wasting device (aka Internet PC) are few and far between at present.
I've managed to keep up with my regular blog/forum reads each day, although any interaction in those places has also been similarly limited by time & energy.
Regrettably my fine record of monthly wildcamps that started so well (and so early this year), has turned to a pile of mush in response to circumstance. Many of these beyond my direct control, but all requiring the mature & supportive responses that I like to think is part of what make me Who I Am.
But today, at the end of yet another endlessly milling week I've uncovered a few hours of my own. Time to sit back & spend some solitary moments on my own whims. Something that during the last few weeks I've felt increasingly driven to saviour during the pell-mell rush that seems to be my waking existence.
Now is that time, more than ever, when I feel drawn to find that special renewal of spirit that comes with a few night's wildcamping in some lonely and desolate wild location. Far from my fellow human, but so close to the true reality of existence. Water. Shelter. Food. Nature. Bliss.
But for the moment my dismally puny recharge comes as I think back to some of those high ridge wildcamps. Places where I sat savouring the blending of Time, Space & Solitude.
The quiet gap that follows the end of a long day's trek.
The wildcamp pitch. Refuelling the body's needs.
And then an opportunity to fill the gap before sleep by busily doing nothing in particular but become one with the surroundings. True - only a transitory visitor. But one open to the measure and pleasure of the temporary resting place.
Meanwhile there are the trip reports from fellow Outdoor Bloggers as they discuss their recent sorties out in the Great Outdoors (You lucky sods!)
All this helps keep me on the right side of sanity. Although those who have met me know that such a description is always applied a little warily when citing my general demeanour.
So for now I teeter (titter?) along life's own high ridge. Balancing The Present alongside The Past. Awaiting The Future where control of my own moments & movements can one again be retaken in a more selfish manner.
So what if this summer is yet again turning out to be damp and changeable?
The weather is warm. The grass is full grown. Tree crowns are dark and leaf laden.
Get out there if you are able. Saviour these moments.
To store up pleasant memories for colder days ahead.
And I don't mean the Winter.Labels: Mental Health, nature
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
Paramo won't cut it here. More like a wet suit day I think.
(Highcliffe Beach - spot the tourist)
Rather than just lie in the garden soaking up the sun's rays I guess I could start transcribing my trip report notes for your perusal.
Labels: nature
UK Waterfalls - Database of locations
My last mutterings gave me a long overdue nudge to mention a new on-line resource dedicated to mapping UK waterfalls - Waterfalls.me
"This website is dedicated to all the wonderful waterfalls throughout the United Kingdom.
I'm hoping to compile a database of all the major and many minor waterfalls, with a map of their location and hopefully photographs of each of the falls. There are a few other websites listing the falls throughout the UK .......... but I have yet to find a site where you can view a map and find any local falls to the area you are in.
I hope this will be of use to somebody out there, whether on your holidays or making special trips to see the falls"
I chatted via one of the UK Outdoor News Groups (yes they do still exist) with the site author following his appeal for additional waterfall information.
So if there's one you know of that you think should be added - why not drop him an e-mail?
Labels: blog media, nature
Sunday, March 21
New Forest Waterfall
Another period of rainfall during the last 24 hours.
Burbush waterfall is back in residency once more & all just a few steps away from a usually busy car parking area.
Hope the New Forest Authority don't cotton onto this as a potential tourist attraction!Labels: National Park, nature, New Forest
Monday, March 8
Dinner Companion
A friend flew in for lunch earlier today ............
Just some bird I'd been introduced to over a meal.
Didn't catch the name - had to fly off.
Labels: nature
Sunday, March 7
Smoke on The Water: New Forest Style
Looks like Spring is a-sprung as locals welcome the new tourist season with their Old Tradition of Setting Fire to the First Caravan of the New Season.
Apparently not. More like the semi-regular gorse burning to take advantage of the wet ground underfoot, before it starts to dry & harden.
At last. Its been a long Winter this year.Labels: National Park, nature, New Forest
Saturday, January 30
A Once in a Lifetime Event
The seed had fallen to the ground some twenty years before, one small hope amongst several thousand siblings. They succumbed to drought, starvation or local predators.
But not this one.
Feet dug ever deeper into the soil beneath. Grey trunk body thickened year by year whilst branching arms stretched newly bursting bud tips ever higher towards the sky with the start of each Spring.
Oh yes it was hard work.
Older & stronger trees had claimed this ground scores of years before when the seedling's parent was little more than the same hopeful shoot hidden deep in the undergrowth.
But the niche the seedling had carved out for itself was a careful one. Balancing nutrient from the earth around about, while threading its head upwards in a continual challenge to touch the sun despite the growing shade crown of mightier neighbours.
And even whilst competing for that light our tree & its neighbours talked together, as trees so often do. If only one stops to listen.
On calm sunny days little was said. The sun's life force beaming down made all else secondary.
But bare branched, during winter gales, the trees swayed and rocked as one. Chattering to each other as they told tales of mighty storms now long past. The movement of their branches exciting a temporary camaraderie.
Today that feeling was a distant memory. Maybe something that would not occur again.
For something was not right.
An orange spot, a splash of paint, had appeared on the tree's trunk. One chosen alongside others across the area. The mark of Cain? Or a sign of promising things ahead?
No matter - what will be will be. The tree waited. For it lived patience.
A lone walker, black and white dog at heel, appeared at the crest of the rise moving steadily down the track alongside the tree's domain.
And then it happened.
It arrived with that wisdom of inevitability. A product of hindsight's clear path to the moment when a world changes.
The tree felt its solid grasp on the earth's surface slip. Slowly it started to topple. Its airy head moving towards the ground far below.
The walker looked up at the sudden noise of something heavy tearing through woodland. Looking groundwards he expect to see a regular movement of deer. Or perhaps a few bulky New Forest cattle crashing through the dead bracken.
Instead a blur of green swaying leaves moving above his eye line grabbed at his attention.
He concentrated on the sight until the fall was complete.
The tree, after one storm too many & the increasing weight of rampant ivy around its trunk, had accepted the inevitability of physical laws and toppled to the ground.
Not with a crash. More a gentle murmur of rustling foliage, before a final dullen flat thud. The shared noise that comes with any large & very heavy object returning to earth.
For a few moments the walker continue to stare, taken aback by the event's suddenness.
And then, leaving the path, he walked over to the tree. Leaves once again still after a final airy flight. Roots snapped clean. The ground from whence they had been torn already resettling. This disturbance, obvious now, to quickly disappear with a few weeks of rain & frost.
One uniquely precise & fleeting moment. An infinitesimal hap chance amongst endless trillions of complex life force interactions across the Earth. And of all space and time.
I went for a walk in the New Forest today.
By chance I saw a tree fall to the ground.
No-one else was around.
And yes, it made a sound......or rather two.
One while it fell.
And a second that still rings deep inside me at the incredible odds of seeing it happen.Labels: ; New Forest, nature
Sunday, January 10
Whitten Pond - Ice Bound
A few snaps from this afternoon's wander near Burley in the New Forest.
The camera flash creating a strangely moody image at my regular crossing point on this pond outlet stream. A place where I've occasionally spotted a swimming snake - but certainly not today.
The beam traverse may be short but it requires a steady nerve & careful balance to avoid the potential early dip. Not that that has happened to me. Yet.
But today it is an easier passage with careful short sliding steps across the surface of thick ice.
A few steps further on lies Whitten Pond, a large pool of water easily visible from the Burley/Bransgore road.
I remain wary of the variable nature of the icy conditions underfoot. So those who decided a trip out onto the ice, and so far from shore, were foolhardy to say the least.
In places the steeping ground requires careful attention to avoid a loss of footing. Necessary caution.
Occasionally the path route leads across a flat areas of snowy ground. Too flat to be solid ground I belatedly realise with ominous sounds of cracking ice underfoot. A reminder of the vast quantity of stored water potential awaiting the inevitable thaw before returning the New Forest tracks back to muddy quagmire for the winter months ahead.
Dark was falling as I finally returned to the car park, today's walking pace reduced by the need for wariness.
As I carefully maneuvered the car towards the icy incline at the car park exit other vehicles were still arriving to start their own excursions out into the dark and mildly treacherous conditions.
Well at least the cold will keep any victim suitably embalmed for easy body ID.Labels: nature, New Forest
Friday, January 8
Seize the day - looking with different sight
Don't know if you spotted it, but we've had a bit of snow recently.
Hereabouts its nothing like the heaps of stuff that the rest of the country continue to suffer. But in East Dorset, and near to the coast, the local micro climate isn't conducive to the white stuff appearing. And when it does it tends not to hang around for very long.
Even rarer is this continual period of low temperature. Something that has been with us for so long that popping outdoors in -2C feels positively balmy at present.
Today's free day (hurrah-finally a day's holiday) is to be spent exploring a local spot near Ringwood, just off side from the the Avon Valley Footpath. An area of open common land, forest, and water pools.
Its not a very long circular wander. However it does have the benefit of being rarely visited both due to the location & the fact that its a path that doesn't actually go anywhere, except back to its starting point.
But a deliberate choice on my part. Large areas of snow covered ground, and no car tracks or human footprints to disturb the flat white surface. A rare opportunity to investigate the various and bountiful animal tracks that today are hard frozen into the snow, recording tales of recent animal activity.
I'd never realised that rabbits keep to such regular routes, even when crossing open land. But the little pounded pathways formed by their many distinctive prints tell their own tale.
I see a few deer tracks in an area where I've never spotted them before. Something to look out for more carefully now I know they are present.
Near the frozen lake a slow brown buzzard barely bothers to move off beyond my eye line. Keeping to the low branches to search avidly today for something, anything, to make a meal.
However the little egret, stark white against the backdrop of long dead reeds, remains wary. The short area of open water, but a minuscule portion of the thickly iced lake, makes for a lacklustre fishing ground.
Another predator likely to find failure as the aquatic world remains in safe hibernation. A natural reaction to the plunging temperature.
A walk with a rare difference.
An unique opportunity to catch a glimpse into the local routines of Nature.Labels: nature
Saturday, January 2
New Year. New Forest. Old Haunts.
The local cold snap continues unabated. With local low lying areas exhibiting their seasonal floods the persistence of hard & frozen ground is at present an useful advantage. Boggy and potentially treacherous areas have for a brief time become firm routes of iron surfaced mud and thick ice.
Well mostly. As I found out today - the sun may be far away, and brief in daytime appearance - but it still has the power to weaken icy surfaces. So crossing some of the flooded paths turned at times into an adventure of ice skating & river crossing, all within a few footsteps.
Strange to think I had sat on this bridge a few months earlier, munching sandwiches and watching a small New Forest stream trickle down below, firmly in its watercourse.
Signs also of the recent gales. Not yet up to the full strength of the Feb/March winds that will blow hard and long straight across from the nearby coast. But already impressive enough to knock about some less secure victims.
I like this hidden spot.
In fact I once bivvied the night here. Intending to sojourn with nature & pass a night with the deer herd that I can guarantee to find whatever the time of year & wandering tourists. Instead I discovered what horses can get up to during the dark hours
(The curious amongst you should follow the link)
But that's the joy of the British seasonal variation.
Familiar land & bye ways transform as vegetation growth rises & then falls, whilst the ground underfoot changes in response to the influence of sun, water & wind.
The deer didn't disappoint. Three heads bobbing up at a distance. Eyesight poor, but noses as keen as ever. The cold weather and low vegetation at this time of year making them less reluctant to flee with their usual alacrity.
(Spotted them yet?)
A pleasant way to pass a couple of hours on a sunny day. Five miles of crunching underfoot, with only the occasional crack/splash along the way as my usually accurate footfall adjustments were mislead by nature's cheeky jests.
My audio accompaniment today - a documentary about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. World famous for his literary colossus Sherlock Holmes. But slightly less familiar as the man who introduced skiing to Switzerland, Portsmouth FC player (pre pro days), regular MCC team turnout & the catalyst behind the creation of the Court of Criminal Appeal.
Wonder if he had managed all this if he'd had TV in his day?Labels: nature, New Forest
Sunday, December 20
Christmas WanderLand
I love this time of year in the run up to Christmas.
No, not the stupidity of office parties, excessive drinking, & stop-until-you-drop-shopping.
For me it's the peace and quiet that can be found for these few special days when walking local paths.
For the moment the semi occasional visitors now have other places to be. Which is fine by me as it means my weekend wanderings in the New Forest are of a solitary nature, save for an occasional habitual dog walker, similarly benefiting from a lack of human activity.
Despite the car thermometer showing 3 degrees, in the forest puddles are frozen with thick ice, and the ground underfoot is hard & still frozen. Boggy areas, usually a hop skip & splash traverse, today are easily crossed, ice crunching underfoot as I take the straight line ahead.
Sun shine, although weak, is appreciated for the extra warmth offered as I move out from under the shade of the trees. On impulse I decide to extend my route onto Holmsley Tearooms. Usually a hive of activity, especially with the day tripping fraternity, today it is peaceful.
Dog and myself have the garden area to ourselves as we await our lunchtime repast.
We return along the old railway track, preparing to dive back down into deep woodland. Unexpectedly the mix of solitude, sun, and a clear path leading off into the distance unexpectedly brings one of those rare moments of Bliss.
That feeling of oneness with my surroundings; Open to the forces of nature all around me.
Its something I find quite regularly in the hills, especially after a couple of days wildcamping.
But to stumble across it today, on a short and familiar route, is a welcome surprise. And a reminder why I continue to seek the outdoor world, and saviour its offerings.
Christmas - well I can take or leave it personally.
But the rare joy that comes from visiting familiar areas, but finding unexpected joy, is my own gift to myself this Xmas time.
And to share with you, if you only care to go out there and look for yourself.
Oh - and as you can see the new mobile telephone has a much better camera with which to try & capture moments along the way.
Labels: nature, New Forest
Saturday, December 5
Lake District Weatherline - New telephone number
I've one telephone number stored away on my mobile phone that whilst infrequently used, will never be deleted. When wildcamping high on Lakeland fells part of my evening routine is to call, phone signal permitting, The Lake District Weatherline service.
Over the years I've found the forecasts to be accurate, detailed & (for a solo hillwalker), key when pondering the next day's route.
To go high…..or low?
An important question for a walker travelling with no schedule to keep, other than to see what's beyond the next range of felltops.
But no matter what my intent, realism dictates that I should bend with the weather's vagaries, especially where extreme conditions are forecast.
(Wildcamping - ah so pretty)
Even in less inclement weather the choice between a high ridge walk in dense rain cloud, or a valley meander accompanied by patchy showers, can be the difference between a hard day with little enjoyment or an pleasant day of exploration.
(Wildcamping - ugh not so pretty)
That's even more relevant when high wind speeds are the alternative between safe passage low down or the increased risk of being knocked off my feet when ridging along exposed tops.
So thanks to the latest TGO Magazine for alerting me to the fact that the telephone no. for The Lake District Weatherline has recently changed to 0844 846 2444.
(Being curious, I tried the old number earlier today, only to be met with a recorded message giving a company's name and address details. But not a lot of guidance as to whether it will rain in Keswick tomorrow)
And whilst on the subject of Lakeland weather - fancy a job as a Fell Top Assessor?
"….report on the fell conditions from the summit area of Helvellyn from December through to April. Working seven days on and seven days off, including weekends and bank holidays, you will need to be able to climb from Glenridding to the summit of Helvellyn and back in four hours"
Well that’s probably me out of the running.
Then again the daily commute from the south coast might just get me down in the end.
Wonder whether any of the Assessors have ever thought about just wildcamping for their week in a nearby sheltered spot?
Now there's an idea.
And to get paid for it as well.
HmmmmLabels: Lake District, National Park, nature
Saturday, November 14
Blow you Bugger Blow
Early breakfast at Avon Beach, Mudeford.
The short walk from the clifftop parking spot down to the café is accompanied by a steadily hazing of vision as my spectacles slowly coat with a mixture of sea spray, salt and sand. All whipping onto the land as the wind leaves off pushing surf up onto the shoreline, and turns to other games to play instead.
A group of Oyster catchers, seemingly oblivious to the elemental force, busily bob along the tidal sand, looking for their breakfast. At times one takes to the air, making only a short distance, before quickly returning to earth. The desire for flight lessened today by the effort required to maintain it.
Warm inside the café we watch as the birds continue their hunt for tide borne bonanza. The fry up arrives.
Dog and myself for once alone at this usually busy spot. We wander along the ridge that of St Catherine's Hill, Christchurch.
As we pass by the twin mobile telephone masts the steady thrum of a plane is heard as it passes overhead. I pause to watch the sway of the thinner tower, rock embedded at the foot, but the upper section flexing as it bends so easily to wind whim.
The plane continues to fly overhead. What still?
I realise it’s the sound of the wind resonating the mast struts of the towers, with an irregular drumming as gusts bounce off some of the bulbous equipment bolted high above.
A personal orchestral offering - courtesy of Mother Nature and BT.
I love the change of perspective that the natural world can bring out in the everyday world.Labels: nature
Tuesday, September 29
Three things to do to Enjoy England
As you may have spotted on other sites some outdoor Bloggers have been approached by Jam to contribute to the Guardian's forthcoming ‘Enjoy England’ feature.
Speed reading the invitation my initial thought was 'Great! Finally hit the big time. A chance to kick over the traces of the day job".
Regrettably, a later slower perusal revealed a less glittering outcome.
But hey-ho; Ideas for these ramblings of mine can come from any direction and are all encouraged in whatever guise they might arise. So here's tonight's jottings, based around a common theme.
Solitude
According to recent government statistics the UK will soon only have living room for 423,138 more people before our landmass achieves its maximum level of population saturation.
New laws, allegedly being drafted as I write, plan to introduce measures that will require all UK inhabitants to take Breaths-In & Breaths-Out in an alternative mode to their nearest neighbour, rather than risk those in coastal areas being slowly edged off into the sea as the majority of the populace inhale simultaneously.
A little like a living Penny Fall shuffle fairground machine.
Well perhaps things aren't quite that bad. Yet. I may even have (whisper it gently) exaggerated so very slightly. But its true that urban living, now encompassing anyplace, short of living at the bottom of a lake, is becoming increasingly over populated & pressurised.
Here's a secret. This is a facet of modern society which can be so easily thwarted with a little personal effort.
Park the car. Start walking away from the road, and into your nearest piece of countryside. Take care to avoid well worn footpaths & tracks. Just keep going, veering clear of any signs of human habitation. Especially tourist features (Particularly Forestry Commission attractions. Honey pot to the Urban Daytripper. A wasp filled jam-jar to this writer)
Now Stop.
Take a deep breath.
And just listen to that glorious sound of ..... your own sweet self. Finally alone with nature.
Like this early morning alarm clock during my Dartmoor Dawdle in June 2008
"I had a lie-in until the sun poked its nose over the ridge, giving me the chance stay in my sleeping bag and listen to the song of the skylarks for twenty minutes of so. And I mean really listen. Lying there with no other distraction my concentration was fully given over to their repetitive trills, before their song veered on to yet another melody. No other background noise to taint the sound. A sublime experience"
Wildcamping
Despite somewhat draconian camping constraints under English law there are still pockets of wild uninhabited places in England that allow one to simply disappear from everyday humanity with little fuss, effort or expense.
With minimal equipment & a easy willingness to dispense with life's trappings & fripperies whole areas of England, rarely visited by most of the population are opened up.
Entry is free!
True it requires some degree of self-reliance & self confidence. In turn the benefit is a self-awareness at a level that most people would find difficult to comprehend. The easily discovered ability to spend a night in a wild place, somewhere apparently uninhabitable for so many, builds a bond with the natural world that once experienced cannot be forgotten.
Unlike so many shiny promises offered in our ' enlightened' times a repeat of this experience always seems to triggers some primordial Sigh from deep down within the brain's limbic region.
Freeze, Flight or Fight?
Not necessarily. Some of us know of a fourth way (Grasshopper).
Reckon I should start a cult?
Dartmoor
A desolately inhabited place of some 368 square miles, and yet an area both within easy access of millions of urbanites with major road access, and a place that positively encourages Wildcamping.
To the majority, trundling across tight moorland roads, it may seem an endless expanse of open land & weirdly sculpted Tor tops, mostly shrouded in thick mist & heartily driven rain. To guests of the HMP Dartmoor establishment, at Princetown, possibly a beckoning view, somewhere green & encouraging beyond thick Napoleonic walls of retribution.
For some an equally scary proposition when viewed from the comfort of a car. But after a few visits into Dartmoor's interior, by foot, the rich history of earlier human habitation springs into being. Neolithic stone rows to the more recent historic drippings of mine tramways, all underline that this was once one of the more densely populated place in England during past eras when a wooded valley was a places of Danger & Threat.
Forget the forlorn baying of the Sherlock Holme's Baskerville Hound. Instead learn to celebrate a place once full of life, and eager to share its secrets, many long forgotten, for those prepared to explore away from the modern day tarmacadam detour of bland conformity.
Or just stay inside the safety of that car.
Going from Nowhere. Leading to Nowhere. Please exit at the cliffside departure gate along with your fellow lemmings.
Was that Three Things to Do in England? Perhaps not quite what the Guardian invitation had in mind?
Whatever - just get out into some distant English wild place, and soak up its true nature. Far from the crush of humanity.
Better be quick. Tourist No. 423,139 arrives in 4 years time. And then this island starts to slowly sink into the sea.
Me? I'll be on Yes Tor. Having a brew & watching the sunset.
Glug .... glug .... glug.
Labels: dartmoor, media, Mental Health, National Park, nature
Friday, September 25
Wildcamp - Travel - Wildcamp
To Travel.
Definition: "To go from one place to another …..To advance or proceed"
By inference an act requiring physical movement from one position/place to another.
True, there's no rule to say that Wildcamps cannot be static. To remain at the same site for more than one night.
But mostly wildcamping is about spatial transition. The act of swapping one remote & lonely spot for a different perspective. Usually another remote & lonely spot. A daily change of place.
Or .............. perhaps that should be a change of perspective on life ?
Whatever - it makes no difference. The act itself suffices for many.
For me? Well......
To tap into the Great Unknown. Become one, once more, with the deep Om of life.
To touch, however fleetingly, that underlying rhythmic beat of energy. For so much of our lives unheeded as it throbs far below our everyday event threshold that is termed Living In The Real World'.
To sleep a night. Solitary & defenceless in some wild and inhospitable place. Remote, perhaps even uninhabitable for many.
To awake at dawn's approach. Mentally & physically renewed.
Early morning grumbling of sinews & bones, unaccustomed to the previous day's physical activity, quietening as the essence of At One with a natural life force, are sensed deep within one's self.
An unexpected deep sigh of contentment at ……
At..?
Well at nothing tangible really.
Except the act of being part of the Real World.
Breathing.
Sharing rainfall run-off with beck or tarn as it heeds the pull of gravity.
Wind veer caressing bare skin; Rain sting on cheeks;
The welcoming warmth of weak sunlight on a frosty morning.
The cool relief freely given by deep shade of rock's shadow at the height of Summer.
Another day greeted. Rucksack settled onto back for the hours of movement ahead.
The last act.
A final lingering glance backwards to the night's resting place. Checking for mislaid kit and signs of human presence? Or more a quiet & silent salute to a place now special in memory & time.
To travel.
No, not movement from place to place, towards some journey's end.
Merely an excuse to saviour stops along the way & touch, fleetingly, the closeness of the Natural World & Reality.
Until the next time.
Maybe I'm alone in silently greeting a wildcamp site on arrival; And on departure bidding a fond farewell. To a familiar friend who's presence I meet with from time to time? And from place to place.
Or then again ..... maybe not.
Perhaps I'm just weird?Labels: nature
Monday, August 31
The Weather Man is a Drip
Did you enjoy today's sunny weather? Hopefully that won't be the last gasp of this derisory summer just yet.
But who knows for sure?
Maybe the Meteorological Office & its ubiquitous stooge the TV Weatherman?
Perhaps.
Or then again.......Nope - probably not with their track record over recent times.
For this weekend was the last straw for me in treating seriously the dire content of the dumbed down weather forecast for the masses.
Take Saturday's TV forecast beamed out around 22:00 in the evening on BBC1.
'Bad weather on Sunday for the south of England, but not until around 5pm' cheerily pronounced the Metman's grinning monkey, 'Enjoy the Sunday sunshine while you can'.
Meanwhile, blue screen background behind him, the forecaster waved his arms with enthusiastic animation as a computer generated model of the weather for the next 24 hours silently confirmed his projection. Its crude overview indicating clouds and rain cruising across from Ireland, and due to reach my own locale until late on Sunday.
It must be true - the time was at the bottom of the cartoon after all.
Plans made accordingly I departed to bed. Why then did I look out of the window early Sunday morning to see thick cloud cover. Which by lunchtime had built into light drizzle for the rest of the afternoon? By then I'd given up in disgust and was watching the rain blow in from the coast whilst getting some work sorted in the office.
(Well it seemed like a good way to use the time bearing in mind the happier alternatives that had gone by the board)
How is it the high tech, multi million pound Met Office weather models can be so inept about weather only 12 hours ahead?
That's not the worse case I can relate. The TV forecasts have been getting progressively more dreadful over a period of many months. Its almost as if the senseless drive to make the forecast more "accessible" to the drooling TV couch potato has up-ended any accuracy they once had.
And for what?
The conditions Outdoor are largely irrelevant for Mr Lardy Arse TV Watcher.
Nope. I've had it with the TV & Radio forecasts from now on.
Here's my three top tips on how to predict the forthcoming weather:
1. In hilly areas, refer to the Mountain Weather Information Service's report for the next 1-2 days. These tend to have a very high level of accuracy & are essential reading for high hill walking at times of bad weather.
2. Learn to read & interpret a pressure chart. I like this site, although the level of detail can be intimidating for the uninitiated at first (click on the dates at the foot of the page).
Another excellent source is on the MWIS site.
Or there's this over on the European Centre for Medium-Range Weather Forecasts site
3. DIY. Look out of the window & go outdoors. Check the flow of air movement especially in comparison to the clouds overhead. Sense the air temperature - colder or warmer than earlier? Look at the clouds and the formations. Then back indoors to tap the barometer to see if its rising or falling.
Then take your best guess!
4. Finally - down to the seashore & pick up some seaweed.
Only a fraction of the cost of the Met Office's new "second most powerful computer in the UK" but probably a damn sight more accurate than the drivel fed to us from the goggle box each day.
Better still - sod the forecast - just get outside anyway.
And pack a waterproof, just in case.
Monday, August 24
Walkers & Cattle - Advice
The Enemy #1 - The Cow
Genetically over engineered over many centuries into a meat & milk provider. Typically two tone in colour. Heavy nasal drooling at one end. And a different sort of drooling at the other.
If in doubt carefully use a scratch & sniff test to quickly distinguish the key differences. Try not to lick your fingers afterwards.
The Enemy #2 - The Bullock
The juvenile male. Often identified by a tendency to unexpectedly demonstrate their sexual awakening by attempting to mount each other. Often repeatedly. Despite mixed success.
Intensely curious and prone to rapidly cover a field's length seconds after you've strayed within the barb wire/electrified boundary fence fortification.
The Owner - The Cattle Farmer
Some believe this to be a mix of the two genres. Often distinguished by the use of green wellingtons, dung coloured (typically blue) overalls, & a loud greeting call "Gerroff-my-land-you-townies".
Well ok I may be guilty of ever egging those descriptions a little.
Except for the green wellies.
But more seriously today's BBC reports have hi-lighted certain dangers associated with these usually tranquil beasts (I meant the cows by the way)
Beware of cows with their calves. Especially if you encounter them whilst accompanied by a dog.
Personally, even when not dog accompanied, I have a tendency to avoid any beast weighing in excess of 1/2 ton and capable of short bursts of speed in my general direction. No matter what its motivation may be.
The NFU advice has been issued as a result of the deaths of 3 walkers in 3 months.
Their advice to walkers
"if you have a dog with you, keep it under close control, but do not hang on to it should a cow or bull start acting aggressively. If you feel threatened, just carry on as normal, do not run, move to the edge of the field and if possible find another way round the field, returning to the original path as soon as is possible. And remember to close the gate".
(I love that mention of the gate. A good idea to prevent yet another headlong chase down the next field, but at the same time rather a recognisable farmy piece of advice)
The main problem for those of not familiar with bovine nature - what is aggressive behaviour?
Most cattle will wander over to a stile if they spot a walker. After all chewing cud and trying to mount your brothers can becomes tedious after a few weeks of such wild experiences.
I regularly walk across a large open expanse of common land watching the behaviour of cattle.
Based, I assume on their previous encounters, a few cattle will hang back from the main herd, effectively acting as scouts. These will initiate a rapid move towards the cause of any disquiet, bringing the rest of the herd cavorting behind them, feet drumming hard.
Not a pleasant prospect if you happen to be that cause.
Unfortunately the latest victim was a farmer. But back at the Royal Welsh Show in July the FUW (think NFU Wales) was quoted as saying that "Cases of potentially-deadly stampeding cattle unwittingly spooked by dog walkers are almost certainly set to rise"
(Lets ignore the comment "In part it was due to cash-strapped "townies" holidaying in the UK at a time of recession and heading for the countryside to relax")
Here's my advice, based on years of experience using farm paths. Its personal, so make up your own mind at your own risk.
1. Don’t keep the dog on a lead, but do keep it under control at all times.
If its not sufficiently well trained to stay to heel, or be sent away, you really shouldn't be out with it amongst farm animals.
2. By all means carry a stout stick. But as most people, including myself, do not carry one try picking up a few small stones (not rocks!) before entering a field.
It’s a last ditch deterrent. Better a few stings on a cow's thick hide, and a potential dressing down from a farmer, than being knocked over & injured by a fast moving herd.
3. If the beasts move towards you, make loud single syllable noises, such as they'd expect from the cowhand (cowherd?) also make yourself look bigger, but try not to wave your hands about alarmingly. Not so much noise that they become spooked, but enough to give you time for a rapid & controlled exit, whilst they try to work out just what the hell you are.
Thinking herding noises.
(I used this on my last Dartmoor trip for a couple of miles, in an area covered with impenetrable gorse thickets and narrow paths. A river was on one side. A steep rise on the other. The cows & their calves wouldn’t take the hint to veer away, despite my vectoring approaches. As this was the only way off the moor unless I turned back for a five mile detour, near the end of a long day I had little choice on this occasion.
4. Don’t (completely) turn your back or try to out sprint them. Back away steadily whilst ensuring you remain upright & prepared to move off to one side to avoid any confrontation.
5. Keep an eye out for all potential exit routes, moving well around any herd where possible. Remember that most of the boundary hedgerows will be hiding barbed wire. Its meant to prevent the escape of large curious animals. That works the same where you are concerned as well.
Its not a good time to find this out when entangled in this as part of any rapid exit.
Remember Steve McQueen in the Great Escape?
6. If it does come to a close up encounter I'm told a hard slap across the snout will work wonders.
Personally I've not test this particular tip. Not do I ever intend to get into a situation where I need to test the hypothesis.
If someone slapped me across the snout I’d tend to thrash about a fair bit, or take it as an attack. But quite what a 1/2 ton beast may do …..?
7. Finally (or should this be firstly?) if in doubt make a detour to avoid crossing the field.
I'm not too proud to admit I've done this on many occasions where cows/horses have shown rather too much interest in my presence before I've even entered the field.
This is one circumstance where Flight before Fight is A Good Thing
Any more tips - leave a comment please.Labels: nature
Sunday, August 2
Its Summer? No its Autumn? Just take your pick
An early Sunday start prepping two motorcycles ready for a long weekend at a Well Known Event (but more on that later in the week perhaps)
Whilst I'm on the topic, when did the centre-stand become surplus to requirement? Trying single handed to get each bike on a paddock stand, for simple chain maintenance (a five minute job) became a heart stopping half hour if the end result wasn't to be one's pride and joy lying lifeless on its side after toppling over during the stand/mounting process.
Since when did a centre stand become a luxury item?
So imagine my joy when I wandered back indoors only to find my pc screen infected with a rather nasty Trojan virus which required some major low level surgery to eradicate.
And yes, I do use current Firewall & Anti-Virus packages.
Two hours later that was sorted, leaving many more hours to run some alternative malware/spyware software and complete a low level purge.
Time for a walk then? More like essential.
Out to Burbush in the New Forest for a bit of contemplative R&R, accompanied by a MP3 player of very loud rock music. Always works well when I'm in an anti-social frame of mind.
Predictably, given the summer season, the rural back roads were busy & the New Forest car park a seething mass of humanity. Why does the term 'tourist on holiday' seem to require leaving their brain & common sense in a small pail by the holiday accommodation's front door each day?
Oh well - a quiet route was essential today, far away from marked paths and over publicised guidebook routes.
A success in that I saw no-one else once I'd left the vicinity of the car park. Sort of a success in a spur of the moment decision to try something a little more physically challenging by hopping off the back of my first route to link up with a longer outlying circuit.
It was via bog land. It wasn't any surprise. I know the land here abouts is liable to be undercut by narrow rivulets of flowing water, especially after rain. Adopting the trusted bog hop gait that Darren knows so well I quickly crossed onto the lower slopes of the far valley side, and picked up a pony track up to the pine topped mount ahead, in which nestled a World War II searchlight emplacement.
All going spiffing so far. A good workout over rough ground, much akin to Dartmoor in some places, and at a fast pace. Dog by my side, we moved ever onwards.
As I followed the ridge I was watching the boggy land below looking for a better track to cut across to rejoin the original route. An excellent & quiet circular if it wasn't for 400m of path crossing a major watershed plateau. Even the sinking of various peat and straw bales a few years earlier had failed to turn it into better than an inevitable paddle even during drought conditions. So its always been a bugbear of mine to find someway to hop this impassable section without getting a guaranteed soaking.
Today I thought I had cracked it. Spotting a clear pony track down I headed to the valley for a short 200m traverse to the far slope.
Along the way my path meandered by a solitary blackberry bush, already full of ripe fruit. A pause briefly to saviour a couple of large juicy berries unadulterated by proximity to car or human activity. Its going to be a bumper crop this year.
But hang on - doesn't ripe fruit signify the End of The Summer. A sign that Autumn's days are announcing their turn to become the seasonal host?
Maybe. Personally I'm yet to get my head around the fact its Summer, even as the evenings drawn in with each dusk arriving earlier than the previous one.
Onwards then into what turned out to be one of the worst pieces of broken ground I've walked over for some time. No make that walked through. Or maybe even under.
Initially hopping from tussock to tussock I turned to make sure Dog was ok. He'd disappeared. Nope there he was, the only sign of his passage the top of long sedge grasses moving, as he followed a track deep deep down in the undergrowth.
I persevered. Carefully. This was ankle snapping territory. The trusted bog hop gait, so suavely demonstrated not half an hour before soon became an arm whirling, keep the balance, plummet forward until finally the inevitable happened.
My foot went into a pool of water, far below and out of sight, with the result - a boot filled with a tantalising mixture of rain water and Grade A fresh bog land mulch (and all free of charge)
Bugger - this is the sort of incident that rarely happens to me. Even then it should be in some wild and harsh environment. Not 50m from the dry & well worn path in front of me.
I finished the rest of the walk with a noticeable squelch each time my right foot hit the deck. But I had to smile along the way.
Putting the valley's water levels down to this summer's rainfall level I mentally marked the route as passable, but with care and at the right time of the year.
So why, when I came to one of the Forest's permanent pool of standing water was it's level 2-3m below its normal mark; Foreshore mud clearly visible? A typical mid summer scene in fact.
Is this still a wet Summer this year? Or maybe a warm season with periods of rainfall that have coloured the general perception of inclement weather.
Or has the high season already passed, leaving us to face an early Autumn? One that indicates the
non Winter season is now one extended period of warm & occasionally wet weather?
Well I don't know, and I doubt whether the Met Office are truly qualified these days to proffer an opinion that anyone would trust.
I squelched my way back into the typical Soddam & Gomorrah scene surrounding the car park. As I started homewards to renew battle with a pc clean-up, I skirted Forest ponies obstructing the main access routes & road. Their particular season in full swing having relearnt the quickest way to get Oohs & Aahs from day trippers and more relevantly their free handouts.
I really need to get away soon!Labels: nature, New Forest, walks
Friday, July 24
Running fast. Standing still.
A combination of work, home and the usual day to day life drudge means that any time spent in front of this damned mono visual blinking radiation emitting time wasting device (aka Internet PC) are few and far between at present.
I've managed to keep up with my regular blog/forum reads each day, although any interaction in those places has also been similarly limited by time & energy.
Regrettably my fine record of monthly wildcamps that started so well (and so early this year), has turned to a pile of mush in response to circumstance. Many of these beyond my direct control, but all requiring the mature & supportive responses that I like to think is part of what make me Who I Am.
But today, at the end of yet another endlessly milling week I've uncovered a few hours of my own. Time to sit back & spend some solitary moments on my own whims. Something that during the last few weeks I've felt increasingly driven to saviour during the pell-mell rush that seems to be my waking existence.
Now is that time, more than ever, when I feel drawn to find that special renewal of spirit that comes with a few night's wildcamping in some lonely and desolate wild location. Far from my fellow human, but so close to the true reality of existence. Water. Shelter. Food. Nature. Bliss.
But for the moment my dismally puny recharge comes as I think back to some of those high ridge wildcamps. Places where I sat savouring the blending of Time, Space & Solitude.
The quiet gap that follows the end of a long day's trek.
The wildcamp pitch. Refuelling the body's needs.
And then an opportunity to fill the gap before sleep by busily doing nothing in particular but become one with the surroundings. True - only a transitory visitor. But one open to the measure and pleasure of the temporary resting place.
Meanwhile there are the trip reports from fellow Outdoor Bloggers as they discuss their recent sorties out in the Great Outdoors (You lucky sods!)
All this helps keep me on the right side of sanity. Although those who have met me know that such a description is always applied a little warily when citing my general demeanour.
So for now I teeter (titter?) along life's own high ridge. Balancing The Present alongside The Past. Awaiting The Future where control of my own moments & movements can one again be retaken in a more selfish manner.
So what if this summer is yet again turning out to be damp and changeable?
The weather is warm. The grass is full grown. Tree crowns are dark and leaf laden.
Get out there if you are able. Saviour these moments.
To store up pleasant memories for colder days ahead.
And I don't mean the Winter.Labels: Mental Health, nature
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
"This website is dedicated to all the wonderful waterfalls throughout the United Kingdom.
I'm hoping to compile a database of all the major and many minor waterfalls, with a map of their location and hopefully photographs of each of the falls. There are a few other websites listing the falls throughout the UK .......... but I have yet to find a site where you can view a map and find any local falls to the area you are in.
I hope this will be of use to somebody out there, whether on your holidays or making special trips to see the falls"
I chatted via one of the UK Outdoor News Groups (yes they do still exist) with the site author following his appeal for additional waterfall information.
So if there's one you know of that you think should be added - why not drop him an e-mail?
Labels: blog media, nature
New Forest Waterfall
Another period of rainfall during the last 24 hours.
Burbush waterfall is back in residency once more & all just a few steps away from a usually busy car parking area.
Hope the New Forest Authority don't cotton onto this as a potential tourist attraction!Labels: National Park, nature, New Forest
Monday, March 8
Dinner Companion
A friend flew in for lunch earlier today ............
Just some bird I'd been introduced to over a meal.
Didn't catch the name - had to fly off.
Labels: nature
Sunday, March 7
Smoke on The Water: New Forest Style
Looks like Spring is a-sprung as locals welcome the new tourist season with their Old Tradition of Setting Fire to the First Caravan of the New Season.
Apparently not. More like the semi-regular gorse burning to take advantage of the wet ground underfoot, before it starts to dry & harden.
At last. Its been a long Winter this year.Labels: National Park, nature, New Forest
Saturday, January 30
A Once in a Lifetime Event
The seed had fallen to the ground some twenty years before, one small hope amongst several thousand siblings. They succumbed to drought, starvation or local predators.
But not this one.
Feet dug ever deeper into the soil beneath. Grey trunk body thickened year by year whilst branching arms stretched newly bursting bud tips ever higher towards the sky with the start of each Spring.
Oh yes it was hard work.
Older & stronger trees had claimed this ground scores of years before when the seedling's parent was little more than the same hopeful shoot hidden deep in the undergrowth.
But the niche the seedling had carved out for itself was a careful one. Balancing nutrient from the earth around about, while threading its head upwards in a continual challenge to touch the sun despite the growing shade crown of mightier neighbours.
And even whilst competing for that light our tree & its neighbours talked together, as trees so often do. If only one stops to listen.
On calm sunny days little was said. The sun's life force beaming down made all else secondary.
But bare branched, during winter gales, the trees swayed and rocked as one. Chattering to each other as they told tales of mighty storms now long past. The movement of their branches exciting a temporary camaraderie.
Today that feeling was a distant memory. Maybe something that would not occur again.
For something was not right.
An orange spot, a splash of paint, had appeared on the tree's trunk. One chosen alongside others across the area. The mark of Cain? Or a sign of promising things ahead?
No matter - what will be will be. The tree waited. For it lived patience.
A lone walker, black and white dog at heel, appeared at the crest of the rise moving steadily down the track alongside the tree's domain.
And then it happened.
It arrived with that wisdom of inevitability. A product of hindsight's clear path to the moment when a world changes.
The tree felt its solid grasp on the earth's surface slip. Slowly it started to topple. Its airy head moving towards the ground far below.
The walker looked up at the sudden noise of something heavy tearing through woodland. Looking groundwards he expect to see a regular movement of deer. Or perhaps a few bulky New Forest cattle crashing through the dead bracken.
Instead a blur of green swaying leaves moving above his eye line grabbed at his attention.
He concentrated on the sight until the fall was complete.
The tree, after one storm too many & the increasing weight of rampant ivy around its trunk, had accepted the inevitability of physical laws and toppled to the ground.
Not with a crash. More a gentle murmur of rustling foliage, before a final dullen flat thud. The shared noise that comes with any large & very heavy object returning to earth.
For a few moments the walker continue to stare, taken aback by the event's suddenness.
And then, leaving the path, he walked over to the tree. Leaves once again still after a final airy flight. Roots snapped clean. The ground from whence they had been torn already resettling. This disturbance, obvious now, to quickly disappear with a few weeks of rain & frost.
One uniquely precise & fleeting moment. An infinitesimal hap chance amongst endless trillions of complex life force interactions across the Earth. And of all space and time.
I went for a walk in the New Forest today.
By chance I saw a tree fall to the ground.
No-one else was around.
And yes, it made a sound......or rather two.
One while it fell.
And a second that still rings deep inside me at the incredible odds of seeing it happen.Labels: ; New Forest, nature
Sunday, January 10
Whitten Pond - Ice Bound
A few snaps from this afternoon's wander near Burley in the New Forest.
The camera flash creating a strangely moody image at my regular crossing point on this pond outlet stream. A place where I've occasionally spotted a swimming snake - but certainly not today.
The beam traverse may be short but it requires a steady nerve & careful balance to avoid the potential early dip. Not that that has happened to me. Yet.
But today it is an easier passage with careful short sliding steps across the surface of thick ice.
A few steps further on lies Whitten Pond, a large pool of water easily visible from the Burley/Bransgore road.
I remain wary of the variable nature of the icy conditions underfoot. So those who decided a trip out onto the ice, and so far from shore, were foolhardy to say the least.
In places the steeping ground requires careful attention to avoid a loss of footing. Necessary caution.
Occasionally the path route leads across a flat areas of snowy ground. Too flat to be solid ground I belatedly realise with ominous sounds of cracking ice underfoot. A reminder of the vast quantity of stored water potential awaiting the inevitable thaw before returning the New Forest tracks back to muddy quagmire for the winter months ahead.
Dark was falling as I finally returned to the car park, today's walking pace reduced by the need for wariness.
As I carefully maneuvered the car towards the icy incline at the car park exit other vehicles were still arriving to start their own excursions out into the dark and mildly treacherous conditions.
Well at least the cold will keep any victim suitably embalmed for easy body ID.Labels: nature, New Forest
Friday, January 8
Seize the day - looking with different sight
Don't know if you spotted it, but we've had a bit of snow recently.
Hereabouts its nothing like the heaps of stuff that the rest of the country continue to suffer. But in East Dorset, and near to the coast, the local micro climate isn't conducive to the white stuff appearing. And when it does it tends not to hang around for very long.
Even rarer is this continual period of low temperature. Something that has been with us for so long that popping outdoors in -2C feels positively balmy at present.
Today's free day (hurrah-finally a day's holiday) is to be spent exploring a local spot near Ringwood, just off side from the the Avon Valley Footpath. An area of open common land, forest, and water pools.
Its not a very long circular wander. However it does have the benefit of being rarely visited both due to the location & the fact that its a path that doesn't actually go anywhere, except back to its starting point.
But a deliberate choice on my part. Large areas of snow covered ground, and no car tracks or human footprints to disturb the flat white surface. A rare opportunity to investigate the various and bountiful animal tracks that today are hard frozen into the snow, recording tales of recent animal activity.
I'd never realised that rabbits keep to such regular routes, even when crossing open land. But the little pounded pathways formed by their many distinctive prints tell their own tale.
I see a few deer tracks in an area where I've never spotted them before. Something to look out for more carefully now I know they are present.
Near the frozen lake a slow brown buzzard barely bothers to move off beyond my eye line. Keeping to the low branches to search avidly today for something, anything, to make a meal.
However the little egret, stark white against the backdrop of long dead reeds, remains wary. The short area of open water, but a minuscule portion of the thickly iced lake, makes for a lacklustre fishing ground.
Another predator likely to find failure as the aquatic world remains in safe hibernation. A natural reaction to the plunging temperature.
A walk with a rare difference.
An unique opportunity to catch a glimpse into the local routines of Nature.Labels: nature
Saturday, January 2
New Year. New Forest. Old Haunts.
The local cold snap continues unabated. With local low lying areas exhibiting their seasonal floods the persistence of hard & frozen ground is at present an useful advantage. Boggy and potentially treacherous areas have for a brief time become firm routes of iron surfaced mud and thick ice.
Well mostly. As I found out today - the sun may be far away, and brief in daytime appearance - but it still has the power to weaken icy surfaces. So crossing some of the flooded paths turned at times into an adventure of ice skating & river crossing, all within a few footsteps.
Strange to think I had sat on this bridge a few months earlier, munching sandwiches and watching a small New Forest stream trickle down below, firmly in its watercourse.
Signs also of the recent gales. Not yet up to the full strength of the Feb/March winds that will blow hard and long straight across from the nearby coast. But already impressive enough to knock about some less secure victims.
I like this hidden spot.
In fact I once bivvied the night here. Intending to sojourn with nature & pass a night with the deer herd that I can guarantee to find whatever the time of year & wandering tourists. Instead I discovered what horses can get up to during the dark hours
(The curious amongst you should follow the link)
But that's the joy of the British seasonal variation.
Familiar land & bye ways transform as vegetation growth rises & then falls, whilst the ground underfoot changes in response to the influence of sun, water & wind.
The deer didn't disappoint. Three heads bobbing up at a distance. Eyesight poor, but noses as keen as ever. The cold weather and low vegetation at this time of year making them less reluctant to flee with their usual alacrity.
(Spotted them yet?)
A pleasant way to pass a couple of hours on a sunny day. Five miles of crunching underfoot, with only the occasional crack/splash along the way as my usually accurate footfall adjustments were mislead by nature's cheeky jests.
My audio accompaniment today - a documentary about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. World famous for his literary colossus Sherlock Holmes. But slightly less familiar as the man who introduced skiing to Switzerland, Portsmouth FC player (pre pro days), regular MCC team turnout & the catalyst behind the creation of the Court of Criminal Appeal.
Wonder if he had managed all this if he'd had TV in his day?Labels: nature, New Forest
Sunday, December 20
Christmas WanderLand
I love this time of year in the run up to Christmas.
No, not the stupidity of office parties, excessive drinking, & stop-until-you-drop-shopping.
For me it's the peace and quiet that can be found for these few special days when walking local paths.
For the moment the semi occasional visitors now have other places to be. Which is fine by me as it means my weekend wanderings in the New Forest are of a solitary nature, save for an occasional habitual dog walker, similarly benefiting from a lack of human activity.
Despite the car thermometer showing 3 degrees, in the forest puddles are frozen with thick ice, and the ground underfoot is hard & still frozen. Boggy areas, usually a hop skip & splash traverse, today are easily crossed, ice crunching underfoot as I take the straight line ahead.
Sun shine, although weak, is appreciated for the extra warmth offered as I move out from under the shade of the trees. On impulse I decide to extend my route onto Holmsley Tearooms. Usually a hive of activity, especially with the day tripping fraternity, today it is peaceful.
Dog and myself have the garden area to ourselves as we await our lunchtime repast.
We return along the old railway track, preparing to dive back down into deep woodland. Unexpectedly the mix of solitude, sun, and a clear path leading off into the distance unexpectedly brings one of those rare moments of Bliss.
That feeling of oneness with my surroundings; Open to the forces of nature all around me.
Its something I find quite regularly in the hills, especially after a couple of days wildcamping.
But to stumble across it today, on a short and familiar route, is a welcome surprise. And a reminder why I continue to seek the outdoor world, and saviour its offerings.
Christmas - well I can take or leave it personally.
But the rare joy that comes from visiting familiar areas, but finding unexpected joy, is my own gift to myself this Xmas time.
And to share with you, if you only care to go out there and look for yourself.
Oh - and as you can see the new mobile telephone has a much better camera with which to try & capture moments along the way.
Labels: nature, New Forest
Saturday, December 5
Lake District Weatherline - New telephone number
I've one telephone number stored away on my mobile phone that whilst infrequently used, will never be deleted. When wildcamping high on Lakeland fells part of my evening routine is to call, phone signal permitting, The Lake District Weatherline service.
Over the years I've found the forecasts to be accurate, detailed & (for a solo hillwalker), key when pondering the next day's route.
To go high…..or low?
An important question for a walker travelling with no schedule to keep, other than to see what's beyond the next range of felltops.
But no matter what my intent, realism dictates that I should bend with the weather's vagaries, especially where extreme conditions are forecast.
(Wildcamping - ah so pretty)
Even in less inclement weather the choice between a high ridge walk in dense rain cloud, or a valley meander accompanied by patchy showers, can be the difference between a hard day with little enjoyment or an pleasant day of exploration.
(Wildcamping - ugh not so pretty)
That's even more relevant when high wind speeds are the alternative between safe passage low down or the increased risk of being knocked off my feet when ridging along exposed tops.
So thanks to the latest TGO Magazine for alerting me to the fact that the telephone no. for The Lake District Weatherline has recently changed to 0844 846 2444.
(Being curious, I tried the old number earlier today, only to be met with a recorded message giving a company's name and address details. But not a lot of guidance as to whether it will rain in Keswick tomorrow)
And whilst on the subject of Lakeland weather - fancy a job as a Fell Top Assessor?
"….report on the fell conditions from the summit area of Helvellyn from December through to April. Working seven days on and seven days off, including weekends and bank holidays, you will need to be able to climb from Glenridding to the summit of Helvellyn and back in four hours"
Well that’s probably me out of the running.
Then again the daily commute from the south coast might just get me down in the end.
Wonder whether any of the Assessors have ever thought about just wildcamping for their week in a nearby sheltered spot?
Now there's an idea.
And to get paid for it as well.
HmmmmLabels: Lake District, National Park, nature
Saturday, November 14
Blow you Bugger Blow
Early breakfast at Avon Beach, Mudeford.
The short walk from the clifftop parking spot down to the café is accompanied by a steadily hazing of vision as my spectacles slowly coat with a mixture of sea spray, salt and sand. All whipping onto the land as the wind leaves off pushing surf up onto the shoreline, and turns to other games to play instead.
A group of Oyster catchers, seemingly oblivious to the elemental force, busily bob along the tidal sand, looking for their breakfast. At times one takes to the air, making only a short distance, before quickly returning to earth. The desire for flight lessened today by the effort required to maintain it.
Warm inside the café we watch as the birds continue their hunt for tide borne bonanza. The fry up arrives.
Dog and myself for once alone at this usually busy spot. We wander along the ridge that of St Catherine's Hill, Christchurch.
As we pass by the twin mobile telephone masts the steady thrum of a plane is heard as it passes overhead. I pause to watch the sway of the thinner tower, rock embedded at the foot, but the upper section flexing as it bends so easily to wind whim.
The plane continues to fly overhead. What still?
I realise it’s the sound of the wind resonating the mast struts of the towers, with an irregular drumming as gusts bounce off some of the bulbous equipment bolted high above.
A personal orchestral offering - courtesy of Mother Nature and BT.
I love the change of perspective that the natural world can bring out in the everyday world.Labels: nature
Tuesday, September 29
Three things to do to Enjoy England
As you may have spotted on other sites some outdoor Bloggers have been approached by Jam to contribute to the Guardian's forthcoming ‘Enjoy England’ feature.
Speed reading the invitation my initial thought was 'Great! Finally hit the big time. A chance to kick over the traces of the day job".
Regrettably, a later slower perusal revealed a less glittering outcome.
But hey-ho; Ideas for these ramblings of mine can come from any direction and are all encouraged in whatever guise they might arise. So here's tonight's jottings, based around a common theme.
Solitude
According to recent government statistics the UK will soon only have living room for 423,138 more people before our landmass achieves its maximum level of population saturation.
New laws, allegedly being drafted as I write, plan to introduce measures that will require all UK inhabitants to take Breaths-In & Breaths-Out in an alternative mode to their nearest neighbour, rather than risk those in coastal areas being slowly edged off into the sea as the majority of the populace inhale simultaneously.
A little like a living Penny Fall shuffle fairground machine.
Well perhaps things aren't quite that bad. Yet. I may even have (whisper it gently) exaggerated so very slightly. But its true that urban living, now encompassing anyplace, short of living at the bottom of a lake, is becoming increasingly over populated & pressurised.
Here's a secret. This is a facet of modern society which can be so easily thwarted with a little personal effort.
Park the car. Start walking away from the road, and into your nearest piece of countryside. Take care to avoid well worn footpaths & tracks. Just keep going, veering clear of any signs of human habitation. Especially tourist features (Particularly Forestry Commission attractions. Honey pot to the Urban Daytripper. A wasp filled jam-jar to this writer)
Now Stop.
Take a deep breath.
And just listen to that glorious sound of ..... your own sweet self. Finally alone with nature.
Like this early morning alarm clock during my Dartmoor Dawdle in June 2008
"I had a lie-in until the sun poked its nose over the ridge, giving me the chance stay in my sleeping bag and listen to the song of the skylarks for twenty minutes of so. And I mean really listen. Lying there with no other distraction my concentration was fully given over to their repetitive trills, before their song veered on to yet another melody. No other background noise to taint the sound. A sublime experience"
Wildcamping
Despite somewhat draconian camping constraints under English law there are still pockets of wild uninhabited places in England that allow one to simply disappear from everyday humanity with little fuss, effort or expense.
With minimal equipment & a easy willingness to dispense with life's trappings & fripperies whole areas of England, rarely visited by most of the population are opened up.
Entry is free!
True it requires some degree of self-reliance & self confidence. In turn the benefit is a self-awareness at a level that most people would find difficult to comprehend. The easily discovered ability to spend a night in a wild place, somewhere apparently uninhabitable for so many, builds a bond with the natural world that once experienced cannot be forgotten.
Unlike so many shiny promises offered in our ' enlightened' times a repeat of this experience always seems to triggers some primordial Sigh from deep down within the brain's limbic region.
Freeze, Flight or Fight?
Not necessarily. Some of us know of a fourth way (Grasshopper).
Reckon I should start a cult?
Dartmoor
A desolately inhabited place of some 368 square miles, and yet an area both within easy access of millions of urbanites with major road access, and a place that positively encourages Wildcamping.
To the majority, trundling across tight moorland roads, it may seem an endless expanse of open land & weirdly sculpted Tor tops, mostly shrouded in thick mist & heartily driven rain. To guests of the HMP Dartmoor establishment, at Princetown, possibly a beckoning view, somewhere green & encouraging beyond thick Napoleonic walls of retribution.
For some an equally scary proposition when viewed from the comfort of a car. But after a few visits into Dartmoor's interior, by foot, the rich history of earlier human habitation springs into being. Neolithic stone rows to the more recent historic drippings of mine tramways, all underline that this was once one of the more densely populated place in England during past eras when a wooded valley was a places of Danger & Threat.
Forget the forlorn baying of the Sherlock Holme's Baskerville Hound. Instead learn to celebrate a place once full of life, and eager to share its secrets, many long forgotten, for those prepared to explore away from the modern day tarmacadam detour of bland conformity.
Or just stay inside the safety of that car.
Going from Nowhere. Leading to Nowhere. Please exit at the cliffside departure gate along with your fellow lemmings.
Was that Three Things to Do in England? Perhaps not quite what the Guardian invitation had in mind?
Whatever - just get out into some distant English wild place, and soak up its true nature. Far from the crush of humanity.
Better be quick. Tourist No. 423,139 arrives in 4 years time. And then this island starts to slowly sink into the sea.
Me? I'll be on Yes Tor. Having a brew & watching the sunset.
Glug .... glug .... glug.
Labels: dartmoor, media, Mental Health, National Park, nature
Friday, September 25
Wildcamp - Travel - Wildcamp
To Travel.
Definition: "To go from one place to another …..To advance or proceed"
By inference an act requiring physical movement from one position/place to another.
True, there's no rule to say that Wildcamps cannot be static. To remain at the same site for more than one night.
But mostly wildcamping is about spatial transition. The act of swapping one remote & lonely spot for a different perspective. Usually another remote & lonely spot. A daily change of place.
Or .............. perhaps that should be a change of perspective on life ?
Whatever - it makes no difference. The act itself suffices for many.
For me? Well......
To tap into the Great Unknown. Become one, once more, with the deep Om of life.
To touch, however fleetingly, that underlying rhythmic beat of energy. For so much of our lives unheeded as it throbs far below our everyday event threshold that is termed Living In The Real World'.
To sleep a night. Solitary & defenceless in some wild and inhospitable place. Remote, perhaps even uninhabitable for many.
To awake at dawn's approach. Mentally & physically renewed.
Early morning grumbling of sinews & bones, unaccustomed to the previous day's physical activity, quietening as the essence of At One with a natural life force, are sensed deep within one's self.
An unexpected deep sigh of contentment at ……
At..?
Well at nothing tangible really.
Except the act of being part of the Real World.
Breathing.
Sharing rainfall run-off with beck or tarn as it heeds the pull of gravity.
Wind veer caressing bare skin; Rain sting on cheeks;
The welcoming warmth of weak sunlight on a frosty morning.
The cool relief freely given by deep shade of rock's shadow at the height of Summer.
Another day greeted. Rucksack settled onto back for the hours of movement ahead.
The last act.
A final lingering glance backwards to the night's resting place. Checking for mislaid kit and signs of human presence? Or more a quiet & silent salute to a place now special in memory & time.
To travel.
No, not movement from place to place, towards some journey's end.
Merely an excuse to saviour stops along the way & touch, fleetingly, the closeness of the Natural World & Reality.
Until the next time.
Maybe I'm alone in silently greeting a wildcamp site on arrival; And on departure bidding a fond farewell. To a familiar friend who's presence I meet with from time to time? And from place to place.
Or then again ..... maybe not.
Perhaps I'm just weird?Labels: nature
Monday, August 31
The Weather Man is a Drip
Did you enjoy today's sunny weather? Hopefully that won't be the last gasp of this derisory summer just yet.
But who knows for sure?
Maybe the Meteorological Office & its ubiquitous stooge the TV Weatherman?
Perhaps.
Or then again.......Nope - probably not with their track record over recent times.
For this weekend was the last straw for me in treating seriously the dire content of the dumbed down weather forecast for the masses.
Take Saturday's TV forecast beamed out around 22:00 in the evening on BBC1.
'Bad weather on Sunday for the south of England, but not until around 5pm' cheerily pronounced the Metman's grinning monkey, 'Enjoy the Sunday sunshine while you can'.
Meanwhile, blue screen background behind him, the forecaster waved his arms with enthusiastic animation as a computer generated model of the weather for the next 24 hours silently confirmed his projection. Its crude overview indicating clouds and rain cruising across from Ireland, and due to reach my own locale until late on Sunday.
It must be true - the time was at the bottom of the cartoon after all.
Plans made accordingly I departed to bed. Why then did I look out of the window early Sunday morning to see thick cloud cover. Which by lunchtime had built into light drizzle for the rest of the afternoon? By then I'd given up in disgust and was watching the rain blow in from the coast whilst getting some work sorted in the office.
(Well it seemed like a good way to use the time bearing in mind the happier alternatives that had gone by the board)
How is it the high tech, multi million pound Met Office weather models can be so inept about weather only 12 hours ahead?
That's not the worse case I can relate. The TV forecasts have been getting progressively more dreadful over a period of many months. Its almost as if the senseless drive to make the forecast more "accessible" to the drooling TV couch potato has up-ended any accuracy they once had.
And for what?
The conditions Outdoor are largely irrelevant for Mr Lardy Arse TV Watcher.
Nope. I've had it with the TV & Radio forecasts from now on.
Here's my three top tips on how to predict the forthcoming weather:
1. In hilly areas, refer to the Mountain Weather Information Service's report for the next 1-2 days. These tend to have a very high level of accuracy & are essential reading for high hill walking at times of bad weather.
2. Learn to read & interpret a pressure chart. I like this site, although the level of detail can be intimidating for the uninitiated at first (click on the dates at the foot of the page).
Another excellent source is on the MWIS site.
Or there's this over on the European Centre for Medium-Range Weather Forecasts site
3. DIY. Look out of the window & go outdoors. Check the flow of air movement especially in comparison to the clouds overhead. Sense the air temperature - colder or warmer than earlier? Look at the clouds and the formations. Then back indoors to tap the barometer to see if its rising or falling.
Then take your best guess!
4. Finally - down to the seashore & pick up some seaweed.
Only a fraction of the cost of the Met Office's new "second most powerful computer in the UK" but probably a damn sight more accurate than the drivel fed to us from the goggle box each day.
Better still - sod the forecast - just get outside anyway.
And pack a waterproof, just in case.
Monday, August 24
Walkers & Cattle - Advice
The Enemy #1 - The Cow
Genetically over engineered over many centuries into a meat & milk provider. Typically two tone in colour. Heavy nasal drooling at one end. And a different sort of drooling at the other.
If in doubt carefully use a scratch & sniff test to quickly distinguish the key differences. Try not to lick your fingers afterwards.
The Enemy #2 - The Bullock
The juvenile male. Often identified by a tendency to unexpectedly demonstrate their sexual awakening by attempting to mount each other. Often repeatedly. Despite mixed success.
Intensely curious and prone to rapidly cover a field's length seconds after you've strayed within the barb wire/electrified boundary fence fortification.
The Owner - The Cattle Farmer
Some believe this to be a mix of the two genres. Often distinguished by the use of green wellingtons, dung coloured (typically blue) overalls, & a loud greeting call "Gerroff-my-land-you-townies".
Well ok I may be guilty of ever egging those descriptions a little.
Except for the green wellies.
But more seriously today's BBC reports have hi-lighted certain dangers associated with these usually tranquil beasts (I meant the cows by the way)
Beware of cows with their calves. Especially if you encounter them whilst accompanied by a dog.
Personally, even when not dog accompanied, I have a tendency to avoid any beast weighing in excess of 1/2 ton and capable of short bursts of speed in my general direction. No matter what its motivation may be.
The NFU advice has been issued as a result of the deaths of 3 walkers in 3 months.
Their advice to walkers
"if you have a dog with you, keep it under close control, but do not hang on to it should a cow or bull start acting aggressively. If you feel threatened, just carry on as normal, do not run, move to the edge of the field and if possible find another way round the field, returning to the original path as soon as is possible. And remember to close the gate".
(I love that mention of the gate. A good idea to prevent yet another headlong chase down the next field, but at the same time rather a recognisable farmy piece of advice)
The main problem for those of not familiar with bovine nature - what is aggressive behaviour?
Most cattle will wander over to a stile if they spot a walker. After all chewing cud and trying to mount your brothers can becomes tedious after a few weeks of such wild experiences.
I regularly walk across a large open expanse of common land watching the behaviour of cattle.
Based, I assume on their previous encounters, a few cattle will hang back from the main herd, effectively acting as scouts. These will initiate a rapid move towards the cause of any disquiet, bringing the rest of the herd cavorting behind them, feet drumming hard.
Not a pleasant prospect if you happen to be that cause.
Unfortunately the latest victim was a farmer. But back at the Royal Welsh Show in July the FUW (think NFU Wales) was quoted as saying that "Cases of potentially-deadly stampeding cattle unwittingly spooked by dog walkers are almost certainly set to rise"
(Lets ignore the comment "In part it was due to cash-strapped "townies" holidaying in the UK at a time of recession and heading for the countryside to relax")
Here's my advice, based on years of experience using farm paths. Its personal, so make up your own mind at your own risk.
1. Don’t keep the dog on a lead, but do keep it under control at all times.
If its not sufficiently well trained to stay to heel, or be sent away, you really shouldn't be out with it amongst farm animals.
2. By all means carry a stout stick. But as most people, including myself, do not carry one try picking up a few small stones (not rocks!) before entering a field.
It’s a last ditch deterrent. Better a few stings on a cow's thick hide, and a potential dressing down from a farmer, than being knocked over & injured by a fast moving herd.
3. If the beasts move towards you, make loud single syllable noises, such as they'd expect from the cowhand (cowherd?) also make yourself look bigger, but try not to wave your hands about alarmingly. Not so much noise that they become spooked, but enough to give you time for a rapid & controlled exit, whilst they try to work out just what the hell you are.
Thinking herding noises.
(I used this on my last Dartmoor trip for a couple of miles, in an area covered with impenetrable gorse thickets and narrow paths. A river was on one side. A steep rise on the other. The cows & their calves wouldn’t take the hint to veer away, despite my vectoring approaches. As this was the only way off the moor unless I turned back for a five mile detour, near the end of a long day I had little choice on this occasion.
4. Don’t (completely) turn your back or try to out sprint them. Back away steadily whilst ensuring you remain upright & prepared to move off to one side to avoid any confrontation.
5. Keep an eye out for all potential exit routes, moving well around any herd where possible. Remember that most of the boundary hedgerows will be hiding barbed wire. Its meant to prevent the escape of large curious animals. That works the same where you are concerned as well.
Its not a good time to find this out when entangled in this as part of any rapid exit.
Remember Steve McQueen in the Great Escape?
6. If it does come to a close up encounter I'm told a hard slap across the snout will work wonders.
Personally I've not test this particular tip. Not do I ever intend to get into a situation where I need to test the hypothesis.
If someone slapped me across the snout I’d tend to thrash about a fair bit, or take it as an attack. But quite what a 1/2 ton beast may do …..?
7. Finally (or should this be firstly?) if in doubt make a detour to avoid crossing the field.
I'm not too proud to admit I've done this on many occasions where cows/horses have shown rather too much interest in my presence before I've even entered the field.
This is one circumstance where Flight before Fight is A Good Thing
Any more tips - leave a comment please.Labels: nature
Sunday, August 2
Its Summer? No its Autumn? Just take your pick
An early Sunday start prepping two motorcycles ready for a long weekend at a Well Known Event (but more on that later in the week perhaps)
Whilst I'm on the topic, when did the centre-stand become surplus to requirement? Trying single handed to get each bike on a paddock stand, for simple chain maintenance (a five minute job) became a heart stopping half hour if the end result wasn't to be one's pride and joy lying lifeless on its side after toppling over during the stand/mounting process.
Since when did a centre stand become a luxury item?
So imagine my joy when I wandered back indoors only to find my pc screen infected with a rather nasty Trojan virus which required some major low level surgery to eradicate.
And yes, I do use current Firewall & Anti-Virus packages.
Two hours later that was sorted, leaving many more hours to run some alternative malware/spyware software and complete a low level purge.
Time for a walk then? More like essential.
Out to Burbush in the New Forest for a bit of contemplative R&R, accompanied by a MP3 player of very loud rock music. Always works well when I'm in an anti-social frame of mind.
Predictably, given the summer season, the rural back roads were busy & the New Forest car park a seething mass of humanity. Why does the term 'tourist on holiday' seem to require leaving their brain & common sense in a small pail by the holiday accommodation's front door each day?
Oh well - a quiet route was essential today, far away from marked paths and over publicised guidebook routes.
A success in that I saw no-one else once I'd left the vicinity of the car park. Sort of a success in a spur of the moment decision to try something a little more physically challenging by hopping off the back of my first route to link up with a longer outlying circuit.
It was via bog land. It wasn't any surprise. I know the land here abouts is liable to be undercut by narrow rivulets of flowing water, especially after rain. Adopting the trusted bog hop gait that Darren knows so well I quickly crossed onto the lower slopes of the far valley side, and picked up a pony track up to the pine topped mount ahead, in which nestled a World War II searchlight emplacement.
All going spiffing so far. A good workout over rough ground, much akin to Dartmoor in some places, and at a fast pace. Dog by my side, we moved ever onwards.
As I followed the ridge I was watching the boggy land below looking for a better track to cut across to rejoin the original route. An excellent & quiet circular if it wasn't for 400m of path crossing a major watershed plateau. Even the sinking of various peat and straw bales a few years earlier had failed to turn it into better than an inevitable paddle even during drought conditions. So its always been a bugbear of mine to find someway to hop this impassable section without getting a guaranteed soaking.
Today I thought I had cracked it. Spotting a clear pony track down I headed to the valley for a short 200m traverse to the far slope.
Along the way my path meandered by a solitary blackberry bush, already full of ripe fruit. A pause briefly to saviour a couple of large juicy berries unadulterated by proximity to car or human activity. Its going to be a bumper crop this year.
But hang on - doesn't ripe fruit signify the End of The Summer. A sign that Autumn's days are announcing their turn to become the seasonal host?
Maybe. Personally I'm yet to get my head around the fact its Summer, even as the evenings drawn in with each dusk arriving earlier than the previous one.
Onwards then into what turned out to be one of the worst pieces of broken ground I've walked over for some time. No make that walked through. Or maybe even under.
Initially hopping from tussock to tussock I turned to make sure Dog was ok. He'd disappeared. Nope there he was, the only sign of his passage the top of long sedge grasses moving, as he followed a track deep deep down in the undergrowth.
I persevered. Carefully. This was ankle snapping territory. The trusted bog hop gait, so suavely demonstrated not half an hour before soon became an arm whirling, keep the balance, plummet forward until finally the inevitable happened.
My foot went into a pool of water, far below and out of sight, with the result - a boot filled with a tantalising mixture of rain water and Grade A fresh bog land mulch (and all free of charge)
Bugger - this is the sort of incident that rarely happens to me. Even then it should be in some wild and harsh environment. Not 50m from the dry & well worn path in front of me.
I finished the rest of the walk with a noticeable squelch each time my right foot hit the deck. But I had to smile along the way.
Putting the valley's water levels down to this summer's rainfall level I mentally marked the route as passable, but with care and at the right time of the year.
So why, when I came to one of the Forest's permanent pool of standing water was it's level 2-3m below its normal mark; Foreshore mud clearly visible? A typical mid summer scene in fact.
Is this still a wet Summer this year? Or maybe a warm season with periods of rainfall that have coloured the general perception of inclement weather.
Or has the high season already passed, leaving us to face an early Autumn? One that indicates the
non Winter season is now one extended period of warm & occasionally wet weather?
Well I don't know, and I doubt whether the Met Office are truly qualified these days to proffer an opinion that anyone would trust.
I squelched my way back into the typical Soddam & Gomorrah scene surrounding the car park. As I started homewards to renew battle with a pc clean-up, I skirted Forest ponies obstructing the main access routes & road. Their particular season in full swing having relearnt the quickest way to get Oohs & Aahs from day trippers and more relevantly their free handouts.
I really need to get away soon!Labels: nature, New Forest, walks
Friday, July 24
Running fast. Standing still.
A combination of work, home and the usual day to day life drudge means that any time spent in front of this damned mono visual blinking radiation emitting time wasting device (aka Internet PC) are few and far between at present.
I've managed to keep up with my regular blog/forum reads each day, although any interaction in those places has also been similarly limited by time & energy.
Regrettably my fine record of monthly wildcamps that started so well (and so early this year), has turned to a pile of mush in response to circumstance. Many of these beyond my direct control, but all requiring the mature & supportive responses that I like to think is part of what make me Who I Am.
But today, at the end of yet another endlessly milling week I've uncovered a few hours of my own. Time to sit back & spend some solitary moments on my own whims. Something that during the last few weeks I've felt increasingly driven to saviour during the pell-mell rush that seems to be my waking existence.
Now is that time, more than ever, when I feel drawn to find that special renewal of spirit that comes with a few night's wildcamping in some lonely and desolate wild location. Far from my fellow human, but so close to the true reality of existence. Water. Shelter. Food. Nature. Bliss.
But for the moment my dismally puny recharge comes as I think back to some of those high ridge wildcamps. Places where I sat savouring the blending of Time, Space & Solitude.
The quiet gap that follows the end of a long day's trek.
The wildcamp pitch. Refuelling the body's needs.
And then an opportunity to fill the gap before sleep by busily doing nothing in particular but become one with the surroundings. True - only a transitory visitor. But one open to the measure and pleasure of the temporary resting place.
Meanwhile there are the trip reports from fellow Outdoor Bloggers as they discuss their recent sorties out in the Great Outdoors (You lucky sods!)
All this helps keep me on the right side of sanity. Although those who have met me know that such a description is always applied a little warily when citing my general demeanour.
So for now I teeter (titter?) along life's own high ridge. Balancing The Present alongside The Past. Awaiting The Future where control of my own moments & movements can one again be retaken in a more selfish manner.
So what if this summer is yet again turning out to be damp and changeable?
The weather is warm. The grass is full grown. Tree crowns are dark and leaf laden.
Get out there if you are able. Saviour these moments.
To store up pleasant memories for colder days ahead.
And I don't mean the Winter.Labels: Mental Health, nature
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
Burbush waterfall is back in residency once more & all just a few steps away from a usually busy car parking area.
Hope the New Forest Authority don't cotton onto this as a potential tourist attraction!
Labels: National Park, nature, New Forest
Dinner Companion
A friend flew in for lunch earlier today ............
Just some bird I'd been introduced to over a meal.
Didn't catch the name - had to fly off.
Labels: nature
Sunday, March 7
Smoke on The Water: New Forest Style
Looks like Spring is a-sprung as locals welcome the new tourist season with their Old Tradition of Setting Fire to the First Caravan of the New Season.
Apparently not. More like the semi-regular gorse burning to take advantage of the wet ground underfoot, before it starts to dry & harden.
At last. Its been a long Winter this year.Labels: National Park, nature, New Forest
Saturday, January 30
A Once in a Lifetime Event
The seed had fallen to the ground some twenty years before, one small hope amongst several thousand siblings. They succumbed to drought, starvation or local predators.
But not this one.
Feet dug ever deeper into the soil beneath. Grey trunk body thickened year by year whilst branching arms stretched newly bursting bud tips ever higher towards the sky with the start of each Spring.
Oh yes it was hard work.
Older & stronger trees had claimed this ground scores of years before when the seedling's parent was little more than the same hopeful shoot hidden deep in the undergrowth.
But the niche the seedling had carved out for itself was a careful one. Balancing nutrient from the earth around about, while threading its head upwards in a continual challenge to touch the sun despite the growing shade crown of mightier neighbours.
And even whilst competing for that light our tree & its neighbours talked together, as trees so often do. If only one stops to listen.
On calm sunny days little was said. The sun's life force beaming down made all else secondary.
But bare branched, during winter gales, the trees swayed and rocked as one. Chattering to each other as they told tales of mighty storms now long past. The movement of their branches exciting a temporary camaraderie.
Today that feeling was a distant memory. Maybe something that would not occur again.
For something was not right.
An orange spot, a splash of paint, had appeared on the tree's trunk. One chosen alongside others across the area. The mark of Cain? Or a sign of promising things ahead?
No matter - what will be will be. The tree waited. For it lived patience.
A lone walker, black and white dog at heel, appeared at the crest of the rise moving steadily down the track alongside the tree's domain.
And then it happened.
It arrived with that wisdom of inevitability. A product of hindsight's clear path to the moment when a world changes.
The tree felt its solid grasp on the earth's surface slip. Slowly it started to topple. Its airy head moving towards the ground far below.
The walker looked up at the sudden noise of something heavy tearing through woodland. Looking groundwards he expect to see a regular movement of deer. Or perhaps a few bulky New Forest cattle crashing through the dead bracken.
Instead a blur of green swaying leaves moving above his eye line grabbed at his attention.
He concentrated on the sight until the fall was complete.
The tree, after one storm too many & the increasing weight of rampant ivy around its trunk, had accepted the inevitability of physical laws and toppled to the ground.
Not with a crash. More a gentle murmur of rustling foliage, before a final dullen flat thud. The shared noise that comes with any large & very heavy object returning to earth.
For a few moments the walker continue to stare, taken aback by the event's suddenness.
And then, leaving the path, he walked over to the tree. Leaves once again still after a final airy flight. Roots snapped clean. The ground from whence they had been torn already resettling. This disturbance, obvious now, to quickly disappear with a few weeks of rain & frost.
One uniquely precise & fleeting moment. An infinitesimal hap chance amongst endless trillions of complex life force interactions across the Earth. And of all space and time.
I went for a walk in the New Forest today.
By chance I saw a tree fall to the ground.
No-one else was around.
And yes, it made a sound......or rather two.
One while it fell.
And a second that still rings deep inside me at the incredible odds of seeing it happen.Labels: ; New Forest, nature
Sunday, January 10
Whitten Pond - Ice Bound
A few snaps from this afternoon's wander near Burley in the New Forest.
The camera flash creating a strangely moody image at my regular crossing point on this pond outlet stream. A place where I've occasionally spotted a swimming snake - but certainly not today.
The beam traverse may be short but it requires a steady nerve & careful balance to avoid the potential early dip. Not that that has happened to me. Yet.
But today it is an easier passage with careful short sliding steps across the surface of thick ice.
A few steps further on lies Whitten Pond, a large pool of water easily visible from the Burley/Bransgore road.
I remain wary of the variable nature of the icy conditions underfoot. So those who decided a trip out onto the ice, and so far from shore, were foolhardy to say the least.
In places the steeping ground requires careful attention to avoid a loss of footing. Necessary caution.
Occasionally the path route leads across a flat areas of snowy ground. Too flat to be solid ground I belatedly realise with ominous sounds of cracking ice underfoot. A reminder of the vast quantity of stored water potential awaiting the inevitable thaw before returning the New Forest tracks back to muddy quagmire for the winter months ahead.
Dark was falling as I finally returned to the car park, today's walking pace reduced by the need for wariness.
As I carefully maneuvered the car towards the icy incline at the car park exit other vehicles were still arriving to start their own excursions out into the dark and mildly treacherous conditions.
Well at least the cold will keep any victim suitably embalmed for easy body ID.Labels: nature, New Forest
Friday, January 8
Seize the day - looking with different sight
Don't know if you spotted it, but we've had a bit of snow recently.
Hereabouts its nothing like the heaps of stuff that the rest of the country continue to suffer. But in East Dorset, and near to the coast, the local micro climate isn't conducive to the white stuff appearing. And when it does it tends not to hang around for very long.
Even rarer is this continual period of low temperature. Something that has been with us for so long that popping outdoors in -2C feels positively balmy at present.
Today's free day (hurrah-finally a day's holiday) is to be spent exploring a local spot near Ringwood, just off side from the the Avon Valley Footpath. An area of open common land, forest, and water pools.
Its not a very long circular wander. However it does have the benefit of being rarely visited both due to the location & the fact that its a path that doesn't actually go anywhere, except back to its starting point.
But a deliberate choice on my part. Large areas of snow covered ground, and no car tracks or human footprints to disturb the flat white surface. A rare opportunity to investigate the various and bountiful animal tracks that today are hard frozen into the snow, recording tales of recent animal activity.
I'd never realised that rabbits keep to such regular routes, even when crossing open land. But the little pounded pathways formed by their many distinctive prints tell their own tale.
I see a few deer tracks in an area where I've never spotted them before. Something to look out for more carefully now I know they are present.
Near the frozen lake a slow brown buzzard barely bothers to move off beyond my eye line. Keeping to the low branches to search avidly today for something, anything, to make a meal.
However the little egret, stark white against the backdrop of long dead reeds, remains wary. The short area of open water, but a minuscule portion of the thickly iced lake, makes for a lacklustre fishing ground.
Another predator likely to find failure as the aquatic world remains in safe hibernation. A natural reaction to the plunging temperature.
A walk with a rare difference.
An unique opportunity to catch a glimpse into the local routines of Nature.Labels: nature
Saturday, January 2
New Year. New Forest. Old Haunts.
The local cold snap continues unabated. With local low lying areas exhibiting their seasonal floods the persistence of hard & frozen ground is at present an useful advantage. Boggy and potentially treacherous areas have for a brief time become firm routes of iron surfaced mud and thick ice.
Well mostly. As I found out today - the sun may be far away, and brief in daytime appearance - but it still has the power to weaken icy surfaces. So crossing some of the flooded paths turned at times into an adventure of ice skating & river crossing, all within a few footsteps.
Strange to think I had sat on this bridge a few months earlier, munching sandwiches and watching a small New Forest stream trickle down below, firmly in its watercourse.
Signs also of the recent gales. Not yet up to the full strength of the Feb/March winds that will blow hard and long straight across from the nearby coast. But already impressive enough to knock about some less secure victims.
I like this hidden spot.
In fact I once bivvied the night here. Intending to sojourn with nature & pass a night with the deer herd that I can guarantee to find whatever the time of year & wandering tourists. Instead I discovered what horses can get up to during the dark hours
(The curious amongst you should follow the link)
But that's the joy of the British seasonal variation.
Familiar land & bye ways transform as vegetation growth rises & then falls, whilst the ground underfoot changes in response to the influence of sun, water & wind.
The deer didn't disappoint. Three heads bobbing up at a distance. Eyesight poor, but noses as keen as ever. The cold weather and low vegetation at this time of year making them less reluctant to flee with their usual alacrity.
(Spotted them yet?)
A pleasant way to pass a couple of hours on a sunny day. Five miles of crunching underfoot, with only the occasional crack/splash along the way as my usually accurate footfall adjustments were mislead by nature's cheeky jests.
My audio accompaniment today - a documentary about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. World famous for his literary colossus Sherlock Holmes. But slightly less familiar as the man who introduced skiing to Switzerland, Portsmouth FC player (pre pro days), regular MCC team turnout & the catalyst behind the creation of the Court of Criminal Appeal.
Wonder if he had managed all this if he'd had TV in his day?Labels: nature, New Forest
Sunday, December 20
Christmas WanderLand
I love this time of year in the run up to Christmas.
No, not the stupidity of office parties, excessive drinking, & stop-until-you-drop-shopping.
For me it's the peace and quiet that can be found for these few special days when walking local paths.
For the moment the semi occasional visitors now have other places to be. Which is fine by me as it means my weekend wanderings in the New Forest are of a solitary nature, save for an occasional habitual dog walker, similarly benefiting from a lack of human activity.
Despite the car thermometer showing 3 degrees, in the forest puddles are frozen with thick ice, and the ground underfoot is hard & still frozen. Boggy areas, usually a hop skip & splash traverse, today are easily crossed, ice crunching underfoot as I take the straight line ahead.
Sun shine, although weak, is appreciated for the extra warmth offered as I move out from under the shade of the trees. On impulse I decide to extend my route onto Holmsley Tearooms. Usually a hive of activity, especially with the day tripping fraternity, today it is peaceful.
Dog and myself have the garden area to ourselves as we await our lunchtime repast.
We return along the old railway track, preparing to dive back down into deep woodland. Unexpectedly the mix of solitude, sun, and a clear path leading off into the distance unexpectedly brings one of those rare moments of Bliss.
That feeling of oneness with my surroundings; Open to the forces of nature all around me.
Its something I find quite regularly in the hills, especially after a couple of days wildcamping.
But to stumble across it today, on a short and familiar route, is a welcome surprise. And a reminder why I continue to seek the outdoor world, and saviour its offerings.
Christmas - well I can take or leave it personally.
But the rare joy that comes from visiting familiar areas, but finding unexpected joy, is my own gift to myself this Xmas time.
And to share with you, if you only care to go out there and look for yourself.
Oh - and as you can see the new mobile telephone has a much better camera with which to try & capture moments along the way.
Labels: nature, New Forest
Saturday, December 5
Lake District Weatherline - New telephone number
I've one telephone number stored away on my mobile phone that whilst infrequently used, will never be deleted. When wildcamping high on Lakeland fells part of my evening routine is to call, phone signal permitting, The Lake District Weatherline service.
Over the years I've found the forecasts to be accurate, detailed & (for a solo hillwalker), key when pondering the next day's route.
To go high…..or low?
An important question for a walker travelling with no schedule to keep, other than to see what's beyond the next range of felltops.
But no matter what my intent, realism dictates that I should bend with the weather's vagaries, especially where extreme conditions are forecast.
(Wildcamping - ah so pretty)
Even in less inclement weather the choice between a high ridge walk in dense rain cloud, or a valley meander accompanied by patchy showers, can be the difference between a hard day with little enjoyment or an pleasant day of exploration.
(Wildcamping - ugh not so pretty)
That's even more relevant when high wind speeds are the alternative between safe passage low down or the increased risk of being knocked off my feet when ridging along exposed tops.
So thanks to the latest TGO Magazine for alerting me to the fact that the telephone no. for The Lake District Weatherline has recently changed to 0844 846 2444.
(Being curious, I tried the old number earlier today, only to be met with a recorded message giving a company's name and address details. But not a lot of guidance as to whether it will rain in Keswick tomorrow)
And whilst on the subject of Lakeland weather - fancy a job as a Fell Top Assessor?
"….report on the fell conditions from the summit area of Helvellyn from December through to April. Working seven days on and seven days off, including weekends and bank holidays, you will need to be able to climb from Glenridding to the summit of Helvellyn and back in four hours"
Well that’s probably me out of the running.
Then again the daily commute from the south coast might just get me down in the end.
Wonder whether any of the Assessors have ever thought about just wildcamping for their week in a nearby sheltered spot?
Now there's an idea.
And to get paid for it as well.
HmmmmLabels: Lake District, National Park, nature
Saturday, November 14
Blow you Bugger Blow
Early breakfast at Avon Beach, Mudeford.
The short walk from the clifftop parking spot down to the café is accompanied by a steadily hazing of vision as my spectacles slowly coat with a mixture of sea spray, salt and sand. All whipping onto the land as the wind leaves off pushing surf up onto the shoreline, and turns to other games to play instead.
A group of Oyster catchers, seemingly oblivious to the elemental force, busily bob along the tidal sand, looking for their breakfast. At times one takes to the air, making only a short distance, before quickly returning to earth. The desire for flight lessened today by the effort required to maintain it.
Warm inside the café we watch as the birds continue their hunt for tide borne bonanza. The fry up arrives.
Dog and myself for once alone at this usually busy spot. We wander along the ridge that of St Catherine's Hill, Christchurch.
As we pass by the twin mobile telephone masts the steady thrum of a plane is heard as it passes overhead. I pause to watch the sway of the thinner tower, rock embedded at the foot, but the upper section flexing as it bends so easily to wind whim.
The plane continues to fly overhead. What still?
I realise it’s the sound of the wind resonating the mast struts of the towers, with an irregular drumming as gusts bounce off some of the bulbous equipment bolted high above.
A personal orchestral offering - courtesy of Mother Nature and BT.
I love the change of perspective that the natural world can bring out in the everyday world.Labels: nature
Tuesday, September 29
Three things to do to Enjoy England
As you may have spotted on other sites some outdoor Bloggers have been approached by Jam to contribute to the Guardian's forthcoming ‘Enjoy England’ feature.
Speed reading the invitation my initial thought was 'Great! Finally hit the big time. A chance to kick over the traces of the day job".
Regrettably, a later slower perusal revealed a less glittering outcome.
But hey-ho; Ideas for these ramblings of mine can come from any direction and are all encouraged in whatever guise they might arise. So here's tonight's jottings, based around a common theme.
Solitude
According to recent government statistics the UK will soon only have living room for 423,138 more people before our landmass achieves its maximum level of population saturation.
New laws, allegedly being drafted as I write, plan to introduce measures that will require all UK inhabitants to take Breaths-In & Breaths-Out in an alternative mode to their nearest neighbour, rather than risk those in coastal areas being slowly edged off into the sea as the majority of the populace inhale simultaneously.
A little like a living Penny Fall shuffle fairground machine.
Well perhaps things aren't quite that bad. Yet. I may even have (whisper it gently) exaggerated so very slightly. But its true that urban living, now encompassing anyplace, short of living at the bottom of a lake, is becoming increasingly over populated & pressurised.
Here's a secret. This is a facet of modern society which can be so easily thwarted with a little personal effort.
Park the car. Start walking away from the road, and into your nearest piece of countryside. Take care to avoid well worn footpaths & tracks. Just keep going, veering clear of any signs of human habitation. Especially tourist features (Particularly Forestry Commission attractions. Honey pot to the Urban Daytripper. A wasp filled jam-jar to this writer)
Now Stop.
Take a deep breath.
And just listen to that glorious sound of ..... your own sweet self. Finally alone with nature.
Like this early morning alarm clock during my Dartmoor Dawdle in June 2008
"I had a lie-in until the sun poked its nose over the ridge, giving me the chance stay in my sleeping bag and listen to the song of the skylarks for twenty minutes of so. And I mean really listen. Lying there with no other distraction my concentration was fully given over to their repetitive trills, before their song veered on to yet another melody. No other background noise to taint the sound. A sublime experience"
Wildcamping
Despite somewhat draconian camping constraints under English law there are still pockets of wild uninhabited places in England that allow one to simply disappear from everyday humanity with little fuss, effort or expense.
With minimal equipment & a easy willingness to dispense with life's trappings & fripperies whole areas of England, rarely visited by most of the population are opened up.
Entry is free!
True it requires some degree of self-reliance & self confidence. In turn the benefit is a self-awareness at a level that most people would find difficult to comprehend. The easily discovered ability to spend a night in a wild place, somewhere apparently uninhabitable for so many, builds a bond with the natural world that once experienced cannot be forgotten.
Unlike so many shiny promises offered in our ' enlightened' times a repeat of this experience always seems to triggers some primordial Sigh from deep down within the brain's limbic region.
Freeze, Flight or Fight?
Not necessarily. Some of us know of a fourth way (Grasshopper).
Reckon I should start a cult?
Dartmoor
A desolately inhabited place of some 368 square miles, and yet an area both within easy access of millions of urbanites with major road access, and a place that positively encourages Wildcamping.
To the majority, trundling across tight moorland roads, it may seem an endless expanse of open land & weirdly sculpted Tor tops, mostly shrouded in thick mist & heartily driven rain. To guests of the HMP Dartmoor establishment, at Princetown, possibly a beckoning view, somewhere green & encouraging beyond thick Napoleonic walls of retribution.
For some an equally scary proposition when viewed from the comfort of a car. But after a few visits into Dartmoor's interior, by foot, the rich history of earlier human habitation springs into being. Neolithic stone rows to the more recent historic drippings of mine tramways, all underline that this was once one of the more densely populated place in England during past eras when a wooded valley was a places of Danger & Threat.
Forget the forlorn baying of the Sherlock Holme's Baskerville Hound. Instead learn to celebrate a place once full of life, and eager to share its secrets, many long forgotten, for those prepared to explore away from the modern day tarmacadam detour of bland conformity.
Or just stay inside the safety of that car.
Going from Nowhere. Leading to Nowhere. Please exit at the cliffside departure gate along with your fellow lemmings.
Was that Three Things to Do in England? Perhaps not quite what the Guardian invitation had in mind?
Whatever - just get out into some distant English wild place, and soak up its true nature. Far from the crush of humanity.
Better be quick. Tourist No. 423,139 arrives in 4 years time. And then this island starts to slowly sink into the sea.
Me? I'll be on Yes Tor. Having a brew & watching the sunset.
Glug .... glug .... glug.
Labels: dartmoor, media, Mental Health, National Park, nature
Friday, September 25
Wildcamp - Travel - Wildcamp
To Travel.
Definition: "To go from one place to another …..To advance or proceed"
By inference an act requiring physical movement from one position/place to another.
True, there's no rule to say that Wildcamps cannot be static. To remain at the same site for more than one night.
But mostly wildcamping is about spatial transition. The act of swapping one remote & lonely spot for a different perspective. Usually another remote & lonely spot. A daily change of place.
Or .............. perhaps that should be a change of perspective on life ?
Whatever - it makes no difference. The act itself suffices for many.
For me? Well......
To tap into the Great Unknown. Become one, once more, with the deep Om of life.
To touch, however fleetingly, that underlying rhythmic beat of energy. For so much of our lives unheeded as it throbs far below our everyday event threshold that is termed Living In The Real World'.
To sleep a night. Solitary & defenceless in some wild and inhospitable place. Remote, perhaps even uninhabitable for many.
To awake at dawn's approach. Mentally & physically renewed.
Early morning grumbling of sinews & bones, unaccustomed to the previous day's physical activity, quietening as the essence of At One with a natural life force, are sensed deep within one's self.
An unexpected deep sigh of contentment at ……
At..?
Well at nothing tangible really.
Except the act of being part of the Real World.
Breathing.
Sharing rainfall run-off with beck or tarn as it heeds the pull of gravity.
Wind veer caressing bare skin; Rain sting on cheeks;
The welcoming warmth of weak sunlight on a frosty morning.
The cool relief freely given by deep shade of rock's shadow at the height of Summer.
Another day greeted. Rucksack settled onto back for the hours of movement ahead.
The last act.
A final lingering glance backwards to the night's resting place. Checking for mislaid kit and signs of human presence? Or more a quiet & silent salute to a place now special in memory & time.
To travel.
No, not movement from place to place, towards some journey's end.
Merely an excuse to saviour stops along the way & touch, fleetingly, the closeness of the Natural World & Reality.
Until the next time.
Maybe I'm alone in silently greeting a wildcamp site on arrival; And on departure bidding a fond farewell. To a familiar friend who's presence I meet with from time to time? And from place to place.
Or then again ..... maybe not.
Perhaps I'm just weird?Labels: nature
Monday, August 31
The Weather Man is a Drip
Did you enjoy today's sunny weather? Hopefully that won't be the last gasp of this derisory summer just yet.
But who knows for sure?
Maybe the Meteorological Office & its ubiquitous stooge the TV Weatherman?
Perhaps.
Or then again.......Nope - probably not with their track record over recent times.
For this weekend was the last straw for me in treating seriously the dire content of the dumbed down weather forecast for the masses.
Take Saturday's TV forecast beamed out around 22:00 in the evening on BBC1.
'Bad weather on Sunday for the south of England, but not until around 5pm' cheerily pronounced the Metman's grinning monkey, 'Enjoy the Sunday sunshine while you can'.
Meanwhile, blue screen background behind him, the forecaster waved his arms with enthusiastic animation as a computer generated model of the weather for the next 24 hours silently confirmed his projection. Its crude overview indicating clouds and rain cruising across from Ireland, and due to reach my own locale until late on Sunday.
It must be true - the time was at the bottom of the cartoon after all.
Plans made accordingly I departed to bed. Why then did I look out of the window early Sunday morning to see thick cloud cover. Which by lunchtime had built into light drizzle for the rest of the afternoon? By then I'd given up in disgust and was watching the rain blow in from the coast whilst getting some work sorted in the office.
(Well it seemed like a good way to use the time bearing in mind the happier alternatives that had gone by the board)
How is it the high tech, multi million pound Met Office weather models can be so inept about weather only 12 hours ahead?
That's not the worse case I can relate. The TV forecasts have been getting progressively more dreadful over a period of many months. Its almost as if the senseless drive to make the forecast more "accessible" to the drooling TV couch potato has up-ended any accuracy they once had.
And for what?
The conditions Outdoor are largely irrelevant for Mr Lardy Arse TV Watcher.
Nope. I've had it with the TV & Radio forecasts from now on.
Here's my three top tips on how to predict the forthcoming weather:
1. In hilly areas, refer to the Mountain Weather Information Service's report for the next 1-2 days. These tend to have a very high level of accuracy & are essential reading for high hill walking at times of bad weather.
2. Learn to read & interpret a pressure chart. I like this site, although the level of detail can be intimidating for the uninitiated at first (click on the dates at the foot of the page).
Another excellent source is on the MWIS site.
Or there's this over on the European Centre for Medium-Range Weather Forecasts site
3. DIY. Look out of the window & go outdoors. Check the flow of air movement especially in comparison to the clouds overhead. Sense the air temperature - colder or warmer than earlier? Look at the clouds and the formations. Then back indoors to tap the barometer to see if its rising or falling.
Then take your best guess!
4. Finally - down to the seashore & pick up some seaweed.
Only a fraction of the cost of the Met Office's new "second most powerful computer in the UK" but probably a damn sight more accurate than the drivel fed to us from the goggle box each day.
Better still - sod the forecast - just get outside anyway.
And pack a waterproof, just in case.
Monday, August 24
Walkers & Cattle - Advice
The Enemy #1 - The Cow
Genetically over engineered over many centuries into a meat & milk provider. Typically two tone in colour. Heavy nasal drooling at one end. And a different sort of drooling at the other.
If in doubt carefully use a scratch & sniff test to quickly distinguish the key differences. Try not to lick your fingers afterwards.
The Enemy #2 - The Bullock
The juvenile male. Often identified by a tendency to unexpectedly demonstrate their sexual awakening by attempting to mount each other. Often repeatedly. Despite mixed success.
Intensely curious and prone to rapidly cover a field's length seconds after you've strayed within the barb wire/electrified boundary fence fortification.
The Owner - The Cattle Farmer
Some believe this to be a mix of the two genres. Often distinguished by the use of green wellingtons, dung coloured (typically blue) overalls, & a loud greeting call "Gerroff-my-land-you-townies".
Well ok I may be guilty of ever egging those descriptions a little.
Except for the green wellies.
But more seriously today's BBC reports have hi-lighted certain dangers associated with these usually tranquil beasts (I meant the cows by the way)
Beware of cows with their calves. Especially if you encounter them whilst accompanied by a dog.
Personally, even when not dog accompanied, I have a tendency to avoid any beast weighing in excess of 1/2 ton and capable of short bursts of speed in my general direction. No matter what its motivation may be.
The NFU advice has been issued as a result of the deaths of 3 walkers in 3 months.
Their advice to walkers
"if you have a dog with you, keep it under close control, but do not hang on to it should a cow or bull start acting aggressively. If you feel threatened, just carry on as normal, do not run, move to the edge of the field and if possible find another way round the field, returning to the original path as soon as is possible. And remember to close the gate".
(I love that mention of the gate. A good idea to prevent yet another headlong chase down the next field, but at the same time rather a recognisable farmy piece of advice)
The main problem for those of not familiar with bovine nature - what is aggressive behaviour?
Most cattle will wander over to a stile if they spot a walker. After all chewing cud and trying to mount your brothers can becomes tedious after a few weeks of such wild experiences.
I regularly walk across a large open expanse of common land watching the behaviour of cattle.
Based, I assume on their previous encounters, a few cattle will hang back from the main herd, effectively acting as scouts. These will initiate a rapid move towards the cause of any disquiet, bringing the rest of the herd cavorting behind them, feet drumming hard.
Not a pleasant prospect if you happen to be that cause.
Unfortunately the latest victim was a farmer. But back at the Royal Welsh Show in July the FUW (think NFU Wales) was quoted as saying that "Cases of potentially-deadly stampeding cattle unwittingly spooked by dog walkers are almost certainly set to rise"
(Lets ignore the comment "In part it was due to cash-strapped "townies" holidaying in the UK at a time of recession and heading for the countryside to relax")
Here's my advice, based on years of experience using farm paths. Its personal, so make up your own mind at your own risk.
1. Don’t keep the dog on a lead, but do keep it under control at all times.
If its not sufficiently well trained to stay to heel, or be sent away, you really shouldn't be out with it amongst farm animals.
2. By all means carry a stout stick. But as most people, including myself, do not carry one try picking up a few small stones (not rocks!) before entering a field.
It’s a last ditch deterrent. Better a few stings on a cow's thick hide, and a potential dressing down from a farmer, than being knocked over & injured by a fast moving herd.
3. If the beasts move towards you, make loud single syllable noises, such as they'd expect from the cowhand (cowherd?) also make yourself look bigger, but try not to wave your hands about alarmingly. Not so much noise that they become spooked, but enough to give you time for a rapid & controlled exit, whilst they try to work out just what the hell you are.
Thinking herding noises.
(I used this on my last Dartmoor trip for a couple of miles, in an area covered with impenetrable gorse thickets and narrow paths. A river was on one side. A steep rise on the other. The cows & their calves wouldn’t take the hint to veer away, despite my vectoring approaches. As this was the only way off the moor unless I turned back for a five mile detour, near the end of a long day I had little choice on this occasion.
4. Don’t (completely) turn your back or try to out sprint them. Back away steadily whilst ensuring you remain upright & prepared to move off to one side to avoid any confrontation.
5. Keep an eye out for all potential exit routes, moving well around any herd where possible. Remember that most of the boundary hedgerows will be hiding barbed wire. Its meant to prevent the escape of large curious animals. That works the same where you are concerned as well.
Its not a good time to find this out when entangled in this as part of any rapid exit.
Remember Steve McQueen in the Great Escape?
6. If it does come to a close up encounter I'm told a hard slap across the snout will work wonders.
Personally I've not test this particular tip. Not do I ever intend to get into a situation where I need to test the hypothesis.
If someone slapped me across the snout I’d tend to thrash about a fair bit, or take it as an attack. But quite what a 1/2 ton beast may do …..?
7. Finally (or should this be firstly?) if in doubt make a detour to avoid crossing the field.
I'm not too proud to admit I've done this on many occasions where cows/horses have shown rather too much interest in my presence before I've even entered the field.
This is one circumstance where Flight before Fight is A Good Thing
Any more tips - leave a comment please.Labels: nature
Sunday, August 2
Its Summer? No its Autumn? Just take your pick
An early Sunday start prepping two motorcycles ready for a long weekend at a Well Known Event (but more on that later in the week perhaps)
Whilst I'm on the topic, when did the centre-stand become surplus to requirement? Trying single handed to get each bike on a paddock stand, for simple chain maintenance (a five minute job) became a heart stopping half hour if the end result wasn't to be one's pride and joy lying lifeless on its side after toppling over during the stand/mounting process.
Since when did a centre stand become a luxury item?
So imagine my joy when I wandered back indoors only to find my pc screen infected with a rather nasty Trojan virus which required some major low level surgery to eradicate.
And yes, I do use current Firewall & Anti-Virus packages.
Two hours later that was sorted, leaving many more hours to run some alternative malware/spyware software and complete a low level purge.
Time for a walk then? More like essential.
Out to Burbush in the New Forest for a bit of contemplative R&R, accompanied by a MP3 player of very loud rock music. Always works well when I'm in an anti-social frame of mind.
Predictably, given the summer season, the rural back roads were busy & the New Forest car park a seething mass of humanity. Why does the term 'tourist on holiday' seem to require leaving their brain & common sense in a small pail by the holiday accommodation's front door each day?
Oh well - a quiet route was essential today, far away from marked paths and over publicised guidebook routes.
A success in that I saw no-one else once I'd left the vicinity of the car park. Sort of a success in a spur of the moment decision to try something a little more physically challenging by hopping off the back of my first route to link up with a longer outlying circuit.
It was via bog land. It wasn't any surprise. I know the land here abouts is liable to be undercut by narrow rivulets of flowing water, especially after rain. Adopting the trusted bog hop gait that Darren knows so well I quickly crossed onto the lower slopes of the far valley side, and picked up a pony track up to the pine topped mount ahead, in which nestled a World War II searchlight emplacement.
All going spiffing so far. A good workout over rough ground, much akin to Dartmoor in some places, and at a fast pace. Dog by my side, we moved ever onwards.
As I followed the ridge I was watching the boggy land below looking for a better track to cut across to rejoin the original route. An excellent & quiet circular if it wasn't for 400m of path crossing a major watershed plateau. Even the sinking of various peat and straw bales a few years earlier had failed to turn it into better than an inevitable paddle even during drought conditions. So its always been a bugbear of mine to find someway to hop this impassable section without getting a guaranteed soaking.
Today I thought I had cracked it. Spotting a clear pony track down I headed to the valley for a short 200m traverse to the far slope.
Along the way my path meandered by a solitary blackberry bush, already full of ripe fruit. A pause briefly to saviour a couple of large juicy berries unadulterated by proximity to car or human activity. Its going to be a bumper crop this year.
But hang on - doesn't ripe fruit signify the End of The Summer. A sign that Autumn's days are announcing their turn to become the seasonal host?
Maybe. Personally I'm yet to get my head around the fact its Summer, even as the evenings drawn in with each dusk arriving earlier than the previous one.
Onwards then into what turned out to be one of the worst pieces of broken ground I've walked over for some time. No make that walked through. Or maybe even under.
Initially hopping from tussock to tussock I turned to make sure Dog was ok. He'd disappeared. Nope there he was, the only sign of his passage the top of long sedge grasses moving, as he followed a track deep deep down in the undergrowth.
I persevered. Carefully. This was ankle snapping territory. The trusted bog hop gait, so suavely demonstrated not half an hour before soon became an arm whirling, keep the balance, plummet forward until finally the inevitable happened.
My foot went into a pool of water, far below and out of sight, with the result - a boot filled with a tantalising mixture of rain water and Grade A fresh bog land mulch (and all free of charge)
Bugger - this is the sort of incident that rarely happens to me. Even then it should be in some wild and harsh environment. Not 50m from the dry & well worn path in front of me.
I finished the rest of the walk with a noticeable squelch each time my right foot hit the deck. But I had to smile along the way.
Putting the valley's water levels down to this summer's rainfall level I mentally marked the route as passable, but with care and at the right time of the year.
So why, when I came to one of the Forest's permanent pool of standing water was it's level 2-3m below its normal mark; Foreshore mud clearly visible? A typical mid summer scene in fact.
Is this still a wet Summer this year? Or maybe a warm season with periods of rainfall that have coloured the general perception of inclement weather.
Or has the high season already passed, leaving us to face an early Autumn? One that indicates the
non Winter season is now one extended period of warm & occasionally wet weather?
Well I don't know, and I doubt whether the Met Office are truly qualified these days to proffer an opinion that anyone would trust.
I squelched my way back into the typical Soddam & Gomorrah scene surrounding the car park. As I started homewards to renew battle with a pc clean-up, I skirted Forest ponies obstructing the main access routes & road. Their particular season in full swing having relearnt the quickest way to get Oohs & Aahs from day trippers and more relevantly their free handouts.
I really need to get away soon!Labels: nature, New Forest, walks
Friday, July 24
Running fast. Standing still.
A combination of work, home and the usual day to day life drudge means that any time spent in front of this damned mono visual blinking radiation emitting time wasting device (aka Internet PC) are few and far between at present.
I've managed to keep up with my regular blog/forum reads each day, although any interaction in those places has also been similarly limited by time & energy.
Regrettably my fine record of monthly wildcamps that started so well (and so early this year), has turned to a pile of mush in response to circumstance. Many of these beyond my direct control, but all requiring the mature & supportive responses that I like to think is part of what make me Who I Am.
But today, at the end of yet another endlessly milling week I've uncovered a few hours of my own. Time to sit back & spend some solitary moments on my own whims. Something that during the last few weeks I've felt increasingly driven to saviour during the pell-mell rush that seems to be my waking existence.
Now is that time, more than ever, when I feel drawn to find that special renewal of spirit that comes with a few night's wildcamping in some lonely and desolate wild location. Far from my fellow human, but so close to the true reality of existence. Water. Shelter. Food. Nature. Bliss.
But for the moment my dismally puny recharge comes as I think back to some of those high ridge wildcamps. Places where I sat savouring the blending of Time, Space & Solitude.
The quiet gap that follows the end of a long day's trek.
The wildcamp pitch. Refuelling the body's needs.
And then an opportunity to fill the gap before sleep by busily doing nothing in particular but become one with the surroundings. True - only a transitory visitor. But one open to the measure and pleasure of the temporary resting place.
Meanwhile there are the trip reports from fellow Outdoor Bloggers as they discuss their recent sorties out in the Great Outdoors (You lucky sods!)
All this helps keep me on the right side of sanity. Although those who have met me know that such a description is always applied a little warily when citing my general demeanour.
So for now I teeter (titter?) along life's own high ridge. Balancing The Present alongside The Past. Awaiting The Future where control of my own moments & movements can one again be retaken in a more selfish manner.
So what if this summer is yet again turning out to be damp and changeable?
The weather is warm. The grass is full grown. Tree crowns are dark and leaf laden.
Get out there if you are able. Saviour these moments.
To store up pleasant memories for colder days ahead.
And I don't mean the Winter.Labels: Mental Health, nature
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
Just some bird I'd been introduced to over a meal.
Didn't catch the name - had to fly off.
Labels: nature
Smoke on The Water: New Forest Style
Looks like Spring is a-sprung as locals welcome the new tourist season with their Old Tradition of Setting Fire to the First Caravan of the New Season.
Apparently not. More like the semi-regular gorse burning to take advantage of the wet ground underfoot, before it starts to dry & harden.
At last. Its been a long Winter this year.Labels: National Park, nature, New Forest
Saturday, January 30
A Once in a Lifetime Event
The seed had fallen to the ground some twenty years before, one small hope amongst several thousand siblings. They succumbed to drought, starvation or local predators.
But not this one.
Feet dug ever deeper into the soil beneath. Grey trunk body thickened year by year whilst branching arms stretched newly bursting bud tips ever higher towards the sky with the start of each Spring.
Oh yes it was hard work.
Older & stronger trees had claimed this ground scores of years before when the seedling's parent was little more than the same hopeful shoot hidden deep in the undergrowth.
But the niche the seedling had carved out for itself was a careful one. Balancing nutrient from the earth around about, while threading its head upwards in a continual challenge to touch the sun despite the growing shade crown of mightier neighbours.
And even whilst competing for that light our tree & its neighbours talked together, as trees so often do. If only one stops to listen.
On calm sunny days little was said. The sun's life force beaming down made all else secondary.
But bare branched, during winter gales, the trees swayed and rocked as one. Chattering to each other as they told tales of mighty storms now long past. The movement of their branches exciting a temporary camaraderie.
Today that feeling was a distant memory. Maybe something that would not occur again.
For something was not right.
An orange spot, a splash of paint, had appeared on the tree's trunk. One chosen alongside others across the area. The mark of Cain? Or a sign of promising things ahead?
No matter - what will be will be. The tree waited. For it lived patience.
A lone walker, black and white dog at heel, appeared at the crest of the rise moving steadily down the track alongside the tree's domain.
And then it happened.
It arrived with that wisdom of inevitability. A product of hindsight's clear path to the moment when a world changes.
The tree felt its solid grasp on the earth's surface slip. Slowly it started to topple. Its airy head moving towards the ground far below.
The walker looked up at the sudden noise of something heavy tearing through woodland. Looking groundwards he expect to see a regular movement of deer. Or perhaps a few bulky New Forest cattle crashing through the dead bracken.
Instead a blur of green swaying leaves moving above his eye line grabbed at his attention.
He concentrated on the sight until the fall was complete.
The tree, after one storm too many & the increasing weight of rampant ivy around its trunk, had accepted the inevitability of physical laws and toppled to the ground.
Not with a crash. More a gentle murmur of rustling foliage, before a final dullen flat thud. The shared noise that comes with any large & very heavy object returning to earth.
For a few moments the walker continue to stare, taken aback by the event's suddenness.
And then, leaving the path, he walked over to the tree. Leaves once again still after a final airy flight. Roots snapped clean. The ground from whence they had been torn already resettling. This disturbance, obvious now, to quickly disappear with a few weeks of rain & frost.
One uniquely precise & fleeting moment. An infinitesimal hap chance amongst endless trillions of complex life force interactions across the Earth. And of all space and time.
I went for a walk in the New Forest today.
By chance I saw a tree fall to the ground.
No-one else was around.
And yes, it made a sound......or rather two.
One while it fell.
And a second that still rings deep inside me at the incredible odds of seeing it happen.Labels: ; New Forest, nature
Sunday, January 10
Whitten Pond - Ice Bound
A few snaps from this afternoon's wander near Burley in the New Forest.
The camera flash creating a strangely moody image at my regular crossing point on this pond outlet stream. A place where I've occasionally spotted a swimming snake - but certainly not today.
The beam traverse may be short but it requires a steady nerve & careful balance to avoid the potential early dip. Not that that has happened to me. Yet.
But today it is an easier passage with careful short sliding steps across the surface of thick ice.
A few steps further on lies Whitten Pond, a large pool of water easily visible from the Burley/Bransgore road.
I remain wary of the variable nature of the icy conditions underfoot. So those who decided a trip out onto the ice, and so far from shore, were foolhardy to say the least.
In places the steeping ground requires careful attention to avoid a loss of footing. Necessary caution.
Occasionally the path route leads across a flat areas of snowy ground. Too flat to be solid ground I belatedly realise with ominous sounds of cracking ice underfoot. A reminder of the vast quantity of stored water potential awaiting the inevitable thaw before returning the New Forest tracks back to muddy quagmire for the winter months ahead.
Dark was falling as I finally returned to the car park, today's walking pace reduced by the need for wariness.
As I carefully maneuvered the car towards the icy incline at the car park exit other vehicles were still arriving to start their own excursions out into the dark and mildly treacherous conditions.
Well at least the cold will keep any victim suitably embalmed for easy body ID.Labels: nature, New Forest
Friday, January 8
Seize the day - looking with different sight
Don't know if you spotted it, but we've had a bit of snow recently.
Hereabouts its nothing like the heaps of stuff that the rest of the country continue to suffer. But in East Dorset, and near to the coast, the local micro climate isn't conducive to the white stuff appearing. And when it does it tends not to hang around for very long.
Even rarer is this continual period of low temperature. Something that has been with us for so long that popping outdoors in -2C feels positively balmy at present.
Today's free day (hurrah-finally a day's holiday) is to be spent exploring a local spot near Ringwood, just off side from the the Avon Valley Footpath. An area of open common land, forest, and water pools.
Its not a very long circular wander. However it does have the benefit of being rarely visited both due to the location & the fact that its a path that doesn't actually go anywhere, except back to its starting point.
But a deliberate choice on my part. Large areas of snow covered ground, and no car tracks or human footprints to disturb the flat white surface. A rare opportunity to investigate the various and bountiful animal tracks that today are hard frozen into the snow, recording tales of recent animal activity.
I'd never realised that rabbits keep to such regular routes, even when crossing open land. But the little pounded pathways formed by their many distinctive prints tell their own tale.
I see a few deer tracks in an area where I've never spotted them before. Something to look out for more carefully now I know they are present.
Near the frozen lake a slow brown buzzard barely bothers to move off beyond my eye line. Keeping to the low branches to search avidly today for something, anything, to make a meal.
However the little egret, stark white against the backdrop of long dead reeds, remains wary. The short area of open water, but a minuscule portion of the thickly iced lake, makes for a lacklustre fishing ground.
Another predator likely to find failure as the aquatic world remains in safe hibernation. A natural reaction to the plunging temperature.
A walk with a rare difference.
An unique opportunity to catch a glimpse into the local routines of Nature.Labels: nature
Saturday, January 2
New Year. New Forest. Old Haunts.
The local cold snap continues unabated. With local low lying areas exhibiting their seasonal floods the persistence of hard & frozen ground is at present an useful advantage. Boggy and potentially treacherous areas have for a brief time become firm routes of iron surfaced mud and thick ice.
Well mostly. As I found out today - the sun may be far away, and brief in daytime appearance - but it still has the power to weaken icy surfaces. So crossing some of the flooded paths turned at times into an adventure of ice skating & river crossing, all within a few footsteps.
Strange to think I had sat on this bridge a few months earlier, munching sandwiches and watching a small New Forest stream trickle down below, firmly in its watercourse.
Signs also of the recent gales. Not yet up to the full strength of the Feb/March winds that will blow hard and long straight across from the nearby coast. But already impressive enough to knock about some less secure victims.
I like this hidden spot.
In fact I once bivvied the night here. Intending to sojourn with nature & pass a night with the deer herd that I can guarantee to find whatever the time of year & wandering tourists. Instead I discovered what horses can get up to during the dark hours
(The curious amongst you should follow the link)
But that's the joy of the British seasonal variation.
Familiar land & bye ways transform as vegetation growth rises & then falls, whilst the ground underfoot changes in response to the influence of sun, water & wind.
The deer didn't disappoint. Three heads bobbing up at a distance. Eyesight poor, but noses as keen as ever. The cold weather and low vegetation at this time of year making them less reluctant to flee with their usual alacrity.
(Spotted them yet?)
A pleasant way to pass a couple of hours on a sunny day. Five miles of crunching underfoot, with only the occasional crack/splash along the way as my usually accurate footfall adjustments were mislead by nature's cheeky jests.
My audio accompaniment today - a documentary about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. World famous for his literary colossus Sherlock Holmes. But slightly less familiar as the man who introduced skiing to Switzerland, Portsmouth FC player (pre pro days), regular MCC team turnout & the catalyst behind the creation of the Court of Criminal Appeal.
Wonder if he had managed all this if he'd had TV in his day?Labels: nature, New Forest
Sunday, December 20
Christmas WanderLand
I love this time of year in the run up to Christmas.
No, not the stupidity of office parties, excessive drinking, & stop-until-you-drop-shopping.
For me it's the peace and quiet that can be found for these few special days when walking local paths.
For the moment the semi occasional visitors now have other places to be. Which is fine by me as it means my weekend wanderings in the New Forest are of a solitary nature, save for an occasional habitual dog walker, similarly benefiting from a lack of human activity.
Despite the car thermometer showing 3 degrees, in the forest puddles are frozen with thick ice, and the ground underfoot is hard & still frozen. Boggy areas, usually a hop skip & splash traverse, today are easily crossed, ice crunching underfoot as I take the straight line ahead.
Sun shine, although weak, is appreciated for the extra warmth offered as I move out from under the shade of the trees. On impulse I decide to extend my route onto Holmsley Tearooms. Usually a hive of activity, especially with the day tripping fraternity, today it is peaceful.
Dog and myself have the garden area to ourselves as we await our lunchtime repast.
We return along the old railway track, preparing to dive back down into deep woodland. Unexpectedly the mix of solitude, sun, and a clear path leading off into the distance unexpectedly brings one of those rare moments of Bliss.
That feeling of oneness with my surroundings; Open to the forces of nature all around me.
Its something I find quite regularly in the hills, especially after a couple of days wildcamping.
But to stumble across it today, on a short and familiar route, is a welcome surprise. And a reminder why I continue to seek the outdoor world, and saviour its offerings.
Christmas - well I can take or leave it personally.
But the rare joy that comes from visiting familiar areas, but finding unexpected joy, is my own gift to myself this Xmas time.
And to share with you, if you only care to go out there and look for yourself.
Oh - and as you can see the new mobile telephone has a much better camera with which to try & capture moments along the way.
Labels: nature, New Forest
Saturday, December 5
Lake District Weatherline - New telephone number
I've one telephone number stored away on my mobile phone that whilst infrequently used, will never be deleted. When wildcamping high on Lakeland fells part of my evening routine is to call, phone signal permitting, The Lake District Weatherline service.
Over the years I've found the forecasts to be accurate, detailed & (for a solo hillwalker), key when pondering the next day's route.
To go high…..or low?
An important question for a walker travelling with no schedule to keep, other than to see what's beyond the next range of felltops.
But no matter what my intent, realism dictates that I should bend with the weather's vagaries, especially where extreme conditions are forecast.
(Wildcamping - ah so pretty)
Even in less inclement weather the choice between a high ridge walk in dense rain cloud, or a valley meander accompanied by patchy showers, can be the difference between a hard day with little enjoyment or an pleasant day of exploration.
(Wildcamping - ugh not so pretty)
That's even more relevant when high wind speeds are the alternative between safe passage low down or the increased risk of being knocked off my feet when ridging along exposed tops.
So thanks to the latest TGO Magazine for alerting me to the fact that the telephone no. for The Lake District Weatherline has recently changed to 0844 846 2444.
(Being curious, I tried the old number earlier today, only to be met with a recorded message giving a company's name and address details. But not a lot of guidance as to whether it will rain in Keswick tomorrow)
And whilst on the subject of Lakeland weather - fancy a job as a Fell Top Assessor?
"….report on the fell conditions from the summit area of Helvellyn from December through to April. Working seven days on and seven days off, including weekends and bank holidays, you will need to be able to climb from Glenridding to the summit of Helvellyn and back in four hours"
Well that’s probably me out of the running.
Then again the daily commute from the south coast might just get me down in the end.
Wonder whether any of the Assessors have ever thought about just wildcamping for their week in a nearby sheltered spot?
Now there's an idea.
And to get paid for it as well.
HmmmmLabels: Lake District, National Park, nature
Saturday, November 14
Blow you Bugger Blow
Early breakfast at Avon Beach, Mudeford.
The short walk from the clifftop parking spot down to the café is accompanied by a steadily hazing of vision as my spectacles slowly coat with a mixture of sea spray, salt and sand. All whipping onto the land as the wind leaves off pushing surf up onto the shoreline, and turns to other games to play instead.
A group of Oyster catchers, seemingly oblivious to the elemental force, busily bob along the tidal sand, looking for their breakfast. At times one takes to the air, making only a short distance, before quickly returning to earth. The desire for flight lessened today by the effort required to maintain it.
Warm inside the café we watch as the birds continue their hunt for tide borne bonanza. The fry up arrives.
Dog and myself for once alone at this usually busy spot. We wander along the ridge that of St Catherine's Hill, Christchurch.
As we pass by the twin mobile telephone masts the steady thrum of a plane is heard as it passes overhead. I pause to watch the sway of the thinner tower, rock embedded at the foot, but the upper section flexing as it bends so easily to wind whim.
The plane continues to fly overhead. What still?
I realise it’s the sound of the wind resonating the mast struts of the towers, with an irregular drumming as gusts bounce off some of the bulbous equipment bolted high above.
A personal orchestral offering - courtesy of Mother Nature and BT.
I love the change of perspective that the natural world can bring out in the everyday world.Labels: nature
Tuesday, September 29
Three things to do to Enjoy England
As you may have spotted on other sites some outdoor Bloggers have been approached by Jam to contribute to the Guardian's forthcoming ‘Enjoy England’ feature.
Speed reading the invitation my initial thought was 'Great! Finally hit the big time. A chance to kick over the traces of the day job".
Regrettably, a later slower perusal revealed a less glittering outcome.
But hey-ho; Ideas for these ramblings of mine can come from any direction and are all encouraged in whatever guise they might arise. So here's tonight's jottings, based around a common theme.
Solitude
According to recent government statistics the UK will soon only have living room for 423,138 more people before our landmass achieves its maximum level of population saturation.
New laws, allegedly being drafted as I write, plan to introduce measures that will require all UK inhabitants to take Breaths-In & Breaths-Out in an alternative mode to their nearest neighbour, rather than risk those in coastal areas being slowly edged off into the sea as the majority of the populace inhale simultaneously.
A little like a living Penny Fall shuffle fairground machine.
Well perhaps things aren't quite that bad. Yet. I may even have (whisper it gently) exaggerated so very slightly. But its true that urban living, now encompassing anyplace, short of living at the bottom of a lake, is becoming increasingly over populated & pressurised.
Here's a secret. This is a facet of modern society which can be so easily thwarted with a little personal effort.
Park the car. Start walking away from the road, and into your nearest piece of countryside. Take care to avoid well worn footpaths & tracks. Just keep going, veering clear of any signs of human habitation. Especially tourist features (Particularly Forestry Commission attractions. Honey pot to the Urban Daytripper. A wasp filled jam-jar to this writer)
Now Stop.
Take a deep breath.
And just listen to that glorious sound of ..... your own sweet self. Finally alone with nature.
Like this early morning alarm clock during my Dartmoor Dawdle in June 2008
"I had a lie-in until the sun poked its nose over the ridge, giving me the chance stay in my sleeping bag and listen to the song of the skylarks for twenty minutes of so. And I mean really listen. Lying there with no other distraction my concentration was fully given over to their repetitive trills, before their song veered on to yet another melody. No other background noise to taint the sound. A sublime experience"
Wildcamping
Despite somewhat draconian camping constraints under English law there are still pockets of wild uninhabited places in England that allow one to simply disappear from everyday humanity with little fuss, effort or expense.
With minimal equipment & a easy willingness to dispense with life's trappings & fripperies whole areas of England, rarely visited by most of the population are opened up.
Entry is free!
True it requires some degree of self-reliance & self confidence. In turn the benefit is a self-awareness at a level that most people would find difficult to comprehend. The easily discovered ability to spend a night in a wild place, somewhere apparently uninhabitable for so many, builds a bond with the natural world that once experienced cannot be forgotten.
Unlike so many shiny promises offered in our ' enlightened' times a repeat of this experience always seems to triggers some primordial Sigh from deep down within the brain's limbic region.
Freeze, Flight or Fight?
Not necessarily. Some of us know of a fourth way (Grasshopper).
Reckon I should start a cult?
Dartmoor
A desolately inhabited place of some 368 square miles, and yet an area both within easy access of millions of urbanites with major road access, and a place that positively encourages Wildcamping.
To the majority, trundling across tight moorland roads, it may seem an endless expanse of open land & weirdly sculpted Tor tops, mostly shrouded in thick mist & heartily driven rain. To guests of the HMP Dartmoor establishment, at Princetown, possibly a beckoning view, somewhere green & encouraging beyond thick Napoleonic walls of retribution.
For some an equally scary proposition when viewed from the comfort of a car. But after a few visits into Dartmoor's interior, by foot, the rich history of earlier human habitation springs into being. Neolithic stone rows to the more recent historic drippings of mine tramways, all underline that this was once one of the more densely populated place in England during past eras when a wooded valley was a places of Danger & Threat.
Forget the forlorn baying of the Sherlock Holme's Baskerville Hound. Instead learn to celebrate a place once full of life, and eager to share its secrets, many long forgotten, for those prepared to explore away from the modern day tarmacadam detour of bland conformity.
Or just stay inside the safety of that car.
Going from Nowhere. Leading to Nowhere. Please exit at the cliffside departure gate along with your fellow lemmings.
Was that Three Things to Do in England? Perhaps not quite what the Guardian invitation had in mind?
Whatever - just get out into some distant English wild place, and soak up its true nature. Far from the crush of humanity.
Better be quick. Tourist No. 423,139 arrives in 4 years time. And then this island starts to slowly sink into the sea.
Me? I'll be on Yes Tor. Having a brew & watching the sunset.
Glug .... glug .... glug.
Labels: dartmoor, media, Mental Health, National Park, nature
Friday, September 25
Wildcamp - Travel - Wildcamp
To Travel.
Definition: "To go from one place to another …..To advance or proceed"
By inference an act requiring physical movement from one position/place to another.
True, there's no rule to say that Wildcamps cannot be static. To remain at the same site for more than one night.
But mostly wildcamping is about spatial transition. The act of swapping one remote & lonely spot for a different perspective. Usually another remote & lonely spot. A daily change of place.
Or .............. perhaps that should be a change of perspective on life ?
Whatever - it makes no difference. The act itself suffices for many.
For me? Well......
To tap into the Great Unknown. Become one, once more, with the deep Om of life.
To touch, however fleetingly, that underlying rhythmic beat of energy. For so much of our lives unheeded as it throbs far below our everyday event threshold that is termed Living In The Real World'.
To sleep a night. Solitary & defenceless in some wild and inhospitable place. Remote, perhaps even uninhabitable for many.
To awake at dawn's approach. Mentally & physically renewed.
Early morning grumbling of sinews & bones, unaccustomed to the previous day's physical activity, quietening as the essence of At One with a natural life force, are sensed deep within one's self.
An unexpected deep sigh of contentment at ……
At..?
Well at nothing tangible really.
Except the act of being part of the Real World.
Breathing.
Sharing rainfall run-off with beck or tarn as it heeds the pull of gravity.
Wind veer caressing bare skin; Rain sting on cheeks;
The welcoming warmth of weak sunlight on a frosty morning.
The cool relief freely given by deep shade of rock's shadow at the height of Summer.
Another day greeted. Rucksack settled onto back for the hours of movement ahead.
The last act.
A final lingering glance backwards to the night's resting place. Checking for mislaid kit and signs of human presence? Or more a quiet & silent salute to a place now special in memory & time.
To travel.
No, not movement from place to place, towards some journey's end.
Merely an excuse to saviour stops along the way & touch, fleetingly, the closeness of the Natural World & Reality.
Until the next time.
Maybe I'm alone in silently greeting a wildcamp site on arrival; And on departure bidding a fond farewell. To a familiar friend who's presence I meet with from time to time? And from place to place.
Or then again ..... maybe not.
Perhaps I'm just weird?Labels: nature
Monday, August 31
The Weather Man is a Drip
Did you enjoy today's sunny weather? Hopefully that won't be the last gasp of this derisory summer just yet.
But who knows for sure?
Maybe the Meteorological Office & its ubiquitous stooge the TV Weatherman?
Perhaps.
Or then again.......Nope - probably not with their track record over recent times.
For this weekend was the last straw for me in treating seriously the dire content of the dumbed down weather forecast for the masses.
Take Saturday's TV forecast beamed out around 22:00 in the evening on BBC1.
'Bad weather on Sunday for the south of England, but not until around 5pm' cheerily pronounced the Metman's grinning monkey, 'Enjoy the Sunday sunshine while you can'.
Meanwhile, blue screen background behind him, the forecaster waved his arms with enthusiastic animation as a computer generated model of the weather for the next 24 hours silently confirmed his projection. Its crude overview indicating clouds and rain cruising across from Ireland, and due to reach my own locale until late on Sunday.
It must be true - the time was at the bottom of the cartoon after all.
Plans made accordingly I departed to bed. Why then did I look out of the window early Sunday morning to see thick cloud cover. Which by lunchtime had built into light drizzle for the rest of the afternoon? By then I'd given up in disgust and was watching the rain blow in from the coast whilst getting some work sorted in the office.
(Well it seemed like a good way to use the time bearing in mind the happier alternatives that had gone by the board)
How is it the high tech, multi million pound Met Office weather models can be so inept about weather only 12 hours ahead?
That's not the worse case I can relate. The TV forecasts have been getting progressively more dreadful over a period of many months. Its almost as if the senseless drive to make the forecast more "accessible" to the drooling TV couch potato has up-ended any accuracy they once had.
And for what?
The conditions Outdoor are largely irrelevant for Mr Lardy Arse TV Watcher.
Nope. I've had it with the TV & Radio forecasts from now on.
Here's my three top tips on how to predict the forthcoming weather:
1. In hilly areas, refer to the Mountain Weather Information Service's report for the next 1-2 days. These tend to have a very high level of accuracy & are essential reading for high hill walking at times of bad weather.
2. Learn to read & interpret a pressure chart. I like this site, although the level of detail can be intimidating for the uninitiated at first (click on the dates at the foot of the page).
Another excellent source is on the MWIS site.
Or there's this over on the European Centre for Medium-Range Weather Forecasts site
3. DIY. Look out of the window & go outdoors. Check the flow of air movement especially in comparison to the clouds overhead. Sense the air temperature - colder or warmer than earlier? Look at the clouds and the formations. Then back indoors to tap the barometer to see if its rising or falling.
Then take your best guess!
4. Finally - down to the seashore & pick up some seaweed.
Only a fraction of the cost of the Met Office's new "second most powerful computer in the UK" but probably a damn sight more accurate than the drivel fed to us from the goggle box each day.
Better still - sod the forecast - just get outside anyway.
And pack a waterproof, just in case.
Monday, August 24
Walkers & Cattle - Advice
The Enemy #1 - The Cow
Genetically over engineered over many centuries into a meat & milk provider. Typically two tone in colour. Heavy nasal drooling at one end. And a different sort of drooling at the other.
If in doubt carefully use a scratch & sniff test to quickly distinguish the key differences. Try not to lick your fingers afterwards.
The Enemy #2 - The Bullock
The juvenile male. Often identified by a tendency to unexpectedly demonstrate their sexual awakening by attempting to mount each other. Often repeatedly. Despite mixed success.
Intensely curious and prone to rapidly cover a field's length seconds after you've strayed within the barb wire/electrified boundary fence fortification.
The Owner - The Cattle Farmer
Some believe this to be a mix of the two genres. Often distinguished by the use of green wellingtons, dung coloured (typically blue) overalls, & a loud greeting call "Gerroff-my-land-you-townies".
Well ok I may be guilty of ever egging those descriptions a little.
Except for the green wellies.
But more seriously today's BBC reports have hi-lighted certain dangers associated with these usually tranquil beasts (I meant the cows by the way)
Beware of cows with their calves. Especially if you encounter them whilst accompanied by a dog.
Personally, even when not dog accompanied, I have a tendency to avoid any beast weighing in excess of 1/2 ton and capable of short bursts of speed in my general direction. No matter what its motivation may be.
The NFU advice has been issued as a result of the deaths of 3 walkers in 3 months.
Their advice to walkers
"if you have a dog with you, keep it under close control, but do not hang on to it should a cow or bull start acting aggressively. If you feel threatened, just carry on as normal, do not run, move to the edge of the field and if possible find another way round the field, returning to the original path as soon as is possible. And remember to close the gate".
(I love that mention of the gate. A good idea to prevent yet another headlong chase down the next field, but at the same time rather a recognisable farmy piece of advice)
The main problem for those of not familiar with bovine nature - what is aggressive behaviour?
Most cattle will wander over to a stile if they spot a walker. After all chewing cud and trying to mount your brothers can becomes tedious after a few weeks of such wild experiences.
I regularly walk across a large open expanse of common land watching the behaviour of cattle.
Based, I assume on their previous encounters, a few cattle will hang back from the main herd, effectively acting as scouts. These will initiate a rapid move towards the cause of any disquiet, bringing the rest of the herd cavorting behind them, feet drumming hard.
Not a pleasant prospect if you happen to be that cause.
Unfortunately the latest victim was a farmer. But back at the Royal Welsh Show in July the FUW (think NFU Wales) was quoted as saying that "Cases of potentially-deadly stampeding cattle unwittingly spooked by dog walkers are almost certainly set to rise"
(Lets ignore the comment "In part it was due to cash-strapped "townies" holidaying in the UK at a time of recession and heading for the countryside to relax")
Here's my advice, based on years of experience using farm paths. Its personal, so make up your own mind at your own risk.
1. Don’t keep the dog on a lead, but do keep it under control at all times.
If its not sufficiently well trained to stay to heel, or be sent away, you really shouldn't be out with it amongst farm animals.
2. By all means carry a stout stick. But as most people, including myself, do not carry one try picking up a few small stones (not rocks!) before entering a field.
It’s a last ditch deterrent. Better a few stings on a cow's thick hide, and a potential dressing down from a farmer, than being knocked over & injured by a fast moving herd.
3. If the beasts move towards you, make loud single syllable noises, such as they'd expect from the cowhand (cowherd?) also make yourself look bigger, but try not to wave your hands about alarmingly. Not so much noise that they become spooked, but enough to give you time for a rapid & controlled exit, whilst they try to work out just what the hell you are.
Thinking herding noises.
(I used this on my last Dartmoor trip for a couple of miles, in an area covered with impenetrable gorse thickets and narrow paths. A river was on one side. A steep rise on the other. The cows & their calves wouldn’t take the hint to veer away, despite my vectoring approaches. As this was the only way off the moor unless I turned back for a five mile detour, near the end of a long day I had little choice on this occasion.
4. Don’t (completely) turn your back or try to out sprint them. Back away steadily whilst ensuring you remain upright & prepared to move off to one side to avoid any confrontation.
5. Keep an eye out for all potential exit routes, moving well around any herd where possible. Remember that most of the boundary hedgerows will be hiding barbed wire. Its meant to prevent the escape of large curious animals. That works the same where you are concerned as well.
Its not a good time to find this out when entangled in this as part of any rapid exit.
Remember Steve McQueen in the Great Escape?
6. If it does come to a close up encounter I'm told a hard slap across the snout will work wonders.
Personally I've not test this particular tip. Not do I ever intend to get into a situation where I need to test the hypothesis.
If someone slapped me across the snout I’d tend to thrash about a fair bit, or take it as an attack. But quite what a 1/2 ton beast may do …..?
7. Finally (or should this be firstly?) if in doubt make a detour to avoid crossing the field.
I'm not too proud to admit I've done this on many occasions where cows/horses have shown rather too much interest in my presence before I've even entered the field.
This is one circumstance where Flight before Fight is A Good Thing
Any more tips - leave a comment please.Labels: nature
Sunday, August 2
Its Summer? No its Autumn? Just take your pick
An early Sunday start prepping two motorcycles ready for a long weekend at a Well Known Event (but more on that later in the week perhaps)
Whilst I'm on the topic, when did the centre-stand become surplus to requirement? Trying single handed to get each bike on a paddock stand, for simple chain maintenance (a five minute job) became a heart stopping half hour if the end result wasn't to be one's pride and joy lying lifeless on its side after toppling over during the stand/mounting process.
Since when did a centre stand become a luxury item?
So imagine my joy when I wandered back indoors only to find my pc screen infected with a rather nasty Trojan virus which required some major low level surgery to eradicate.
And yes, I do use current Firewall & Anti-Virus packages.
Two hours later that was sorted, leaving many more hours to run some alternative malware/spyware software and complete a low level purge.
Time for a walk then? More like essential.
Out to Burbush in the New Forest for a bit of contemplative R&R, accompanied by a MP3 player of very loud rock music. Always works well when I'm in an anti-social frame of mind.
Predictably, given the summer season, the rural back roads were busy & the New Forest car park a seething mass of humanity. Why does the term 'tourist on holiday' seem to require leaving their brain & common sense in a small pail by the holiday accommodation's front door each day?
Oh well - a quiet route was essential today, far away from marked paths and over publicised guidebook routes.
A success in that I saw no-one else once I'd left the vicinity of the car park. Sort of a success in a spur of the moment decision to try something a little more physically challenging by hopping off the back of my first route to link up with a longer outlying circuit.
It was via bog land. It wasn't any surprise. I know the land here abouts is liable to be undercut by narrow rivulets of flowing water, especially after rain. Adopting the trusted bog hop gait that Darren knows so well I quickly crossed onto the lower slopes of the far valley side, and picked up a pony track up to the pine topped mount ahead, in which nestled a World War II searchlight emplacement.
All going spiffing so far. A good workout over rough ground, much akin to Dartmoor in some places, and at a fast pace. Dog by my side, we moved ever onwards.
As I followed the ridge I was watching the boggy land below looking for a better track to cut across to rejoin the original route. An excellent & quiet circular if it wasn't for 400m of path crossing a major watershed plateau. Even the sinking of various peat and straw bales a few years earlier had failed to turn it into better than an inevitable paddle even during drought conditions. So its always been a bugbear of mine to find someway to hop this impassable section without getting a guaranteed soaking.
Today I thought I had cracked it. Spotting a clear pony track down I headed to the valley for a short 200m traverse to the far slope.
Along the way my path meandered by a solitary blackberry bush, already full of ripe fruit. A pause briefly to saviour a couple of large juicy berries unadulterated by proximity to car or human activity. Its going to be a bumper crop this year.
But hang on - doesn't ripe fruit signify the End of The Summer. A sign that Autumn's days are announcing their turn to become the seasonal host?
Maybe. Personally I'm yet to get my head around the fact its Summer, even as the evenings drawn in with each dusk arriving earlier than the previous one.
Onwards then into what turned out to be one of the worst pieces of broken ground I've walked over for some time. No make that walked through. Or maybe even under.
Initially hopping from tussock to tussock I turned to make sure Dog was ok. He'd disappeared. Nope there he was, the only sign of his passage the top of long sedge grasses moving, as he followed a track deep deep down in the undergrowth.
I persevered. Carefully. This was ankle snapping territory. The trusted bog hop gait, so suavely demonstrated not half an hour before soon became an arm whirling, keep the balance, plummet forward until finally the inevitable happened.
My foot went into a pool of water, far below and out of sight, with the result - a boot filled with a tantalising mixture of rain water and Grade A fresh bog land mulch (and all free of charge)
Bugger - this is the sort of incident that rarely happens to me. Even then it should be in some wild and harsh environment. Not 50m from the dry & well worn path in front of me.
I finished the rest of the walk with a noticeable squelch each time my right foot hit the deck. But I had to smile along the way.
Putting the valley's water levels down to this summer's rainfall level I mentally marked the route as passable, but with care and at the right time of the year.
So why, when I came to one of the Forest's permanent pool of standing water was it's level 2-3m below its normal mark; Foreshore mud clearly visible? A typical mid summer scene in fact.
Is this still a wet Summer this year? Or maybe a warm season with periods of rainfall that have coloured the general perception of inclement weather.
Or has the high season already passed, leaving us to face an early Autumn? One that indicates the
non Winter season is now one extended period of warm & occasionally wet weather?
Well I don't know, and I doubt whether the Met Office are truly qualified these days to proffer an opinion that anyone would trust.
I squelched my way back into the typical Soddam & Gomorrah scene surrounding the car park. As I started homewards to renew battle with a pc clean-up, I skirted Forest ponies obstructing the main access routes & road. Their particular season in full swing having relearnt the quickest way to get Oohs & Aahs from day trippers and more relevantly their free handouts.
I really need to get away soon!Labels: nature, New Forest, walks
Friday, July 24
Running fast. Standing still.
A combination of work, home and the usual day to day life drudge means that any time spent in front of this damned mono visual blinking radiation emitting time wasting device (aka Internet PC) are few and far between at present.
I've managed to keep up with my regular blog/forum reads each day, although any interaction in those places has also been similarly limited by time & energy.
Regrettably my fine record of monthly wildcamps that started so well (and so early this year), has turned to a pile of mush in response to circumstance. Many of these beyond my direct control, but all requiring the mature & supportive responses that I like to think is part of what make me Who I Am.
But today, at the end of yet another endlessly milling week I've uncovered a few hours of my own. Time to sit back & spend some solitary moments on my own whims. Something that during the last few weeks I've felt increasingly driven to saviour during the pell-mell rush that seems to be my waking existence.
Now is that time, more than ever, when I feel drawn to find that special renewal of spirit that comes with a few night's wildcamping in some lonely and desolate wild location. Far from my fellow human, but so close to the true reality of existence. Water. Shelter. Food. Nature. Bliss.
But for the moment my dismally puny recharge comes as I think back to some of those high ridge wildcamps. Places where I sat savouring the blending of Time, Space & Solitude.
The quiet gap that follows the end of a long day's trek.
The wildcamp pitch. Refuelling the body's needs.
And then an opportunity to fill the gap before sleep by busily doing nothing in particular but become one with the surroundings. True - only a transitory visitor. But one open to the measure and pleasure of the temporary resting place.
Meanwhile there are the trip reports from fellow Outdoor Bloggers as they discuss their recent sorties out in the Great Outdoors (You lucky sods!)
All this helps keep me on the right side of sanity. Although those who have met me know that such a description is always applied a little warily when citing my general demeanour.
So for now I teeter (titter?) along life's own high ridge. Balancing The Present alongside The Past. Awaiting The Future where control of my own moments & movements can one again be retaken in a more selfish manner.
So what if this summer is yet again turning out to be damp and changeable?
The weather is warm. The grass is full grown. Tree crowns are dark and leaf laden.
Get out there if you are able. Saviour these moments.
To store up pleasant memories for colder days ahead.
And I don't mean the Winter.Labels: Mental Health, nature
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
Looks like Spring is a-sprung as locals welcome the new tourist season with their Old Tradition of Setting Fire to the First Caravan of the New Season.
Apparently not. More like the semi-regular gorse burning to take advantage of the wet ground underfoot, before it starts to dry & harden.
At last. Its been a long Winter this year.
Labels: National Park, nature, New Forest
A Once in a Lifetime Event
The seed had fallen to the ground some twenty years before, one small hope amongst several thousand siblings. They succumbed to drought, starvation or local predators.
But not this one.
Feet dug ever deeper into the soil beneath. Grey trunk body thickened year by year whilst branching arms stretched newly bursting bud tips ever higher towards the sky with the start of each Spring.
Oh yes it was hard work.
Older & stronger trees had claimed this ground scores of years before when the seedling's parent was little more than the same hopeful shoot hidden deep in the undergrowth.
But the niche the seedling had carved out for itself was a careful one. Balancing nutrient from the earth around about, while threading its head upwards in a continual challenge to touch the sun despite the growing shade crown of mightier neighbours.
And even whilst competing for that light our tree & its neighbours talked together, as trees so often do. If only one stops to listen.
On calm sunny days little was said. The sun's life force beaming down made all else secondary.
But bare branched, during winter gales, the trees swayed and rocked as one. Chattering to each other as they told tales of mighty storms now long past. The movement of their branches exciting a temporary camaraderie.
Today that feeling was a distant memory. Maybe something that would not occur again.
For something was not right.
An orange spot, a splash of paint, had appeared on the tree's trunk. One chosen alongside others across the area. The mark of Cain? Or a sign of promising things ahead?
No matter - what will be will be. The tree waited. For it lived patience.
A lone walker, black and white dog at heel, appeared at the crest of the rise moving steadily down the track alongside the tree's domain.
And then it happened.
It arrived with that wisdom of inevitability. A product of hindsight's clear path to the moment when a world changes.
The tree felt its solid grasp on the earth's surface slip. Slowly it started to topple. Its airy head moving towards the ground far below.
The walker looked up at the sudden noise of something heavy tearing through woodland. Looking groundwards he expect to see a regular movement of deer. Or perhaps a few bulky New Forest cattle crashing through the dead bracken.
Instead a blur of green swaying leaves moving above his eye line grabbed at his attention.
He concentrated on the sight until the fall was complete.
The tree, after one storm too many & the increasing weight of rampant ivy around its trunk, had accepted the inevitability of physical laws and toppled to the ground.
Not with a crash. More a gentle murmur of rustling foliage, before a final dullen flat thud. The shared noise that comes with any large & very heavy object returning to earth.
For a few moments the walker continue to stare, taken aback by the event's suddenness.
And then, leaving the path, he walked over to the tree. Leaves once again still after a final airy flight. Roots snapped clean. The ground from whence they had been torn already resettling. This disturbance, obvious now, to quickly disappear with a few weeks of rain & frost.
One uniquely precise & fleeting moment. An infinitesimal hap chance amongst endless trillions of complex life force interactions across the Earth. And of all space and time.
I went for a walk in the New Forest today.
By chance I saw a tree fall to the ground.
No-one else was around.
And yes, it made a sound......or rather two.
One while it fell.
And a second that still rings deep inside me at the incredible odds of seeing it happen.Labels: ; New Forest, nature
Sunday, January 10
Whitten Pond - Ice Bound
A few snaps from this afternoon's wander near Burley in the New Forest.
The camera flash creating a strangely moody image at my regular crossing point on this pond outlet stream. A place where I've occasionally spotted a swimming snake - but certainly not today.
The beam traverse may be short but it requires a steady nerve & careful balance to avoid the potential early dip. Not that that has happened to me. Yet.
But today it is an easier passage with careful short sliding steps across the surface of thick ice.
A few steps further on lies Whitten Pond, a large pool of water easily visible from the Burley/Bransgore road.
I remain wary of the variable nature of the icy conditions underfoot. So those who decided a trip out onto the ice, and so far from shore, were foolhardy to say the least.
In places the steeping ground requires careful attention to avoid a loss of footing. Necessary caution.
Occasionally the path route leads across a flat areas of snowy ground. Too flat to be solid ground I belatedly realise with ominous sounds of cracking ice underfoot. A reminder of the vast quantity of stored water potential awaiting the inevitable thaw before returning the New Forest tracks back to muddy quagmire for the winter months ahead.
Dark was falling as I finally returned to the car park, today's walking pace reduced by the need for wariness.
As I carefully maneuvered the car towards the icy incline at the car park exit other vehicles were still arriving to start their own excursions out into the dark and mildly treacherous conditions.
Well at least the cold will keep any victim suitably embalmed for easy body ID.Labels: nature, New Forest
Friday, January 8
Seize the day - looking with different sight
Don't know if you spotted it, but we've had a bit of snow recently.
Hereabouts its nothing like the heaps of stuff that the rest of the country continue to suffer. But in East Dorset, and near to the coast, the local micro climate isn't conducive to the white stuff appearing. And when it does it tends not to hang around for very long.
Even rarer is this continual period of low temperature. Something that has been with us for so long that popping outdoors in -2C feels positively balmy at present.
Today's free day (hurrah-finally a day's holiday) is to be spent exploring a local spot near Ringwood, just off side from the the Avon Valley Footpath. An area of open common land, forest, and water pools.
Its not a very long circular wander. However it does have the benefit of being rarely visited both due to the location & the fact that its a path that doesn't actually go anywhere, except back to its starting point.
But a deliberate choice on my part. Large areas of snow covered ground, and no car tracks or human footprints to disturb the flat white surface. A rare opportunity to investigate the various and bountiful animal tracks that today are hard frozen into the snow, recording tales of recent animal activity.
I'd never realised that rabbits keep to such regular routes, even when crossing open land. But the little pounded pathways formed by their many distinctive prints tell their own tale.
I see a few deer tracks in an area where I've never spotted them before. Something to look out for more carefully now I know they are present.
Near the frozen lake a slow brown buzzard barely bothers to move off beyond my eye line. Keeping to the low branches to search avidly today for something, anything, to make a meal.
However the little egret, stark white against the backdrop of long dead reeds, remains wary. The short area of open water, but a minuscule portion of the thickly iced lake, makes for a lacklustre fishing ground.
Another predator likely to find failure as the aquatic world remains in safe hibernation. A natural reaction to the plunging temperature.
A walk with a rare difference.
An unique opportunity to catch a glimpse into the local routines of Nature.Labels: nature
Saturday, January 2
New Year. New Forest. Old Haunts.
The local cold snap continues unabated. With local low lying areas exhibiting their seasonal floods the persistence of hard & frozen ground is at present an useful advantage. Boggy and potentially treacherous areas have for a brief time become firm routes of iron surfaced mud and thick ice.
Well mostly. As I found out today - the sun may be far away, and brief in daytime appearance - but it still has the power to weaken icy surfaces. So crossing some of the flooded paths turned at times into an adventure of ice skating & river crossing, all within a few footsteps.
Strange to think I had sat on this bridge a few months earlier, munching sandwiches and watching a small New Forest stream trickle down below, firmly in its watercourse.
Signs also of the recent gales. Not yet up to the full strength of the Feb/March winds that will blow hard and long straight across from the nearby coast. But already impressive enough to knock about some less secure victims.
I like this hidden spot.
In fact I once bivvied the night here. Intending to sojourn with nature & pass a night with the deer herd that I can guarantee to find whatever the time of year & wandering tourists. Instead I discovered what horses can get up to during the dark hours
(The curious amongst you should follow the link)
But that's the joy of the British seasonal variation.
Familiar land & bye ways transform as vegetation growth rises & then falls, whilst the ground underfoot changes in response to the influence of sun, water & wind.
The deer didn't disappoint. Three heads bobbing up at a distance. Eyesight poor, but noses as keen as ever. The cold weather and low vegetation at this time of year making them less reluctant to flee with their usual alacrity.
(Spotted them yet?)
A pleasant way to pass a couple of hours on a sunny day. Five miles of crunching underfoot, with only the occasional crack/splash along the way as my usually accurate footfall adjustments were mislead by nature's cheeky jests.
My audio accompaniment today - a documentary about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. World famous for his literary colossus Sherlock Holmes. But slightly less familiar as the man who introduced skiing to Switzerland, Portsmouth FC player (pre pro days), regular MCC team turnout & the catalyst behind the creation of the Court of Criminal Appeal.
Wonder if he had managed all this if he'd had TV in his day?Labels: nature, New Forest
Sunday, December 20
Christmas WanderLand
I love this time of year in the run up to Christmas.
No, not the stupidity of office parties, excessive drinking, & stop-until-you-drop-shopping.
For me it's the peace and quiet that can be found for these few special days when walking local paths.
For the moment the semi occasional visitors now have other places to be. Which is fine by me as it means my weekend wanderings in the New Forest are of a solitary nature, save for an occasional habitual dog walker, similarly benefiting from a lack of human activity.
Despite the car thermometer showing 3 degrees, in the forest puddles are frozen with thick ice, and the ground underfoot is hard & still frozen. Boggy areas, usually a hop skip & splash traverse, today are easily crossed, ice crunching underfoot as I take the straight line ahead.
Sun shine, although weak, is appreciated for the extra warmth offered as I move out from under the shade of the trees. On impulse I decide to extend my route onto Holmsley Tearooms. Usually a hive of activity, especially with the day tripping fraternity, today it is peaceful.
Dog and myself have the garden area to ourselves as we await our lunchtime repast.
We return along the old railway track, preparing to dive back down into deep woodland. Unexpectedly the mix of solitude, sun, and a clear path leading off into the distance unexpectedly brings one of those rare moments of Bliss.
That feeling of oneness with my surroundings; Open to the forces of nature all around me.
Its something I find quite regularly in the hills, especially after a couple of days wildcamping.
But to stumble across it today, on a short and familiar route, is a welcome surprise. And a reminder why I continue to seek the outdoor world, and saviour its offerings.
Christmas - well I can take or leave it personally.
But the rare joy that comes from visiting familiar areas, but finding unexpected joy, is my own gift to myself this Xmas time.
And to share with you, if you only care to go out there and look for yourself.
Oh - and as you can see the new mobile telephone has a much better camera with which to try & capture moments along the way.
Labels: nature, New Forest
Saturday, December 5
Lake District Weatherline - New telephone number
I've one telephone number stored away on my mobile phone that whilst infrequently used, will never be deleted. When wildcamping high on Lakeland fells part of my evening routine is to call, phone signal permitting, The Lake District Weatherline service.
Over the years I've found the forecasts to be accurate, detailed & (for a solo hillwalker), key when pondering the next day's route.
To go high…..or low?
An important question for a walker travelling with no schedule to keep, other than to see what's beyond the next range of felltops.
But no matter what my intent, realism dictates that I should bend with the weather's vagaries, especially where extreme conditions are forecast.
(Wildcamping - ah so pretty)
Even in less inclement weather the choice between a high ridge walk in dense rain cloud, or a valley meander accompanied by patchy showers, can be the difference between a hard day with little enjoyment or an pleasant day of exploration.
(Wildcamping - ugh not so pretty)
That's even more relevant when high wind speeds are the alternative between safe passage low down or the increased risk of being knocked off my feet when ridging along exposed tops.
So thanks to the latest TGO Magazine for alerting me to the fact that the telephone no. for The Lake District Weatherline has recently changed to 0844 846 2444.
(Being curious, I tried the old number earlier today, only to be met with a recorded message giving a company's name and address details. But not a lot of guidance as to whether it will rain in Keswick tomorrow)
And whilst on the subject of Lakeland weather - fancy a job as a Fell Top Assessor?
"….report on the fell conditions from the summit area of Helvellyn from December through to April. Working seven days on and seven days off, including weekends and bank holidays, you will need to be able to climb from Glenridding to the summit of Helvellyn and back in four hours"
Well that’s probably me out of the running.
Then again the daily commute from the south coast might just get me down in the end.
Wonder whether any of the Assessors have ever thought about just wildcamping for their week in a nearby sheltered spot?
Now there's an idea.
And to get paid for it as well.
HmmmmLabels: Lake District, National Park, nature
Saturday, November 14
Blow you Bugger Blow
Early breakfast at Avon Beach, Mudeford.
The short walk from the clifftop parking spot down to the café is accompanied by a steadily hazing of vision as my spectacles slowly coat with a mixture of sea spray, salt and sand. All whipping onto the land as the wind leaves off pushing surf up onto the shoreline, and turns to other games to play instead.
A group of Oyster catchers, seemingly oblivious to the elemental force, busily bob along the tidal sand, looking for their breakfast. At times one takes to the air, making only a short distance, before quickly returning to earth. The desire for flight lessened today by the effort required to maintain it.
Warm inside the café we watch as the birds continue their hunt for tide borne bonanza. The fry up arrives.
Dog and myself for once alone at this usually busy spot. We wander along the ridge that of St Catherine's Hill, Christchurch.
As we pass by the twin mobile telephone masts the steady thrum of a plane is heard as it passes overhead. I pause to watch the sway of the thinner tower, rock embedded at the foot, but the upper section flexing as it bends so easily to wind whim.
The plane continues to fly overhead. What still?
I realise it’s the sound of the wind resonating the mast struts of the towers, with an irregular drumming as gusts bounce off some of the bulbous equipment bolted high above.
A personal orchestral offering - courtesy of Mother Nature and BT.
I love the change of perspective that the natural world can bring out in the everyday world.Labels: nature
Tuesday, September 29
Three things to do to Enjoy England
As you may have spotted on other sites some outdoor Bloggers have been approached by Jam to contribute to the Guardian's forthcoming ‘Enjoy England’ feature.
Speed reading the invitation my initial thought was 'Great! Finally hit the big time. A chance to kick over the traces of the day job".
Regrettably, a later slower perusal revealed a less glittering outcome.
But hey-ho; Ideas for these ramblings of mine can come from any direction and are all encouraged in whatever guise they might arise. So here's tonight's jottings, based around a common theme.
Solitude
According to recent government statistics the UK will soon only have living room for 423,138 more people before our landmass achieves its maximum level of population saturation.
New laws, allegedly being drafted as I write, plan to introduce measures that will require all UK inhabitants to take Breaths-In & Breaths-Out in an alternative mode to their nearest neighbour, rather than risk those in coastal areas being slowly edged off into the sea as the majority of the populace inhale simultaneously.
A little like a living Penny Fall shuffle fairground machine.
Well perhaps things aren't quite that bad. Yet. I may even have (whisper it gently) exaggerated so very slightly. But its true that urban living, now encompassing anyplace, short of living at the bottom of a lake, is becoming increasingly over populated & pressurised.
Here's a secret. This is a facet of modern society which can be so easily thwarted with a little personal effort.
Park the car. Start walking away from the road, and into your nearest piece of countryside. Take care to avoid well worn footpaths & tracks. Just keep going, veering clear of any signs of human habitation. Especially tourist features (Particularly Forestry Commission attractions. Honey pot to the Urban Daytripper. A wasp filled jam-jar to this writer)
Now Stop.
Take a deep breath.
And just listen to that glorious sound of ..... your own sweet self. Finally alone with nature.
Like this early morning alarm clock during my Dartmoor Dawdle in June 2008
"I had a lie-in until the sun poked its nose over the ridge, giving me the chance stay in my sleeping bag and listen to the song of the skylarks for twenty minutes of so. And I mean really listen. Lying there with no other distraction my concentration was fully given over to their repetitive trills, before their song veered on to yet another melody. No other background noise to taint the sound. A sublime experience"
Wildcamping
Despite somewhat draconian camping constraints under English law there are still pockets of wild uninhabited places in England that allow one to simply disappear from everyday humanity with little fuss, effort or expense.
With minimal equipment & a easy willingness to dispense with life's trappings & fripperies whole areas of England, rarely visited by most of the population are opened up.
Entry is free!
True it requires some degree of self-reliance & self confidence. In turn the benefit is a self-awareness at a level that most people would find difficult to comprehend. The easily discovered ability to spend a night in a wild place, somewhere apparently uninhabitable for so many, builds a bond with the natural world that once experienced cannot be forgotten.
Unlike so many shiny promises offered in our ' enlightened' times a repeat of this experience always seems to triggers some primordial Sigh from deep down within the brain's limbic region.
Freeze, Flight or Fight?
Not necessarily. Some of us know of a fourth way (Grasshopper).
Reckon I should start a cult?
Dartmoor
A desolately inhabited place of some 368 square miles, and yet an area both within easy access of millions of urbanites with major road access, and a place that positively encourages Wildcamping.
To the majority, trundling across tight moorland roads, it may seem an endless expanse of open land & weirdly sculpted Tor tops, mostly shrouded in thick mist & heartily driven rain. To guests of the HMP Dartmoor establishment, at Princetown, possibly a beckoning view, somewhere green & encouraging beyond thick Napoleonic walls of retribution.
For some an equally scary proposition when viewed from the comfort of a car. But after a few visits into Dartmoor's interior, by foot, the rich history of earlier human habitation springs into being. Neolithic stone rows to the more recent historic drippings of mine tramways, all underline that this was once one of the more densely populated place in England during past eras when a wooded valley was a places of Danger & Threat.
Forget the forlorn baying of the Sherlock Holme's Baskerville Hound. Instead learn to celebrate a place once full of life, and eager to share its secrets, many long forgotten, for those prepared to explore away from the modern day tarmacadam detour of bland conformity.
Or just stay inside the safety of that car.
Going from Nowhere. Leading to Nowhere. Please exit at the cliffside departure gate along with your fellow lemmings.
Was that Three Things to Do in England? Perhaps not quite what the Guardian invitation had in mind?
Whatever - just get out into some distant English wild place, and soak up its true nature. Far from the crush of humanity.
Better be quick. Tourist No. 423,139 arrives in 4 years time. And then this island starts to slowly sink into the sea.
Me? I'll be on Yes Tor. Having a brew & watching the sunset.
Glug .... glug .... glug.
Labels: dartmoor, media, Mental Health, National Park, nature
Friday, September 25
Wildcamp - Travel - Wildcamp
To Travel.
Definition: "To go from one place to another …..To advance or proceed"
By inference an act requiring physical movement from one position/place to another.
True, there's no rule to say that Wildcamps cannot be static. To remain at the same site for more than one night.
But mostly wildcamping is about spatial transition. The act of swapping one remote & lonely spot for a different perspective. Usually another remote & lonely spot. A daily change of place.
Or .............. perhaps that should be a change of perspective on life ?
Whatever - it makes no difference. The act itself suffices for many.
For me? Well......
To tap into the Great Unknown. Become one, once more, with the deep Om of life.
To touch, however fleetingly, that underlying rhythmic beat of energy. For so much of our lives unheeded as it throbs far below our everyday event threshold that is termed Living In The Real World'.
To sleep a night. Solitary & defenceless in some wild and inhospitable place. Remote, perhaps even uninhabitable for many.
To awake at dawn's approach. Mentally & physically renewed.
Early morning grumbling of sinews & bones, unaccustomed to the previous day's physical activity, quietening as the essence of At One with a natural life force, are sensed deep within one's self.
An unexpected deep sigh of contentment at ……
At..?
Well at nothing tangible really.
Except the act of being part of the Real World.
Breathing.
Sharing rainfall run-off with beck or tarn as it heeds the pull of gravity.
Wind veer caressing bare skin; Rain sting on cheeks;
The welcoming warmth of weak sunlight on a frosty morning.
The cool relief freely given by deep shade of rock's shadow at the height of Summer.
Another day greeted. Rucksack settled onto back for the hours of movement ahead.
The last act.
A final lingering glance backwards to the night's resting place. Checking for mislaid kit and signs of human presence? Or more a quiet & silent salute to a place now special in memory & time.
To travel.
No, not movement from place to place, towards some journey's end.
Merely an excuse to saviour stops along the way & touch, fleetingly, the closeness of the Natural World & Reality.
Until the next time.
Maybe I'm alone in silently greeting a wildcamp site on arrival; And on departure bidding a fond farewell. To a familiar friend who's presence I meet with from time to time? And from place to place.
Or then again ..... maybe not.
Perhaps I'm just weird?Labels: nature
Monday, August 31
The Weather Man is a Drip
Did you enjoy today's sunny weather? Hopefully that won't be the last gasp of this derisory summer just yet.
But who knows for sure?
Maybe the Meteorological Office & its ubiquitous stooge the TV Weatherman?
Perhaps.
Or then again.......Nope - probably not with their track record over recent times.
For this weekend was the last straw for me in treating seriously the dire content of the dumbed down weather forecast for the masses.
Take Saturday's TV forecast beamed out around 22:00 in the evening on BBC1.
'Bad weather on Sunday for the south of England, but not until around 5pm' cheerily pronounced the Metman's grinning monkey, 'Enjoy the Sunday sunshine while you can'.
Meanwhile, blue screen background behind him, the forecaster waved his arms with enthusiastic animation as a computer generated model of the weather for the next 24 hours silently confirmed his projection. Its crude overview indicating clouds and rain cruising across from Ireland, and due to reach my own locale until late on Sunday.
It must be true - the time was at the bottom of the cartoon after all.
Plans made accordingly I departed to bed. Why then did I look out of the window early Sunday morning to see thick cloud cover. Which by lunchtime had built into light drizzle for the rest of the afternoon? By then I'd given up in disgust and was watching the rain blow in from the coast whilst getting some work sorted in the office.
(Well it seemed like a good way to use the time bearing in mind the happier alternatives that had gone by the board)
How is it the high tech, multi million pound Met Office weather models can be so inept about weather only 12 hours ahead?
That's not the worse case I can relate. The TV forecasts have been getting progressively more dreadful over a period of many months. Its almost as if the senseless drive to make the forecast more "accessible" to the drooling TV couch potato has up-ended any accuracy they once had.
And for what?
The conditions Outdoor are largely irrelevant for Mr Lardy Arse TV Watcher.
Nope. I've had it with the TV & Radio forecasts from now on.
Here's my three top tips on how to predict the forthcoming weather:
1. In hilly areas, refer to the Mountain Weather Information Service's report for the next 1-2 days. These tend to have a very high level of accuracy & are essential reading for high hill walking at times of bad weather.
2. Learn to read & interpret a pressure chart. I like this site, although the level of detail can be intimidating for the uninitiated at first (click on the dates at the foot of the page).
Another excellent source is on the MWIS site.
Or there's this over on the European Centre for Medium-Range Weather Forecasts site
3. DIY. Look out of the window & go outdoors. Check the flow of air movement especially in comparison to the clouds overhead. Sense the air temperature - colder or warmer than earlier? Look at the clouds and the formations. Then back indoors to tap the barometer to see if its rising or falling.
Then take your best guess!
4. Finally - down to the seashore & pick up some seaweed.
Only a fraction of the cost of the Met Office's new "second most powerful computer in the UK" but probably a damn sight more accurate than the drivel fed to us from the goggle box each day.
Better still - sod the forecast - just get outside anyway.
And pack a waterproof, just in case.
Monday, August 24
Walkers & Cattle - Advice
The Enemy #1 - The Cow
Genetically over engineered over many centuries into a meat & milk provider. Typically two tone in colour. Heavy nasal drooling at one end. And a different sort of drooling at the other.
If in doubt carefully use a scratch & sniff test to quickly distinguish the key differences. Try not to lick your fingers afterwards.
The Enemy #2 - The Bullock
The juvenile male. Often identified by a tendency to unexpectedly demonstrate their sexual awakening by attempting to mount each other. Often repeatedly. Despite mixed success.
Intensely curious and prone to rapidly cover a field's length seconds after you've strayed within the barb wire/electrified boundary fence fortification.
The Owner - The Cattle Farmer
Some believe this to be a mix of the two genres. Often distinguished by the use of green wellingtons, dung coloured (typically blue) overalls, & a loud greeting call "Gerroff-my-land-you-townies".
Well ok I may be guilty of ever egging those descriptions a little.
Except for the green wellies.
But more seriously today's BBC reports have hi-lighted certain dangers associated with these usually tranquil beasts (I meant the cows by the way)
Beware of cows with their calves. Especially if you encounter them whilst accompanied by a dog.
Personally, even when not dog accompanied, I have a tendency to avoid any beast weighing in excess of 1/2 ton and capable of short bursts of speed in my general direction. No matter what its motivation may be.
The NFU advice has been issued as a result of the deaths of 3 walkers in 3 months.
Their advice to walkers
"if you have a dog with you, keep it under close control, but do not hang on to it should a cow or bull start acting aggressively. If you feel threatened, just carry on as normal, do not run, move to the edge of the field and if possible find another way round the field, returning to the original path as soon as is possible. And remember to close the gate".
(I love that mention of the gate. A good idea to prevent yet another headlong chase down the next field, but at the same time rather a recognisable farmy piece of advice)
The main problem for those of not familiar with bovine nature - what is aggressive behaviour?
Most cattle will wander over to a stile if they spot a walker. After all chewing cud and trying to mount your brothers can becomes tedious after a few weeks of such wild experiences.
I regularly walk across a large open expanse of common land watching the behaviour of cattle.
Based, I assume on their previous encounters, a few cattle will hang back from the main herd, effectively acting as scouts. These will initiate a rapid move towards the cause of any disquiet, bringing the rest of the herd cavorting behind them, feet drumming hard.
Not a pleasant prospect if you happen to be that cause.
Unfortunately the latest victim was a farmer. But back at the Royal Welsh Show in July the FUW (think NFU Wales) was quoted as saying that "Cases of potentially-deadly stampeding cattle unwittingly spooked by dog walkers are almost certainly set to rise"
(Lets ignore the comment "In part it was due to cash-strapped "townies" holidaying in the UK at a time of recession and heading for the countryside to relax")
Here's my advice, based on years of experience using farm paths. Its personal, so make up your own mind at your own risk.
1. Don’t keep the dog on a lead, but do keep it under control at all times.
If its not sufficiently well trained to stay to heel, or be sent away, you really shouldn't be out with it amongst farm animals.
2. By all means carry a stout stick. But as most people, including myself, do not carry one try picking up a few small stones (not rocks!) before entering a field.
It’s a last ditch deterrent. Better a few stings on a cow's thick hide, and a potential dressing down from a farmer, than being knocked over & injured by a fast moving herd.
3. If the beasts move towards you, make loud single syllable noises, such as they'd expect from the cowhand (cowherd?) also make yourself look bigger, but try not to wave your hands about alarmingly. Not so much noise that they become spooked, but enough to give you time for a rapid & controlled exit, whilst they try to work out just what the hell you are.
Thinking herding noises.
(I used this on my last Dartmoor trip for a couple of miles, in an area covered with impenetrable gorse thickets and narrow paths. A river was on one side. A steep rise on the other. The cows & their calves wouldn’t take the hint to veer away, despite my vectoring approaches. As this was the only way off the moor unless I turned back for a five mile detour, near the end of a long day I had little choice on this occasion.
4. Don’t (completely) turn your back or try to out sprint them. Back away steadily whilst ensuring you remain upright & prepared to move off to one side to avoid any confrontation.
5. Keep an eye out for all potential exit routes, moving well around any herd where possible. Remember that most of the boundary hedgerows will be hiding barbed wire. Its meant to prevent the escape of large curious animals. That works the same where you are concerned as well.
Its not a good time to find this out when entangled in this as part of any rapid exit.
Remember Steve McQueen in the Great Escape?
6. If it does come to a close up encounter I'm told a hard slap across the snout will work wonders.
Personally I've not test this particular tip. Not do I ever intend to get into a situation where I need to test the hypothesis.
If someone slapped me across the snout I’d tend to thrash about a fair bit, or take it as an attack. But quite what a 1/2 ton beast may do …..?
7. Finally (or should this be firstly?) if in doubt make a detour to avoid crossing the field.
I'm not too proud to admit I've done this on many occasions where cows/horses have shown rather too much interest in my presence before I've even entered the field.
This is one circumstance where Flight before Fight is A Good Thing
Any more tips - leave a comment please.Labels: nature
Sunday, August 2
Its Summer? No its Autumn? Just take your pick
An early Sunday start prepping two motorcycles ready for a long weekend at a Well Known Event (but more on that later in the week perhaps)
Whilst I'm on the topic, when did the centre-stand become surplus to requirement? Trying single handed to get each bike on a paddock stand, for simple chain maintenance (a five minute job) became a heart stopping half hour if the end result wasn't to be one's pride and joy lying lifeless on its side after toppling over during the stand/mounting process.
Since when did a centre stand become a luxury item?
So imagine my joy when I wandered back indoors only to find my pc screen infected with a rather nasty Trojan virus which required some major low level surgery to eradicate.
And yes, I do use current Firewall & Anti-Virus packages.
Two hours later that was sorted, leaving many more hours to run some alternative malware/spyware software and complete a low level purge.
Time for a walk then? More like essential.
Out to Burbush in the New Forest for a bit of contemplative R&R, accompanied by a MP3 player of very loud rock music. Always works well when I'm in an anti-social frame of mind.
Predictably, given the summer season, the rural back roads were busy & the New Forest car park a seething mass of humanity. Why does the term 'tourist on holiday' seem to require leaving their brain & common sense in a small pail by the holiday accommodation's front door each day?
Oh well - a quiet route was essential today, far away from marked paths and over publicised guidebook routes.
A success in that I saw no-one else once I'd left the vicinity of the car park. Sort of a success in a spur of the moment decision to try something a little more physically challenging by hopping off the back of my first route to link up with a longer outlying circuit.
It was via bog land. It wasn't any surprise. I know the land here abouts is liable to be undercut by narrow rivulets of flowing water, especially after rain. Adopting the trusted bog hop gait that Darren knows so well I quickly crossed onto the lower slopes of the far valley side, and picked up a pony track up to the pine topped mount ahead, in which nestled a World War II searchlight emplacement.
All going spiffing so far. A good workout over rough ground, much akin to Dartmoor in some places, and at a fast pace. Dog by my side, we moved ever onwards.
As I followed the ridge I was watching the boggy land below looking for a better track to cut across to rejoin the original route. An excellent & quiet circular if it wasn't for 400m of path crossing a major watershed plateau. Even the sinking of various peat and straw bales a few years earlier had failed to turn it into better than an inevitable paddle even during drought conditions. So its always been a bugbear of mine to find someway to hop this impassable section without getting a guaranteed soaking.
Today I thought I had cracked it. Spotting a clear pony track down I headed to the valley for a short 200m traverse to the far slope.
Along the way my path meandered by a solitary blackberry bush, already full of ripe fruit. A pause briefly to saviour a couple of large juicy berries unadulterated by proximity to car or human activity. Its going to be a bumper crop this year.
But hang on - doesn't ripe fruit signify the End of The Summer. A sign that Autumn's days are announcing their turn to become the seasonal host?
Maybe. Personally I'm yet to get my head around the fact its Summer, even as the evenings drawn in with each dusk arriving earlier than the previous one.
Onwards then into what turned out to be one of the worst pieces of broken ground I've walked over for some time. No make that walked through. Or maybe even under.
Initially hopping from tussock to tussock I turned to make sure Dog was ok. He'd disappeared. Nope there he was, the only sign of his passage the top of long sedge grasses moving, as he followed a track deep deep down in the undergrowth.
I persevered. Carefully. This was ankle snapping territory. The trusted bog hop gait, so suavely demonstrated not half an hour before soon became an arm whirling, keep the balance, plummet forward until finally the inevitable happened.
My foot went into a pool of water, far below and out of sight, with the result - a boot filled with a tantalising mixture of rain water and Grade A fresh bog land mulch (and all free of charge)
Bugger - this is the sort of incident that rarely happens to me. Even then it should be in some wild and harsh environment. Not 50m from the dry & well worn path in front of me.
I finished the rest of the walk with a noticeable squelch each time my right foot hit the deck. But I had to smile along the way.
Putting the valley's water levels down to this summer's rainfall level I mentally marked the route as passable, but with care and at the right time of the year.
So why, when I came to one of the Forest's permanent pool of standing water was it's level 2-3m below its normal mark; Foreshore mud clearly visible? A typical mid summer scene in fact.
Is this still a wet Summer this year? Or maybe a warm season with periods of rainfall that have coloured the general perception of inclement weather.
Or has the high season already passed, leaving us to face an early Autumn? One that indicates the
non Winter season is now one extended period of warm & occasionally wet weather?
Well I don't know, and I doubt whether the Met Office are truly qualified these days to proffer an opinion that anyone would trust.
I squelched my way back into the typical Soddam & Gomorrah scene surrounding the car park. As I started homewards to renew battle with a pc clean-up, I skirted Forest ponies obstructing the main access routes & road. Their particular season in full swing having relearnt the quickest way to get Oohs & Aahs from day trippers and more relevantly their free handouts.
I really need to get away soon!Labels: nature, New Forest, walks
Friday, July 24
Running fast. Standing still.
A combination of work, home and the usual day to day life drudge means that any time spent in front of this damned mono visual blinking radiation emitting time wasting device (aka Internet PC) are few and far between at present.
I've managed to keep up with my regular blog/forum reads each day, although any interaction in those places has also been similarly limited by time & energy.
Regrettably my fine record of monthly wildcamps that started so well (and so early this year), has turned to a pile of mush in response to circumstance. Many of these beyond my direct control, but all requiring the mature & supportive responses that I like to think is part of what make me Who I Am.
But today, at the end of yet another endlessly milling week I've uncovered a few hours of my own. Time to sit back & spend some solitary moments on my own whims. Something that during the last few weeks I've felt increasingly driven to saviour during the pell-mell rush that seems to be my waking existence.
Now is that time, more than ever, when I feel drawn to find that special renewal of spirit that comes with a few night's wildcamping in some lonely and desolate wild location. Far from my fellow human, but so close to the true reality of existence. Water. Shelter. Food. Nature. Bliss.
But for the moment my dismally puny recharge comes as I think back to some of those high ridge wildcamps. Places where I sat savouring the blending of Time, Space & Solitude.
The quiet gap that follows the end of a long day's trek.
The wildcamp pitch. Refuelling the body's needs.
And then an opportunity to fill the gap before sleep by busily doing nothing in particular but become one with the surroundings. True - only a transitory visitor. But one open to the measure and pleasure of the temporary resting place.
Meanwhile there are the trip reports from fellow Outdoor Bloggers as they discuss their recent sorties out in the Great Outdoors (You lucky sods!)
All this helps keep me on the right side of sanity. Although those who have met me know that such a description is always applied a little warily when citing my general demeanour.
So for now I teeter (titter?) along life's own high ridge. Balancing The Present alongside The Past. Awaiting The Future where control of my own moments & movements can one again be retaken in a more selfish manner.
So what if this summer is yet again turning out to be damp and changeable?
The weather is warm. The grass is full grown. Tree crowns are dark and leaf laden.
Get out there if you are able. Saviour these moments.
To store up pleasant memories for colder days ahead.
And I don't mean the Winter.Labels: Mental Health, nature
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
But not this one.
Feet dug ever deeper into the soil beneath. Grey trunk body thickened year by year whilst branching arms stretched newly bursting bud tips ever higher towards the sky with the start of each Spring.
Oh yes it was hard work.
Older & stronger trees had claimed this ground scores of years before when the seedling's parent was little more than the same hopeful shoot hidden deep in the undergrowth.
But the niche the seedling had carved out for itself was a careful one. Balancing nutrient from the earth around about, while threading its head upwards in a continual challenge to touch the sun despite the growing shade crown of mightier neighbours.
And even whilst competing for that light our tree & its neighbours talked together, as trees so often do. If only one stops to listen.
On calm sunny days little was said. The sun's life force beaming down made all else secondary.
But bare branched, during winter gales, the trees swayed and rocked as one. Chattering to each other as they told tales of mighty storms now long past. The movement of their branches exciting a temporary camaraderie.
Today that feeling was a distant memory. Maybe something that would not occur again.
For something was not right.
An orange spot, a splash of paint, had appeared on the tree's trunk. One chosen alongside others across the area. The mark of Cain? Or a sign of promising things ahead?
No matter - what will be will be. The tree waited. For it lived patience.
A lone walker, black and white dog at heel, appeared at the crest of the rise moving steadily down the track alongside the tree's domain.
And then it happened.
It arrived with that wisdom of inevitability. A product of hindsight's clear path to the moment when a world changes.
The tree felt its solid grasp on the earth's surface slip. Slowly it started to topple. Its airy head moving towards the ground far below.
The walker looked up at the sudden noise of something heavy tearing through woodland. Looking groundwards he expect to see a regular movement of deer. Or perhaps a few bulky New Forest cattle crashing through the dead bracken.
Instead a blur of green swaying leaves moving above his eye line grabbed at his attention.
He concentrated on the sight until the fall was complete.
The tree, after one storm too many & the increasing weight of rampant ivy around its trunk, had accepted the inevitability of physical laws and toppled to the ground.
Not with a crash. More a gentle murmur of rustling foliage, before a final dullen flat thud. The shared noise that comes with any large & very heavy object returning to earth.
For a few moments the walker continue to stare, taken aback by the event's suddenness.
And then, leaving the path, he walked over to the tree. Leaves once again still after a final airy flight. Roots snapped clean. The ground from whence they had been torn already resettling. This disturbance, obvious now, to quickly disappear with a few weeks of rain & frost.
One uniquely precise & fleeting moment. An infinitesimal hap chance amongst endless trillions of complex life force interactions across the Earth. And of all space and time.
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I went for a walk in the New Forest today.
By chance I saw a tree fall to the ground.
No-one else was around.
And yes, it made a sound......or rather two.
One while it fell.
And a second that still rings deep inside me at the incredible odds of seeing it happen.
Labels: ; New Forest, nature
Whitten Pond - Ice Bound
A few snaps from this afternoon's wander near Burley in the New Forest.
The camera flash creating a strangely moody image at my regular crossing point on this pond outlet stream. A place where I've occasionally spotted a swimming snake - but certainly not today.
The beam traverse may be short but it requires a steady nerve & careful balance to avoid the potential early dip. Not that that has happened to me. Yet.
But today it is an easier passage with careful short sliding steps across the surface of thick ice.
A few steps further on lies Whitten Pond, a large pool of water easily visible from the Burley/Bransgore road.
I remain wary of the variable nature of the icy conditions underfoot. So those who decided a trip out onto the ice, and so far from shore, were foolhardy to say the least.
In places the steeping ground requires careful attention to avoid a loss of footing. Necessary caution.
Occasionally the path route leads across a flat areas of snowy ground. Too flat to be solid ground I belatedly realise with ominous sounds of cracking ice underfoot. A reminder of the vast quantity of stored water potential awaiting the inevitable thaw before returning the New Forest tracks back to muddy quagmire for the winter months ahead.
Dark was falling as I finally returned to the car park, today's walking pace reduced by the need for wariness.
As I carefully maneuvered the car towards the icy incline at the car park exit other vehicles were still arriving to start their own excursions out into the dark and mildly treacherous conditions.
Well at least the cold will keep any victim suitably embalmed for easy body ID.Labels: nature, New Forest
Friday, January 8
Seize the day - looking with different sight
Don't know if you spotted it, but we've had a bit of snow recently.
Hereabouts its nothing like the heaps of stuff that the rest of the country continue to suffer. But in East Dorset, and near to the coast, the local micro climate isn't conducive to the white stuff appearing. And when it does it tends not to hang around for very long.
Even rarer is this continual period of low temperature. Something that has been with us for so long that popping outdoors in -2C feels positively balmy at present.
Today's free day (hurrah-finally a day's holiday) is to be spent exploring a local spot near Ringwood, just off side from the the Avon Valley Footpath. An area of open common land, forest, and water pools.
Its not a very long circular wander. However it does have the benefit of being rarely visited both due to the location & the fact that its a path that doesn't actually go anywhere, except back to its starting point.
But a deliberate choice on my part. Large areas of snow covered ground, and no car tracks or human footprints to disturb the flat white surface. A rare opportunity to investigate the various and bountiful animal tracks that today are hard frozen into the snow, recording tales of recent animal activity.
I'd never realised that rabbits keep to such regular routes, even when crossing open land. But the little pounded pathways formed by their many distinctive prints tell their own tale.
I see a few deer tracks in an area where I've never spotted them before. Something to look out for more carefully now I know they are present.
Near the frozen lake a slow brown buzzard barely bothers to move off beyond my eye line. Keeping to the low branches to search avidly today for something, anything, to make a meal.
However the little egret, stark white against the backdrop of long dead reeds, remains wary. The short area of open water, but a minuscule portion of the thickly iced lake, makes for a lacklustre fishing ground.
Another predator likely to find failure as the aquatic world remains in safe hibernation. A natural reaction to the plunging temperature.
A walk with a rare difference.
An unique opportunity to catch a glimpse into the local routines of Nature.Labels: nature
Saturday, January 2
New Year. New Forest. Old Haunts.
The local cold snap continues unabated. With local low lying areas exhibiting their seasonal floods the persistence of hard & frozen ground is at present an useful advantage. Boggy and potentially treacherous areas have for a brief time become firm routes of iron surfaced mud and thick ice.
Well mostly. As I found out today - the sun may be far away, and brief in daytime appearance - but it still has the power to weaken icy surfaces. So crossing some of the flooded paths turned at times into an adventure of ice skating & river crossing, all within a few footsteps.
Strange to think I had sat on this bridge a few months earlier, munching sandwiches and watching a small New Forest stream trickle down below, firmly in its watercourse.
Signs also of the recent gales. Not yet up to the full strength of the Feb/March winds that will blow hard and long straight across from the nearby coast. But already impressive enough to knock about some less secure victims.
I like this hidden spot.
In fact I once bivvied the night here. Intending to sojourn with nature & pass a night with the deer herd that I can guarantee to find whatever the time of year & wandering tourists. Instead I discovered what horses can get up to during the dark hours
(The curious amongst you should follow the link)
But that's the joy of the British seasonal variation.
Familiar land & bye ways transform as vegetation growth rises & then falls, whilst the ground underfoot changes in response to the influence of sun, water & wind.
The deer didn't disappoint. Three heads bobbing up at a distance. Eyesight poor, but noses as keen as ever. The cold weather and low vegetation at this time of year making them less reluctant to flee with their usual alacrity.
(Spotted them yet?)
A pleasant way to pass a couple of hours on a sunny day. Five miles of crunching underfoot, with only the occasional crack/splash along the way as my usually accurate footfall adjustments were mislead by nature's cheeky jests.
My audio accompaniment today - a documentary about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. World famous for his literary colossus Sherlock Holmes. But slightly less familiar as the man who introduced skiing to Switzerland, Portsmouth FC player (pre pro days), regular MCC team turnout & the catalyst behind the creation of the Court of Criminal Appeal.
Wonder if he had managed all this if he'd had TV in his day?Labels: nature, New Forest
Sunday, December 20
Christmas WanderLand
I love this time of year in the run up to Christmas.
No, not the stupidity of office parties, excessive drinking, & stop-until-you-drop-shopping.
For me it's the peace and quiet that can be found for these few special days when walking local paths.
For the moment the semi occasional visitors now have other places to be. Which is fine by me as it means my weekend wanderings in the New Forest are of a solitary nature, save for an occasional habitual dog walker, similarly benefiting from a lack of human activity.
Despite the car thermometer showing 3 degrees, in the forest puddles are frozen with thick ice, and the ground underfoot is hard & still frozen. Boggy areas, usually a hop skip & splash traverse, today are easily crossed, ice crunching underfoot as I take the straight line ahead.
Sun shine, although weak, is appreciated for the extra warmth offered as I move out from under the shade of the trees. On impulse I decide to extend my route onto Holmsley Tearooms. Usually a hive of activity, especially with the day tripping fraternity, today it is peaceful.
Dog and myself have the garden area to ourselves as we await our lunchtime repast.
We return along the old railway track, preparing to dive back down into deep woodland. Unexpectedly the mix of solitude, sun, and a clear path leading off into the distance unexpectedly brings one of those rare moments of Bliss.
That feeling of oneness with my surroundings; Open to the forces of nature all around me.
Its something I find quite regularly in the hills, especially after a couple of days wildcamping.
But to stumble across it today, on a short and familiar route, is a welcome surprise. And a reminder why I continue to seek the outdoor world, and saviour its offerings.
Christmas - well I can take or leave it personally.
But the rare joy that comes from visiting familiar areas, but finding unexpected joy, is my own gift to myself this Xmas time.
And to share with you, if you only care to go out there and look for yourself.
Oh - and as you can see the new mobile telephone has a much better camera with which to try & capture moments along the way.
Labels: nature, New Forest
Saturday, December 5
Lake District Weatherline - New telephone number
I've one telephone number stored away on my mobile phone that whilst infrequently used, will never be deleted. When wildcamping high on Lakeland fells part of my evening routine is to call, phone signal permitting, The Lake District Weatherline service.
Over the years I've found the forecasts to be accurate, detailed & (for a solo hillwalker), key when pondering the next day's route.
To go high…..or low?
An important question for a walker travelling with no schedule to keep, other than to see what's beyond the next range of felltops.
But no matter what my intent, realism dictates that I should bend with the weather's vagaries, especially where extreme conditions are forecast.
(Wildcamping - ah so pretty)
Even in less inclement weather the choice between a high ridge walk in dense rain cloud, or a valley meander accompanied by patchy showers, can be the difference between a hard day with little enjoyment or an pleasant day of exploration.
(Wildcamping - ugh not so pretty)
That's even more relevant when high wind speeds are the alternative between safe passage low down or the increased risk of being knocked off my feet when ridging along exposed tops.
So thanks to the latest TGO Magazine for alerting me to the fact that the telephone no. for The Lake District Weatherline has recently changed to 0844 846 2444.
(Being curious, I tried the old number earlier today, only to be met with a recorded message giving a company's name and address details. But not a lot of guidance as to whether it will rain in Keswick tomorrow)
And whilst on the subject of Lakeland weather - fancy a job as a Fell Top Assessor?
"….report on the fell conditions from the summit area of Helvellyn from December through to April. Working seven days on and seven days off, including weekends and bank holidays, you will need to be able to climb from Glenridding to the summit of Helvellyn and back in four hours"
Well that’s probably me out of the running.
Then again the daily commute from the south coast might just get me down in the end.
Wonder whether any of the Assessors have ever thought about just wildcamping for their week in a nearby sheltered spot?
Now there's an idea.
And to get paid for it as well.
HmmmmLabels: Lake District, National Park, nature
Saturday, November 14
Blow you Bugger Blow
Early breakfast at Avon Beach, Mudeford.
The short walk from the clifftop parking spot down to the café is accompanied by a steadily hazing of vision as my spectacles slowly coat with a mixture of sea spray, salt and sand. All whipping onto the land as the wind leaves off pushing surf up onto the shoreline, and turns to other games to play instead.
A group of Oyster catchers, seemingly oblivious to the elemental force, busily bob along the tidal sand, looking for their breakfast. At times one takes to the air, making only a short distance, before quickly returning to earth. The desire for flight lessened today by the effort required to maintain it.
Warm inside the café we watch as the birds continue their hunt for tide borne bonanza. The fry up arrives.
Dog and myself for once alone at this usually busy spot. We wander along the ridge that of St Catherine's Hill, Christchurch.
As we pass by the twin mobile telephone masts the steady thrum of a plane is heard as it passes overhead. I pause to watch the sway of the thinner tower, rock embedded at the foot, but the upper section flexing as it bends so easily to wind whim.
The plane continues to fly overhead. What still?
I realise it’s the sound of the wind resonating the mast struts of the towers, with an irregular drumming as gusts bounce off some of the bulbous equipment bolted high above.
A personal orchestral offering - courtesy of Mother Nature and BT.
I love the change of perspective that the natural world can bring out in the everyday world.Labels: nature
Tuesday, September 29
Three things to do to Enjoy England
As you may have spotted on other sites some outdoor Bloggers have been approached by Jam to contribute to the Guardian's forthcoming ‘Enjoy England’ feature.
Speed reading the invitation my initial thought was 'Great! Finally hit the big time. A chance to kick over the traces of the day job".
Regrettably, a later slower perusal revealed a less glittering outcome.
But hey-ho; Ideas for these ramblings of mine can come from any direction and are all encouraged in whatever guise they might arise. So here's tonight's jottings, based around a common theme.
Solitude
According to recent government statistics the UK will soon only have living room for 423,138 more people before our landmass achieves its maximum level of population saturation.
New laws, allegedly being drafted as I write, plan to introduce measures that will require all UK inhabitants to take Breaths-In & Breaths-Out in an alternative mode to their nearest neighbour, rather than risk those in coastal areas being slowly edged off into the sea as the majority of the populace inhale simultaneously.
A little like a living Penny Fall shuffle fairground machine.
Well perhaps things aren't quite that bad. Yet. I may even have (whisper it gently) exaggerated so very slightly. But its true that urban living, now encompassing anyplace, short of living at the bottom of a lake, is becoming increasingly over populated & pressurised.
Here's a secret. This is a facet of modern society which can be so easily thwarted with a little personal effort.
Park the car. Start walking away from the road, and into your nearest piece of countryside. Take care to avoid well worn footpaths & tracks. Just keep going, veering clear of any signs of human habitation. Especially tourist features (Particularly Forestry Commission attractions. Honey pot to the Urban Daytripper. A wasp filled jam-jar to this writer)
Now Stop.
Take a deep breath.
And just listen to that glorious sound of ..... your own sweet self. Finally alone with nature.
Like this early morning alarm clock during my Dartmoor Dawdle in June 2008
"I had a lie-in until the sun poked its nose over the ridge, giving me the chance stay in my sleeping bag and listen to the song of the skylarks for twenty minutes of so. And I mean really listen. Lying there with no other distraction my concentration was fully given over to their repetitive trills, before their song veered on to yet another melody. No other background noise to taint the sound. A sublime experience"
Wildcamping
Despite somewhat draconian camping constraints under English law there are still pockets of wild uninhabited places in England that allow one to simply disappear from everyday humanity with little fuss, effort or expense.
With minimal equipment & a easy willingness to dispense with life's trappings & fripperies whole areas of England, rarely visited by most of the population are opened up.
Entry is free!
True it requires some degree of self-reliance & self confidence. In turn the benefit is a self-awareness at a level that most people would find difficult to comprehend. The easily discovered ability to spend a night in a wild place, somewhere apparently uninhabitable for so many, builds a bond with the natural world that once experienced cannot be forgotten.
Unlike so many shiny promises offered in our ' enlightened' times a repeat of this experience always seems to triggers some primordial Sigh from deep down within the brain's limbic region.
Freeze, Flight or Fight?
Not necessarily. Some of us know of a fourth way (Grasshopper).
Reckon I should start a cult?
Dartmoor
A desolately inhabited place of some 368 square miles, and yet an area both within easy access of millions of urbanites with major road access, and a place that positively encourages Wildcamping.
To the majority, trundling across tight moorland roads, it may seem an endless expanse of open land & weirdly sculpted Tor tops, mostly shrouded in thick mist & heartily driven rain. To guests of the HMP Dartmoor establishment, at Princetown, possibly a beckoning view, somewhere green & encouraging beyond thick Napoleonic walls of retribution.
For some an equally scary proposition when viewed from the comfort of a car. But after a few visits into Dartmoor's interior, by foot, the rich history of earlier human habitation springs into being. Neolithic stone rows to the more recent historic drippings of mine tramways, all underline that this was once one of the more densely populated place in England during past eras when a wooded valley was a places of Danger & Threat.
Forget the forlorn baying of the Sherlock Holme's Baskerville Hound. Instead learn to celebrate a place once full of life, and eager to share its secrets, many long forgotten, for those prepared to explore away from the modern day tarmacadam detour of bland conformity.
Or just stay inside the safety of that car.
Going from Nowhere. Leading to Nowhere. Please exit at the cliffside departure gate along with your fellow lemmings.
Was that Three Things to Do in England? Perhaps not quite what the Guardian invitation had in mind?
Whatever - just get out into some distant English wild place, and soak up its true nature. Far from the crush of humanity.
Better be quick. Tourist No. 423,139 arrives in 4 years time. And then this island starts to slowly sink into the sea.
Me? I'll be on Yes Tor. Having a brew & watching the sunset.
Glug .... glug .... glug.
Labels: dartmoor, media, Mental Health, National Park, nature
Friday, September 25
Wildcamp - Travel - Wildcamp
To Travel.
Definition: "To go from one place to another …..To advance or proceed"
By inference an act requiring physical movement from one position/place to another.
True, there's no rule to say that Wildcamps cannot be static. To remain at the same site for more than one night.
But mostly wildcamping is about spatial transition. The act of swapping one remote & lonely spot for a different perspective. Usually another remote & lonely spot. A daily change of place.
Or .............. perhaps that should be a change of perspective on life ?
Whatever - it makes no difference. The act itself suffices for many.
For me? Well......
To tap into the Great Unknown. Become one, once more, with the deep Om of life.
To touch, however fleetingly, that underlying rhythmic beat of energy. For so much of our lives unheeded as it throbs far below our everyday event threshold that is termed Living In The Real World'.
To sleep a night. Solitary & defenceless in some wild and inhospitable place. Remote, perhaps even uninhabitable for many.
To awake at dawn's approach. Mentally & physically renewed.
Early morning grumbling of sinews & bones, unaccustomed to the previous day's physical activity, quietening as the essence of At One with a natural life force, are sensed deep within one's self.
An unexpected deep sigh of contentment at ……
At..?
Well at nothing tangible really.
Except the act of being part of the Real World.
Breathing.
Sharing rainfall run-off with beck or tarn as it heeds the pull of gravity.
Wind veer caressing bare skin; Rain sting on cheeks;
The welcoming warmth of weak sunlight on a frosty morning.
The cool relief freely given by deep shade of rock's shadow at the height of Summer.
Another day greeted. Rucksack settled onto back for the hours of movement ahead.
The last act.
A final lingering glance backwards to the night's resting place. Checking for mislaid kit and signs of human presence? Or more a quiet & silent salute to a place now special in memory & time.
To travel.
No, not movement from place to place, towards some journey's end.
Merely an excuse to saviour stops along the way & touch, fleetingly, the closeness of the Natural World & Reality.
Until the next time.
Maybe I'm alone in silently greeting a wildcamp site on arrival; And on departure bidding a fond farewell. To a familiar friend who's presence I meet with from time to time? And from place to place.
Or then again ..... maybe not.
Perhaps I'm just weird?Labels: nature
Monday, August 31
The Weather Man is a Drip
Did you enjoy today's sunny weather? Hopefully that won't be the last gasp of this derisory summer just yet.
But who knows for sure?
Maybe the Meteorological Office & its ubiquitous stooge the TV Weatherman?
Perhaps.
Or then again.......Nope - probably not with their track record over recent times.
For this weekend was the last straw for me in treating seriously the dire content of the dumbed down weather forecast for the masses.
Take Saturday's TV forecast beamed out around 22:00 in the evening on BBC1.
'Bad weather on Sunday for the south of England, but not until around 5pm' cheerily pronounced the Metman's grinning monkey, 'Enjoy the Sunday sunshine while you can'.
Meanwhile, blue screen background behind him, the forecaster waved his arms with enthusiastic animation as a computer generated model of the weather for the next 24 hours silently confirmed his projection. Its crude overview indicating clouds and rain cruising across from Ireland, and due to reach my own locale until late on Sunday.
It must be true - the time was at the bottom of the cartoon after all.
Plans made accordingly I departed to bed. Why then did I look out of the window early Sunday morning to see thick cloud cover. Which by lunchtime had built into light drizzle for the rest of the afternoon? By then I'd given up in disgust and was watching the rain blow in from the coast whilst getting some work sorted in the office.
(Well it seemed like a good way to use the time bearing in mind the happier alternatives that had gone by the board)
How is it the high tech, multi million pound Met Office weather models can be so inept about weather only 12 hours ahead?
That's not the worse case I can relate. The TV forecasts have been getting progressively more dreadful over a period of many months. Its almost as if the senseless drive to make the forecast more "accessible" to the drooling TV couch potato has up-ended any accuracy they once had.
And for what?
The conditions Outdoor are largely irrelevant for Mr Lardy Arse TV Watcher.
Nope. I've had it with the TV & Radio forecasts from now on.
Here's my three top tips on how to predict the forthcoming weather:
1. In hilly areas, refer to the Mountain Weather Information Service's report for the next 1-2 days. These tend to have a very high level of accuracy & are essential reading for high hill walking at times of bad weather.
2. Learn to read & interpret a pressure chart. I like this site, although the level of detail can be intimidating for the uninitiated at first (click on the dates at the foot of the page).
Another excellent source is on the MWIS site.
Or there's this over on the European Centre for Medium-Range Weather Forecasts site
3. DIY. Look out of the window & go outdoors. Check the flow of air movement especially in comparison to the clouds overhead. Sense the air temperature - colder or warmer than earlier? Look at the clouds and the formations. Then back indoors to tap the barometer to see if its rising or falling.
Then take your best guess!
4. Finally - down to the seashore & pick up some seaweed.
Only a fraction of the cost of the Met Office's new "second most powerful computer in the UK" but probably a damn sight more accurate than the drivel fed to us from the goggle box each day.
Better still - sod the forecast - just get outside anyway.
And pack a waterproof, just in case.
Monday, August 24
Walkers & Cattle - Advice
The Enemy #1 - The Cow
Genetically over engineered over many centuries into a meat & milk provider. Typically two tone in colour. Heavy nasal drooling at one end. And a different sort of drooling at the other.
If in doubt carefully use a scratch & sniff test to quickly distinguish the key differences. Try not to lick your fingers afterwards.
The Enemy #2 - The Bullock
The juvenile male. Often identified by a tendency to unexpectedly demonstrate their sexual awakening by attempting to mount each other. Often repeatedly. Despite mixed success.
Intensely curious and prone to rapidly cover a field's length seconds after you've strayed within the barb wire/electrified boundary fence fortification.
The Owner - The Cattle Farmer
Some believe this to be a mix of the two genres. Often distinguished by the use of green wellingtons, dung coloured (typically blue) overalls, & a loud greeting call "Gerroff-my-land-you-townies".
Well ok I may be guilty of ever egging those descriptions a little.
Except for the green wellies.
But more seriously today's BBC reports have hi-lighted certain dangers associated with these usually tranquil beasts (I meant the cows by the way)
Beware of cows with their calves. Especially if you encounter them whilst accompanied by a dog.
Personally, even when not dog accompanied, I have a tendency to avoid any beast weighing in excess of 1/2 ton and capable of short bursts of speed in my general direction. No matter what its motivation may be.
The NFU advice has been issued as a result of the deaths of 3 walkers in 3 months.
Their advice to walkers
"if you have a dog with you, keep it under close control, but do not hang on to it should a cow or bull start acting aggressively. If you feel threatened, just carry on as normal, do not run, move to the edge of the field and if possible find another way round the field, returning to the original path as soon as is possible. And remember to close the gate".
(I love that mention of the gate. A good idea to prevent yet another headlong chase down the next field, but at the same time rather a recognisable farmy piece of advice)
The main problem for those of not familiar with bovine nature - what is aggressive behaviour?
Most cattle will wander over to a stile if they spot a walker. After all chewing cud and trying to mount your brothers can becomes tedious after a few weeks of such wild experiences.
I regularly walk across a large open expanse of common land watching the behaviour of cattle.
Based, I assume on their previous encounters, a few cattle will hang back from the main herd, effectively acting as scouts. These will initiate a rapid move towards the cause of any disquiet, bringing the rest of the herd cavorting behind them, feet drumming hard.
Not a pleasant prospect if you happen to be that cause.
Unfortunately the latest victim was a farmer. But back at the Royal Welsh Show in July the FUW (think NFU Wales) was quoted as saying that "Cases of potentially-deadly stampeding cattle unwittingly spooked by dog walkers are almost certainly set to rise"
(Lets ignore the comment "In part it was due to cash-strapped "townies" holidaying in the UK at a time of recession and heading for the countryside to relax")
Here's my advice, based on years of experience using farm paths. Its personal, so make up your own mind at your own risk.
1. Don’t keep the dog on a lead, but do keep it under control at all times.
If its not sufficiently well trained to stay to heel, or be sent away, you really shouldn't be out with it amongst farm animals.
2. By all means carry a stout stick. But as most people, including myself, do not carry one try picking up a few small stones (not rocks!) before entering a field.
It’s a last ditch deterrent. Better a few stings on a cow's thick hide, and a potential dressing down from a farmer, than being knocked over & injured by a fast moving herd.
3. If the beasts move towards you, make loud single syllable noises, such as they'd expect from the cowhand (cowherd?) also make yourself look bigger, but try not to wave your hands about alarmingly. Not so much noise that they become spooked, but enough to give you time for a rapid & controlled exit, whilst they try to work out just what the hell you are.
Thinking herding noises.
(I used this on my last Dartmoor trip for a couple of miles, in an area covered with impenetrable gorse thickets and narrow paths. A river was on one side. A steep rise on the other. The cows & their calves wouldn’t take the hint to veer away, despite my vectoring approaches. As this was the only way off the moor unless I turned back for a five mile detour, near the end of a long day I had little choice on this occasion.
4. Don’t (completely) turn your back or try to out sprint them. Back away steadily whilst ensuring you remain upright & prepared to move off to one side to avoid any confrontation.
5. Keep an eye out for all potential exit routes, moving well around any herd where possible. Remember that most of the boundary hedgerows will be hiding barbed wire. Its meant to prevent the escape of large curious animals. That works the same where you are concerned as well.
Its not a good time to find this out when entangled in this as part of any rapid exit.
Remember Steve McQueen in the Great Escape?
6. If it does come to a close up encounter I'm told a hard slap across the snout will work wonders.
Personally I've not test this particular tip. Not do I ever intend to get into a situation where I need to test the hypothesis.
If someone slapped me across the snout I’d tend to thrash about a fair bit, or take it as an attack. But quite what a 1/2 ton beast may do …..?
7. Finally (or should this be firstly?) if in doubt make a detour to avoid crossing the field.
I'm not too proud to admit I've done this on many occasions where cows/horses have shown rather too much interest in my presence before I've even entered the field.
This is one circumstance where Flight before Fight is A Good Thing
Any more tips - leave a comment please.Labels: nature
Sunday, August 2
Its Summer? No its Autumn? Just take your pick
An early Sunday start prepping two motorcycles ready for a long weekend at a Well Known Event (but more on that later in the week perhaps)
Whilst I'm on the topic, when did the centre-stand become surplus to requirement? Trying single handed to get each bike on a paddock stand, for simple chain maintenance (a five minute job) became a heart stopping half hour if the end result wasn't to be one's pride and joy lying lifeless on its side after toppling over during the stand/mounting process.
Since when did a centre stand become a luxury item?
So imagine my joy when I wandered back indoors only to find my pc screen infected with a rather nasty Trojan virus which required some major low level surgery to eradicate.
And yes, I do use current Firewall & Anti-Virus packages.
Two hours later that was sorted, leaving many more hours to run some alternative malware/spyware software and complete a low level purge.
Time for a walk then? More like essential.
Out to Burbush in the New Forest for a bit of contemplative R&R, accompanied by a MP3 player of very loud rock music. Always works well when I'm in an anti-social frame of mind.
Predictably, given the summer season, the rural back roads were busy & the New Forest car park a seething mass of humanity. Why does the term 'tourist on holiday' seem to require leaving their brain & common sense in a small pail by the holiday accommodation's front door each day?
Oh well - a quiet route was essential today, far away from marked paths and over publicised guidebook routes.
A success in that I saw no-one else once I'd left the vicinity of the car park. Sort of a success in a spur of the moment decision to try something a little more physically challenging by hopping off the back of my first route to link up with a longer outlying circuit.
It was via bog land. It wasn't any surprise. I know the land here abouts is liable to be undercut by narrow rivulets of flowing water, especially after rain. Adopting the trusted bog hop gait that Darren knows so well I quickly crossed onto the lower slopes of the far valley side, and picked up a pony track up to the pine topped mount ahead, in which nestled a World War II searchlight emplacement.
All going spiffing so far. A good workout over rough ground, much akin to Dartmoor in some places, and at a fast pace. Dog by my side, we moved ever onwards.
As I followed the ridge I was watching the boggy land below looking for a better track to cut across to rejoin the original route. An excellent & quiet circular if it wasn't for 400m of path crossing a major watershed plateau. Even the sinking of various peat and straw bales a few years earlier had failed to turn it into better than an inevitable paddle even during drought conditions. So its always been a bugbear of mine to find someway to hop this impassable section without getting a guaranteed soaking.
Today I thought I had cracked it. Spotting a clear pony track down I headed to the valley for a short 200m traverse to the far slope.
Along the way my path meandered by a solitary blackberry bush, already full of ripe fruit. A pause briefly to saviour a couple of large juicy berries unadulterated by proximity to car or human activity. Its going to be a bumper crop this year.
But hang on - doesn't ripe fruit signify the End of The Summer. A sign that Autumn's days are announcing their turn to become the seasonal host?
Maybe. Personally I'm yet to get my head around the fact its Summer, even as the evenings drawn in with each dusk arriving earlier than the previous one.
Onwards then into what turned out to be one of the worst pieces of broken ground I've walked over for some time. No make that walked through. Or maybe even under.
Initially hopping from tussock to tussock I turned to make sure Dog was ok. He'd disappeared. Nope there he was, the only sign of his passage the top of long sedge grasses moving, as he followed a track deep deep down in the undergrowth.
I persevered. Carefully. This was ankle snapping territory. The trusted bog hop gait, so suavely demonstrated not half an hour before soon became an arm whirling, keep the balance, plummet forward until finally the inevitable happened.
My foot went into a pool of water, far below and out of sight, with the result - a boot filled with a tantalising mixture of rain water and Grade A fresh bog land mulch (and all free of charge)
Bugger - this is the sort of incident that rarely happens to me. Even then it should be in some wild and harsh environment. Not 50m from the dry & well worn path in front of me.
I finished the rest of the walk with a noticeable squelch each time my right foot hit the deck. But I had to smile along the way.
Putting the valley's water levels down to this summer's rainfall level I mentally marked the route as passable, but with care and at the right time of the year.
So why, when I came to one of the Forest's permanent pool of standing water was it's level 2-3m below its normal mark; Foreshore mud clearly visible? A typical mid summer scene in fact.
Is this still a wet Summer this year? Or maybe a warm season with periods of rainfall that have coloured the general perception of inclement weather.
Or has the high season already passed, leaving us to face an early Autumn? One that indicates the
non Winter season is now one extended period of warm & occasionally wet weather?
Well I don't know, and I doubt whether the Met Office are truly qualified these days to proffer an opinion that anyone would trust.
I squelched my way back into the typical Soddam & Gomorrah scene surrounding the car park. As I started homewards to renew battle with a pc clean-up, I skirted Forest ponies obstructing the main access routes & road. Their particular season in full swing having relearnt the quickest way to get Oohs & Aahs from day trippers and more relevantly their free handouts.
I really need to get away soon!Labels: nature, New Forest, walks
Friday, July 24
Running fast. Standing still.
A combination of work, home and the usual day to day life drudge means that any time spent in front of this damned mono visual blinking radiation emitting time wasting device (aka Internet PC) are few and far between at present.
I've managed to keep up with my regular blog/forum reads each day, although any interaction in those places has also been similarly limited by time & energy.
Regrettably my fine record of monthly wildcamps that started so well (and so early this year), has turned to a pile of mush in response to circumstance. Many of these beyond my direct control, but all requiring the mature & supportive responses that I like to think is part of what make me Who I Am.
But today, at the end of yet another endlessly milling week I've uncovered a few hours of my own. Time to sit back & spend some solitary moments on my own whims. Something that during the last few weeks I've felt increasingly driven to saviour during the pell-mell rush that seems to be my waking existence.
Now is that time, more than ever, when I feel drawn to find that special renewal of spirit that comes with a few night's wildcamping in some lonely and desolate wild location. Far from my fellow human, but so close to the true reality of existence. Water. Shelter. Food. Nature. Bliss.
But for the moment my dismally puny recharge comes as I think back to some of those high ridge wildcamps. Places where I sat savouring the blending of Time, Space & Solitude.
The quiet gap that follows the end of a long day's trek.
The wildcamp pitch. Refuelling the body's needs.
And then an opportunity to fill the gap before sleep by busily doing nothing in particular but become one with the surroundings. True - only a transitory visitor. But one open to the measure and pleasure of the temporary resting place.
Meanwhile there are the trip reports from fellow Outdoor Bloggers as they discuss their recent sorties out in the Great Outdoors (You lucky sods!)
All this helps keep me on the right side of sanity. Although those who have met me know that such a description is always applied a little warily when citing my general demeanour.
So for now I teeter (titter?) along life's own high ridge. Balancing The Present alongside The Past. Awaiting The Future where control of my own moments & movements can one again be retaken in a more selfish manner.
So what if this summer is yet again turning out to be damp and changeable?
The weather is warm. The grass is full grown. Tree crowns are dark and leaf laden.
Get out there if you are able. Saviour these moments.
To store up pleasant memories for colder days ahead.
And I don't mean the Winter.Labels: Mental Health, nature
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
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The camera flash creating a strangely moody image at my regular crossing point on this pond outlet stream. A place where I've occasionally spotted a swimming snake - but certainly not today.
The beam traverse may be short but it requires a steady nerve & careful balance to avoid the potential early dip. Not that that has happened to me. Yet.
But today it is an easier passage with careful short sliding steps across the surface of thick ice.
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A few steps further on lies Whitten Pond, a large pool of water easily visible from the Burley/Bransgore road.
I remain wary of the variable nature of the icy conditions underfoot. So those who decided a trip out onto the ice, and so far from shore, were foolhardy to say the least.
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In places the steeping ground requires careful attention to avoid a loss of footing. Necessary caution.
Occasionally the path route leads across a flat areas of snowy ground. Too flat to be solid ground I belatedly realise with ominous sounds of cracking ice underfoot. A reminder of the vast quantity of stored water potential awaiting the inevitable thaw before returning the New Forest tracks back to muddy quagmire for the winter months ahead.
Dark was falling as I finally returned to the car park, today's walking pace reduced by the need for wariness.
As I carefully maneuvered the car towards the icy incline at the car park exit other vehicles were still arriving to start their own excursions out into the dark and mildly treacherous conditions.
Well at least the cold will keep any victim suitably embalmed for easy body ID.
Labels: nature, New Forest
Seize the day - looking with different sight
Don't know if you spotted it, but we've had a bit of snow recently.
Hereabouts its nothing like the heaps of stuff that the rest of the country continue to suffer. But in East Dorset, and near to the coast, the local micro climate isn't conducive to the white stuff appearing. And when it does it tends not to hang around for very long.
Even rarer is this continual period of low temperature. Something that has been with us for so long that popping outdoors in -2C feels positively balmy at present.
Today's free day (hurrah-finally a day's holiday) is to be spent exploring a local spot near Ringwood, just off side from the the Avon Valley Footpath. An area of open common land, forest, and water pools.
Its not a very long circular wander. However it does have the benefit of being rarely visited both due to the location & the fact that its a path that doesn't actually go anywhere, except back to its starting point.
But a deliberate choice on my part. Large areas of snow covered ground, and no car tracks or human footprints to disturb the flat white surface. A rare opportunity to investigate the various and bountiful animal tracks that today are hard frozen into the snow, recording tales of recent animal activity.
I'd never realised that rabbits keep to such regular routes, even when crossing open land. But the little pounded pathways formed by their many distinctive prints tell their own tale.
I see a few deer tracks in an area where I've never spotted them before. Something to look out for more carefully now I know they are present.
Near the frozen lake a slow brown buzzard barely bothers to move off beyond my eye line. Keeping to the low branches to search avidly today for something, anything, to make a meal.
However the little egret, stark white against the backdrop of long dead reeds, remains wary. The short area of open water, but a minuscule portion of the thickly iced lake, makes for a lacklustre fishing ground.
Another predator likely to find failure as the aquatic world remains in safe hibernation. A natural reaction to the plunging temperature.
A walk with a rare difference.
An unique opportunity to catch a glimpse into the local routines of Nature.Labels: nature
Saturday, January 2
New Year. New Forest. Old Haunts.
The local cold snap continues unabated. With local low lying areas exhibiting their seasonal floods the persistence of hard & frozen ground is at present an useful advantage. Boggy and potentially treacherous areas have for a brief time become firm routes of iron surfaced mud and thick ice.
Well mostly. As I found out today - the sun may be far away, and brief in daytime appearance - but it still has the power to weaken icy surfaces. So crossing some of the flooded paths turned at times into an adventure of ice skating & river crossing, all within a few footsteps.
Strange to think I had sat on this bridge a few months earlier, munching sandwiches and watching a small New Forest stream trickle down below, firmly in its watercourse.
Signs also of the recent gales. Not yet up to the full strength of the Feb/March winds that will blow hard and long straight across from the nearby coast. But already impressive enough to knock about some less secure victims.
I like this hidden spot.
In fact I once bivvied the night here. Intending to sojourn with nature & pass a night with the deer herd that I can guarantee to find whatever the time of year & wandering tourists. Instead I discovered what horses can get up to during the dark hours
(The curious amongst you should follow the link)
But that's the joy of the British seasonal variation.
Familiar land & bye ways transform as vegetation growth rises & then falls, whilst the ground underfoot changes in response to the influence of sun, water & wind.
The deer didn't disappoint. Three heads bobbing up at a distance. Eyesight poor, but noses as keen as ever. The cold weather and low vegetation at this time of year making them less reluctant to flee with their usual alacrity.
(Spotted them yet?)
A pleasant way to pass a couple of hours on a sunny day. Five miles of crunching underfoot, with only the occasional crack/splash along the way as my usually accurate footfall adjustments were mislead by nature's cheeky jests.
My audio accompaniment today - a documentary about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. World famous for his literary colossus Sherlock Holmes. But slightly less familiar as the man who introduced skiing to Switzerland, Portsmouth FC player (pre pro days), regular MCC team turnout & the catalyst behind the creation of the Court of Criminal Appeal.
Wonder if he had managed all this if he'd had TV in his day?Labels: nature, New Forest
Sunday, December 20
Christmas WanderLand
I love this time of year in the run up to Christmas.
No, not the stupidity of office parties, excessive drinking, & stop-until-you-drop-shopping.
For me it's the peace and quiet that can be found for these few special days when walking local paths.
For the moment the semi occasional visitors now have other places to be. Which is fine by me as it means my weekend wanderings in the New Forest are of a solitary nature, save for an occasional habitual dog walker, similarly benefiting from a lack of human activity.
Despite the car thermometer showing 3 degrees, in the forest puddles are frozen with thick ice, and the ground underfoot is hard & still frozen. Boggy areas, usually a hop skip & splash traverse, today are easily crossed, ice crunching underfoot as I take the straight line ahead.
Sun shine, although weak, is appreciated for the extra warmth offered as I move out from under the shade of the trees. On impulse I decide to extend my route onto Holmsley Tearooms. Usually a hive of activity, especially with the day tripping fraternity, today it is peaceful.
Dog and myself have the garden area to ourselves as we await our lunchtime repast.
We return along the old railway track, preparing to dive back down into deep woodland. Unexpectedly the mix of solitude, sun, and a clear path leading off into the distance unexpectedly brings one of those rare moments of Bliss.
That feeling of oneness with my surroundings; Open to the forces of nature all around me.
Its something I find quite regularly in the hills, especially after a couple of days wildcamping.
But to stumble across it today, on a short and familiar route, is a welcome surprise. And a reminder why I continue to seek the outdoor world, and saviour its offerings.
Christmas - well I can take or leave it personally.
But the rare joy that comes from visiting familiar areas, but finding unexpected joy, is my own gift to myself this Xmas time.
And to share with you, if you only care to go out there and look for yourself.
Oh - and as you can see the new mobile telephone has a much better camera with which to try & capture moments along the way.
Labels: nature, New Forest
Saturday, December 5
Lake District Weatherline - New telephone number
I've one telephone number stored away on my mobile phone that whilst infrequently used, will never be deleted. When wildcamping high on Lakeland fells part of my evening routine is to call, phone signal permitting, The Lake District Weatherline service.
Over the years I've found the forecasts to be accurate, detailed & (for a solo hillwalker), key when pondering the next day's route.
To go high…..or low?
An important question for a walker travelling with no schedule to keep, other than to see what's beyond the next range of felltops.
But no matter what my intent, realism dictates that I should bend with the weather's vagaries, especially where extreme conditions are forecast.
(Wildcamping - ah so pretty)
Even in less inclement weather the choice between a high ridge walk in dense rain cloud, or a valley meander accompanied by patchy showers, can be the difference between a hard day with little enjoyment or an pleasant day of exploration.
(Wildcamping - ugh not so pretty)
That's even more relevant when high wind speeds are the alternative between safe passage low down or the increased risk of being knocked off my feet when ridging along exposed tops.
So thanks to the latest TGO Magazine for alerting me to the fact that the telephone no. for The Lake District Weatherline has recently changed to 0844 846 2444.
(Being curious, I tried the old number earlier today, only to be met with a recorded message giving a company's name and address details. But not a lot of guidance as to whether it will rain in Keswick tomorrow)
And whilst on the subject of Lakeland weather - fancy a job as a Fell Top Assessor?
"….report on the fell conditions from the summit area of Helvellyn from December through to April. Working seven days on and seven days off, including weekends and bank holidays, you will need to be able to climb from Glenridding to the summit of Helvellyn and back in four hours"
Well that’s probably me out of the running.
Then again the daily commute from the south coast might just get me down in the end.
Wonder whether any of the Assessors have ever thought about just wildcamping for their week in a nearby sheltered spot?
Now there's an idea.
And to get paid for it as well.
HmmmmLabels: Lake District, National Park, nature
Saturday, November 14
Blow you Bugger Blow
Early breakfast at Avon Beach, Mudeford.
The short walk from the clifftop parking spot down to the café is accompanied by a steadily hazing of vision as my spectacles slowly coat with a mixture of sea spray, salt and sand. All whipping onto the land as the wind leaves off pushing surf up onto the shoreline, and turns to other games to play instead.
A group of Oyster catchers, seemingly oblivious to the elemental force, busily bob along the tidal sand, looking for their breakfast. At times one takes to the air, making only a short distance, before quickly returning to earth. The desire for flight lessened today by the effort required to maintain it.
Warm inside the café we watch as the birds continue their hunt for tide borne bonanza. The fry up arrives.
Dog and myself for once alone at this usually busy spot. We wander along the ridge that of St Catherine's Hill, Christchurch.
As we pass by the twin mobile telephone masts the steady thrum of a plane is heard as it passes overhead. I pause to watch the sway of the thinner tower, rock embedded at the foot, but the upper section flexing as it bends so easily to wind whim.
The plane continues to fly overhead. What still?
I realise it’s the sound of the wind resonating the mast struts of the towers, with an irregular drumming as gusts bounce off some of the bulbous equipment bolted high above.
A personal orchestral offering - courtesy of Mother Nature and BT.
I love the change of perspective that the natural world can bring out in the everyday world.Labels: nature
Tuesday, September 29
Three things to do to Enjoy England
As you may have spotted on other sites some outdoor Bloggers have been approached by Jam to contribute to the Guardian's forthcoming ‘Enjoy England’ feature.
Speed reading the invitation my initial thought was 'Great! Finally hit the big time. A chance to kick over the traces of the day job".
Regrettably, a later slower perusal revealed a less glittering outcome.
But hey-ho; Ideas for these ramblings of mine can come from any direction and are all encouraged in whatever guise they might arise. So here's tonight's jottings, based around a common theme.
Solitude
According to recent government statistics the UK will soon only have living room for 423,138 more people before our landmass achieves its maximum level of population saturation.
New laws, allegedly being drafted as I write, plan to introduce measures that will require all UK inhabitants to take Breaths-In & Breaths-Out in an alternative mode to their nearest neighbour, rather than risk those in coastal areas being slowly edged off into the sea as the majority of the populace inhale simultaneously.
A little like a living Penny Fall shuffle fairground machine.
Well perhaps things aren't quite that bad. Yet. I may even have (whisper it gently) exaggerated so very slightly. But its true that urban living, now encompassing anyplace, short of living at the bottom of a lake, is becoming increasingly over populated & pressurised.
Here's a secret. This is a facet of modern society which can be so easily thwarted with a little personal effort.
Park the car. Start walking away from the road, and into your nearest piece of countryside. Take care to avoid well worn footpaths & tracks. Just keep going, veering clear of any signs of human habitation. Especially tourist features (Particularly Forestry Commission attractions. Honey pot to the Urban Daytripper. A wasp filled jam-jar to this writer)
Now Stop.
Take a deep breath.
And just listen to that glorious sound of ..... your own sweet self. Finally alone with nature.
Like this early morning alarm clock during my Dartmoor Dawdle in June 2008
"I had a lie-in until the sun poked its nose over the ridge, giving me the chance stay in my sleeping bag and listen to the song of the skylarks for twenty minutes of so. And I mean really listen. Lying there with no other distraction my concentration was fully given over to their repetitive trills, before their song veered on to yet another melody. No other background noise to taint the sound. A sublime experience"
Wildcamping
Despite somewhat draconian camping constraints under English law there are still pockets of wild uninhabited places in England that allow one to simply disappear from everyday humanity with little fuss, effort or expense.
With minimal equipment & a easy willingness to dispense with life's trappings & fripperies whole areas of England, rarely visited by most of the population are opened up.
Entry is free!
True it requires some degree of self-reliance & self confidence. In turn the benefit is a self-awareness at a level that most people would find difficult to comprehend. The easily discovered ability to spend a night in a wild place, somewhere apparently uninhabitable for so many, builds a bond with the natural world that once experienced cannot be forgotten.
Unlike so many shiny promises offered in our ' enlightened' times a repeat of this experience always seems to triggers some primordial Sigh from deep down within the brain's limbic region.
Freeze, Flight or Fight?
Not necessarily. Some of us know of a fourth way (Grasshopper).
Reckon I should start a cult?
Dartmoor
A desolately inhabited place of some 368 square miles, and yet an area both within easy access of millions of urbanites with major road access, and a place that positively encourages Wildcamping.
To the majority, trundling across tight moorland roads, it may seem an endless expanse of open land & weirdly sculpted Tor tops, mostly shrouded in thick mist & heartily driven rain. To guests of the HMP Dartmoor establishment, at Princetown, possibly a beckoning view, somewhere green & encouraging beyond thick Napoleonic walls of retribution.
For some an equally scary proposition when viewed from the comfort of a car. But after a few visits into Dartmoor's interior, by foot, the rich history of earlier human habitation springs into being. Neolithic stone rows to the more recent historic drippings of mine tramways, all underline that this was once one of the more densely populated place in England during past eras when a wooded valley was a places of Danger & Threat.
Forget the forlorn baying of the Sherlock Holme's Baskerville Hound. Instead learn to celebrate a place once full of life, and eager to share its secrets, many long forgotten, for those prepared to explore away from the modern day tarmacadam detour of bland conformity.
Or just stay inside the safety of that car.
Going from Nowhere. Leading to Nowhere. Please exit at the cliffside departure gate along with your fellow lemmings.
Was that Three Things to Do in England? Perhaps not quite what the Guardian invitation had in mind?
Whatever - just get out into some distant English wild place, and soak up its true nature. Far from the crush of humanity.
Better be quick. Tourist No. 423,139 arrives in 4 years time. And then this island starts to slowly sink into the sea.
Me? I'll be on Yes Tor. Having a brew & watching the sunset.
Glug .... glug .... glug.
Labels: dartmoor, media, Mental Health, National Park, nature
Friday, September 25
Wildcamp - Travel - Wildcamp
To Travel.
Definition: "To go from one place to another …..To advance or proceed"
By inference an act requiring physical movement from one position/place to another.
True, there's no rule to say that Wildcamps cannot be static. To remain at the same site for more than one night.
But mostly wildcamping is about spatial transition. The act of swapping one remote & lonely spot for a different perspective. Usually another remote & lonely spot. A daily change of place.
Or .............. perhaps that should be a change of perspective on life ?
Whatever - it makes no difference. The act itself suffices for many.
For me? Well......
To tap into the Great Unknown. Become one, once more, with the deep Om of life.
To touch, however fleetingly, that underlying rhythmic beat of energy. For so much of our lives unheeded as it throbs far below our everyday event threshold that is termed Living In The Real World'.
To sleep a night. Solitary & defenceless in some wild and inhospitable place. Remote, perhaps even uninhabitable for many.
To awake at dawn's approach. Mentally & physically renewed.
Early morning grumbling of sinews & bones, unaccustomed to the previous day's physical activity, quietening as the essence of At One with a natural life force, are sensed deep within one's self.
An unexpected deep sigh of contentment at ……
At..?
Well at nothing tangible really.
Except the act of being part of the Real World.
Breathing.
Sharing rainfall run-off with beck or tarn as it heeds the pull of gravity.
Wind veer caressing bare skin; Rain sting on cheeks;
The welcoming warmth of weak sunlight on a frosty morning.
The cool relief freely given by deep shade of rock's shadow at the height of Summer.
Another day greeted. Rucksack settled onto back for the hours of movement ahead.
The last act.
A final lingering glance backwards to the night's resting place. Checking for mislaid kit and signs of human presence? Or more a quiet & silent salute to a place now special in memory & time.
To travel.
No, not movement from place to place, towards some journey's end.
Merely an excuse to saviour stops along the way & touch, fleetingly, the closeness of the Natural World & Reality.
Until the next time.
Maybe I'm alone in silently greeting a wildcamp site on arrival; And on departure bidding a fond farewell. To a familiar friend who's presence I meet with from time to time? And from place to place.
Or then again ..... maybe not.
Perhaps I'm just weird?Labels: nature
Monday, August 31
The Weather Man is a Drip
Did you enjoy today's sunny weather? Hopefully that won't be the last gasp of this derisory summer just yet.
But who knows for sure?
Maybe the Meteorological Office & its ubiquitous stooge the TV Weatherman?
Perhaps.
Or then again.......Nope - probably not with their track record over recent times.
For this weekend was the last straw for me in treating seriously the dire content of the dumbed down weather forecast for the masses.
Take Saturday's TV forecast beamed out around 22:00 in the evening on BBC1.
'Bad weather on Sunday for the south of England, but not until around 5pm' cheerily pronounced the Metman's grinning monkey, 'Enjoy the Sunday sunshine while you can'.
Meanwhile, blue screen background behind him, the forecaster waved his arms with enthusiastic animation as a computer generated model of the weather for the next 24 hours silently confirmed his projection. Its crude overview indicating clouds and rain cruising across from Ireland, and due to reach my own locale until late on Sunday.
It must be true - the time was at the bottom of the cartoon after all.
Plans made accordingly I departed to bed. Why then did I look out of the window early Sunday morning to see thick cloud cover. Which by lunchtime had built into light drizzle for the rest of the afternoon? By then I'd given up in disgust and was watching the rain blow in from the coast whilst getting some work sorted in the office.
(Well it seemed like a good way to use the time bearing in mind the happier alternatives that had gone by the board)
How is it the high tech, multi million pound Met Office weather models can be so inept about weather only 12 hours ahead?
That's not the worse case I can relate. The TV forecasts have been getting progressively more dreadful over a period of many months. Its almost as if the senseless drive to make the forecast more "accessible" to the drooling TV couch potato has up-ended any accuracy they once had.
And for what?
The conditions Outdoor are largely irrelevant for Mr Lardy Arse TV Watcher.
Nope. I've had it with the TV & Radio forecasts from now on.
Here's my three top tips on how to predict the forthcoming weather:
1. In hilly areas, refer to the Mountain Weather Information Service's report for the next 1-2 days. These tend to have a very high level of accuracy & are essential reading for high hill walking at times of bad weather.
2. Learn to read & interpret a pressure chart. I like this site, although the level of detail can be intimidating for the uninitiated at first (click on the dates at the foot of the page).
Another excellent source is on the MWIS site.
Or there's this over on the European Centre for Medium-Range Weather Forecasts site
3. DIY. Look out of the window & go outdoors. Check the flow of air movement especially in comparison to the clouds overhead. Sense the air temperature - colder or warmer than earlier? Look at the clouds and the formations. Then back indoors to tap the barometer to see if its rising or falling.
Then take your best guess!
4. Finally - down to the seashore & pick up some seaweed.
Only a fraction of the cost of the Met Office's new "second most powerful computer in the UK" but probably a damn sight more accurate than the drivel fed to us from the goggle box each day.
Better still - sod the forecast - just get outside anyway.
And pack a waterproof, just in case.
Monday, August 24
Walkers & Cattle - Advice
The Enemy #1 - The Cow
Genetically over engineered over many centuries into a meat & milk provider. Typically two tone in colour. Heavy nasal drooling at one end. And a different sort of drooling at the other.
If in doubt carefully use a scratch & sniff test to quickly distinguish the key differences. Try not to lick your fingers afterwards.
The Enemy #2 - The Bullock
The juvenile male. Often identified by a tendency to unexpectedly demonstrate their sexual awakening by attempting to mount each other. Often repeatedly. Despite mixed success.
Intensely curious and prone to rapidly cover a field's length seconds after you've strayed within the barb wire/electrified boundary fence fortification.
The Owner - The Cattle Farmer
Some believe this to be a mix of the two genres. Often distinguished by the use of green wellingtons, dung coloured (typically blue) overalls, & a loud greeting call "Gerroff-my-land-you-townies".
Well ok I may be guilty of ever egging those descriptions a little.
Except for the green wellies.
But more seriously today's BBC reports have hi-lighted certain dangers associated with these usually tranquil beasts (I meant the cows by the way)
Beware of cows with their calves. Especially if you encounter them whilst accompanied by a dog.
Personally, even when not dog accompanied, I have a tendency to avoid any beast weighing in excess of 1/2 ton and capable of short bursts of speed in my general direction. No matter what its motivation may be.
The NFU advice has been issued as a result of the deaths of 3 walkers in 3 months.
Their advice to walkers
"if you have a dog with you, keep it under close control, but do not hang on to it should a cow or bull start acting aggressively. If you feel threatened, just carry on as normal, do not run, move to the edge of the field and if possible find another way round the field, returning to the original path as soon as is possible. And remember to close the gate".
(I love that mention of the gate. A good idea to prevent yet another headlong chase down the next field, but at the same time rather a recognisable farmy piece of advice)
The main problem for those of not familiar with bovine nature - what is aggressive behaviour?
Most cattle will wander over to a stile if they spot a walker. After all chewing cud and trying to mount your brothers can becomes tedious after a few weeks of such wild experiences.
I regularly walk across a large open expanse of common land watching the behaviour of cattle.
Based, I assume on their previous encounters, a few cattle will hang back from the main herd, effectively acting as scouts. These will initiate a rapid move towards the cause of any disquiet, bringing the rest of the herd cavorting behind them, feet drumming hard.
Not a pleasant prospect if you happen to be that cause.
Unfortunately the latest victim was a farmer. But back at the Royal Welsh Show in July the FUW (think NFU Wales) was quoted as saying that "Cases of potentially-deadly stampeding cattle unwittingly spooked by dog walkers are almost certainly set to rise"
(Lets ignore the comment "In part it was due to cash-strapped "townies" holidaying in the UK at a time of recession and heading for the countryside to relax")
Here's my advice, based on years of experience using farm paths. Its personal, so make up your own mind at your own risk.
1. Don’t keep the dog on a lead, but do keep it under control at all times.
If its not sufficiently well trained to stay to heel, or be sent away, you really shouldn't be out with it amongst farm animals.
2. By all means carry a stout stick. But as most people, including myself, do not carry one try picking up a few small stones (not rocks!) before entering a field.
It’s a last ditch deterrent. Better a few stings on a cow's thick hide, and a potential dressing down from a farmer, than being knocked over & injured by a fast moving herd.
3. If the beasts move towards you, make loud single syllable noises, such as they'd expect from the cowhand (cowherd?) also make yourself look bigger, but try not to wave your hands about alarmingly. Not so much noise that they become spooked, but enough to give you time for a rapid & controlled exit, whilst they try to work out just what the hell you are.
Thinking herding noises.
(I used this on my last Dartmoor trip for a couple of miles, in an area covered with impenetrable gorse thickets and narrow paths. A river was on one side. A steep rise on the other. The cows & their calves wouldn’t take the hint to veer away, despite my vectoring approaches. As this was the only way off the moor unless I turned back for a five mile detour, near the end of a long day I had little choice on this occasion.
4. Don’t (completely) turn your back or try to out sprint them. Back away steadily whilst ensuring you remain upright & prepared to move off to one side to avoid any confrontation.
5. Keep an eye out for all potential exit routes, moving well around any herd where possible. Remember that most of the boundary hedgerows will be hiding barbed wire. Its meant to prevent the escape of large curious animals. That works the same where you are concerned as well.
Its not a good time to find this out when entangled in this as part of any rapid exit.
Remember Steve McQueen in the Great Escape?
6. If it does come to a close up encounter I'm told a hard slap across the snout will work wonders.
Personally I've not test this particular tip. Not do I ever intend to get into a situation where I need to test the hypothesis.
If someone slapped me across the snout I’d tend to thrash about a fair bit, or take it as an attack. But quite what a 1/2 ton beast may do …..?
7. Finally (or should this be firstly?) if in doubt make a detour to avoid crossing the field.
I'm not too proud to admit I've done this on many occasions where cows/horses have shown rather too much interest in my presence before I've even entered the field.
This is one circumstance where Flight before Fight is A Good Thing
Any more tips - leave a comment please.Labels: nature
Sunday, August 2
Its Summer? No its Autumn? Just take your pick
An early Sunday start prepping two motorcycles ready for a long weekend at a Well Known Event (but more on that later in the week perhaps)
Whilst I'm on the topic, when did the centre-stand become surplus to requirement? Trying single handed to get each bike on a paddock stand, for simple chain maintenance (a five minute job) became a heart stopping half hour if the end result wasn't to be one's pride and joy lying lifeless on its side after toppling over during the stand/mounting process.
Since when did a centre stand become a luxury item?
So imagine my joy when I wandered back indoors only to find my pc screen infected with a rather nasty Trojan virus which required some major low level surgery to eradicate.
And yes, I do use current Firewall & Anti-Virus packages.
Two hours later that was sorted, leaving many more hours to run some alternative malware/spyware software and complete a low level purge.
Time for a walk then? More like essential.
Out to Burbush in the New Forest for a bit of contemplative R&R, accompanied by a MP3 player of very loud rock music. Always works well when I'm in an anti-social frame of mind.
Predictably, given the summer season, the rural back roads were busy & the New Forest car park a seething mass of humanity. Why does the term 'tourist on holiday' seem to require leaving their brain & common sense in a small pail by the holiday accommodation's front door each day?
Oh well - a quiet route was essential today, far away from marked paths and over publicised guidebook routes.
A success in that I saw no-one else once I'd left the vicinity of the car park. Sort of a success in a spur of the moment decision to try something a little more physically challenging by hopping off the back of my first route to link up with a longer outlying circuit.
It was via bog land. It wasn't any surprise. I know the land here abouts is liable to be undercut by narrow rivulets of flowing water, especially after rain. Adopting the trusted bog hop gait that Darren knows so well I quickly crossed onto the lower slopes of the far valley side, and picked up a pony track up to the pine topped mount ahead, in which nestled a World War II searchlight emplacement.
All going spiffing so far. A good workout over rough ground, much akin to Dartmoor in some places, and at a fast pace. Dog by my side, we moved ever onwards.
As I followed the ridge I was watching the boggy land below looking for a better track to cut across to rejoin the original route. An excellent & quiet circular if it wasn't for 400m of path crossing a major watershed plateau. Even the sinking of various peat and straw bales a few years earlier had failed to turn it into better than an inevitable paddle even during drought conditions. So its always been a bugbear of mine to find someway to hop this impassable section without getting a guaranteed soaking.
Today I thought I had cracked it. Spotting a clear pony track down I headed to the valley for a short 200m traverse to the far slope.
Along the way my path meandered by a solitary blackberry bush, already full of ripe fruit. A pause briefly to saviour a couple of large juicy berries unadulterated by proximity to car or human activity. Its going to be a bumper crop this year.
But hang on - doesn't ripe fruit signify the End of The Summer. A sign that Autumn's days are announcing their turn to become the seasonal host?
Maybe. Personally I'm yet to get my head around the fact its Summer, even as the evenings drawn in with each dusk arriving earlier than the previous one.
Onwards then into what turned out to be one of the worst pieces of broken ground I've walked over for some time. No make that walked through. Or maybe even under.
Initially hopping from tussock to tussock I turned to make sure Dog was ok. He'd disappeared. Nope there he was, the only sign of his passage the top of long sedge grasses moving, as he followed a track deep deep down in the undergrowth.
I persevered. Carefully. This was ankle snapping territory. The trusted bog hop gait, so suavely demonstrated not half an hour before soon became an arm whirling, keep the balance, plummet forward until finally the inevitable happened.
My foot went into a pool of water, far below and out of sight, with the result - a boot filled with a tantalising mixture of rain water and Grade A fresh bog land mulch (and all free of charge)
Bugger - this is the sort of incident that rarely happens to me. Even then it should be in some wild and harsh environment. Not 50m from the dry & well worn path in front of me.
I finished the rest of the walk with a noticeable squelch each time my right foot hit the deck. But I had to smile along the way.
Putting the valley's water levels down to this summer's rainfall level I mentally marked the route as passable, but with care and at the right time of the year.
So why, when I came to one of the Forest's permanent pool of standing water was it's level 2-3m below its normal mark; Foreshore mud clearly visible? A typical mid summer scene in fact.
Is this still a wet Summer this year? Or maybe a warm season with periods of rainfall that have coloured the general perception of inclement weather.
Or has the high season already passed, leaving us to face an early Autumn? One that indicates the
non Winter season is now one extended period of warm & occasionally wet weather?
Well I don't know, and I doubt whether the Met Office are truly qualified these days to proffer an opinion that anyone would trust.
I squelched my way back into the typical Soddam & Gomorrah scene surrounding the car park. As I started homewards to renew battle with a pc clean-up, I skirted Forest ponies obstructing the main access routes & road. Their particular season in full swing having relearnt the quickest way to get Oohs & Aahs from day trippers and more relevantly their free handouts.
I really need to get away soon!Labels: nature, New Forest, walks
Friday, July 24
Running fast. Standing still.
A combination of work, home and the usual day to day life drudge means that any time spent in front of this damned mono visual blinking radiation emitting time wasting device (aka Internet PC) are few and far between at present.
I've managed to keep up with my regular blog/forum reads each day, although any interaction in those places has also been similarly limited by time & energy.
Regrettably my fine record of monthly wildcamps that started so well (and so early this year), has turned to a pile of mush in response to circumstance. Many of these beyond my direct control, but all requiring the mature & supportive responses that I like to think is part of what make me Who I Am.
But today, at the end of yet another endlessly milling week I've uncovered a few hours of my own. Time to sit back & spend some solitary moments on my own whims. Something that during the last few weeks I've felt increasingly driven to saviour during the pell-mell rush that seems to be my waking existence.
Now is that time, more than ever, when I feel drawn to find that special renewal of spirit that comes with a few night's wildcamping in some lonely and desolate wild location. Far from my fellow human, but so close to the true reality of existence. Water. Shelter. Food. Nature. Bliss.
But for the moment my dismally puny recharge comes as I think back to some of those high ridge wildcamps. Places where I sat savouring the blending of Time, Space & Solitude.
The quiet gap that follows the end of a long day's trek.
The wildcamp pitch. Refuelling the body's needs.
And then an opportunity to fill the gap before sleep by busily doing nothing in particular but become one with the surroundings. True - only a transitory visitor. But one open to the measure and pleasure of the temporary resting place.
Meanwhile there are the trip reports from fellow Outdoor Bloggers as they discuss their recent sorties out in the Great Outdoors (You lucky sods!)
All this helps keep me on the right side of sanity. Although those who have met me know that such a description is always applied a little warily when citing my general demeanour.
So for now I teeter (titter?) along life's own high ridge. Balancing The Present alongside The Past. Awaiting The Future where control of my own moments & movements can one again be retaken in a more selfish manner.
So what if this summer is yet again turning out to be damp and changeable?
The weather is warm. The grass is full grown. Tree crowns are dark and leaf laden.
Get out there if you are able. Saviour these moments.
To store up pleasant memories for colder days ahead.
And I don't mean the Winter.Labels: Mental Health, nature
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
Hereabouts its nothing like the heaps of stuff that the rest of the country continue to suffer. But in East Dorset, and near to the coast, the local micro climate isn't conducive to the white stuff appearing. And when it does it tends not to hang around for very long.
Even rarer is this continual period of low temperature. Something that has been with us for so long that popping outdoors in -2C feels positively balmy at present.
Today's free day (hurrah-finally a day's holiday) is to be spent exploring a local spot near Ringwood, just off side from the the Avon Valley Footpath. An area of open common land, forest, and water pools.
Its not a very long circular wander. However it does have the benefit of being rarely visited both due to the location & the fact that its a path that doesn't actually go anywhere, except back to its starting point.
But a deliberate choice on my part. Large areas of snow covered ground, and no car tracks or human footprints to disturb the flat white surface. A rare opportunity to investigate the various and bountiful animal tracks that today are hard frozen into the snow, recording tales of recent animal activity.
I'd never realised that rabbits keep to such regular routes, even when crossing open land. But the little pounded pathways formed by their many distinctive prints tell their own tale.
I see a few deer tracks in an area where I've never spotted them before. Something to look out for more carefully now I know they are present.
Near the frozen lake a slow brown buzzard barely bothers to move off beyond my eye line. Keeping to the low branches to search avidly today for something, anything, to make a meal.
However the little egret, stark white against the backdrop of long dead reeds, remains wary. The short area of open water, but a minuscule portion of the thickly iced lake, makes for a lacklustre fishing ground.
Another predator likely to find failure as the aquatic world remains in safe hibernation. A natural reaction to the plunging temperature.
A walk with a rare difference.
An unique opportunity to catch a glimpse into the local routines of Nature.
Labels: nature
New Year. New Forest. Old Haunts.
The local cold snap continues unabated. With local low lying areas exhibiting their seasonal floods the persistence of hard & frozen ground is at present an useful advantage. Boggy and potentially treacherous areas have for a brief time become firm routes of iron surfaced mud and thick ice.
Well mostly. As I found out today - the sun may be far away, and brief in daytime appearance - but it still has the power to weaken icy surfaces. So crossing some of the flooded paths turned at times into an adventure of ice skating & river crossing, all within a few footsteps.
Strange to think I had sat on this bridge a few months earlier, munching sandwiches and watching a small New Forest stream trickle down below, firmly in its watercourse.
Signs also of the recent gales. Not yet up to the full strength of the Feb/March winds that will blow hard and long straight across from the nearby coast. But already impressive enough to knock about some less secure victims.
I like this hidden spot.
In fact I once bivvied the night here. Intending to sojourn with nature & pass a night with the deer herd that I can guarantee to find whatever the time of year & wandering tourists. Instead I discovered what horses can get up to during the dark hours
(The curious amongst you should follow the link)
But that's the joy of the British seasonal variation.
Familiar land & bye ways transform as vegetation growth rises & then falls, whilst the ground underfoot changes in response to the influence of sun, water & wind.
The deer didn't disappoint. Three heads bobbing up at a distance. Eyesight poor, but noses as keen as ever. The cold weather and low vegetation at this time of year making them less reluctant to flee with their usual alacrity.
(Spotted them yet?)
A pleasant way to pass a couple of hours on a sunny day. Five miles of crunching underfoot, with only the occasional crack/splash along the way as my usually accurate footfall adjustments were mislead by nature's cheeky jests.
My audio accompaniment today - a documentary about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. World famous for his literary colossus Sherlock Holmes. But slightly less familiar as the man who introduced skiing to Switzerland, Portsmouth FC player (pre pro days), regular MCC team turnout & the catalyst behind the creation of the Court of Criminal Appeal.
Wonder if he had managed all this if he'd had TV in his day?Labels: nature, New Forest
Sunday, December 20
Christmas WanderLand
I love this time of year in the run up to Christmas.
No, not the stupidity of office parties, excessive drinking, & stop-until-you-drop-shopping.
For me it's the peace and quiet that can be found for these few special days when walking local paths.
For the moment the semi occasional visitors now have other places to be. Which is fine by me as it means my weekend wanderings in the New Forest are of a solitary nature, save for an occasional habitual dog walker, similarly benefiting from a lack of human activity.
Despite the car thermometer showing 3 degrees, in the forest puddles are frozen with thick ice, and the ground underfoot is hard & still frozen. Boggy areas, usually a hop skip & splash traverse, today are easily crossed, ice crunching underfoot as I take the straight line ahead.
Sun shine, although weak, is appreciated for the extra warmth offered as I move out from under the shade of the trees. On impulse I decide to extend my route onto Holmsley Tearooms. Usually a hive of activity, especially with the day tripping fraternity, today it is peaceful.
Dog and myself have the garden area to ourselves as we await our lunchtime repast.
We return along the old railway track, preparing to dive back down into deep woodland. Unexpectedly the mix of solitude, sun, and a clear path leading off into the distance unexpectedly brings one of those rare moments of Bliss.
That feeling of oneness with my surroundings; Open to the forces of nature all around me.
Its something I find quite regularly in the hills, especially after a couple of days wildcamping.
But to stumble across it today, on a short and familiar route, is a welcome surprise. And a reminder why I continue to seek the outdoor world, and saviour its offerings.
Christmas - well I can take or leave it personally.
But the rare joy that comes from visiting familiar areas, but finding unexpected joy, is my own gift to myself this Xmas time.
And to share with you, if you only care to go out there and look for yourself.
Oh - and as you can see the new mobile telephone has a much better camera with which to try & capture moments along the way.
Labels: nature, New Forest
Saturday, December 5
Lake District Weatherline - New telephone number
I've one telephone number stored away on my mobile phone that whilst infrequently used, will never be deleted. When wildcamping high on Lakeland fells part of my evening routine is to call, phone signal permitting, The Lake District Weatherline service.
Over the years I've found the forecasts to be accurate, detailed & (for a solo hillwalker), key when pondering the next day's route.
To go high…..or low?
An important question for a walker travelling with no schedule to keep, other than to see what's beyond the next range of felltops.
But no matter what my intent, realism dictates that I should bend with the weather's vagaries, especially where extreme conditions are forecast.
(Wildcamping - ah so pretty)
Even in less inclement weather the choice between a high ridge walk in dense rain cloud, or a valley meander accompanied by patchy showers, can be the difference between a hard day with little enjoyment or an pleasant day of exploration.
(Wildcamping - ugh not so pretty)
That's even more relevant when high wind speeds are the alternative between safe passage low down or the increased risk of being knocked off my feet when ridging along exposed tops.
So thanks to the latest TGO Magazine for alerting me to the fact that the telephone no. for The Lake District Weatherline has recently changed to 0844 846 2444.
(Being curious, I tried the old number earlier today, only to be met with a recorded message giving a company's name and address details. But not a lot of guidance as to whether it will rain in Keswick tomorrow)
And whilst on the subject of Lakeland weather - fancy a job as a Fell Top Assessor?
"….report on the fell conditions from the summit area of Helvellyn from December through to April. Working seven days on and seven days off, including weekends and bank holidays, you will need to be able to climb from Glenridding to the summit of Helvellyn and back in four hours"
Well that’s probably me out of the running.
Then again the daily commute from the south coast might just get me down in the end.
Wonder whether any of the Assessors have ever thought about just wildcamping for their week in a nearby sheltered spot?
Now there's an idea.
And to get paid for it as well.
HmmmmLabels: Lake District, National Park, nature
Saturday, November 14
Blow you Bugger Blow
Early breakfast at Avon Beach, Mudeford.
The short walk from the clifftop parking spot down to the café is accompanied by a steadily hazing of vision as my spectacles slowly coat with a mixture of sea spray, salt and sand. All whipping onto the land as the wind leaves off pushing surf up onto the shoreline, and turns to other games to play instead.
A group of Oyster catchers, seemingly oblivious to the elemental force, busily bob along the tidal sand, looking for their breakfast. At times one takes to the air, making only a short distance, before quickly returning to earth. The desire for flight lessened today by the effort required to maintain it.
Warm inside the café we watch as the birds continue their hunt for tide borne bonanza. The fry up arrives.
Dog and myself for once alone at this usually busy spot. We wander along the ridge that of St Catherine's Hill, Christchurch.
As we pass by the twin mobile telephone masts the steady thrum of a plane is heard as it passes overhead. I pause to watch the sway of the thinner tower, rock embedded at the foot, but the upper section flexing as it bends so easily to wind whim.
The plane continues to fly overhead. What still?
I realise it’s the sound of the wind resonating the mast struts of the towers, with an irregular drumming as gusts bounce off some of the bulbous equipment bolted high above.
A personal orchestral offering - courtesy of Mother Nature and BT.
I love the change of perspective that the natural world can bring out in the everyday world.Labels: nature
Tuesday, September 29
Three things to do to Enjoy England
As you may have spotted on other sites some outdoor Bloggers have been approached by Jam to contribute to the Guardian's forthcoming ‘Enjoy England’ feature.
Speed reading the invitation my initial thought was 'Great! Finally hit the big time. A chance to kick over the traces of the day job".
Regrettably, a later slower perusal revealed a less glittering outcome.
But hey-ho; Ideas for these ramblings of mine can come from any direction and are all encouraged in whatever guise they might arise. So here's tonight's jottings, based around a common theme.
Solitude
According to recent government statistics the UK will soon only have living room for 423,138 more people before our landmass achieves its maximum level of population saturation.
New laws, allegedly being drafted as I write, plan to introduce measures that will require all UK inhabitants to take Breaths-In & Breaths-Out in an alternative mode to their nearest neighbour, rather than risk those in coastal areas being slowly edged off into the sea as the majority of the populace inhale simultaneously.
A little like a living Penny Fall shuffle fairground machine.
Well perhaps things aren't quite that bad. Yet. I may even have (whisper it gently) exaggerated so very slightly. But its true that urban living, now encompassing anyplace, short of living at the bottom of a lake, is becoming increasingly over populated & pressurised.
Here's a secret. This is a facet of modern society which can be so easily thwarted with a little personal effort.
Park the car. Start walking away from the road, and into your nearest piece of countryside. Take care to avoid well worn footpaths & tracks. Just keep going, veering clear of any signs of human habitation. Especially tourist features (Particularly Forestry Commission attractions. Honey pot to the Urban Daytripper. A wasp filled jam-jar to this writer)
Now Stop.
Take a deep breath.
And just listen to that glorious sound of ..... your own sweet self. Finally alone with nature.
Like this early morning alarm clock during my Dartmoor Dawdle in June 2008
"I had a lie-in until the sun poked its nose over the ridge, giving me the chance stay in my sleeping bag and listen to the song of the skylarks for twenty minutes of so. And I mean really listen. Lying there with no other distraction my concentration was fully given over to their repetitive trills, before their song veered on to yet another melody. No other background noise to taint the sound. A sublime experience"
Wildcamping
Despite somewhat draconian camping constraints under English law there are still pockets of wild uninhabited places in England that allow one to simply disappear from everyday humanity with little fuss, effort or expense.
With minimal equipment & a easy willingness to dispense with life's trappings & fripperies whole areas of England, rarely visited by most of the population are opened up.
Entry is free!
True it requires some degree of self-reliance & self confidence. In turn the benefit is a self-awareness at a level that most people would find difficult to comprehend. The easily discovered ability to spend a night in a wild place, somewhere apparently uninhabitable for so many, builds a bond with the natural world that once experienced cannot be forgotten.
Unlike so many shiny promises offered in our ' enlightened' times a repeat of this experience always seems to triggers some primordial Sigh from deep down within the brain's limbic region.
Freeze, Flight or Fight?
Not necessarily. Some of us know of a fourth way (Grasshopper).
Reckon I should start a cult?
Dartmoor
A desolately inhabited place of some 368 square miles, and yet an area both within easy access of millions of urbanites with major road access, and a place that positively encourages Wildcamping.
To the majority, trundling across tight moorland roads, it may seem an endless expanse of open land & weirdly sculpted Tor tops, mostly shrouded in thick mist & heartily driven rain. To guests of the HMP Dartmoor establishment, at Princetown, possibly a beckoning view, somewhere green & encouraging beyond thick Napoleonic walls of retribution.
For some an equally scary proposition when viewed from the comfort of a car. But after a few visits into Dartmoor's interior, by foot, the rich history of earlier human habitation springs into being. Neolithic stone rows to the more recent historic drippings of mine tramways, all underline that this was once one of the more densely populated place in England during past eras when a wooded valley was a places of Danger & Threat.
Forget the forlorn baying of the Sherlock Holme's Baskerville Hound. Instead learn to celebrate a place once full of life, and eager to share its secrets, many long forgotten, for those prepared to explore away from the modern day tarmacadam detour of bland conformity.
Or just stay inside the safety of that car.
Going from Nowhere. Leading to Nowhere. Please exit at the cliffside departure gate along with your fellow lemmings.
Was that Three Things to Do in England? Perhaps not quite what the Guardian invitation had in mind?
Whatever - just get out into some distant English wild place, and soak up its true nature. Far from the crush of humanity.
Better be quick. Tourist No. 423,139 arrives in 4 years time. And then this island starts to slowly sink into the sea.
Me? I'll be on Yes Tor. Having a brew & watching the sunset.
Glug .... glug .... glug.
Labels: dartmoor, media, Mental Health, National Park, nature
Friday, September 25
Wildcamp - Travel - Wildcamp
To Travel.
Definition: "To go from one place to another …..To advance or proceed"
By inference an act requiring physical movement from one position/place to another.
True, there's no rule to say that Wildcamps cannot be static. To remain at the same site for more than one night.
But mostly wildcamping is about spatial transition. The act of swapping one remote & lonely spot for a different perspective. Usually another remote & lonely spot. A daily change of place.
Or .............. perhaps that should be a change of perspective on life ?
Whatever - it makes no difference. The act itself suffices for many.
For me? Well......
To tap into the Great Unknown. Become one, once more, with the deep Om of life.
To touch, however fleetingly, that underlying rhythmic beat of energy. For so much of our lives unheeded as it throbs far below our everyday event threshold that is termed Living In The Real World'.
To sleep a night. Solitary & defenceless in some wild and inhospitable place. Remote, perhaps even uninhabitable for many.
To awake at dawn's approach. Mentally & physically renewed.
Early morning grumbling of sinews & bones, unaccustomed to the previous day's physical activity, quietening as the essence of At One with a natural life force, are sensed deep within one's self.
An unexpected deep sigh of contentment at ……
At..?
Well at nothing tangible really.
Except the act of being part of the Real World.
Breathing.
Sharing rainfall run-off with beck or tarn as it heeds the pull of gravity.
Wind veer caressing bare skin; Rain sting on cheeks;
The welcoming warmth of weak sunlight on a frosty morning.
The cool relief freely given by deep shade of rock's shadow at the height of Summer.
Another day greeted. Rucksack settled onto back for the hours of movement ahead.
The last act.
A final lingering glance backwards to the night's resting place. Checking for mislaid kit and signs of human presence? Or more a quiet & silent salute to a place now special in memory & time.
To travel.
No, not movement from place to place, towards some journey's end.
Merely an excuse to saviour stops along the way & touch, fleetingly, the closeness of the Natural World & Reality.
Until the next time.
Maybe I'm alone in silently greeting a wildcamp site on arrival; And on departure bidding a fond farewell. To a familiar friend who's presence I meet with from time to time? And from place to place.
Or then again ..... maybe not.
Perhaps I'm just weird?Labels: nature
Monday, August 31
The Weather Man is a Drip
Did you enjoy today's sunny weather? Hopefully that won't be the last gasp of this derisory summer just yet.
But who knows for sure?
Maybe the Meteorological Office & its ubiquitous stooge the TV Weatherman?
Perhaps.
Or then again.......Nope - probably not with their track record over recent times.
For this weekend was the last straw for me in treating seriously the dire content of the dumbed down weather forecast for the masses.
Take Saturday's TV forecast beamed out around 22:00 in the evening on BBC1.
'Bad weather on Sunday for the south of England, but not until around 5pm' cheerily pronounced the Metman's grinning monkey, 'Enjoy the Sunday sunshine while you can'.
Meanwhile, blue screen background behind him, the forecaster waved his arms with enthusiastic animation as a computer generated model of the weather for the next 24 hours silently confirmed his projection. Its crude overview indicating clouds and rain cruising across from Ireland, and due to reach my own locale until late on Sunday.
It must be true - the time was at the bottom of the cartoon after all.
Plans made accordingly I departed to bed. Why then did I look out of the window early Sunday morning to see thick cloud cover. Which by lunchtime had built into light drizzle for the rest of the afternoon? By then I'd given up in disgust and was watching the rain blow in from the coast whilst getting some work sorted in the office.
(Well it seemed like a good way to use the time bearing in mind the happier alternatives that had gone by the board)
How is it the high tech, multi million pound Met Office weather models can be so inept about weather only 12 hours ahead?
That's not the worse case I can relate. The TV forecasts have been getting progressively more dreadful over a period of many months. Its almost as if the senseless drive to make the forecast more "accessible" to the drooling TV couch potato has up-ended any accuracy they once had.
And for what?
The conditions Outdoor are largely irrelevant for Mr Lardy Arse TV Watcher.
Nope. I've had it with the TV & Radio forecasts from now on.
Here's my three top tips on how to predict the forthcoming weather:
1. In hilly areas, refer to the Mountain Weather Information Service's report for the next 1-2 days. These tend to have a very high level of accuracy & are essential reading for high hill walking at times of bad weather.
2. Learn to read & interpret a pressure chart. I like this site, although the level of detail can be intimidating for the uninitiated at first (click on the dates at the foot of the page).
Another excellent source is on the MWIS site.
Or there's this over on the European Centre for Medium-Range Weather Forecasts site
3. DIY. Look out of the window & go outdoors. Check the flow of air movement especially in comparison to the clouds overhead. Sense the air temperature - colder or warmer than earlier? Look at the clouds and the formations. Then back indoors to tap the barometer to see if its rising or falling.
Then take your best guess!
4. Finally - down to the seashore & pick up some seaweed.
Only a fraction of the cost of the Met Office's new "second most powerful computer in the UK" but probably a damn sight more accurate than the drivel fed to us from the goggle box each day.
Better still - sod the forecast - just get outside anyway.
And pack a waterproof, just in case.
Monday, August 24
Walkers & Cattle - Advice
The Enemy #1 - The Cow
Genetically over engineered over many centuries into a meat & milk provider. Typically two tone in colour. Heavy nasal drooling at one end. And a different sort of drooling at the other.
If in doubt carefully use a scratch & sniff test to quickly distinguish the key differences. Try not to lick your fingers afterwards.
The Enemy #2 - The Bullock
The juvenile male. Often identified by a tendency to unexpectedly demonstrate their sexual awakening by attempting to mount each other. Often repeatedly. Despite mixed success.
Intensely curious and prone to rapidly cover a field's length seconds after you've strayed within the barb wire/electrified boundary fence fortification.
The Owner - The Cattle Farmer
Some believe this to be a mix of the two genres. Often distinguished by the use of green wellingtons, dung coloured (typically blue) overalls, & a loud greeting call "Gerroff-my-land-you-townies".
Well ok I may be guilty of ever egging those descriptions a little.
Except for the green wellies.
But more seriously today's BBC reports have hi-lighted certain dangers associated with these usually tranquil beasts (I meant the cows by the way)
Beware of cows with their calves. Especially if you encounter them whilst accompanied by a dog.
Personally, even when not dog accompanied, I have a tendency to avoid any beast weighing in excess of 1/2 ton and capable of short bursts of speed in my general direction. No matter what its motivation may be.
The NFU advice has been issued as a result of the deaths of 3 walkers in 3 months.
Their advice to walkers
"if you have a dog with you, keep it under close control, but do not hang on to it should a cow or bull start acting aggressively. If you feel threatened, just carry on as normal, do not run, move to the edge of the field and if possible find another way round the field, returning to the original path as soon as is possible. And remember to close the gate".
(I love that mention of the gate. A good idea to prevent yet another headlong chase down the next field, but at the same time rather a recognisable farmy piece of advice)
The main problem for those of not familiar with bovine nature - what is aggressive behaviour?
Most cattle will wander over to a stile if they spot a walker. After all chewing cud and trying to mount your brothers can becomes tedious after a few weeks of such wild experiences.
I regularly walk across a large open expanse of common land watching the behaviour of cattle.
Based, I assume on their previous encounters, a few cattle will hang back from the main herd, effectively acting as scouts. These will initiate a rapid move towards the cause of any disquiet, bringing the rest of the herd cavorting behind them, feet drumming hard.
Not a pleasant prospect if you happen to be that cause.
Unfortunately the latest victim was a farmer. But back at the Royal Welsh Show in July the FUW (think NFU Wales) was quoted as saying that "Cases of potentially-deadly stampeding cattle unwittingly spooked by dog walkers are almost certainly set to rise"
(Lets ignore the comment "In part it was due to cash-strapped "townies" holidaying in the UK at a time of recession and heading for the countryside to relax")
Here's my advice, based on years of experience using farm paths. Its personal, so make up your own mind at your own risk.
1. Don’t keep the dog on a lead, but do keep it under control at all times.
If its not sufficiently well trained to stay to heel, or be sent away, you really shouldn't be out with it amongst farm animals.
2. By all means carry a stout stick. But as most people, including myself, do not carry one try picking up a few small stones (not rocks!) before entering a field.
It’s a last ditch deterrent. Better a few stings on a cow's thick hide, and a potential dressing down from a farmer, than being knocked over & injured by a fast moving herd.
3. If the beasts move towards you, make loud single syllable noises, such as they'd expect from the cowhand (cowherd?) also make yourself look bigger, but try not to wave your hands about alarmingly. Not so much noise that they become spooked, but enough to give you time for a rapid & controlled exit, whilst they try to work out just what the hell you are.
Thinking herding noises.
(I used this on my last Dartmoor trip for a couple of miles, in an area covered with impenetrable gorse thickets and narrow paths. A river was on one side. A steep rise on the other. The cows & their calves wouldn’t take the hint to veer away, despite my vectoring approaches. As this was the only way off the moor unless I turned back for a five mile detour, near the end of a long day I had little choice on this occasion.
4. Don’t (completely) turn your back or try to out sprint them. Back away steadily whilst ensuring you remain upright & prepared to move off to one side to avoid any confrontation.
5. Keep an eye out for all potential exit routes, moving well around any herd where possible. Remember that most of the boundary hedgerows will be hiding barbed wire. Its meant to prevent the escape of large curious animals. That works the same where you are concerned as well.
Its not a good time to find this out when entangled in this as part of any rapid exit.
Remember Steve McQueen in the Great Escape?
6. If it does come to a close up encounter I'm told a hard slap across the snout will work wonders.
Personally I've not test this particular tip. Not do I ever intend to get into a situation where I need to test the hypothesis.
If someone slapped me across the snout I’d tend to thrash about a fair bit, or take it as an attack. But quite what a 1/2 ton beast may do …..?
7. Finally (or should this be firstly?) if in doubt make a detour to avoid crossing the field.
I'm not too proud to admit I've done this on many occasions where cows/horses have shown rather too much interest in my presence before I've even entered the field.
This is one circumstance where Flight before Fight is A Good Thing
Any more tips - leave a comment please.Labels: nature
Sunday, August 2
Its Summer? No its Autumn? Just take your pick
An early Sunday start prepping two motorcycles ready for a long weekend at a Well Known Event (but more on that later in the week perhaps)
Whilst I'm on the topic, when did the centre-stand become surplus to requirement? Trying single handed to get each bike on a paddock stand, for simple chain maintenance (a five minute job) became a heart stopping half hour if the end result wasn't to be one's pride and joy lying lifeless on its side after toppling over during the stand/mounting process.
Since when did a centre stand become a luxury item?
So imagine my joy when I wandered back indoors only to find my pc screen infected with a rather nasty Trojan virus which required some major low level surgery to eradicate.
And yes, I do use current Firewall & Anti-Virus packages.
Two hours later that was sorted, leaving many more hours to run some alternative malware/spyware software and complete a low level purge.
Time for a walk then? More like essential.
Out to Burbush in the New Forest for a bit of contemplative R&R, accompanied by a MP3 player of very loud rock music. Always works well when I'm in an anti-social frame of mind.
Predictably, given the summer season, the rural back roads were busy & the New Forest car park a seething mass of humanity. Why does the term 'tourist on holiday' seem to require leaving their brain & common sense in a small pail by the holiday accommodation's front door each day?
Oh well - a quiet route was essential today, far away from marked paths and over publicised guidebook routes.
A success in that I saw no-one else once I'd left the vicinity of the car park. Sort of a success in a spur of the moment decision to try something a little more physically challenging by hopping off the back of my first route to link up with a longer outlying circuit.
It was via bog land. It wasn't any surprise. I know the land here abouts is liable to be undercut by narrow rivulets of flowing water, especially after rain. Adopting the trusted bog hop gait that Darren knows so well I quickly crossed onto the lower slopes of the far valley side, and picked up a pony track up to the pine topped mount ahead, in which nestled a World War II searchlight emplacement.
All going spiffing so far. A good workout over rough ground, much akin to Dartmoor in some places, and at a fast pace. Dog by my side, we moved ever onwards.
As I followed the ridge I was watching the boggy land below looking for a better track to cut across to rejoin the original route. An excellent & quiet circular if it wasn't for 400m of path crossing a major watershed plateau. Even the sinking of various peat and straw bales a few years earlier had failed to turn it into better than an inevitable paddle even during drought conditions. So its always been a bugbear of mine to find someway to hop this impassable section without getting a guaranteed soaking.
Today I thought I had cracked it. Spotting a clear pony track down I headed to the valley for a short 200m traverse to the far slope.
Along the way my path meandered by a solitary blackberry bush, already full of ripe fruit. A pause briefly to saviour a couple of large juicy berries unadulterated by proximity to car or human activity. Its going to be a bumper crop this year.
But hang on - doesn't ripe fruit signify the End of The Summer. A sign that Autumn's days are announcing their turn to become the seasonal host?
Maybe. Personally I'm yet to get my head around the fact its Summer, even as the evenings drawn in with each dusk arriving earlier than the previous one.
Onwards then into what turned out to be one of the worst pieces of broken ground I've walked over for some time. No make that walked through. Or maybe even under.
Initially hopping from tussock to tussock I turned to make sure Dog was ok. He'd disappeared. Nope there he was, the only sign of his passage the top of long sedge grasses moving, as he followed a track deep deep down in the undergrowth.
I persevered. Carefully. This was ankle snapping territory. The trusted bog hop gait, so suavely demonstrated not half an hour before soon became an arm whirling, keep the balance, plummet forward until finally the inevitable happened.
My foot went into a pool of water, far below and out of sight, with the result - a boot filled with a tantalising mixture of rain water and Grade A fresh bog land mulch (and all free of charge)
Bugger - this is the sort of incident that rarely happens to me. Even then it should be in some wild and harsh environment. Not 50m from the dry & well worn path in front of me.
I finished the rest of the walk with a noticeable squelch each time my right foot hit the deck. But I had to smile along the way.
Putting the valley's water levels down to this summer's rainfall level I mentally marked the route as passable, but with care and at the right time of the year.
So why, when I came to one of the Forest's permanent pool of standing water was it's level 2-3m below its normal mark; Foreshore mud clearly visible? A typical mid summer scene in fact.
Is this still a wet Summer this year? Or maybe a warm season with periods of rainfall that have coloured the general perception of inclement weather.
Or has the high season already passed, leaving us to face an early Autumn? One that indicates the
non Winter season is now one extended period of warm & occasionally wet weather?
Well I don't know, and I doubt whether the Met Office are truly qualified these days to proffer an opinion that anyone would trust.
I squelched my way back into the typical Soddam & Gomorrah scene surrounding the car park. As I started homewards to renew battle with a pc clean-up, I skirted Forest ponies obstructing the main access routes & road. Their particular season in full swing having relearnt the quickest way to get Oohs & Aahs from day trippers and more relevantly their free handouts.
I really need to get away soon!Labels: nature, New Forest, walks
Friday, July 24
Running fast. Standing still.
A combination of work, home and the usual day to day life drudge means that any time spent in front of this damned mono visual blinking radiation emitting time wasting device (aka Internet PC) are few and far between at present.
I've managed to keep up with my regular blog/forum reads each day, although any interaction in those places has also been similarly limited by time & energy.
Regrettably my fine record of monthly wildcamps that started so well (and so early this year), has turned to a pile of mush in response to circumstance. Many of these beyond my direct control, but all requiring the mature & supportive responses that I like to think is part of what make me Who I Am.
But today, at the end of yet another endlessly milling week I've uncovered a few hours of my own. Time to sit back & spend some solitary moments on my own whims. Something that during the last few weeks I've felt increasingly driven to saviour during the pell-mell rush that seems to be my waking existence.
Now is that time, more than ever, when I feel drawn to find that special renewal of spirit that comes with a few night's wildcamping in some lonely and desolate wild location. Far from my fellow human, but so close to the true reality of existence. Water. Shelter. Food. Nature. Bliss.
But for the moment my dismally puny recharge comes as I think back to some of those high ridge wildcamps. Places where I sat savouring the blending of Time, Space & Solitude.
The quiet gap that follows the end of a long day's trek.
The wildcamp pitch. Refuelling the body's needs.
And then an opportunity to fill the gap before sleep by busily doing nothing in particular but become one with the surroundings. True - only a transitory visitor. But one open to the measure and pleasure of the temporary resting place.
Meanwhile there are the trip reports from fellow Outdoor Bloggers as they discuss their recent sorties out in the Great Outdoors (You lucky sods!)
All this helps keep me on the right side of sanity. Although those who have met me know that such a description is always applied a little warily when citing my general demeanour.
So for now I teeter (titter?) along life's own high ridge. Balancing The Present alongside The Past. Awaiting The Future where control of my own moments & movements can one again be retaken in a more selfish manner.
So what if this summer is yet again turning out to be damp and changeable?
The weather is warm. The grass is full grown. Tree crowns are dark and leaf laden.
Get out there if you are able. Saviour these moments.
To store up pleasant memories for colder days ahead.
And I don't mean the Winter.Labels: Mental Health, nature
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
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Well mostly. As I found out today - the sun may be far away, and brief in daytime appearance - but it still has the power to weaken icy surfaces. So crossing some of the flooded paths turned at times into an adventure of ice skating & river crossing, all within a few footsteps.
Strange to think I had sat on this bridge a few months earlier, munching sandwiches and watching a small New Forest stream trickle down below, firmly in its watercourse.
Signs also of the recent gales. Not yet up to the full strength of the Feb/March winds that will blow hard and long straight across from the nearby coast. But already impressive enough to knock about some less secure victims.
I like this hidden spot.
In fact I once bivvied the night here. Intending to sojourn with nature & pass a night with the deer herd that I can guarantee to find whatever the time of year & wandering tourists. Instead I discovered what horses can get up to during the dark hours
(The curious amongst you should follow the link)
But that's the joy of the British seasonal variation.
Familiar land & bye ways transform as vegetation growth rises & then falls, whilst the ground underfoot changes in response to the influence of sun, water & wind.
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The deer didn't disappoint. Three heads bobbing up at a distance. Eyesight poor, but noses as keen as ever. The cold weather and low vegetation at this time of year making them less reluctant to flee with their usual alacrity.
(Spotted them yet?)
A pleasant way to pass a couple of hours on a sunny day. Five miles of crunching underfoot, with only the occasional crack/splash along the way as my usually accurate footfall adjustments were mislead by nature's cheeky jests.
My audio accompaniment today - a documentary about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. World famous for his literary colossus Sherlock Holmes. But slightly less familiar as the man who introduced skiing to Switzerland, Portsmouth FC player (pre pro days), regular MCC team turnout & the catalyst behind the creation of the Court of Criminal Appeal.
Wonder if he had managed all this if he'd had TV in his day?
Labels: nature, New Forest
Christmas WanderLand
I love this time of year in the run up to Christmas.
No, not the stupidity of office parties, excessive drinking, & stop-until-you-drop-shopping.
For me it's the peace and quiet that can be found for these few special days when walking local paths.
For the moment the semi occasional visitors now have other places to be. Which is fine by me as it means my weekend wanderings in the New Forest are of a solitary nature, save for an occasional habitual dog walker, similarly benefiting from a lack of human activity.
Despite the car thermometer showing 3 degrees, in the forest puddles are frozen with thick ice, and the ground underfoot is hard & still frozen. Boggy areas, usually a hop skip & splash traverse, today are easily crossed, ice crunching underfoot as I take the straight line ahead.
Sun shine, although weak, is appreciated for the extra warmth offered as I move out from under the shade of the trees. On impulse I decide to extend my route onto Holmsley Tearooms. Usually a hive of activity, especially with the day tripping fraternity, today it is peaceful.
Dog and myself have the garden area to ourselves as we await our lunchtime repast.
We return along the old railway track, preparing to dive back down into deep woodland. Unexpectedly the mix of solitude, sun, and a clear path leading off into the distance unexpectedly brings one of those rare moments of Bliss.
That feeling of oneness with my surroundings; Open to the forces of nature all around me.
Its something I find quite regularly in the hills, especially after a couple of days wildcamping.
But to stumble across it today, on a short and familiar route, is a welcome surprise. And a reminder why I continue to seek the outdoor world, and saviour its offerings.
Christmas - well I can take or leave it personally.
But the rare joy that comes from visiting familiar areas, but finding unexpected joy, is my own gift to myself this Xmas time.
And to share with you, if you only care to go out there and look for yourself.
Oh - and as you can see the new mobile telephone has a much better camera with which to try & capture moments along the way.
Labels: nature, New Forest
Saturday, December 5
Lake District Weatherline - New telephone number
I've one telephone number stored away on my mobile phone that whilst infrequently used, will never be deleted. When wildcamping high on Lakeland fells part of my evening routine is to call, phone signal permitting, The Lake District Weatherline service.
Over the years I've found the forecasts to be accurate, detailed & (for a solo hillwalker), key when pondering the next day's route.
To go high…..or low?
An important question for a walker travelling with no schedule to keep, other than to see what's beyond the next range of felltops.
But no matter what my intent, realism dictates that I should bend with the weather's vagaries, especially where extreme conditions are forecast.
(Wildcamping - ah so pretty)
Even in less inclement weather the choice between a high ridge walk in dense rain cloud, or a valley meander accompanied by patchy showers, can be the difference between a hard day with little enjoyment or an pleasant day of exploration.
(Wildcamping - ugh not so pretty)
That's even more relevant when high wind speeds are the alternative between safe passage low down or the increased risk of being knocked off my feet when ridging along exposed tops.
So thanks to the latest TGO Magazine for alerting me to the fact that the telephone no. for The Lake District Weatherline has recently changed to 0844 846 2444.
(Being curious, I tried the old number earlier today, only to be met with a recorded message giving a company's name and address details. But not a lot of guidance as to whether it will rain in Keswick tomorrow)
And whilst on the subject of Lakeland weather - fancy a job as a Fell Top Assessor?
"….report on the fell conditions from the summit area of Helvellyn from December through to April. Working seven days on and seven days off, including weekends and bank holidays, you will need to be able to climb from Glenridding to the summit of Helvellyn and back in four hours"
Well that’s probably me out of the running.
Then again the daily commute from the south coast might just get me down in the end.
Wonder whether any of the Assessors have ever thought about just wildcamping for their week in a nearby sheltered spot?
Now there's an idea.
And to get paid for it as well.
HmmmmLabels: Lake District, National Park, nature
Saturday, November 14
Blow you Bugger Blow
Early breakfast at Avon Beach, Mudeford.
The short walk from the clifftop parking spot down to the café is accompanied by a steadily hazing of vision as my spectacles slowly coat with a mixture of sea spray, salt and sand. All whipping onto the land as the wind leaves off pushing surf up onto the shoreline, and turns to other games to play instead.
A group of Oyster catchers, seemingly oblivious to the elemental force, busily bob along the tidal sand, looking for their breakfast. At times one takes to the air, making only a short distance, before quickly returning to earth. The desire for flight lessened today by the effort required to maintain it.
Warm inside the café we watch as the birds continue their hunt for tide borne bonanza. The fry up arrives.
Dog and myself for once alone at this usually busy spot. We wander along the ridge that of St Catherine's Hill, Christchurch.
As we pass by the twin mobile telephone masts the steady thrum of a plane is heard as it passes overhead. I pause to watch the sway of the thinner tower, rock embedded at the foot, but the upper section flexing as it bends so easily to wind whim.
The plane continues to fly overhead. What still?
I realise it’s the sound of the wind resonating the mast struts of the towers, with an irregular drumming as gusts bounce off some of the bulbous equipment bolted high above.
A personal orchestral offering - courtesy of Mother Nature and BT.
I love the change of perspective that the natural world can bring out in the everyday world.Labels: nature
Tuesday, September 29
Three things to do to Enjoy England
As you may have spotted on other sites some outdoor Bloggers have been approached by Jam to contribute to the Guardian's forthcoming ‘Enjoy England’ feature.
Speed reading the invitation my initial thought was 'Great! Finally hit the big time. A chance to kick over the traces of the day job".
Regrettably, a later slower perusal revealed a less glittering outcome.
But hey-ho; Ideas for these ramblings of mine can come from any direction and are all encouraged in whatever guise they might arise. So here's tonight's jottings, based around a common theme.
Solitude
According to recent government statistics the UK will soon only have living room for 423,138 more people before our landmass achieves its maximum level of population saturation.
New laws, allegedly being drafted as I write, plan to introduce measures that will require all UK inhabitants to take Breaths-In & Breaths-Out in an alternative mode to their nearest neighbour, rather than risk those in coastal areas being slowly edged off into the sea as the majority of the populace inhale simultaneously.
A little like a living Penny Fall shuffle fairground machine.
Well perhaps things aren't quite that bad. Yet. I may even have (whisper it gently) exaggerated so very slightly. But its true that urban living, now encompassing anyplace, short of living at the bottom of a lake, is becoming increasingly over populated & pressurised.
Here's a secret. This is a facet of modern society which can be so easily thwarted with a little personal effort.
Park the car. Start walking away from the road, and into your nearest piece of countryside. Take care to avoid well worn footpaths & tracks. Just keep going, veering clear of any signs of human habitation. Especially tourist features (Particularly Forestry Commission attractions. Honey pot to the Urban Daytripper. A wasp filled jam-jar to this writer)
Now Stop.
Take a deep breath.
And just listen to that glorious sound of ..... your own sweet self. Finally alone with nature.
Like this early morning alarm clock during my Dartmoor Dawdle in June 2008
"I had a lie-in until the sun poked its nose over the ridge, giving me the chance stay in my sleeping bag and listen to the song of the skylarks for twenty minutes of so. And I mean really listen. Lying there with no other distraction my concentration was fully given over to their repetitive trills, before their song veered on to yet another melody. No other background noise to taint the sound. A sublime experience"
Wildcamping
Despite somewhat draconian camping constraints under English law there are still pockets of wild uninhabited places in England that allow one to simply disappear from everyday humanity with little fuss, effort or expense.
With minimal equipment & a easy willingness to dispense with life's trappings & fripperies whole areas of England, rarely visited by most of the population are opened up.
Entry is free!
True it requires some degree of self-reliance & self confidence. In turn the benefit is a self-awareness at a level that most people would find difficult to comprehend. The easily discovered ability to spend a night in a wild place, somewhere apparently uninhabitable for so many, builds a bond with the natural world that once experienced cannot be forgotten.
Unlike so many shiny promises offered in our ' enlightened' times a repeat of this experience always seems to triggers some primordial Sigh from deep down within the brain's limbic region.
Freeze, Flight or Fight?
Not necessarily. Some of us know of a fourth way (Grasshopper).
Reckon I should start a cult?
Dartmoor
A desolately inhabited place of some 368 square miles, and yet an area both within easy access of millions of urbanites with major road access, and a place that positively encourages Wildcamping.
To the majority, trundling across tight moorland roads, it may seem an endless expanse of open land & weirdly sculpted Tor tops, mostly shrouded in thick mist & heartily driven rain. To guests of the HMP Dartmoor establishment, at Princetown, possibly a beckoning view, somewhere green & encouraging beyond thick Napoleonic walls of retribution.
For some an equally scary proposition when viewed from the comfort of a car. But after a few visits into Dartmoor's interior, by foot, the rich history of earlier human habitation springs into being. Neolithic stone rows to the more recent historic drippings of mine tramways, all underline that this was once one of the more densely populated place in England during past eras when a wooded valley was a places of Danger & Threat.
Forget the forlorn baying of the Sherlock Holme's Baskerville Hound. Instead learn to celebrate a place once full of life, and eager to share its secrets, many long forgotten, for those prepared to explore away from the modern day tarmacadam detour of bland conformity.
Or just stay inside the safety of that car.
Going from Nowhere. Leading to Nowhere. Please exit at the cliffside departure gate along with your fellow lemmings.
Was that Three Things to Do in England? Perhaps not quite what the Guardian invitation had in mind?
Whatever - just get out into some distant English wild place, and soak up its true nature. Far from the crush of humanity.
Better be quick. Tourist No. 423,139 arrives in 4 years time. And then this island starts to slowly sink into the sea.
Me? I'll be on Yes Tor. Having a brew & watching the sunset.
Glug .... glug .... glug.
Labels: dartmoor, media, Mental Health, National Park, nature
Friday, September 25
Wildcamp - Travel - Wildcamp
To Travel.
Definition: "To go from one place to another …..To advance or proceed"
By inference an act requiring physical movement from one position/place to another.
True, there's no rule to say that Wildcamps cannot be static. To remain at the same site for more than one night.
But mostly wildcamping is about spatial transition. The act of swapping one remote & lonely spot for a different perspective. Usually another remote & lonely spot. A daily change of place.
Or .............. perhaps that should be a change of perspective on life ?
Whatever - it makes no difference. The act itself suffices for many.
For me? Well......
To tap into the Great Unknown. Become one, once more, with the deep Om of life.
To touch, however fleetingly, that underlying rhythmic beat of energy. For so much of our lives unheeded as it throbs far below our everyday event threshold that is termed Living In The Real World'.
To sleep a night. Solitary & defenceless in some wild and inhospitable place. Remote, perhaps even uninhabitable for many.
To awake at dawn's approach. Mentally & physically renewed.
Early morning grumbling of sinews & bones, unaccustomed to the previous day's physical activity, quietening as the essence of At One with a natural life force, are sensed deep within one's self.
An unexpected deep sigh of contentment at ……
At..?
Well at nothing tangible really.
Except the act of being part of the Real World.
Breathing.
Sharing rainfall run-off with beck or tarn as it heeds the pull of gravity.
Wind veer caressing bare skin; Rain sting on cheeks;
The welcoming warmth of weak sunlight on a frosty morning.
The cool relief freely given by deep shade of rock's shadow at the height of Summer.
Another day greeted. Rucksack settled onto back for the hours of movement ahead.
The last act.
A final lingering glance backwards to the night's resting place. Checking for mislaid kit and signs of human presence? Or more a quiet & silent salute to a place now special in memory & time.
To travel.
No, not movement from place to place, towards some journey's end.
Merely an excuse to saviour stops along the way & touch, fleetingly, the closeness of the Natural World & Reality.
Until the next time.
Maybe I'm alone in silently greeting a wildcamp site on arrival; And on departure bidding a fond farewell. To a familiar friend who's presence I meet with from time to time? And from place to place.
Or then again ..... maybe not.
Perhaps I'm just weird?Labels: nature
Monday, August 31
The Weather Man is a Drip
Did you enjoy today's sunny weather? Hopefully that won't be the last gasp of this derisory summer just yet.
But who knows for sure?
Maybe the Meteorological Office & its ubiquitous stooge the TV Weatherman?
Perhaps.
Or then again.......Nope - probably not with their track record over recent times.
For this weekend was the last straw for me in treating seriously the dire content of the dumbed down weather forecast for the masses.
Take Saturday's TV forecast beamed out around 22:00 in the evening on BBC1.
'Bad weather on Sunday for the south of England, but not until around 5pm' cheerily pronounced the Metman's grinning monkey, 'Enjoy the Sunday sunshine while you can'.
Meanwhile, blue screen background behind him, the forecaster waved his arms with enthusiastic animation as a computer generated model of the weather for the next 24 hours silently confirmed his projection. Its crude overview indicating clouds and rain cruising across from Ireland, and due to reach my own locale until late on Sunday.
It must be true - the time was at the bottom of the cartoon after all.
Plans made accordingly I departed to bed. Why then did I look out of the window early Sunday morning to see thick cloud cover. Which by lunchtime had built into light drizzle for the rest of the afternoon? By then I'd given up in disgust and was watching the rain blow in from the coast whilst getting some work sorted in the office.
(Well it seemed like a good way to use the time bearing in mind the happier alternatives that had gone by the board)
How is it the high tech, multi million pound Met Office weather models can be so inept about weather only 12 hours ahead?
That's not the worse case I can relate. The TV forecasts have been getting progressively more dreadful over a period of many months. Its almost as if the senseless drive to make the forecast more "accessible" to the drooling TV couch potato has up-ended any accuracy they once had.
And for what?
The conditions Outdoor are largely irrelevant for Mr Lardy Arse TV Watcher.
Nope. I've had it with the TV & Radio forecasts from now on.
Here's my three top tips on how to predict the forthcoming weather:
1. In hilly areas, refer to the Mountain Weather Information Service's report for the next 1-2 days. These tend to have a very high level of accuracy & are essential reading for high hill walking at times of bad weather.
2. Learn to read & interpret a pressure chart. I like this site, although the level of detail can be intimidating for the uninitiated at first (click on the dates at the foot of the page).
Another excellent source is on the MWIS site.
Or there's this over on the European Centre for Medium-Range Weather Forecasts site
3. DIY. Look out of the window & go outdoors. Check the flow of air movement especially in comparison to the clouds overhead. Sense the air temperature - colder or warmer than earlier? Look at the clouds and the formations. Then back indoors to tap the barometer to see if its rising or falling.
Then take your best guess!
4. Finally - down to the seashore & pick up some seaweed.
Only a fraction of the cost of the Met Office's new "second most powerful computer in the UK" but probably a damn sight more accurate than the drivel fed to us from the goggle box each day.
Better still - sod the forecast - just get outside anyway.
And pack a waterproof, just in case.
Monday, August 24
Walkers & Cattle - Advice
The Enemy #1 - The Cow
Genetically over engineered over many centuries into a meat & milk provider. Typically two tone in colour. Heavy nasal drooling at one end. And a different sort of drooling at the other.
If in doubt carefully use a scratch & sniff test to quickly distinguish the key differences. Try not to lick your fingers afterwards.
The Enemy #2 - The Bullock
The juvenile male. Often identified by a tendency to unexpectedly demonstrate their sexual awakening by attempting to mount each other. Often repeatedly. Despite mixed success.
Intensely curious and prone to rapidly cover a field's length seconds after you've strayed within the barb wire/electrified boundary fence fortification.
The Owner - The Cattle Farmer
Some believe this to be a mix of the two genres. Often distinguished by the use of green wellingtons, dung coloured (typically blue) overalls, & a loud greeting call "Gerroff-my-land-you-townies".
Well ok I may be guilty of ever egging those descriptions a little.
Except for the green wellies.
But more seriously today's BBC reports have hi-lighted certain dangers associated with these usually tranquil beasts (I meant the cows by the way)
Beware of cows with their calves. Especially if you encounter them whilst accompanied by a dog.
Personally, even when not dog accompanied, I have a tendency to avoid any beast weighing in excess of 1/2 ton and capable of short bursts of speed in my general direction. No matter what its motivation may be.
The NFU advice has been issued as a result of the deaths of 3 walkers in 3 months.
Their advice to walkers
"if you have a dog with you, keep it under close control, but do not hang on to it should a cow or bull start acting aggressively. If you feel threatened, just carry on as normal, do not run, move to the edge of the field and if possible find another way round the field, returning to the original path as soon as is possible. And remember to close the gate".
(I love that mention of the gate. A good idea to prevent yet another headlong chase down the next field, but at the same time rather a recognisable farmy piece of advice)
The main problem for those of not familiar with bovine nature - what is aggressive behaviour?
Most cattle will wander over to a stile if they spot a walker. After all chewing cud and trying to mount your brothers can becomes tedious after a few weeks of such wild experiences.
I regularly walk across a large open expanse of common land watching the behaviour of cattle.
Based, I assume on their previous encounters, a few cattle will hang back from the main herd, effectively acting as scouts. These will initiate a rapid move towards the cause of any disquiet, bringing the rest of the herd cavorting behind them, feet drumming hard.
Not a pleasant prospect if you happen to be that cause.
Unfortunately the latest victim was a farmer. But back at the Royal Welsh Show in July the FUW (think NFU Wales) was quoted as saying that "Cases of potentially-deadly stampeding cattle unwittingly spooked by dog walkers are almost certainly set to rise"
(Lets ignore the comment "In part it was due to cash-strapped "townies" holidaying in the UK at a time of recession and heading for the countryside to relax")
Here's my advice, based on years of experience using farm paths. Its personal, so make up your own mind at your own risk.
1. Don’t keep the dog on a lead, but do keep it under control at all times.
If its not sufficiently well trained to stay to heel, or be sent away, you really shouldn't be out with it amongst farm animals.
2. By all means carry a stout stick. But as most people, including myself, do not carry one try picking up a few small stones (not rocks!) before entering a field.
It’s a last ditch deterrent. Better a few stings on a cow's thick hide, and a potential dressing down from a farmer, than being knocked over & injured by a fast moving herd.
3. If the beasts move towards you, make loud single syllable noises, such as they'd expect from the cowhand (cowherd?) also make yourself look bigger, but try not to wave your hands about alarmingly. Not so much noise that they become spooked, but enough to give you time for a rapid & controlled exit, whilst they try to work out just what the hell you are.
Thinking herding noises.
(I used this on my last Dartmoor trip for a couple of miles, in an area covered with impenetrable gorse thickets and narrow paths. A river was on one side. A steep rise on the other. The cows & their calves wouldn’t take the hint to veer away, despite my vectoring approaches. As this was the only way off the moor unless I turned back for a five mile detour, near the end of a long day I had little choice on this occasion.
4. Don’t (completely) turn your back or try to out sprint them. Back away steadily whilst ensuring you remain upright & prepared to move off to one side to avoid any confrontation.
5. Keep an eye out for all potential exit routes, moving well around any herd where possible. Remember that most of the boundary hedgerows will be hiding barbed wire. Its meant to prevent the escape of large curious animals. That works the same where you are concerned as well.
Its not a good time to find this out when entangled in this as part of any rapid exit.
Remember Steve McQueen in the Great Escape?
6. If it does come to a close up encounter I'm told a hard slap across the snout will work wonders.
Personally I've not test this particular tip. Not do I ever intend to get into a situation where I need to test the hypothesis.
If someone slapped me across the snout I’d tend to thrash about a fair bit, or take it as an attack. But quite what a 1/2 ton beast may do …..?
7. Finally (or should this be firstly?) if in doubt make a detour to avoid crossing the field.
I'm not too proud to admit I've done this on many occasions where cows/horses have shown rather too much interest in my presence before I've even entered the field.
This is one circumstance where Flight before Fight is A Good Thing
Any more tips - leave a comment please.Labels: nature
Sunday, August 2
Its Summer? No its Autumn? Just take your pick
An early Sunday start prepping two motorcycles ready for a long weekend at a Well Known Event (but more on that later in the week perhaps)
Whilst I'm on the topic, when did the centre-stand become surplus to requirement? Trying single handed to get each bike on a paddock stand, for simple chain maintenance (a five minute job) became a heart stopping half hour if the end result wasn't to be one's pride and joy lying lifeless on its side after toppling over during the stand/mounting process.
Since when did a centre stand become a luxury item?
So imagine my joy when I wandered back indoors only to find my pc screen infected with a rather nasty Trojan virus which required some major low level surgery to eradicate.
And yes, I do use current Firewall & Anti-Virus packages.
Two hours later that was sorted, leaving many more hours to run some alternative malware/spyware software and complete a low level purge.
Time for a walk then? More like essential.
Out to Burbush in the New Forest for a bit of contemplative R&R, accompanied by a MP3 player of very loud rock music. Always works well when I'm in an anti-social frame of mind.
Predictably, given the summer season, the rural back roads were busy & the New Forest car park a seething mass of humanity. Why does the term 'tourist on holiday' seem to require leaving their brain & common sense in a small pail by the holiday accommodation's front door each day?
Oh well - a quiet route was essential today, far away from marked paths and over publicised guidebook routes.
A success in that I saw no-one else once I'd left the vicinity of the car park. Sort of a success in a spur of the moment decision to try something a little more physically challenging by hopping off the back of my first route to link up with a longer outlying circuit.
It was via bog land. It wasn't any surprise. I know the land here abouts is liable to be undercut by narrow rivulets of flowing water, especially after rain. Adopting the trusted bog hop gait that Darren knows so well I quickly crossed onto the lower slopes of the far valley side, and picked up a pony track up to the pine topped mount ahead, in which nestled a World War II searchlight emplacement.
All going spiffing so far. A good workout over rough ground, much akin to Dartmoor in some places, and at a fast pace. Dog by my side, we moved ever onwards.
As I followed the ridge I was watching the boggy land below looking for a better track to cut across to rejoin the original route. An excellent & quiet circular if it wasn't for 400m of path crossing a major watershed plateau. Even the sinking of various peat and straw bales a few years earlier had failed to turn it into better than an inevitable paddle even during drought conditions. So its always been a bugbear of mine to find someway to hop this impassable section without getting a guaranteed soaking.
Today I thought I had cracked it. Spotting a clear pony track down I headed to the valley for a short 200m traverse to the far slope.
Along the way my path meandered by a solitary blackberry bush, already full of ripe fruit. A pause briefly to saviour a couple of large juicy berries unadulterated by proximity to car or human activity. Its going to be a bumper crop this year.
But hang on - doesn't ripe fruit signify the End of The Summer. A sign that Autumn's days are announcing their turn to become the seasonal host?
Maybe. Personally I'm yet to get my head around the fact its Summer, even as the evenings drawn in with each dusk arriving earlier than the previous one.
Onwards then into what turned out to be one of the worst pieces of broken ground I've walked over for some time. No make that walked through. Or maybe even under.
Initially hopping from tussock to tussock I turned to make sure Dog was ok. He'd disappeared. Nope there he was, the only sign of his passage the top of long sedge grasses moving, as he followed a track deep deep down in the undergrowth.
I persevered. Carefully. This was ankle snapping territory. The trusted bog hop gait, so suavely demonstrated not half an hour before soon became an arm whirling, keep the balance, plummet forward until finally the inevitable happened.
My foot went into a pool of water, far below and out of sight, with the result - a boot filled with a tantalising mixture of rain water and Grade A fresh bog land mulch (and all free of charge)
Bugger - this is the sort of incident that rarely happens to me. Even then it should be in some wild and harsh environment. Not 50m from the dry & well worn path in front of me.
I finished the rest of the walk with a noticeable squelch each time my right foot hit the deck. But I had to smile along the way.
Putting the valley's water levels down to this summer's rainfall level I mentally marked the route as passable, but with care and at the right time of the year.
So why, when I came to one of the Forest's permanent pool of standing water was it's level 2-3m below its normal mark; Foreshore mud clearly visible? A typical mid summer scene in fact.
Is this still a wet Summer this year? Or maybe a warm season with periods of rainfall that have coloured the general perception of inclement weather.
Or has the high season already passed, leaving us to face an early Autumn? One that indicates the
non Winter season is now one extended period of warm & occasionally wet weather?
Well I don't know, and I doubt whether the Met Office are truly qualified these days to proffer an opinion that anyone would trust.
I squelched my way back into the typical Soddam & Gomorrah scene surrounding the car park. As I started homewards to renew battle with a pc clean-up, I skirted Forest ponies obstructing the main access routes & road. Their particular season in full swing having relearnt the quickest way to get Oohs & Aahs from day trippers and more relevantly their free handouts.
I really need to get away soon!Labels: nature, New Forest, walks
Friday, July 24
Running fast. Standing still.
A combination of work, home and the usual day to day life drudge means that any time spent in front of this damned mono visual blinking radiation emitting time wasting device (aka Internet PC) are few and far between at present.
I've managed to keep up with my regular blog/forum reads each day, although any interaction in those places has also been similarly limited by time & energy.
Regrettably my fine record of monthly wildcamps that started so well (and so early this year), has turned to a pile of mush in response to circumstance. Many of these beyond my direct control, but all requiring the mature & supportive responses that I like to think is part of what make me Who I Am.
But today, at the end of yet another endlessly milling week I've uncovered a few hours of my own. Time to sit back & spend some solitary moments on my own whims. Something that during the last few weeks I've felt increasingly driven to saviour during the pell-mell rush that seems to be my waking existence.
Now is that time, more than ever, when I feel drawn to find that special renewal of spirit that comes with a few night's wildcamping in some lonely and desolate wild location. Far from my fellow human, but so close to the true reality of existence. Water. Shelter. Food. Nature. Bliss.
But for the moment my dismally puny recharge comes as I think back to some of those high ridge wildcamps. Places where I sat savouring the blending of Time, Space & Solitude.
The quiet gap that follows the end of a long day's trek.
The wildcamp pitch. Refuelling the body's needs.
And then an opportunity to fill the gap before sleep by busily doing nothing in particular but become one with the surroundings. True - only a transitory visitor. But one open to the measure and pleasure of the temporary resting place.
Meanwhile there are the trip reports from fellow Outdoor Bloggers as they discuss their recent sorties out in the Great Outdoors (You lucky sods!)
All this helps keep me on the right side of sanity. Although those who have met me know that such a description is always applied a little warily when citing my general demeanour.
So for now I teeter (titter?) along life's own high ridge. Balancing The Present alongside The Past. Awaiting The Future where control of my own moments & movements can one again be retaken in a more selfish manner.
So what if this summer is yet again turning out to be damp and changeable?
The weather is warm. The grass is full grown. Tree crowns are dark and leaf laden.
Get out there if you are able. Saviour these moments.
To store up pleasant memories for colder days ahead.
And I don't mean the Winter.Labels: Mental Health, nature
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
No, not the stupidity of office parties, excessive drinking, & stop-until-you-drop-shopping.
For me it's the peace and quiet that can be found for these few special days when walking local paths.
For the moment the semi occasional visitors now have other places to be. Which is fine by me as it means my weekend wanderings in the New Forest are of a solitary nature, save for an occasional habitual dog walker, similarly benefiting from a lack of human activity.
Despite the car thermometer showing 3 degrees, in the forest puddles are frozen with thick ice, and the ground underfoot is hard & still frozen. Boggy areas, usually a hop skip & splash traverse, today are easily crossed, ice crunching underfoot as I take the straight line ahead.
Sun shine, although weak, is appreciated for the extra warmth offered as I move out from under the shade of the trees. On impulse I decide to extend my route onto Holmsley Tearooms. Usually a hive of activity, especially with the day tripping fraternity, today it is peaceful.
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Dog and myself have the garden area to ourselves as we await our lunchtime repast.
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We return along the old railway track, preparing to dive back down into deep woodland. Unexpectedly the mix of solitude, sun, and a clear path leading off into the distance unexpectedly brings one of those rare moments of Bliss.
That feeling of oneness with my surroundings; Open to the forces of nature all around me.
Its something I find quite regularly in the hills, especially after a couple of days wildcamping.
But to stumble across it today, on a short and familiar route, is a welcome surprise. And a reminder why I continue to seek the outdoor world, and saviour its offerings.
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Christmas - well I can take or leave it personally.
But the rare joy that comes from visiting familiar areas, but finding unexpected joy, is my own gift to myself this Xmas time.
And to share with you, if you only care to go out there and look for yourself.
Oh - and as you can see the new mobile telephone has a much better camera with which to try & capture moments along the way.
Labels: nature, New Forest
Lake District Weatherline - New telephone number
I've one telephone number stored away on my mobile phone that whilst infrequently used, will never be deleted. When wildcamping high on Lakeland fells part of my evening routine is to call, phone signal permitting, The Lake District Weatherline service.
Over the years I've found the forecasts to be accurate, detailed & (for a solo hillwalker), key when pondering the next day's route.
To go high…..or low?
An important question for a walker travelling with no schedule to keep, other than to see what's beyond the next range of felltops.
But no matter what my intent, realism dictates that I should bend with the weather's vagaries, especially where extreme conditions are forecast.
(Wildcamping - ah so pretty)
Even in less inclement weather the choice between a high ridge walk in dense rain cloud, or a valley meander accompanied by patchy showers, can be the difference between a hard day with little enjoyment or an pleasant day of exploration.
(Wildcamping - ugh not so pretty)
That's even more relevant when high wind speeds are the alternative between safe passage low down or the increased risk of being knocked off my feet when ridging along exposed tops.
So thanks to the latest TGO Magazine for alerting me to the fact that the telephone no. for The Lake District Weatherline has recently changed to 0844 846 2444.
(Being curious, I tried the old number earlier today, only to be met with a recorded message giving a company's name and address details. But not a lot of guidance as to whether it will rain in Keswick tomorrow)
And whilst on the subject of Lakeland weather - fancy a job as a Fell Top Assessor?
"….report on the fell conditions from the summit area of Helvellyn from December through to April. Working seven days on and seven days off, including weekends and bank holidays, you will need to be able to climb from Glenridding to the summit of Helvellyn and back in four hours"
Well that’s probably me out of the running.
Then again the daily commute from the south coast might just get me down in the end.
Wonder whether any of the Assessors have ever thought about just wildcamping for their week in a nearby sheltered spot?
Now there's an idea.
And to get paid for it as well.
HmmmmLabels: Lake District, National Park, nature
Saturday, November 14
Blow you Bugger Blow
Early breakfast at Avon Beach, Mudeford.
The short walk from the clifftop parking spot down to the café is accompanied by a steadily hazing of vision as my spectacles slowly coat with a mixture of sea spray, salt and sand. All whipping onto the land as the wind leaves off pushing surf up onto the shoreline, and turns to other games to play instead.
A group of Oyster catchers, seemingly oblivious to the elemental force, busily bob along the tidal sand, looking for their breakfast. At times one takes to the air, making only a short distance, before quickly returning to earth. The desire for flight lessened today by the effort required to maintain it.
Warm inside the café we watch as the birds continue their hunt for tide borne bonanza. The fry up arrives.
Dog and myself for once alone at this usually busy spot. We wander along the ridge that of St Catherine's Hill, Christchurch.
As we pass by the twin mobile telephone masts the steady thrum of a plane is heard as it passes overhead. I pause to watch the sway of the thinner tower, rock embedded at the foot, but the upper section flexing as it bends so easily to wind whim.
The plane continues to fly overhead. What still?
I realise it’s the sound of the wind resonating the mast struts of the towers, with an irregular drumming as gusts bounce off some of the bulbous equipment bolted high above.
A personal orchestral offering - courtesy of Mother Nature and BT.
I love the change of perspective that the natural world can bring out in the everyday world.Labels: nature
Tuesday, September 29
Three things to do to Enjoy England
As you may have spotted on other sites some outdoor Bloggers have been approached by Jam to contribute to the Guardian's forthcoming ‘Enjoy England’ feature.
Speed reading the invitation my initial thought was 'Great! Finally hit the big time. A chance to kick over the traces of the day job".
Regrettably, a later slower perusal revealed a less glittering outcome.
But hey-ho; Ideas for these ramblings of mine can come from any direction and are all encouraged in whatever guise they might arise. So here's tonight's jottings, based around a common theme.
Solitude
According to recent government statistics the UK will soon only have living room for 423,138 more people before our landmass achieves its maximum level of population saturation.
New laws, allegedly being drafted as I write, plan to introduce measures that will require all UK inhabitants to take Breaths-In & Breaths-Out in an alternative mode to their nearest neighbour, rather than risk those in coastal areas being slowly edged off into the sea as the majority of the populace inhale simultaneously.
A little like a living Penny Fall shuffle fairground machine.
Well perhaps things aren't quite that bad. Yet. I may even have (whisper it gently) exaggerated so very slightly. But its true that urban living, now encompassing anyplace, short of living at the bottom of a lake, is becoming increasingly over populated & pressurised.
Here's a secret. This is a facet of modern society which can be so easily thwarted with a little personal effort.
Park the car. Start walking away from the road, and into your nearest piece of countryside. Take care to avoid well worn footpaths & tracks. Just keep going, veering clear of any signs of human habitation. Especially tourist features (Particularly Forestry Commission attractions. Honey pot to the Urban Daytripper. A wasp filled jam-jar to this writer)
Now Stop.
Take a deep breath.
And just listen to that glorious sound of ..... your own sweet self. Finally alone with nature.
Like this early morning alarm clock during my Dartmoor Dawdle in June 2008
"I had a lie-in until the sun poked its nose over the ridge, giving me the chance stay in my sleeping bag and listen to the song of the skylarks for twenty minutes of so. And I mean really listen. Lying there with no other distraction my concentration was fully given over to their repetitive trills, before their song veered on to yet another melody. No other background noise to taint the sound. A sublime experience"
Wildcamping
Despite somewhat draconian camping constraints under English law there are still pockets of wild uninhabited places in England that allow one to simply disappear from everyday humanity with little fuss, effort or expense.
With minimal equipment & a easy willingness to dispense with life's trappings & fripperies whole areas of England, rarely visited by most of the population are opened up.
Entry is free!
True it requires some degree of self-reliance & self confidence. In turn the benefit is a self-awareness at a level that most people would find difficult to comprehend. The easily discovered ability to spend a night in a wild place, somewhere apparently uninhabitable for so many, builds a bond with the natural world that once experienced cannot be forgotten.
Unlike so many shiny promises offered in our ' enlightened' times a repeat of this experience always seems to triggers some primordial Sigh from deep down within the brain's limbic region.
Freeze, Flight or Fight?
Not necessarily. Some of us know of a fourth way (Grasshopper).
Reckon I should start a cult?
Dartmoor
A desolately inhabited place of some 368 square miles, and yet an area both within easy access of millions of urbanites with major road access, and a place that positively encourages Wildcamping.
To the majority, trundling across tight moorland roads, it may seem an endless expanse of open land & weirdly sculpted Tor tops, mostly shrouded in thick mist & heartily driven rain. To guests of the HMP Dartmoor establishment, at Princetown, possibly a beckoning view, somewhere green & encouraging beyond thick Napoleonic walls of retribution.
For some an equally scary proposition when viewed from the comfort of a car. But after a few visits into Dartmoor's interior, by foot, the rich history of earlier human habitation springs into being. Neolithic stone rows to the more recent historic drippings of mine tramways, all underline that this was once one of the more densely populated place in England during past eras when a wooded valley was a places of Danger & Threat.
Forget the forlorn baying of the Sherlock Holme's Baskerville Hound. Instead learn to celebrate a place once full of life, and eager to share its secrets, many long forgotten, for those prepared to explore away from the modern day tarmacadam detour of bland conformity.
Or just stay inside the safety of that car.
Going from Nowhere. Leading to Nowhere. Please exit at the cliffside departure gate along with your fellow lemmings.
Was that Three Things to Do in England? Perhaps not quite what the Guardian invitation had in mind?
Whatever - just get out into some distant English wild place, and soak up its true nature. Far from the crush of humanity.
Better be quick. Tourist No. 423,139 arrives in 4 years time. And then this island starts to slowly sink into the sea.
Me? I'll be on Yes Tor. Having a brew & watching the sunset.
Glug .... glug .... glug.
Labels: dartmoor, media, Mental Health, National Park, nature
Friday, September 25
Wildcamp - Travel - Wildcamp
To Travel.
Definition: "To go from one place to another …..To advance or proceed"
By inference an act requiring physical movement from one position/place to another.
True, there's no rule to say that Wildcamps cannot be static. To remain at the same site for more than one night.
But mostly wildcamping is about spatial transition. The act of swapping one remote & lonely spot for a different perspective. Usually another remote & lonely spot. A daily change of place.
Or .............. perhaps that should be a change of perspective on life ?
Whatever - it makes no difference. The act itself suffices for many.
For me? Well......
To tap into the Great Unknown. Become one, once more, with the deep Om of life.
To touch, however fleetingly, that underlying rhythmic beat of energy. For so much of our lives unheeded as it throbs far below our everyday event threshold that is termed Living In The Real World'.
To sleep a night. Solitary & defenceless in some wild and inhospitable place. Remote, perhaps even uninhabitable for many.
To awake at dawn's approach. Mentally & physically renewed.
Early morning grumbling of sinews & bones, unaccustomed to the previous day's physical activity, quietening as the essence of At One with a natural life force, are sensed deep within one's self.
An unexpected deep sigh of contentment at ……
At..?
Well at nothing tangible really.
Except the act of being part of the Real World.
Breathing.
Sharing rainfall run-off with beck or tarn as it heeds the pull of gravity.
Wind veer caressing bare skin; Rain sting on cheeks;
The welcoming warmth of weak sunlight on a frosty morning.
The cool relief freely given by deep shade of rock's shadow at the height of Summer.
Another day greeted. Rucksack settled onto back for the hours of movement ahead.
The last act.
A final lingering glance backwards to the night's resting place. Checking for mislaid kit and signs of human presence? Or more a quiet & silent salute to a place now special in memory & time.
To travel.
No, not movement from place to place, towards some journey's end.
Merely an excuse to saviour stops along the way & touch, fleetingly, the closeness of the Natural World & Reality.
Until the next time.
Maybe I'm alone in silently greeting a wildcamp site on arrival; And on departure bidding a fond farewell. To a familiar friend who's presence I meet with from time to time? And from place to place.
Or then again ..... maybe not.
Perhaps I'm just weird?Labels: nature
Monday, August 31
The Weather Man is a Drip
Did you enjoy today's sunny weather? Hopefully that won't be the last gasp of this derisory summer just yet.
But who knows for sure?
Maybe the Meteorological Office & its ubiquitous stooge the TV Weatherman?
Perhaps.
Or then again.......Nope - probably not with their track record over recent times.
For this weekend was the last straw for me in treating seriously the dire content of the dumbed down weather forecast for the masses.
Take Saturday's TV forecast beamed out around 22:00 in the evening on BBC1.
'Bad weather on Sunday for the south of England, but not until around 5pm' cheerily pronounced the Metman's grinning monkey, 'Enjoy the Sunday sunshine while you can'.
Meanwhile, blue screen background behind him, the forecaster waved his arms with enthusiastic animation as a computer generated model of the weather for the next 24 hours silently confirmed his projection. Its crude overview indicating clouds and rain cruising across from Ireland, and due to reach my own locale until late on Sunday.
It must be true - the time was at the bottom of the cartoon after all.
Plans made accordingly I departed to bed. Why then did I look out of the window early Sunday morning to see thick cloud cover. Which by lunchtime had built into light drizzle for the rest of the afternoon? By then I'd given up in disgust and was watching the rain blow in from the coast whilst getting some work sorted in the office.
(Well it seemed like a good way to use the time bearing in mind the happier alternatives that had gone by the board)
How is it the high tech, multi million pound Met Office weather models can be so inept about weather only 12 hours ahead?
That's not the worse case I can relate. The TV forecasts have been getting progressively more dreadful over a period of many months. Its almost as if the senseless drive to make the forecast more "accessible" to the drooling TV couch potato has up-ended any accuracy they once had.
And for what?
The conditions Outdoor are largely irrelevant for Mr Lardy Arse TV Watcher.
Nope. I've had it with the TV & Radio forecasts from now on.
Here's my three top tips on how to predict the forthcoming weather:
1. In hilly areas, refer to the Mountain Weather Information Service's report for the next 1-2 days. These tend to have a very high level of accuracy & are essential reading for high hill walking at times of bad weather.
2. Learn to read & interpret a pressure chart. I like this site, although the level of detail can be intimidating for the uninitiated at first (click on the dates at the foot of the page).
Another excellent source is on the MWIS site.
Or there's this over on the European Centre for Medium-Range Weather Forecasts site
3. DIY. Look out of the window & go outdoors. Check the flow of air movement especially in comparison to the clouds overhead. Sense the air temperature - colder or warmer than earlier? Look at the clouds and the formations. Then back indoors to tap the barometer to see if its rising or falling.
Then take your best guess!
4. Finally - down to the seashore & pick up some seaweed.
Only a fraction of the cost of the Met Office's new "second most powerful computer in the UK" but probably a damn sight more accurate than the drivel fed to us from the goggle box each day.
Better still - sod the forecast - just get outside anyway.
And pack a waterproof, just in case.
Monday, August 24
Walkers & Cattle - Advice
The Enemy #1 - The Cow
Genetically over engineered over many centuries into a meat & milk provider. Typically two tone in colour. Heavy nasal drooling at one end. And a different sort of drooling at the other.
If in doubt carefully use a scratch & sniff test to quickly distinguish the key differences. Try not to lick your fingers afterwards.
The Enemy #2 - The Bullock
The juvenile male. Often identified by a tendency to unexpectedly demonstrate their sexual awakening by attempting to mount each other. Often repeatedly. Despite mixed success.
Intensely curious and prone to rapidly cover a field's length seconds after you've strayed within the barb wire/electrified boundary fence fortification.
The Owner - The Cattle Farmer
Some believe this to be a mix of the two genres. Often distinguished by the use of green wellingtons, dung coloured (typically blue) overalls, & a loud greeting call "Gerroff-my-land-you-townies".
Well ok I may be guilty of ever egging those descriptions a little.
Except for the green wellies.
But more seriously today's BBC reports have hi-lighted certain dangers associated with these usually tranquil beasts (I meant the cows by the way)
Beware of cows with their calves. Especially if you encounter them whilst accompanied by a dog.
Personally, even when not dog accompanied, I have a tendency to avoid any beast weighing in excess of 1/2 ton and capable of short bursts of speed in my general direction. No matter what its motivation may be.
The NFU advice has been issued as a result of the deaths of 3 walkers in 3 months.
Their advice to walkers
"if you have a dog with you, keep it under close control, but do not hang on to it should a cow or bull start acting aggressively. If you feel threatened, just carry on as normal, do not run, move to the edge of the field and if possible find another way round the field, returning to the original path as soon as is possible. And remember to close the gate".
(I love that mention of the gate. A good idea to prevent yet another headlong chase down the next field, but at the same time rather a recognisable farmy piece of advice)
The main problem for those of not familiar with bovine nature - what is aggressive behaviour?
Most cattle will wander over to a stile if they spot a walker. After all chewing cud and trying to mount your brothers can becomes tedious after a few weeks of such wild experiences.
I regularly walk across a large open expanse of common land watching the behaviour of cattle.
Based, I assume on their previous encounters, a few cattle will hang back from the main herd, effectively acting as scouts. These will initiate a rapid move towards the cause of any disquiet, bringing the rest of the herd cavorting behind them, feet drumming hard.
Not a pleasant prospect if you happen to be that cause.
Unfortunately the latest victim was a farmer. But back at the Royal Welsh Show in July the FUW (think NFU Wales) was quoted as saying that "Cases of potentially-deadly stampeding cattle unwittingly spooked by dog walkers are almost certainly set to rise"
(Lets ignore the comment "In part it was due to cash-strapped "townies" holidaying in the UK at a time of recession and heading for the countryside to relax")
Here's my advice, based on years of experience using farm paths. Its personal, so make up your own mind at your own risk.
1. Don’t keep the dog on a lead, but do keep it under control at all times.
If its not sufficiently well trained to stay to heel, or be sent away, you really shouldn't be out with it amongst farm animals.
2. By all means carry a stout stick. But as most people, including myself, do not carry one try picking up a few small stones (not rocks!) before entering a field.
It’s a last ditch deterrent. Better a few stings on a cow's thick hide, and a potential dressing down from a farmer, than being knocked over & injured by a fast moving herd.
3. If the beasts move towards you, make loud single syllable noises, such as they'd expect from the cowhand (cowherd?) also make yourself look bigger, but try not to wave your hands about alarmingly. Not so much noise that they become spooked, but enough to give you time for a rapid & controlled exit, whilst they try to work out just what the hell you are.
Thinking herding noises.
(I used this on my last Dartmoor trip for a couple of miles, in an area covered with impenetrable gorse thickets and narrow paths. A river was on one side. A steep rise on the other. The cows & their calves wouldn’t take the hint to veer away, despite my vectoring approaches. As this was the only way off the moor unless I turned back for a five mile detour, near the end of a long day I had little choice on this occasion.
4. Don’t (completely) turn your back or try to out sprint them. Back away steadily whilst ensuring you remain upright & prepared to move off to one side to avoid any confrontation.
5. Keep an eye out for all potential exit routes, moving well around any herd where possible. Remember that most of the boundary hedgerows will be hiding barbed wire. Its meant to prevent the escape of large curious animals. That works the same where you are concerned as well.
Its not a good time to find this out when entangled in this as part of any rapid exit.
Remember Steve McQueen in the Great Escape?
6. If it does come to a close up encounter I'm told a hard slap across the snout will work wonders.
Personally I've not test this particular tip. Not do I ever intend to get into a situation where I need to test the hypothesis.
If someone slapped me across the snout I’d tend to thrash about a fair bit, or take it as an attack. But quite what a 1/2 ton beast may do …..?
7. Finally (or should this be firstly?) if in doubt make a detour to avoid crossing the field.
I'm not too proud to admit I've done this on many occasions where cows/horses have shown rather too much interest in my presence before I've even entered the field.
This is one circumstance where Flight before Fight is A Good Thing
Any more tips - leave a comment please.Labels: nature
Sunday, August 2
Its Summer? No its Autumn? Just take your pick
An early Sunday start prepping two motorcycles ready for a long weekend at a Well Known Event (but more on that later in the week perhaps)
Whilst I'm on the topic, when did the centre-stand become surplus to requirement? Trying single handed to get each bike on a paddock stand, for simple chain maintenance (a five minute job) became a heart stopping half hour if the end result wasn't to be one's pride and joy lying lifeless on its side after toppling over during the stand/mounting process.
Since when did a centre stand become a luxury item?
So imagine my joy when I wandered back indoors only to find my pc screen infected with a rather nasty Trojan virus which required some major low level surgery to eradicate.
And yes, I do use current Firewall & Anti-Virus packages.
Two hours later that was sorted, leaving many more hours to run some alternative malware/spyware software and complete a low level purge.
Time for a walk then? More like essential.
Out to Burbush in the New Forest for a bit of contemplative R&R, accompanied by a MP3 player of very loud rock music. Always works well when I'm in an anti-social frame of mind.
Predictably, given the summer season, the rural back roads were busy & the New Forest car park a seething mass of humanity. Why does the term 'tourist on holiday' seem to require leaving their brain & common sense in a small pail by the holiday accommodation's front door each day?
Oh well - a quiet route was essential today, far away from marked paths and over publicised guidebook routes.
A success in that I saw no-one else once I'd left the vicinity of the car park. Sort of a success in a spur of the moment decision to try something a little more physically challenging by hopping off the back of my first route to link up with a longer outlying circuit.
It was via bog land. It wasn't any surprise. I know the land here abouts is liable to be undercut by narrow rivulets of flowing water, especially after rain. Adopting the trusted bog hop gait that Darren knows so well I quickly crossed onto the lower slopes of the far valley side, and picked up a pony track up to the pine topped mount ahead, in which nestled a World War II searchlight emplacement.
All going spiffing so far. A good workout over rough ground, much akin to Dartmoor in some places, and at a fast pace. Dog by my side, we moved ever onwards.
As I followed the ridge I was watching the boggy land below looking for a better track to cut across to rejoin the original route. An excellent & quiet circular if it wasn't for 400m of path crossing a major watershed plateau. Even the sinking of various peat and straw bales a few years earlier had failed to turn it into better than an inevitable paddle even during drought conditions. So its always been a bugbear of mine to find someway to hop this impassable section without getting a guaranteed soaking.
Today I thought I had cracked it. Spotting a clear pony track down I headed to the valley for a short 200m traverse to the far slope.
Along the way my path meandered by a solitary blackberry bush, already full of ripe fruit. A pause briefly to saviour a couple of large juicy berries unadulterated by proximity to car or human activity. Its going to be a bumper crop this year.
But hang on - doesn't ripe fruit signify the End of The Summer. A sign that Autumn's days are announcing their turn to become the seasonal host?
Maybe. Personally I'm yet to get my head around the fact its Summer, even as the evenings drawn in with each dusk arriving earlier than the previous one.
Onwards then into what turned out to be one of the worst pieces of broken ground I've walked over for some time. No make that walked through. Or maybe even under.
Initially hopping from tussock to tussock I turned to make sure Dog was ok. He'd disappeared. Nope there he was, the only sign of his passage the top of long sedge grasses moving, as he followed a track deep deep down in the undergrowth.
I persevered. Carefully. This was ankle snapping territory. The trusted bog hop gait, so suavely demonstrated not half an hour before soon became an arm whirling, keep the balance, plummet forward until finally the inevitable happened.
My foot went into a pool of water, far below and out of sight, with the result - a boot filled with a tantalising mixture of rain water and Grade A fresh bog land mulch (and all free of charge)
Bugger - this is the sort of incident that rarely happens to me. Even then it should be in some wild and harsh environment. Not 50m from the dry & well worn path in front of me.
I finished the rest of the walk with a noticeable squelch each time my right foot hit the deck. But I had to smile along the way.
Putting the valley's water levels down to this summer's rainfall level I mentally marked the route as passable, but with care and at the right time of the year.
So why, when I came to one of the Forest's permanent pool of standing water was it's level 2-3m below its normal mark; Foreshore mud clearly visible? A typical mid summer scene in fact.
Is this still a wet Summer this year? Or maybe a warm season with periods of rainfall that have coloured the general perception of inclement weather.
Or has the high season already passed, leaving us to face an early Autumn? One that indicates the
non Winter season is now one extended period of warm & occasionally wet weather?
Well I don't know, and I doubt whether the Met Office are truly qualified these days to proffer an opinion that anyone would trust.
I squelched my way back into the typical Soddam & Gomorrah scene surrounding the car park. As I started homewards to renew battle with a pc clean-up, I skirted Forest ponies obstructing the main access routes & road. Their particular season in full swing having relearnt the quickest way to get Oohs & Aahs from day trippers and more relevantly their free handouts.
I really need to get away soon!Labels: nature, New Forest, walks
Friday, July 24
Running fast. Standing still.
A combination of work, home and the usual day to day life drudge means that any time spent in front of this damned mono visual blinking radiation emitting time wasting device (aka Internet PC) are few and far between at present.
I've managed to keep up with my regular blog/forum reads each day, although any interaction in those places has also been similarly limited by time & energy.
Regrettably my fine record of monthly wildcamps that started so well (and so early this year), has turned to a pile of mush in response to circumstance. Many of these beyond my direct control, but all requiring the mature & supportive responses that I like to think is part of what make me Who I Am.
But today, at the end of yet another endlessly milling week I've uncovered a few hours of my own. Time to sit back & spend some solitary moments on my own whims. Something that during the last few weeks I've felt increasingly driven to saviour during the pell-mell rush that seems to be my waking existence.
Now is that time, more than ever, when I feel drawn to find that special renewal of spirit that comes with a few night's wildcamping in some lonely and desolate wild location. Far from my fellow human, but so close to the true reality of existence. Water. Shelter. Food. Nature. Bliss.
But for the moment my dismally puny recharge comes as I think back to some of those high ridge wildcamps. Places where I sat savouring the blending of Time, Space & Solitude.
The quiet gap that follows the end of a long day's trek.
The wildcamp pitch. Refuelling the body's needs.
And then an opportunity to fill the gap before sleep by busily doing nothing in particular but become one with the surroundings. True - only a transitory visitor. But one open to the measure and pleasure of the temporary resting place.
Meanwhile there are the trip reports from fellow Outdoor Bloggers as they discuss their recent sorties out in the Great Outdoors (You lucky sods!)
All this helps keep me on the right side of sanity. Although those who have met me know that such a description is always applied a little warily when citing my general demeanour.
So for now I teeter (titter?) along life's own high ridge. Balancing The Present alongside The Past. Awaiting The Future where control of my own moments & movements can one again be retaken in a more selfish manner.
So what if this summer is yet again turning out to be damp and changeable?
The weather is warm. The grass is full grown. Tree crowns are dark and leaf laden.
Get out there if you are able. Saviour these moments.
To store up pleasant memories for colder days ahead.
And I don't mean the Winter.Labels: Mental Health, nature
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
Over the years I've found the forecasts to be accurate, detailed & (for a solo hillwalker), key when pondering the next day's route.
To go high…..or low?
An important question for a walker travelling with no schedule to keep, other than to see what's beyond the next range of felltops.
But no matter what my intent, realism dictates that I should bend with the weather's vagaries, especially where extreme conditions are forecast.
(Wildcamping - ah so pretty)Even in less inclement weather the choice between a high ridge walk in dense rain cloud, or a valley meander accompanied by patchy showers, can be the difference between a hard day with little enjoyment or an pleasant day of exploration.
(Wildcamping - ugh not so pretty)That's even more relevant when high wind speeds are the alternative between safe passage low down or the increased risk of being knocked off my feet when ridging along exposed tops.
So thanks to the latest TGO Magazine for alerting me to the fact that the telephone no. for The Lake District Weatherline has recently changed to 0844 846 2444.
(Being curious, I tried the old number earlier today, only to be met with a recorded message giving a company's name and address details. But not a lot of guidance as to whether it will rain in Keswick tomorrow)
And whilst on the subject of Lakeland weather - fancy a job as a Fell Top Assessor?
"….report on the fell conditions from the summit area of Helvellyn from December through to April. Working seven days on and seven days off, including weekends and bank holidays, you will need to be able to climb from Glenridding to the summit of Helvellyn and back in four hours"
Well that’s probably me out of the running.
Then again the daily commute from the south coast might just get me down in the end.
Wonder whether any of the Assessors have ever thought about just wildcamping for their week in a nearby sheltered spot?
Now there's an idea.
And to get paid for it as well.
Hmmmm
Labels: Lake District, National Park, nature
Blow you Bugger Blow
Early breakfast at Avon Beach, Mudeford.
The short walk from the clifftop parking spot down to the café is accompanied by a steadily hazing of vision as my spectacles slowly coat with a mixture of sea spray, salt and sand. All whipping onto the land as the wind leaves off pushing surf up onto the shoreline, and turns to other games to play instead.
A group of Oyster catchers, seemingly oblivious to the elemental force, busily bob along the tidal sand, looking for their breakfast. At times one takes to the air, making only a short distance, before quickly returning to earth. The desire for flight lessened today by the effort required to maintain it.
Warm inside the café we watch as the birds continue their hunt for tide borne bonanza. The fry up arrives.
Dog and myself for once alone at this usually busy spot. We wander along the ridge that of St Catherine's Hill, Christchurch.
As we pass by the twin mobile telephone masts the steady thrum of a plane is heard as it passes overhead. I pause to watch the sway of the thinner tower, rock embedded at the foot, but the upper section flexing as it bends so easily to wind whim.
The plane continues to fly overhead. What still?
I realise it’s the sound of the wind resonating the mast struts of the towers, with an irregular drumming as gusts bounce off some of the bulbous equipment bolted high above.
A personal orchestral offering - courtesy of Mother Nature and BT.
I love the change of perspective that the natural world can bring out in the everyday world.Labels: nature
Tuesday, September 29
Three things to do to Enjoy England
As you may have spotted on other sites some outdoor Bloggers have been approached by Jam to contribute to the Guardian's forthcoming ‘Enjoy England’ feature.
Speed reading the invitation my initial thought was 'Great! Finally hit the big time. A chance to kick over the traces of the day job".
Regrettably, a later slower perusal revealed a less glittering outcome.
But hey-ho; Ideas for these ramblings of mine can come from any direction and are all encouraged in whatever guise they might arise. So here's tonight's jottings, based around a common theme.
Solitude
According to recent government statistics the UK will soon only have living room for 423,138 more people before our landmass achieves its maximum level of population saturation.
New laws, allegedly being drafted as I write, plan to introduce measures that will require all UK inhabitants to take Breaths-In & Breaths-Out in an alternative mode to their nearest neighbour, rather than risk those in coastal areas being slowly edged off into the sea as the majority of the populace inhale simultaneously.
A little like a living Penny Fall shuffle fairground machine.
Well perhaps things aren't quite that bad. Yet. I may even have (whisper it gently) exaggerated so very slightly. But its true that urban living, now encompassing anyplace, short of living at the bottom of a lake, is becoming increasingly over populated & pressurised.
Here's a secret. This is a facet of modern society which can be so easily thwarted with a little personal effort.
Park the car. Start walking away from the road, and into your nearest piece of countryside. Take care to avoid well worn footpaths & tracks. Just keep going, veering clear of any signs of human habitation. Especially tourist features (Particularly Forestry Commission attractions. Honey pot to the Urban Daytripper. A wasp filled jam-jar to this writer)
Now Stop.
Take a deep breath.
And just listen to that glorious sound of ..... your own sweet self. Finally alone with nature.
Like this early morning alarm clock during my Dartmoor Dawdle in June 2008
"I had a lie-in until the sun poked its nose over the ridge, giving me the chance stay in my sleeping bag and listen to the song of the skylarks for twenty minutes of so. And I mean really listen. Lying there with no other distraction my concentration was fully given over to their repetitive trills, before their song veered on to yet another melody. No other background noise to taint the sound. A sublime experience"
Wildcamping
Despite somewhat draconian camping constraints under English law there are still pockets of wild uninhabited places in England that allow one to simply disappear from everyday humanity with little fuss, effort or expense.
With minimal equipment & a easy willingness to dispense with life's trappings & fripperies whole areas of England, rarely visited by most of the population are opened up.
Entry is free!
True it requires some degree of self-reliance & self confidence. In turn the benefit is a self-awareness at a level that most people would find difficult to comprehend. The easily discovered ability to spend a night in a wild place, somewhere apparently uninhabitable for so many, builds a bond with the natural world that once experienced cannot be forgotten.
Unlike so many shiny promises offered in our ' enlightened' times a repeat of this experience always seems to triggers some primordial Sigh from deep down within the brain's limbic region.
Freeze, Flight or Fight?
Not necessarily. Some of us know of a fourth way (Grasshopper).
Reckon I should start a cult?
Dartmoor
A desolately inhabited place of some 368 square miles, and yet an area both within easy access of millions of urbanites with major road access, and a place that positively encourages Wildcamping.
To the majority, trundling across tight moorland roads, it may seem an endless expanse of open land & weirdly sculpted Tor tops, mostly shrouded in thick mist & heartily driven rain. To guests of the HMP Dartmoor establishment, at Princetown, possibly a beckoning view, somewhere green & encouraging beyond thick Napoleonic walls of retribution.
For some an equally scary proposition when viewed from the comfort of a car. But after a few visits into Dartmoor's interior, by foot, the rich history of earlier human habitation springs into being. Neolithic stone rows to the more recent historic drippings of mine tramways, all underline that this was once one of the more densely populated place in England during past eras when a wooded valley was a places of Danger & Threat.
Forget the forlorn baying of the Sherlock Holme's Baskerville Hound. Instead learn to celebrate a place once full of life, and eager to share its secrets, many long forgotten, for those prepared to explore away from the modern day tarmacadam detour of bland conformity.
Or just stay inside the safety of that car.
Going from Nowhere. Leading to Nowhere. Please exit at the cliffside departure gate along with your fellow lemmings.
Was that Three Things to Do in England? Perhaps not quite what the Guardian invitation had in mind?
Whatever - just get out into some distant English wild place, and soak up its true nature. Far from the crush of humanity.
Better be quick. Tourist No. 423,139 arrives in 4 years time. And then this island starts to slowly sink into the sea.
Me? I'll be on Yes Tor. Having a brew & watching the sunset.
Glug .... glug .... glug.
Labels: dartmoor, media, Mental Health, National Park, nature
Friday, September 25
Wildcamp - Travel - Wildcamp
To Travel.
Definition: "To go from one place to another …..To advance or proceed"
By inference an act requiring physical movement from one position/place to another.
True, there's no rule to say that Wildcamps cannot be static. To remain at the same site for more than one night.
But mostly wildcamping is about spatial transition. The act of swapping one remote & lonely spot for a different perspective. Usually another remote & lonely spot. A daily change of place.
Or .............. perhaps that should be a change of perspective on life ?
Whatever - it makes no difference. The act itself suffices for many.
For me? Well......
To tap into the Great Unknown. Become one, once more, with the deep Om of life.
To touch, however fleetingly, that underlying rhythmic beat of energy. For so much of our lives unheeded as it throbs far below our everyday event threshold that is termed Living In The Real World'.
To sleep a night. Solitary & defenceless in some wild and inhospitable place. Remote, perhaps even uninhabitable for many.
To awake at dawn's approach. Mentally & physically renewed.
Early morning grumbling of sinews & bones, unaccustomed to the previous day's physical activity, quietening as the essence of At One with a natural life force, are sensed deep within one's self.
An unexpected deep sigh of contentment at ……
At..?
Well at nothing tangible really.
Except the act of being part of the Real World.
Breathing.
Sharing rainfall run-off with beck or tarn as it heeds the pull of gravity.
Wind veer caressing bare skin; Rain sting on cheeks;
The welcoming warmth of weak sunlight on a frosty morning.
The cool relief freely given by deep shade of rock's shadow at the height of Summer.
Another day greeted. Rucksack settled onto back for the hours of movement ahead.
The last act.
A final lingering glance backwards to the night's resting place. Checking for mislaid kit and signs of human presence? Or more a quiet & silent salute to a place now special in memory & time.
To travel.
No, not movement from place to place, towards some journey's end.
Merely an excuse to saviour stops along the way & touch, fleetingly, the closeness of the Natural World & Reality.
Until the next time.
Maybe I'm alone in silently greeting a wildcamp site on arrival; And on departure bidding a fond farewell. To a familiar friend who's presence I meet with from time to time? And from place to place.
Or then again ..... maybe not.
Perhaps I'm just weird?Labels: nature
Monday, August 31
The Weather Man is a Drip
Did you enjoy today's sunny weather? Hopefully that won't be the last gasp of this derisory summer just yet.
But who knows for sure?
Maybe the Meteorological Office & its ubiquitous stooge the TV Weatherman?
Perhaps.
Or then again.......Nope - probably not with their track record over recent times.
For this weekend was the last straw for me in treating seriously the dire content of the dumbed down weather forecast for the masses.
Take Saturday's TV forecast beamed out around 22:00 in the evening on BBC1.
'Bad weather on Sunday for the south of England, but not until around 5pm' cheerily pronounced the Metman's grinning monkey, 'Enjoy the Sunday sunshine while you can'.
Meanwhile, blue screen background behind him, the forecaster waved his arms with enthusiastic animation as a computer generated model of the weather for the next 24 hours silently confirmed his projection. Its crude overview indicating clouds and rain cruising across from Ireland, and due to reach my own locale until late on Sunday.
It must be true - the time was at the bottom of the cartoon after all.
Plans made accordingly I departed to bed. Why then did I look out of the window early Sunday morning to see thick cloud cover. Which by lunchtime had built into light drizzle for the rest of the afternoon? By then I'd given up in disgust and was watching the rain blow in from the coast whilst getting some work sorted in the office.
(Well it seemed like a good way to use the time bearing in mind the happier alternatives that had gone by the board)
How is it the high tech, multi million pound Met Office weather models can be so inept about weather only 12 hours ahead?
That's not the worse case I can relate. The TV forecasts have been getting progressively more dreadful over a period of many months. Its almost as if the senseless drive to make the forecast more "accessible" to the drooling TV couch potato has up-ended any accuracy they once had.
And for what?
The conditions Outdoor are largely irrelevant for Mr Lardy Arse TV Watcher.
Nope. I've had it with the TV & Radio forecasts from now on.
Here's my three top tips on how to predict the forthcoming weather:
1. In hilly areas, refer to the Mountain Weather Information Service's report for the next 1-2 days. These tend to have a very high level of accuracy & are essential reading for high hill walking at times of bad weather.
2. Learn to read & interpret a pressure chart. I like this site, although the level of detail can be intimidating for the uninitiated at first (click on the dates at the foot of the page).
Another excellent source is on the MWIS site.
Or there's this over on the European Centre for Medium-Range Weather Forecasts site
3. DIY. Look out of the window & go outdoors. Check the flow of air movement especially in comparison to the clouds overhead. Sense the air temperature - colder or warmer than earlier? Look at the clouds and the formations. Then back indoors to tap the barometer to see if its rising or falling.
Then take your best guess!
4. Finally - down to the seashore & pick up some seaweed.
Only a fraction of the cost of the Met Office's new "second most powerful computer in the UK" but probably a damn sight more accurate than the drivel fed to us from the goggle box each day.
Better still - sod the forecast - just get outside anyway.
And pack a waterproof, just in case.
Monday, August 24
Walkers & Cattle - Advice
The Enemy #1 - The Cow
Genetically over engineered over many centuries into a meat & milk provider. Typically two tone in colour. Heavy nasal drooling at one end. And a different sort of drooling at the other.
If in doubt carefully use a scratch & sniff test to quickly distinguish the key differences. Try not to lick your fingers afterwards.
The Enemy #2 - The Bullock
The juvenile male. Often identified by a tendency to unexpectedly demonstrate their sexual awakening by attempting to mount each other. Often repeatedly. Despite mixed success.
Intensely curious and prone to rapidly cover a field's length seconds after you've strayed within the barb wire/electrified boundary fence fortification.
The Owner - The Cattle Farmer
Some believe this to be a mix of the two genres. Often distinguished by the use of green wellingtons, dung coloured (typically blue) overalls, & a loud greeting call "Gerroff-my-land-you-townies".
Well ok I may be guilty of ever egging those descriptions a little.
Except for the green wellies.
But more seriously today's BBC reports have hi-lighted certain dangers associated with these usually tranquil beasts (I meant the cows by the way)
Beware of cows with their calves. Especially if you encounter them whilst accompanied by a dog.
Personally, even when not dog accompanied, I have a tendency to avoid any beast weighing in excess of 1/2 ton and capable of short bursts of speed in my general direction. No matter what its motivation may be.
The NFU advice has been issued as a result of the deaths of 3 walkers in 3 months.
Their advice to walkers
"if you have a dog with you, keep it under close control, but do not hang on to it should a cow or bull start acting aggressively. If you feel threatened, just carry on as normal, do not run, move to the edge of the field and if possible find another way round the field, returning to the original path as soon as is possible. And remember to close the gate".
(I love that mention of the gate. A good idea to prevent yet another headlong chase down the next field, but at the same time rather a recognisable farmy piece of advice)
The main problem for those of not familiar with bovine nature - what is aggressive behaviour?
Most cattle will wander over to a stile if they spot a walker. After all chewing cud and trying to mount your brothers can becomes tedious after a few weeks of such wild experiences.
I regularly walk across a large open expanse of common land watching the behaviour of cattle.
Based, I assume on their previous encounters, a few cattle will hang back from the main herd, effectively acting as scouts. These will initiate a rapid move towards the cause of any disquiet, bringing the rest of the herd cavorting behind them, feet drumming hard.
Not a pleasant prospect if you happen to be that cause.
Unfortunately the latest victim was a farmer. But back at the Royal Welsh Show in July the FUW (think NFU Wales) was quoted as saying that "Cases of potentially-deadly stampeding cattle unwittingly spooked by dog walkers are almost certainly set to rise"
(Lets ignore the comment "In part it was due to cash-strapped "townies" holidaying in the UK at a time of recession and heading for the countryside to relax")
Here's my advice, based on years of experience using farm paths. Its personal, so make up your own mind at your own risk.
1. Don’t keep the dog on a lead, but do keep it under control at all times.
If its not sufficiently well trained to stay to heel, or be sent away, you really shouldn't be out with it amongst farm animals.
2. By all means carry a stout stick. But as most people, including myself, do not carry one try picking up a few small stones (not rocks!) before entering a field.
It’s a last ditch deterrent. Better a few stings on a cow's thick hide, and a potential dressing down from a farmer, than being knocked over & injured by a fast moving herd.
3. If the beasts move towards you, make loud single syllable noises, such as they'd expect from the cowhand (cowherd?) also make yourself look bigger, but try not to wave your hands about alarmingly. Not so much noise that they become spooked, but enough to give you time for a rapid & controlled exit, whilst they try to work out just what the hell you are.
Thinking herding noises.
(I used this on my last Dartmoor trip for a couple of miles, in an area covered with impenetrable gorse thickets and narrow paths. A river was on one side. A steep rise on the other. The cows & their calves wouldn’t take the hint to veer away, despite my vectoring approaches. As this was the only way off the moor unless I turned back for a five mile detour, near the end of a long day I had little choice on this occasion.
4. Don’t (completely) turn your back or try to out sprint them. Back away steadily whilst ensuring you remain upright & prepared to move off to one side to avoid any confrontation.
5. Keep an eye out for all potential exit routes, moving well around any herd where possible. Remember that most of the boundary hedgerows will be hiding barbed wire. Its meant to prevent the escape of large curious animals. That works the same where you are concerned as well.
Its not a good time to find this out when entangled in this as part of any rapid exit.
Remember Steve McQueen in the Great Escape?
6. If it does come to a close up encounter I'm told a hard slap across the snout will work wonders.
Personally I've not test this particular tip. Not do I ever intend to get into a situation where I need to test the hypothesis.
If someone slapped me across the snout I’d tend to thrash about a fair bit, or take it as an attack. But quite what a 1/2 ton beast may do …..?
7. Finally (or should this be firstly?) if in doubt make a detour to avoid crossing the field.
I'm not too proud to admit I've done this on many occasions where cows/horses have shown rather too much interest in my presence before I've even entered the field.
This is one circumstance where Flight before Fight is A Good Thing
Any more tips - leave a comment please.Labels: nature
Sunday, August 2
Its Summer? No its Autumn? Just take your pick
An early Sunday start prepping two motorcycles ready for a long weekend at a Well Known Event (but more on that later in the week perhaps)
Whilst I'm on the topic, when did the centre-stand become surplus to requirement? Trying single handed to get each bike on a paddock stand, for simple chain maintenance (a five minute job) became a heart stopping half hour if the end result wasn't to be one's pride and joy lying lifeless on its side after toppling over during the stand/mounting process.
Since when did a centre stand become a luxury item?
So imagine my joy when I wandered back indoors only to find my pc screen infected with a rather nasty Trojan virus which required some major low level surgery to eradicate.
And yes, I do use current Firewall & Anti-Virus packages.
Two hours later that was sorted, leaving many more hours to run some alternative malware/spyware software and complete a low level purge.
Time for a walk then? More like essential.
Out to Burbush in the New Forest for a bit of contemplative R&R, accompanied by a MP3 player of very loud rock music. Always works well when I'm in an anti-social frame of mind.
Predictably, given the summer season, the rural back roads were busy & the New Forest car park a seething mass of humanity. Why does the term 'tourist on holiday' seem to require leaving their brain & common sense in a small pail by the holiday accommodation's front door each day?
Oh well - a quiet route was essential today, far away from marked paths and over publicised guidebook routes.
A success in that I saw no-one else once I'd left the vicinity of the car park. Sort of a success in a spur of the moment decision to try something a little more physically challenging by hopping off the back of my first route to link up with a longer outlying circuit.
It was via bog land. It wasn't any surprise. I know the land here abouts is liable to be undercut by narrow rivulets of flowing water, especially after rain. Adopting the trusted bog hop gait that Darren knows so well I quickly crossed onto the lower slopes of the far valley side, and picked up a pony track up to the pine topped mount ahead, in which nestled a World War II searchlight emplacement.
All going spiffing so far. A good workout over rough ground, much akin to Dartmoor in some places, and at a fast pace. Dog by my side, we moved ever onwards.
As I followed the ridge I was watching the boggy land below looking for a better track to cut across to rejoin the original route. An excellent & quiet circular if it wasn't for 400m of path crossing a major watershed plateau. Even the sinking of various peat and straw bales a few years earlier had failed to turn it into better than an inevitable paddle even during drought conditions. So its always been a bugbear of mine to find someway to hop this impassable section without getting a guaranteed soaking.
Today I thought I had cracked it. Spotting a clear pony track down I headed to the valley for a short 200m traverse to the far slope.
Along the way my path meandered by a solitary blackberry bush, already full of ripe fruit. A pause briefly to saviour a couple of large juicy berries unadulterated by proximity to car or human activity. Its going to be a bumper crop this year.
But hang on - doesn't ripe fruit signify the End of The Summer. A sign that Autumn's days are announcing their turn to become the seasonal host?
Maybe. Personally I'm yet to get my head around the fact its Summer, even as the evenings drawn in with each dusk arriving earlier than the previous one.
Onwards then into what turned out to be one of the worst pieces of broken ground I've walked over for some time. No make that walked through. Or maybe even under.
Initially hopping from tussock to tussock I turned to make sure Dog was ok. He'd disappeared. Nope there he was, the only sign of his passage the top of long sedge grasses moving, as he followed a track deep deep down in the undergrowth.
I persevered. Carefully. This was ankle snapping territory. The trusted bog hop gait, so suavely demonstrated not half an hour before soon became an arm whirling, keep the balance, plummet forward until finally the inevitable happened.
My foot went into a pool of water, far below and out of sight, with the result - a boot filled with a tantalising mixture of rain water and Grade A fresh bog land mulch (and all free of charge)
Bugger - this is the sort of incident that rarely happens to me. Even then it should be in some wild and harsh environment. Not 50m from the dry & well worn path in front of me.
I finished the rest of the walk with a noticeable squelch each time my right foot hit the deck. But I had to smile along the way.
Putting the valley's water levels down to this summer's rainfall level I mentally marked the route as passable, but with care and at the right time of the year.
So why, when I came to one of the Forest's permanent pool of standing water was it's level 2-3m below its normal mark; Foreshore mud clearly visible? A typical mid summer scene in fact.
Is this still a wet Summer this year? Or maybe a warm season with periods of rainfall that have coloured the general perception of inclement weather.
Or has the high season already passed, leaving us to face an early Autumn? One that indicates the
non Winter season is now one extended period of warm & occasionally wet weather?
Well I don't know, and I doubt whether the Met Office are truly qualified these days to proffer an opinion that anyone would trust.
I squelched my way back into the typical Soddam & Gomorrah scene surrounding the car park. As I started homewards to renew battle with a pc clean-up, I skirted Forest ponies obstructing the main access routes & road. Their particular season in full swing having relearnt the quickest way to get Oohs & Aahs from day trippers and more relevantly their free handouts.
I really need to get away soon!Labels: nature, New Forest, walks
Friday, July 24
Running fast. Standing still.
A combination of work, home and the usual day to day life drudge means that any time spent in front of this damned mono visual blinking radiation emitting time wasting device (aka Internet PC) are few and far between at present.
I've managed to keep up with my regular blog/forum reads each day, although any interaction in those places has also been similarly limited by time & energy.
Regrettably my fine record of monthly wildcamps that started so well (and so early this year), has turned to a pile of mush in response to circumstance. Many of these beyond my direct control, but all requiring the mature & supportive responses that I like to think is part of what make me Who I Am.
But today, at the end of yet another endlessly milling week I've uncovered a few hours of my own. Time to sit back & spend some solitary moments on my own whims. Something that during the last few weeks I've felt increasingly driven to saviour during the pell-mell rush that seems to be my waking existence.
Now is that time, more than ever, when I feel drawn to find that special renewal of spirit that comes with a few night's wildcamping in some lonely and desolate wild location. Far from my fellow human, but so close to the true reality of existence. Water. Shelter. Food. Nature. Bliss.
But for the moment my dismally puny recharge comes as I think back to some of those high ridge wildcamps. Places where I sat savouring the blending of Time, Space & Solitude.
The quiet gap that follows the end of a long day's trek.
The wildcamp pitch. Refuelling the body's needs.
And then an opportunity to fill the gap before sleep by busily doing nothing in particular but become one with the surroundings. True - only a transitory visitor. But one open to the measure and pleasure of the temporary resting place.
Meanwhile there are the trip reports from fellow Outdoor Bloggers as they discuss their recent sorties out in the Great Outdoors (You lucky sods!)
All this helps keep me on the right side of sanity. Although those who have met me know that such a description is always applied a little warily when citing my general demeanour.
So for now I teeter (titter?) along life's own high ridge. Balancing The Present alongside The Past. Awaiting The Future where control of my own moments & movements can one again be retaken in a more selfish manner.
So what if this summer is yet again turning out to be damp and changeable?
The weather is warm. The grass is full grown. Tree crowns are dark and leaf laden.
Get out there if you are able. Saviour these moments.
To store up pleasant memories for colder days ahead.
And I don't mean the Winter.Labels: Mental Health, nature
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
The short walk from the clifftop parking spot down to the café is accompanied by a steadily hazing of vision as my spectacles slowly coat with a mixture of sea spray, salt and sand. All whipping onto the land as the wind leaves off pushing surf up onto the shoreline, and turns to other games to play instead.
A group of Oyster catchers, seemingly oblivious to the elemental force, busily bob along the tidal sand, looking for their breakfast. At times one takes to the air, making only a short distance, before quickly returning to earth. The desire for flight lessened today by the effort required to maintain it.
Warm inside the café we watch as the birds continue their hunt for tide borne bonanza. The fry up arrives.
Dog and myself for once alone at this usually busy spot. We wander along the ridge that of St Catherine's Hill, Christchurch.
As we pass by the twin mobile telephone masts the steady thrum of a plane is heard as it passes overhead. I pause to watch the sway of the thinner tower, rock embedded at the foot, but the upper section flexing as it bends so easily to wind whim.
The plane continues to fly overhead. What still?
I realise it’s the sound of the wind resonating the mast struts of the towers, with an irregular drumming as gusts bounce off some of the bulbous equipment bolted high above.
A personal orchestral offering - courtesy of Mother Nature and BT.
I love the change of perspective that the natural world can bring out in the everyday world.
Labels: nature
Three things to do to Enjoy England
As you may have spotted on other sites some outdoor Bloggers have been approached by Jam to contribute to the Guardian's forthcoming ‘Enjoy England’ feature.
Speed reading the invitation my initial thought was 'Great! Finally hit the big time. A chance to kick over the traces of the day job".
Regrettably, a later slower perusal revealed a less glittering outcome.
But hey-ho; Ideas for these ramblings of mine can come from any direction and are all encouraged in whatever guise they might arise. So here's tonight's jottings, based around a common theme.
Solitude
According to recent government statistics the UK will soon only have living room for 423,138 more people before our landmass achieves its maximum level of population saturation.
New laws, allegedly being drafted as I write, plan to introduce measures that will require all UK inhabitants to take Breaths-In & Breaths-Out in an alternative mode to their nearest neighbour, rather than risk those in coastal areas being slowly edged off into the sea as the majority of the populace inhale simultaneously.
A little like a living Penny Fall shuffle fairground machine.
Well perhaps things aren't quite that bad. Yet. I may even have (whisper it gently) exaggerated so very slightly. But its true that urban living, now encompassing anyplace, short of living at the bottom of a lake, is becoming increasingly over populated & pressurised.
Here's a secret. This is a facet of modern society which can be so easily thwarted with a little personal effort.
Park the car. Start walking away from the road, and into your nearest piece of countryside. Take care to avoid well worn footpaths & tracks. Just keep going, veering clear of any signs of human habitation. Especially tourist features (Particularly Forestry Commission attractions. Honey pot to the Urban Daytripper. A wasp filled jam-jar to this writer)
Now Stop.
Take a deep breath.
And just listen to that glorious sound of ..... your own sweet self. Finally alone with nature.
Like this early morning alarm clock during my Dartmoor Dawdle in June 2008
"I had a lie-in until the sun poked its nose over the ridge, giving me the chance stay in my sleeping bag and listen to the song of the skylarks for twenty minutes of so. And I mean really listen. Lying there with no other distraction my concentration was fully given over to their repetitive trills, before their song veered on to yet another melody. No other background noise to taint the sound. A sublime experience"
Wildcamping
Despite somewhat draconian camping constraints under English law there are still pockets of wild uninhabited places in England that allow one to simply disappear from everyday humanity with little fuss, effort or expense.
With minimal equipment & a easy willingness to dispense with life's trappings & fripperies whole areas of England, rarely visited by most of the population are opened up.
Entry is free!
True it requires some degree of self-reliance & self confidence. In turn the benefit is a self-awareness at a level that most people would find difficult to comprehend. The easily discovered ability to spend a night in a wild place, somewhere apparently uninhabitable for so many, builds a bond with the natural world that once experienced cannot be forgotten.
Unlike so many shiny promises offered in our ' enlightened' times a repeat of this experience always seems to triggers some primordial Sigh from deep down within the brain's limbic region.
Freeze, Flight or Fight?
Not necessarily. Some of us know of a fourth way (Grasshopper).
Reckon I should start a cult?
Dartmoor
A desolately inhabited place of some 368 square miles, and yet an area both within easy access of millions of urbanites with major road access, and a place that positively encourages Wildcamping.
To the majority, trundling across tight moorland roads, it may seem an endless expanse of open land & weirdly sculpted Tor tops, mostly shrouded in thick mist & heartily driven rain. To guests of the HMP Dartmoor establishment, at Princetown, possibly a beckoning view, somewhere green & encouraging beyond thick Napoleonic walls of retribution.
For some an equally scary proposition when viewed from the comfort of a car. But after a few visits into Dartmoor's interior, by foot, the rich history of earlier human habitation springs into being. Neolithic stone rows to the more recent historic drippings of mine tramways, all underline that this was once one of the more densely populated place in England during past eras when a wooded valley was a places of Danger & Threat.
Forget the forlorn baying of the Sherlock Holme's Baskerville Hound. Instead learn to celebrate a place once full of life, and eager to share its secrets, many long forgotten, for those prepared to explore away from the modern day tarmacadam detour of bland conformity.
Or just stay inside the safety of that car.
Going from Nowhere. Leading to Nowhere. Please exit at the cliffside departure gate along with your fellow lemmings.
Was that Three Things to Do in England? Perhaps not quite what the Guardian invitation had in mind?
Whatever - just get out into some distant English wild place, and soak up its true nature. Far from the crush of humanity.
Better be quick. Tourist No. 423,139 arrives in 4 years time. And then this island starts to slowly sink into the sea.
Me? I'll be on Yes Tor. Having a brew & watching the sunset.
Glug .... glug .... glug.
Labels: dartmoor, media, Mental Health, National Park, nature
Friday, September 25
Wildcamp - Travel - Wildcamp
To Travel.
Definition: "To go from one place to another …..To advance or proceed"
By inference an act requiring physical movement from one position/place to another.
True, there's no rule to say that Wildcamps cannot be static. To remain at the same site for more than one night.
But mostly wildcamping is about spatial transition. The act of swapping one remote & lonely spot for a different perspective. Usually another remote & lonely spot. A daily change of place.
Or .............. perhaps that should be a change of perspective on life ?
Whatever - it makes no difference. The act itself suffices for many.
For me? Well......
To tap into the Great Unknown. Become one, once more, with the deep Om of life.
To touch, however fleetingly, that underlying rhythmic beat of energy. For so much of our lives unheeded as it throbs far below our everyday event threshold that is termed Living In The Real World'.
To sleep a night. Solitary & defenceless in some wild and inhospitable place. Remote, perhaps even uninhabitable for many.
To awake at dawn's approach. Mentally & physically renewed.
Early morning grumbling of sinews & bones, unaccustomed to the previous day's physical activity, quietening as the essence of At One with a natural life force, are sensed deep within one's self.
An unexpected deep sigh of contentment at ……
At..?
Well at nothing tangible really.
Except the act of being part of the Real World.
Breathing.
Sharing rainfall run-off with beck or tarn as it heeds the pull of gravity.
Wind veer caressing bare skin; Rain sting on cheeks;
The welcoming warmth of weak sunlight on a frosty morning.
The cool relief freely given by deep shade of rock's shadow at the height of Summer.
Another day greeted. Rucksack settled onto back for the hours of movement ahead.
The last act.
A final lingering glance backwards to the night's resting place. Checking for mislaid kit and signs of human presence? Or more a quiet & silent salute to a place now special in memory & time.
To travel.
No, not movement from place to place, towards some journey's end.
Merely an excuse to saviour stops along the way & touch, fleetingly, the closeness of the Natural World & Reality.
Until the next time.
Maybe I'm alone in silently greeting a wildcamp site on arrival; And on departure bidding a fond farewell. To a familiar friend who's presence I meet with from time to time? And from place to place.
Or then again ..... maybe not.
Perhaps I'm just weird?Labels: nature
Monday, August 31
The Weather Man is a Drip
Did you enjoy today's sunny weather? Hopefully that won't be the last gasp of this derisory summer just yet.
But who knows for sure?
Maybe the Meteorological Office & its ubiquitous stooge the TV Weatherman?
Perhaps.
Or then again.......Nope - probably not with their track record over recent times.
For this weekend was the last straw for me in treating seriously the dire content of the dumbed down weather forecast for the masses.
Take Saturday's TV forecast beamed out around 22:00 in the evening on BBC1.
'Bad weather on Sunday for the south of England, but not until around 5pm' cheerily pronounced the Metman's grinning monkey, 'Enjoy the Sunday sunshine while you can'.
Meanwhile, blue screen background behind him, the forecaster waved his arms with enthusiastic animation as a computer generated model of the weather for the next 24 hours silently confirmed his projection. Its crude overview indicating clouds and rain cruising across from Ireland, and due to reach my own locale until late on Sunday.
It must be true - the time was at the bottom of the cartoon after all.
Plans made accordingly I departed to bed. Why then did I look out of the window early Sunday morning to see thick cloud cover. Which by lunchtime had built into light drizzle for the rest of the afternoon? By then I'd given up in disgust and was watching the rain blow in from the coast whilst getting some work sorted in the office.
(Well it seemed like a good way to use the time bearing in mind the happier alternatives that had gone by the board)
How is it the high tech, multi million pound Met Office weather models can be so inept about weather only 12 hours ahead?
That's not the worse case I can relate. The TV forecasts have been getting progressively more dreadful over a period of many months. Its almost as if the senseless drive to make the forecast more "accessible" to the drooling TV couch potato has up-ended any accuracy they once had.
And for what?
The conditions Outdoor are largely irrelevant for Mr Lardy Arse TV Watcher.
Nope. I've had it with the TV & Radio forecasts from now on.
Here's my three top tips on how to predict the forthcoming weather:
1. In hilly areas, refer to the Mountain Weather Information Service's report for the next 1-2 days. These tend to have a very high level of accuracy & are essential reading for high hill walking at times of bad weather.
2. Learn to read & interpret a pressure chart. I like this site, although the level of detail can be intimidating for the uninitiated at first (click on the dates at the foot of the page).
Another excellent source is on the MWIS site.
Or there's this over on the European Centre for Medium-Range Weather Forecasts site
3. DIY. Look out of the window & go outdoors. Check the flow of air movement especially in comparison to the clouds overhead. Sense the air temperature - colder or warmer than earlier? Look at the clouds and the formations. Then back indoors to tap the barometer to see if its rising or falling.
Then take your best guess!
4. Finally - down to the seashore & pick up some seaweed.
Only a fraction of the cost of the Met Office's new "second most powerful computer in the UK" but probably a damn sight more accurate than the drivel fed to us from the goggle box each day.
Better still - sod the forecast - just get outside anyway.
And pack a waterproof, just in case.
Monday, August 24
Walkers & Cattle - Advice
The Enemy #1 - The Cow
Genetically over engineered over many centuries into a meat & milk provider. Typically two tone in colour. Heavy nasal drooling at one end. And a different sort of drooling at the other.
If in doubt carefully use a scratch & sniff test to quickly distinguish the key differences. Try not to lick your fingers afterwards.
The Enemy #2 - The Bullock
The juvenile male. Often identified by a tendency to unexpectedly demonstrate their sexual awakening by attempting to mount each other. Often repeatedly. Despite mixed success.
Intensely curious and prone to rapidly cover a field's length seconds after you've strayed within the barb wire/electrified boundary fence fortification.
The Owner - The Cattle Farmer
Some believe this to be a mix of the two genres. Often distinguished by the use of green wellingtons, dung coloured (typically blue) overalls, & a loud greeting call "Gerroff-my-land-you-townies".
Well ok I may be guilty of ever egging those descriptions a little.
Except for the green wellies.
But more seriously today's BBC reports have hi-lighted certain dangers associated with these usually tranquil beasts (I meant the cows by the way)
Beware of cows with their calves. Especially if you encounter them whilst accompanied by a dog.
Personally, even when not dog accompanied, I have a tendency to avoid any beast weighing in excess of 1/2 ton and capable of short bursts of speed in my general direction. No matter what its motivation may be.
The NFU advice has been issued as a result of the deaths of 3 walkers in 3 months.
Their advice to walkers
"if you have a dog with you, keep it under close control, but do not hang on to it should a cow or bull start acting aggressively. If you feel threatened, just carry on as normal, do not run, move to the edge of the field and if possible find another way round the field, returning to the original path as soon as is possible. And remember to close the gate".
(I love that mention of the gate. A good idea to prevent yet another headlong chase down the next field, but at the same time rather a recognisable farmy piece of advice)
The main problem for those of not familiar with bovine nature - what is aggressive behaviour?
Most cattle will wander over to a stile if they spot a walker. After all chewing cud and trying to mount your brothers can becomes tedious after a few weeks of such wild experiences.
I regularly walk across a large open expanse of common land watching the behaviour of cattle.
Based, I assume on their previous encounters, a few cattle will hang back from the main herd, effectively acting as scouts. These will initiate a rapid move towards the cause of any disquiet, bringing the rest of the herd cavorting behind them, feet drumming hard.
Not a pleasant prospect if you happen to be that cause.
Unfortunately the latest victim was a farmer. But back at the Royal Welsh Show in July the FUW (think NFU Wales) was quoted as saying that "Cases of potentially-deadly stampeding cattle unwittingly spooked by dog walkers are almost certainly set to rise"
(Lets ignore the comment "In part it was due to cash-strapped "townies" holidaying in the UK at a time of recession and heading for the countryside to relax")
Here's my advice, based on years of experience using farm paths. Its personal, so make up your own mind at your own risk.
1. Don’t keep the dog on a lead, but do keep it under control at all times.
If its not sufficiently well trained to stay to heel, or be sent away, you really shouldn't be out with it amongst farm animals.
2. By all means carry a stout stick. But as most people, including myself, do not carry one try picking up a few small stones (not rocks!) before entering a field.
It’s a last ditch deterrent. Better a few stings on a cow's thick hide, and a potential dressing down from a farmer, than being knocked over & injured by a fast moving herd.
3. If the beasts move towards you, make loud single syllable noises, such as they'd expect from the cowhand (cowherd?) also make yourself look bigger, but try not to wave your hands about alarmingly. Not so much noise that they become spooked, but enough to give you time for a rapid & controlled exit, whilst they try to work out just what the hell you are.
Thinking herding noises.
(I used this on my last Dartmoor trip for a couple of miles, in an area covered with impenetrable gorse thickets and narrow paths. A river was on one side. A steep rise on the other. The cows & their calves wouldn’t take the hint to veer away, despite my vectoring approaches. As this was the only way off the moor unless I turned back for a five mile detour, near the end of a long day I had little choice on this occasion.
4. Don’t (completely) turn your back or try to out sprint them. Back away steadily whilst ensuring you remain upright & prepared to move off to one side to avoid any confrontation.
5. Keep an eye out for all potential exit routes, moving well around any herd where possible. Remember that most of the boundary hedgerows will be hiding barbed wire. Its meant to prevent the escape of large curious animals. That works the same where you are concerned as well.
Its not a good time to find this out when entangled in this as part of any rapid exit.
Remember Steve McQueen in the Great Escape?
6. If it does come to a close up encounter I'm told a hard slap across the snout will work wonders.
Personally I've not test this particular tip. Not do I ever intend to get into a situation where I need to test the hypothesis.
If someone slapped me across the snout I’d tend to thrash about a fair bit, or take it as an attack. But quite what a 1/2 ton beast may do …..?
7. Finally (or should this be firstly?) if in doubt make a detour to avoid crossing the field.
I'm not too proud to admit I've done this on many occasions where cows/horses have shown rather too much interest in my presence before I've even entered the field.
This is one circumstance where Flight before Fight is A Good Thing
Any more tips - leave a comment please.Labels: nature
Sunday, August 2
Its Summer? No its Autumn? Just take your pick
An early Sunday start prepping two motorcycles ready for a long weekend at a Well Known Event (but more on that later in the week perhaps)
Whilst I'm on the topic, when did the centre-stand become surplus to requirement? Trying single handed to get each bike on a paddock stand, for simple chain maintenance (a five minute job) became a heart stopping half hour if the end result wasn't to be one's pride and joy lying lifeless on its side after toppling over during the stand/mounting process.
Since when did a centre stand become a luxury item?
So imagine my joy when I wandered back indoors only to find my pc screen infected with a rather nasty Trojan virus which required some major low level surgery to eradicate.
And yes, I do use current Firewall & Anti-Virus packages.
Two hours later that was sorted, leaving many more hours to run some alternative malware/spyware software and complete a low level purge.
Time for a walk then? More like essential.
Out to Burbush in the New Forest for a bit of contemplative R&R, accompanied by a MP3 player of very loud rock music. Always works well when I'm in an anti-social frame of mind.
Predictably, given the summer season, the rural back roads were busy & the New Forest car park a seething mass of humanity. Why does the term 'tourist on holiday' seem to require leaving their brain & common sense in a small pail by the holiday accommodation's front door each day?
Oh well - a quiet route was essential today, far away from marked paths and over publicised guidebook routes.
A success in that I saw no-one else once I'd left the vicinity of the car park. Sort of a success in a spur of the moment decision to try something a little more physically challenging by hopping off the back of my first route to link up with a longer outlying circuit.
It was via bog land. It wasn't any surprise. I know the land here abouts is liable to be undercut by narrow rivulets of flowing water, especially after rain. Adopting the trusted bog hop gait that Darren knows so well I quickly crossed onto the lower slopes of the far valley side, and picked up a pony track up to the pine topped mount ahead, in which nestled a World War II searchlight emplacement.
All going spiffing so far. A good workout over rough ground, much akin to Dartmoor in some places, and at a fast pace. Dog by my side, we moved ever onwards.
As I followed the ridge I was watching the boggy land below looking for a better track to cut across to rejoin the original route. An excellent & quiet circular if it wasn't for 400m of path crossing a major watershed plateau. Even the sinking of various peat and straw bales a few years earlier had failed to turn it into better than an inevitable paddle even during drought conditions. So its always been a bugbear of mine to find someway to hop this impassable section without getting a guaranteed soaking.
Today I thought I had cracked it. Spotting a clear pony track down I headed to the valley for a short 200m traverse to the far slope.
Along the way my path meandered by a solitary blackberry bush, already full of ripe fruit. A pause briefly to saviour a couple of large juicy berries unadulterated by proximity to car or human activity. Its going to be a bumper crop this year.
But hang on - doesn't ripe fruit signify the End of The Summer. A sign that Autumn's days are announcing their turn to become the seasonal host?
Maybe. Personally I'm yet to get my head around the fact its Summer, even as the evenings drawn in with each dusk arriving earlier than the previous one.
Onwards then into what turned out to be one of the worst pieces of broken ground I've walked over for some time. No make that walked through. Or maybe even under.
Initially hopping from tussock to tussock I turned to make sure Dog was ok. He'd disappeared. Nope there he was, the only sign of his passage the top of long sedge grasses moving, as he followed a track deep deep down in the undergrowth.
I persevered. Carefully. This was ankle snapping territory. The trusted bog hop gait, so suavely demonstrated not half an hour before soon became an arm whirling, keep the balance, plummet forward until finally the inevitable happened.
My foot went into a pool of water, far below and out of sight, with the result - a boot filled with a tantalising mixture of rain water and Grade A fresh bog land mulch (and all free of charge)
Bugger - this is the sort of incident that rarely happens to me. Even then it should be in some wild and harsh environment. Not 50m from the dry & well worn path in front of me.
I finished the rest of the walk with a noticeable squelch each time my right foot hit the deck. But I had to smile along the way.
Putting the valley's water levels down to this summer's rainfall level I mentally marked the route as passable, but with care and at the right time of the year.
So why, when I came to one of the Forest's permanent pool of standing water was it's level 2-3m below its normal mark; Foreshore mud clearly visible? A typical mid summer scene in fact.
Is this still a wet Summer this year? Or maybe a warm season with periods of rainfall that have coloured the general perception of inclement weather.
Or has the high season already passed, leaving us to face an early Autumn? One that indicates the
non Winter season is now one extended period of warm & occasionally wet weather?
Well I don't know, and I doubt whether the Met Office are truly qualified these days to proffer an opinion that anyone would trust.
I squelched my way back into the typical Soddam & Gomorrah scene surrounding the car park. As I started homewards to renew battle with a pc clean-up, I skirted Forest ponies obstructing the main access routes & road. Their particular season in full swing having relearnt the quickest way to get Oohs & Aahs from day trippers and more relevantly their free handouts.
I really need to get away soon!Labels: nature, New Forest, walks
Friday, July 24
Running fast. Standing still.
A combination of work, home and the usual day to day life drudge means that any time spent in front of this damned mono visual blinking radiation emitting time wasting device (aka Internet PC) are few and far between at present.
I've managed to keep up with my regular blog/forum reads each day, although any interaction in those places has also been similarly limited by time & energy.
Regrettably my fine record of monthly wildcamps that started so well (and so early this year), has turned to a pile of mush in response to circumstance. Many of these beyond my direct control, but all requiring the mature & supportive responses that I like to think is part of what make me Who I Am.
But today, at the end of yet another endlessly milling week I've uncovered a few hours of my own. Time to sit back & spend some solitary moments on my own whims. Something that during the last few weeks I've felt increasingly driven to saviour during the pell-mell rush that seems to be my waking existence.
Now is that time, more than ever, when I feel drawn to find that special renewal of spirit that comes with a few night's wildcamping in some lonely and desolate wild location. Far from my fellow human, but so close to the true reality of existence. Water. Shelter. Food. Nature. Bliss.
But for the moment my dismally puny recharge comes as I think back to some of those high ridge wildcamps. Places where I sat savouring the blending of Time, Space & Solitude.
The quiet gap that follows the end of a long day's trek.
The wildcamp pitch. Refuelling the body's needs.
And then an opportunity to fill the gap before sleep by busily doing nothing in particular but become one with the surroundings. True - only a transitory visitor. But one open to the measure and pleasure of the temporary resting place.
Meanwhile there are the trip reports from fellow Outdoor Bloggers as they discuss their recent sorties out in the Great Outdoors (You lucky sods!)
All this helps keep me on the right side of sanity. Although those who have met me know that such a description is always applied a little warily when citing my general demeanour.
So for now I teeter (titter?) along life's own high ridge. Balancing The Present alongside The Past. Awaiting The Future where control of my own moments & movements can one again be retaken in a more selfish manner.
So what if this summer is yet again turning out to be damp and changeable?
The weather is warm. The grass is full grown. Tree crowns are dark and leaf laden.
Get out there if you are able. Saviour these moments.
To store up pleasant memories for colder days ahead.
And I don't mean the Winter.Labels: Mental Health, nature
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
Speed reading the invitation my initial thought was 'Great! Finally hit the big time. A chance to kick over the traces of the day job".
Regrettably, a later slower perusal revealed a less glittering outcome.
But hey-ho; Ideas for these ramblings of mine can come from any direction and are all encouraged in whatever guise they might arise. So here's tonight's jottings, based around a common theme.
Solitude
According to recent government statistics the UK will soon only have living room for 423,138 more people before our landmass achieves its maximum level of population saturation.
New laws, allegedly being drafted as I write, plan to introduce measures that will require all UK inhabitants to take Breaths-In & Breaths-Out in an alternative mode to their nearest neighbour, rather than risk those in coastal areas being slowly edged off into the sea as the majority of the populace inhale simultaneously.
A little like a living Penny Fall shuffle fairground machine.
Well perhaps things aren't quite that bad. Yet. I may even have (whisper it gently) exaggerated so very slightly. But its true that urban living, now encompassing anyplace, short of living at the bottom of a lake, is becoming increasingly over populated & pressurised.
Here's a secret. This is a facet of modern society which can be so easily thwarted with a little personal effort.
Park the car. Start walking away from the road, and into your nearest piece of countryside. Take care to avoid well worn footpaths & tracks. Just keep going, veering clear of any signs of human habitation. Especially tourist features (Particularly Forestry Commission attractions. Honey pot to the Urban Daytripper. A wasp filled jam-jar to this writer)
Now Stop.
Take a deep breath.
And just listen to that glorious sound of ..... your own sweet self. Finally alone with nature.
Like this early morning alarm clock during my Dartmoor Dawdle in June 2008
"I had a lie-in until the sun poked its nose over the ridge, giving me the chance stay in my sleeping bag and listen to the song of the skylarks for twenty minutes of so. And I mean really listen. Lying there with no other distraction my concentration was fully given over to their repetitive trills, before their song veered on to yet another melody. No other background noise to taint the sound. A sublime experience"
Wildcamping
Despite somewhat draconian camping constraints under English law there are still pockets of wild uninhabited places in England that allow one to simply disappear from everyday humanity with little fuss, effort or expense.
With minimal equipment & a easy willingness to dispense with life's trappings & fripperies whole areas of England, rarely visited by most of the population are opened up.
Entry is free!
True it requires some degree of self-reliance & self confidence. In turn the benefit is a self-awareness at a level that most people would find difficult to comprehend. The easily discovered ability to spend a night in a wild place, somewhere apparently uninhabitable for so many, builds a bond with the natural world that once experienced cannot be forgotten.
Unlike so many shiny promises offered in our ' enlightened' times a repeat of this experience always seems to triggers some primordial Sigh from deep down within the brain's limbic region.
Freeze, Flight or Fight?
Not necessarily. Some of us know of a fourth way (Grasshopper).
Reckon I should start a cult?
Dartmoor
A desolately inhabited place of some 368 square miles, and yet an area both within easy access of millions of urbanites with major road access, and a place that positively encourages Wildcamping.
To the majority, trundling across tight moorland roads, it may seem an endless expanse of open land & weirdly sculpted Tor tops, mostly shrouded in thick mist & heartily driven rain. To guests of the HMP Dartmoor establishment, at Princetown, possibly a beckoning view, somewhere green & encouraging beyond thick Napoleonic walls of retribution.
For some an equally scary proposition when viewed from the comfort of a car. But after a few visits into Dartmoor's interior, by foot, the rich history of earlier human habitation springs into being. Neolithic stone rows to the more recent historic drippings of mine tramways, all underline that this was once one of the more densely populated place in England during past eras when a wooded valley was a places of Danger & Threat.
Forget the forlorn baying of the Sherlock Holme's Baskerville Hound. Instead learn to celebrate a place once full of life, and eager to share its secrets, many long forgotten, for those prepared to explore away from the modern day tarmacadam detour of bland conformity.
Or just stay inside the safety of that car.
Going from Nowhere. Leading to Nowhere. Please exit at the cliffside departure gate along with your fellow lemmings.
Was that Three Things to Do in England? Perhaps not quite what the Guardian invitation had in mind?
Whatever - just get out into some distant English wild place, and soak up its true nature. Far from the crush of humanity.
Better be quick. Tourist No. 423,139 arrives in 4 years time. And then this island starts to slowly sink into the sea.
Me? I'll be on Yes Tor. Having a brew & watching the sunset.
Glug .... glug .... glug.
Labels: dartmoor, media, Mental Health, National Park, nature
Wildcamp - Travel - Wildcamp
To Travel.
Definition: "To go from one place to another …..To advance or proceed"
By inference an act requiring physical movement from one position/place to another.
True, there's no rule to say that Wildcamps cannot be static. To remain at the same site for more than one night.
But mostly wildcamping is about spatial transition. The act of swapping one remote & lonely spot for a different perspective. Usually another remote & lonely spot. A daily change of place.
Or .............. perhaps that should be a change of perspective on life ?
Whatever - it makes no difference. The act itself suffices for many.
For me? Well......
To tap into the Great Unknown. Become one, once more, with the deep Om of life.
To touch, however fleetingly, that underlying rhythmic beat of energy. For so much of our lives unheeded as it throbs far below our everyday event threshold that is termed Living In The Real World'.
To sleep a night. Solitary & defenceless in some wild and inhospitable place. Remote, perhaps even uninhabitable for many.
To awake at dawn's approach. Mentally & physically renewed.
Early morning grumbling of sinews & bones, unaccustomed to the previous day's physical activity, quietening as the essence of At One with a natural life force, are sensed deep within one's self.
An unexpected deep sigh of contentment at ……
At..?
Well at nothing tangible really.
Except the act of being part of the Real World.
Breathing.
Sharing rainfall run-off with beck or tarn as it heeds the pull of gravity.
Wind veer caressing bare skin; Rain sting on cheeks;
The welcoming warmth of weak sunlight on a frosty morning.
The cool relief freely given by deep shade of rock's shadow at the height of Summer.
Another day greeted. Rucksack settled onto back for the hours of movement ahead.
The last act.
A final lingering glance backwards to the night's resting place. Checking for mislaid kit and signs of human presence? Or more a quiet & silent salute to a place now special in memory & time.
To travel.
No, not movement from place to place, towards some journey's end.
Merely an excuse to saviour stops along the way & touch, fleetingly, the closeness of the Natural World & Reality.
Until the next time.
Maybe I'm alone in silently greeting a wildcamp site on arrival; And on departure bidding a fond farewell. To a familiar friend who's presence I meet with from time to time? And from place to place.
Or then again ..... maybe not.
Perhaps I'm just weird?Labels: nature
Monday, August 31
The Weather Man is a Drip
Did you enjoy today's sunny weather? Hopefully that won't be the last gasp of this derisory summer just yet.
But who knows for sure?
Maybe the Meteorological Office & its ubiquitous stooge the TV Weatherman?
Perhaps.
Or then again.......Nope - probably not with their track record over recent times.
For this weekend was the last straw for me in treating seriously the dire content of the dumbed down weather forecast for the masses.
Take Saturday's TV forecast beamed out around 22:00 in the evening on BBC1.
'Bad weather on Sunday for the south of England, but not until around 5pm' cheerily pronounced the Metman's grinning monkey, 'Enjoy the Sunday sunshine while you can'.
Meanwhile, blue screen background behind him, the forecaster waved his arms with enthusiastic animation as a computer generated model of the weather for the next 24 hours silently confirmed his projection. Its crude overview indicating clouds and rain cruising across from Ireland, and due to reach my own locale until late on Sunday.
It must be true - the time was at the bottom of the cartoon after all.
Plans made accordingly I departed to bed. Why then did I look out of the window early Sunday morning to see thick cloud cover. Which by lunchtime had built into light drizzle for the rest of the afternoon? By then I'd given up in disgust and was watching the rain blow in from the coast whilst getting some work sorted in the office.
(Well it seemed like a good way to use the time bearing in mind the happier alternatives that had gone by the board)
How is it the high tech, multi million pound Met Office weather models can be so inept about weather only 12 hours ahead?
That's not the worse case I can relate. The TV forecasts have been getting progressively more dreadful over a period of many months. Its almost as if the senseless drive to make the forecast more "accessible" to the drooling TV couch potato has up-ended any accuracy they once had.
And for what?
The conditions Outdoor are largely irrelevant for Mr Lardy Arse TV Watcher.
Nope. I've had it with the TV & Radio forecasts from now on.
Here's my three top tips on how to predict the forthcoming weather:
1. In hilly areas, refer to the Mountain Weather Information Service's report for the next 1-2 days. These tend to have a very high level of accuracy & are essential reading for high hill walking at times of bad weather.
2. Learn to read & interpret a pressure chart. I like this site, although the level of detail can be intimidating for the uninitiated at first (click on the dates at the foot of the page).
Another excellent source is on the MWIS site.
Or there's this over on the European Centre for Medium-Range Weather Forecasts site
3. DIY. Look out of the window & go outdoors. Check the flow of air movement especially in comparison to the clouds overhead. Sense the air temperature - colder or warmer than earlier? Look at the clouds and the formations. Then back indoors to tap the barometer to see if its rising or falling.
Then take your best guess!
4. Finally - down to the seashore & pick up some seaweed.
Only a fraction of the cost of the Met Office's new "second most powerful computer in the UK" but probably a damn sight more accurate than the drivel fed to us from the goggle box each day.
Better still - sod the forecast - just get outside anyway.
And pack a waterproof, just in case.
Monday, August 24
Walkers & Cattle - Advice
The Enemy #1 - The Cow
Genetically over engineered over many centuries into a meat & milk provider. Typically two tone in colour. Heavy nasal drooling at one end. And a different sort of drooling at the other.
If in doubt carefully use a scratch & sniff test to quickly distinguish the key differences. Try not to lick your fingers afterwards.
The Enemy #2 - The Bullock
The juvenile male. Often identified by a tendency to unexpectedly demonstrate their sexual awakening by attempting to mount each other. Often repeatedly. Despite mixed success.
Intensely curious and prone to rapidly cover a field's length seconds after you've strayed within the barb wire/electrified boundary fence fortification.
The Owner - The Cattle Farmer
Some believe this to be a mix of the two genres. Often distinguished by the use of green wellingtons, dung coloured (typically blue) overalls, & a loud greeting call "Gerroff-my-land-you-townies".
Well ok I may be guilty of ever egging those descriptions a little.
Except for the green wellies.
But more seriously today's BBC reports have hi-lighted certain dangers associated with these usually tranquil beasts (I meant the cows by the way)
Beware of cows with their calves. Especially if you encounter them whilst accompanied by a dog.
Personally, even when not dog accompanied, I have a tendency to avoid any beast weighing in excess of 1/2 ton and capable of short bursts of speed in my general direction. No matter what its motivation may be.
The NFU advice has been issued as a result of the deaths of 3 walkers in 3 months.
Their advice to walkers
"if you have a dog with you, keep it under close control, but do not hang on to it should a cow or bull start acting aggressively. If you feel threatened, just carry on as normal, do not run, move to the edge of the field and if possible find another way round the field, returning to the original path as soon as is possible. And remember to close the gate".
(I love that mention of the gate. A good idea to prevent yet another headlong chase down the next field, but at the same time rather a recognisable farmy piece of advice)
The main problem for those of not familiar with bovine nature - what is aggressive behaviour?
Most cattle will wander over to a stile if they spot a walker. After all chewing cud and trying to mount your brothers can becomes tedious after a few weeks of such wild experiences.
I regularly walk across a large open expanse of common land watching the behaviour of cattle.
Based, I assume on their previous encounters, a few cattle will hang back from the main herd, effectively acting as scouts. These will initiate a rapid move towards the cause of any disquiet, bringing the rest of the herd cavorting behind them, feet drumming hard.
Not a pleasant prospect if you happen to be that cause.
Unfortunately the latest victim was a farmer. But back at the Royal Welsh Show in July the FUW (think NFU Wales) was quoted as saying that "Cases of potentially-deadly stampeding cattle unwittingly spooked by dog walkers are almost certainly set to rise"
(Lets ignore the comment "In part it was due to cash-strapped "townies" holidaying in the UK at a time of recession and heading for the countryside to relax")
Here's my advice, based on years of experience using farm paths. Its personal, so make up your own mind at your own risk.
1. Don’t keep the dog on a lead, but do keep it under control at all times.
If its not sufficiently well trained to stay to heel, or be sent away, you really shouldn't be out with it amongst farm animals.
2. By all means carry a stout stick. But as most people, including myself, do not carry one try picking up a few small stones (not rocks!) before entering a field.
It’s a last ditch deterrent. Better a few stings on a cow's thick hide, and a potential dressing down from a farmer, than being knocked over & injured by a fast moving herd.
3. If the beasts move towards you, make loud single syllable noises, such as they'd expect from the cowhand (cowherd?) also make yourself look bigger, but try not to wave your hands about alarmingly. Not so much noise that they become spooked, but enough to give you time for a rapid & controlled exit, whilst they try to work out just what the hell you are.
Thinking herding noises.
(I used this on my last Dartmoor trip for a couple of miles, in an area covered with impenetrable gorse thickets and narrow paths. A river was on one side. A steep rise on the other. The cows & their calves wouldn’t take the hint to veer away, despite my vectoring approaches. As this was the only way off the moor unless I turned back for a five mile detour, near the end of a long day I had little choice on this occasion.
4. Don’t (completely) turn your back or try to out sprint them. Back away steadily whilst ensuring you remain upright & prepared to move off to one side to avoid any confrontation.
5. Keep an eye out for all potential exit routes, moving well around any herd where possible. Remember that most of the boundary hedgerows will be hiding barbed wire. Its meant to prevent the escape of large curious animals. That works the same where you are concerned as well.
Its not a good time to find this out when entangled in this as part of any rapid exit.
Remember Steve McQueen in the Great Escape?
6. If it does come to a close up encounter I'm told a hard slap across the snout will work wonders.
Personally I've not test this particular tip. Not do I ever intend to get into a situation where I need to test the hypothesis.
If someone slapped me across the snout I’d tend to thrash about a fair bit, or take it as an attack. But quite what a 1/2 ton beast may do …..?
7. Finally (or should this be firstly?) if in doubt make a detour to avoid crossing the field.
I'm not too proud to admit I've done this on many occasions where cows/horses have shown rather too much interest in my presence before I've even entered the field.
This is one circumstance where Flight before Fight is A Good Thing
Any more tips - leave a comment please.Labels: nature
Sunday, August 2
Its Summer? No its Autumn? Just take your pick
An early Sunday start prepping two motorcycles ready for a long weekend at a Well Known Event (but more on that later in the week perhaps)
Whilst I'm on the topic, when did the centre-stand become surplus to requirement? Trying single handed to get each bike on a paddock stand, for simple chain maintenance (a five minute job) became a heart stopping half hour if the end result wasn't to be one's pride and joy lying lifeless on its side after toppling over during the stand/mounting process.
Since when did a centre stand become a luxury item?
So imagine my joy when I wandered back indoors only to find my pc screen infected with a rather nasty Trojan virus which required some major low level surgery to eradicate.
And yes, I do use current Firewall & Anti-Virus packages.
Two hours later that was sorted, leaving many more hours to run some alternative malware/spyware software and complete a low level purge.
Time for a walk then? More like essential.
Out to Burbush in the New Forest for a bit of contemplative R&R, accompanied by a MP3 player of very loud rock music. Always works well when I'm in an anti-social frame of mind.
Predictably, given the summer season, the rural back roads were busy & the New Forest car park a seething mass of humanity. Why does the term 'tourist on holiday' seem to require leaving their brain & common sense in a small pail by the holiday accommodation's front door each day?
Oh well - a quiet route was essential today, far away from marked paths and over publicised guidebook routes.
A success in that I saw no-one else once I'd left the vicinity of the car park. Sort of a success in a spur of the moment decision to try something a little more physically challenging by hopping off the back of my first route to link up with a longer outlying circuit.
It was via bog land. It wasn't any surprise. I know the land here abouts is liable to be undercut by narrow rivulets of flowing water, especially after rain. Adopting the trusted bog hop gait that Darren knows so well I quickly crossed onto the lower slopes of the far valley side, and picked up a pony track up to the pine topped mount ahead, in which nestled a World War II searchlight emplacement.
All going spiffing so far. A good workout over rough ground, much akin to Dartmoor in some places, and at a fast pace. Dog by my side, we moved ever onwards.
As I followed the ridge I was watching the boggy land below looking for a better track to cut across to rejoin the original route. An excellent & quiet circular if it wasn't for 400m of path crossing a major watershed plateau. Even the sinking of various peat and straw bales a few years earlier had failed to turn it into better than an inevitable paddle even during drought conditions. So its always been a bugbear of mine to find someway to hop this impassable section without getting a guaranteed soaking.
Today I thought I had cracked it. Spotting a clear pony track down I headed to the valley for a short 200m traverse to the far slope.
Along the way my path meandered by a solitary blackberry bush, already full of ripe fruit. A pause briefly to saviour a couple of large juicy berries unadulterated by proximity to car or human activity. Its going to be a bumper crop this year.
But hang on - doesn't ripe fruit signify the End of The Summer. A sign that Autumn's days are announcing their turn to become the seasonal host?
Maybe. Personally I'm yet to get my head around the fact its Summer, even as the evenings drawn in with each dusk arriving earlier than the previous one.
Onwards then into what turned out to be one of the worst pieces of broken ground I've walked over for some time. No make that walked through. Or maybe even under.
Initially hopping from tussock to tussock I turned to make sure Dog was ok. He'd disappeared. Nope there he was, the only sign of his passage the top of long sedge grasses moving, as he followed a track deep deep down in the undergrowth.
I persevered. Carefully. This was ankle snapping territory. The trusted bog hop gait, so suavely demonstrated not half an hour before soon became an arm whirling, keep the balance, plummet forward until finally the inevitable happened.
My foot went into a pool of water, far below and out of sight, with the result - a boot filled with a tantalising mixture of rain water and Grade A fresh bog land mulch (and all free of charge)
Bugger - this is the sort of incident that rarely happens to me. Even then it should be in some wild and harsh environment. Not 50m from the dry & well worn path in front of me.
I finished the rest of the walk with a noticeable squelch each time my right foot hit the deck. But I had to smile along the way.
Putting the valley's water levels down to this summer's rainfall level I mentally marked the route as passable, but with care and at the right time of the year.
So why, when I came to one of the Forest's permanent pool of standing water was it's level 2-3m below its normal mark; Foreshore mud clearly visible? A typical mid summer scene in fact.
Is this still a wet Summer this year? Or maybe a warm season with periods of rainfall that have coloured the general perception of inclement weather.
Or has the high season already passed, leaving us to face an early Autumn? One that indicates the
non Winter season is now one extended period of warm & occasionally wet weather?
Well I don't know, and I doubt whether the Met Office are truly qualified these days to proffer an opinion that anyone would trust.
I squelched my way back into the typical Soddam & Gomorrah scene surrounding the car park. As I started homewards to renew battle with a pc clean-up, I skirted Forest ponies obstructing the main access routes & road. Their particular season in full swing having relearnt the quickest way to get Oohs & Aahs from day trippers and more relevantly their free handouts.
I really need to get away soon!Labels: nature, New Forest, walks
Friday, July 24
Running fast. Standing still.
A combination of work, home and the usual day to day life drudge means that any time spent in front of this damned mono visual blinking radiation emitting time wasting device (aka Internet PC) are few and far between at present.
I've managed to keep up with my regular blog/forum reads each day, although any interaction in those places has also been similarly limited by time & energy.
Regrettably my fine record of monthly wildcamps that started so well (and so early this year), has turned to a pile of mush in response to circumstance. Many of these beyond my direct control, but all requiring the mature & supportive responses that I like to think is part of what make me Who I Am.
But today, at the end of yet another endlessly milling week I've uncovered a few hours of my own. Time to sit back & spend some solitary moments on my own whims. Something that during the last few weeks I've felt increasingly driven to saviour during the pell-mell rush that seems to be my waking existence.
Now is that time, more than ever, when I feel drawn to find that special renewal of spirit that comes with a few night's wildcamping in some lonely and desolate wild location. Far from my fellow human, but so close to the true reality of existence. Water. Shelter. Food. Nature. Bliss.
But for the moment my dismally puny recharge comes as I think back to some of those high ridge wildcamps. Places where I sat savouring the blending of Time, Space & Solitude.
The quiet gap that follows the end of a long day's trek.
The wildcamp pitch. Refuelling the body's needs.
And then an opportunity to fill the gap before sleep by busily doing nothing in particular but become one with the surroundings. True - only a transitory visitor. But one open to the measure and pleasure of the temporary resting place.
Meanwhile there are the trip reports from fellow Outdoor Bloggers as they discuss their recent sorties out in the Great Outdoors (You lucky sods!)
All this helps keep me on the right side of sanity. Although those who have met me know that such a description is always applied a little warily when citing my general demeanour.
So for now I teeter (titter?) along life's own high ridge. Balancing The Present alongside The Past. Awaiting The Future where control of my own moments & movements can one again be retaken in a more selfish manner.
So what if this summer is yet again turning out to be damp and changeable?
The weather is warm. The grass is full grown. Tree crowns are dark and leaf laden.
Get out there if you are able. Saviour these moments.
To store up pleasant memories for colder days ahead.
And I don't mean the Winter.Labels: Mental Health, nature
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
Definition: "To go from one place to another …..To advance or proceed"
By inference an act requiring physical movement from one position/place to another.
True, there's no rule to say that Wildcamps cannot be static. To remain at the same site for more than one night.
But mostly wildcamping is about spatial transition. The act of swapping one remote & lonely spot for a different perspective. Usually another remote & lonely spot. A daily change of place.
Or .............. perhaps that should be a change of perspective on life ?
Whatever - it makes no difference. The act itself suffices for many.
For me? Well......
To tap into the Great Unknown. Become one, once more, with the deep Om of life.
To touch, however fleetingly, that underlying rhythmic beat of energy. For so much of our lives unheeded as it throbs far below our everyday event threshold that is termed Living In The Real World'.
To sleep a night. Solitary & defenceless in some wild and inhospitable place. Remote, perhaps even uninhabitable for many.
To awake at dawn's approach. Mentally & physically renewed.
Early morning grumbling of sinews & bones, unaccustomed to the previous day's physical activity, quietening as the essence of At One with a natural life force, are sensed deep within one's self.
An unexpected deep sigh of contentment at ……
At..?
Well at nothing tangible really.
Except the act of being part of the Real World.
Breathing.
Sharing rainfall run-off with beck or tarn as it heeds the pull of gravity.
Wind veer caressing bare skin; Rain sting on cheeks;
The welcoming warmth of weak sunlight on a frosty morning.
The cool relief freely given by deep shade of rock's shadow at the height of Summer.
Another day greeted. Rucksack settled onto back for the hours of movement ahead.
The last act.
A final lingering glance backwards to the night's resting place. Checking for mislaid kit and signs of human presence? Or more a quiet & silent salute to a place now special in memory & time.
To travel.
No, not movement from place to place, towards some journey's end.
Merely an excuse to saviour stops along the way & touch, fleetingly, the closeness of the Natural World & Reality.
Until the next time.
Maybe I'm alone in silently greeting a wildcamp site on arrival; And on departure bidding a fond farewell. To a familiar friend who's presence I meet with from time to time? And from place to place.
Or then again ..... maybe not.
Perhaps I'm just weird?
Labels: nature
The Weather Man is a Drip
Did you enjoy today's sunny weather? Hopefully that won't be the last gasp of this derisory summer just yet.
But who knows for sure?
Maybe the Meteorological Office & its ubiquitous stooge the TV Weatherman?
Perhaps.
Or then again.......Nope - probably not with their track record over recent times.
For this weekend was the last straw for me in treating seriously the dire content of the dumbed down weather forecast for the masses.
Take Saturday's TV forecast beamed out around 22:00 in the evening on BBC1.
'Bad weather on Sunday for the south of England, but not until around 5pm' cheerily pronounced the Metman's grinning monkey, 'Enjoy the Sunday sunshine while you can'.
Meanwhile, blue screen background behind him, the forecaster waved his arms with enthusiastic animation as a computer generated model of the weather for the next 24 hours silently confirmed his projection. Its crude overview indicating clouds and rain cruising across from Ireland, and due to reach my own locale until late on Sunday.
It must be true - the time was at the bottom of the cartoon after all.
Plans made accordingly I departed to bed. Why then did I look out of the window early Sunday morning to see thick cloud cover. Which by lunchtime had built into light drizzle for the rest of the afternoon? By then I'd given up in disgust and was watching the rain blow in from the coast whilst getting some work sorted in the office.
(Well it seemed like a good way to use the time bearing in mind the happier alternatives that had gone by the board)
How is it the high tech, multi million pound Met Office weather models can be so inept about weather only 12 hours ahead?
That's not the worse case I can relate. The TV forecasts have been getting progressively more dreadful over a period of many months. Its almost as if the senseless drive to make the forecast more "accessible" to the drooling TV couch potato has up-ended any accuracy they once had.
And for what?
The conditions Outdoor are largely irrelevant for Mr Lardy Arse TV Watcher.
Nope. I've had it with the TV & Radio forecasts from now on.
Here's my three top tips on how to predict the forthcoming weather:
1. In hilly areas, refer to the Mountain Weather Information Service's report for the next 1-2 days. These tend to have a very high level of accuracy & are essential reading for high hill walking at times of bad weather.
2. Learn to read & interpret a pressure chart. I like this site, although the level of detail can be intimidating for the uninitiated at first (click on the dates at the foot of the page).
Another excellent source is on the MWIS site.
Or there's this over on the European Centre for Medium-Range Weather Forecasts site
3. DIY. Look out of the window & go outdoors. Check the flow of air movement especially in comparison to the clouds overhead. Sense the air temperature - colder or warmer than earlier? Look at the clouds and the formations. Then back indoors to tap the barometer to see if its rising or falling.
Then take your best guess!
4. Finally - down to the seashore & pick up some seaweed.
Only a fraction of the cost of the Met Office's new "second most powerful computer in the UK" but probably a damn sight more accurate than the drivel fed to us from the goggle box each day.
Better still - sod the forecast - just get outside anyway.
And pack a waterproof, just in case.
Monday, August 24
Walkers & Cattle - Advice
The Enemy #1 - The Cow
Genetically over engineered over many centuries into a meat & milk provider. Typically two tone in colour. Heavy nasal drooling at one end. And a different sort of drooling at the other.
If in doubt carefully use a scratch & sniff test to quickly distinguish the key differences. Try not to lick your fingers afterwards.
The Enemy #2 - The Bullock
The juvenile male. Often identified by a tendency to unexpectedly demonstrate their sexual awakening by attempting to mount each other. Often repeatedly. Despite mixed success.
Intensely curious and prone to rapidly cover a field's length seconds after you've strayed within the barb wire/electrified boundary fence fortification.
The Owner - The Cattle Farmer
Some believe this to be a mix of the two genres. Often distinguished by the use of green wellingtons, dung coloured (typically blue) overalls, & a loud greeting call "Gerroff-my-land-you-townies".
Well ok I may be guilty of ever egging those descriptions a little.
Except for the green wellies.
But more seriously today's BBC reports have hi-lighted certain dangers associated with these usually tranquil beasts (I meant the cows by the way)
Beware of cows with their calves. Especially if you encounter them whilst accompanied by a dog.
Personally, even when not dog accompanied, I have a tendency to avoid any beast weighing in excess of 1/2 ton and capable of short bursts of speed in my general direction. No matter what its motivation may be.
The NFU advice has been issued as a result of the deaths of 3 walkers in 3 months.
Their advice to walkers
"if you have a dog with you, keep it under close control, but do not hang on to it should a cow or bull start acting aggressively. If you feel threatened, just carry on as normal, do not run, move to the edge of the field and if possible find another way round the field, returning to the original path as soon as is possible. And remember to close the gate".
(I love that mention of the gate. A good idea to prevent yet another headlong chase down the next field, but at the same time rather a recognisable farmy piece of advice)
The main problem for those of not familiar with bovine nature - what is aggressive behaviour?
Most cattle will wander over to a stile if they spot a walker. After all chewing cud and trying to mount your brothers can becomes tedious after a few weeks of such wild experiences.
I regularly walk across a large open expanse of common land watching the behaviour of cattle.
Based, I assume on their previous encounters, a few cattle will hang back from the main herd, effectively acting as scouts. These will initiate a rapid move towards the cause of any disquiet, bringing the rest of the herd cavorting behind them, feet drumming hard.
Not a pleasant prospect if you happen to be that cause.
Unfortunately the latest victim was a farmer. But back at the Royal Welsh Show in July the FUW (think NFU Wales) was quoted as saying that "Cases of potentially-deadly stampeding cattle unwittingly spooked by dog walkers are almost certainly set to rise"
(Lets ignore the comment "In part it was due to cash-strapped "townies" holidaying in the UK at a time of recession and heading for the countryside to relax")
Here's my advice, based on years of experience using farm paths. Its personal, so make up your own mind at your own risk.
1. Don’t keep the dog on a lead, but do keep it under control at all times.
If its not sufficiently well trained to stay to heel, or be sent away, you really shouldn't be out with it amongst farm animals.
2. By all means carry a stout stick. But as most people, including myself, do not carry one try picking up a few small stones (not rocks!) before entering a field.
It’s a last ditch deterrent. Better a few stings on a cow's thick hide, and a potential dressing down from a farmer, than being knocked over & injured by a fast moving herd.
3. If the beasts move towards you, make loud single syllable noises, such as they'd expect from the cowhand (cowherd?) also make yourself look bigger, but try not to wave your hands about alarmingly. Not so much noise that they become spooked, but enough to give you time for a rapid & controlled exit, whilst they try to work out just what the hell you are.
Thinking herding noises.
(I used this on my last Dartmoor trip for a couple of miles, in an area covered with impenetrable gorse thickets and narrow paths. A river was on one side. A steep rise on the other. The cows & their calves wouldn’t take the hint to veer away, despite my vectoring approaches. As this was the only way off the moor unless I turned back for a five mile detour, near the end of a long day I had little choice on this occasion.
4. Don’t (completely) turn your back or try to out sprint them. Back away steadily whilst ensuring you remain upright & prepared to move off to one side to avoid any confrontation.
5. Keep an eye out for all potential exit routes, moving well around any herd where possible. Remember that most of the boundary hedgerows will be hiding barbed wire. Its meant to prevent the escape of large curious animals. That works the same where you are concerned as well.
Its not a good time to find this out when entangled in this as part of any rapid exit.
Remember Steve McQueen in the Great Escape?
6. If it does come to a close up encounter I'm told a hard slap across the snout will work wonders.
Personally I've not test this particular tip. Not do I ever intend to get into a situation where I need to test the hypothesis.
If someone slapped me across the snout I’d tend to thrash about a fair bit, or take it as an attack. But quite what a 1/2 ton beast may do …..?
7. Finally (or should this be firstly?) if in doubt make a detour to avoid crossing the field.
I'm not too proud to admit I've done this on many occasions where cows/horses have shown rather too much interest in my presence before I've even entered the field.
This is one circumstance where Flight before Fight is A Good Thing
Any more tips - leave a comment please.Labels: nature
Sunday, August 2
Its Summer? No its Autumn? Just take your pick
An early Sunday start prepping two motorcycles ready for a long weekend at a Well Known Event (but more on that later in the week perhaps)
Whilst I'm on the topic, when did the centre-stand become surplus to requirement? Trying single handed to get each bike on a paddock stand, for simple chain maintenance (a five minute job) became a heart stopping half hour if the end result wasn't to be one's pride and joy lying lifeless on its side after toppling over during the stand/mounting process.
Since when did a centre stand become a luxury item?
So imagine my joy when I wandered back indoors only to find my pc screen infected with a rather nasty Trojan virus which required some major low level surgery to eradicate.
And yes, I do use current Firewall & Anti-Virus packages.
Two hours later that was sorted, leaving many more hours to run some alternative malware/spyware software and complete a low level purge.
Time for a walk then? More like essential.
Out to Burbush in the New Forest for a bit of contemplative R&R, accompanied by a MP3 player of very loud rock music. Always works well when I'm in an anti-social frame of mind.
Predictably, given the summer season, the rural back roads were busy & the New Forest car park a seething mass of humanity. Why does the term 'tourist on holiday' seem to require leaving their brain & common sense in a small pail by the holiday accommodation's front door each day?
Oh well - a quiet route was essential today, far away from marked paths and over publicised guidebook routes.
A success in that I saw no-one else once I'd left the vicinity of the car park. Sort of a success in a spur of the moment decision to try something a little more physically challenging by hopping off the back of my first route to link up with a longer outlying circuit.
It was via bog land. It wasn't any surprise. I know the land here abouts is liable to be undercut by narrow rivulets of flowing water, especially after rain. Adopting the trusted bog hop gait that Darren knows so well I quickly crossed onto the lower slopes of the far valley side, and picked up a pony track up to the pine topped mount ahead, in which nestled a World War II searchlight emplacement.
All going spiffing so far. A good workout over rough ground, much akin to Dartmoor in some places, and at a fast pace. Dog by my side, we moved ever onwards.
As I followed the ridge I was watching the boggy land below looking for a better track to cut across to rejoin the original route. An excellent & quiet circular if it wasn't for 400m of path crossing a major watershed plateau. Even the sinking of various peat and straw bales a few years earlier had failed to turn it into better than an inevitable paddle even during drought conditions. So its always been a bugbear of mine to find someway to hop this impassable section without getting a guaranteed soaking.
Today I thought I had cracked it. Spotting a clear pony track down I headed to the valley for a short 200m traverse to the far slope.
Along the way my path meandered by a solitary blackberry bush, already full of ripe fruit. A pause briefly to saviour a couple of large juicy berries unadulterated by proximity to car or human activity. Its going to be a bumper crop this year.
But hang on - doesn't ripe fruit signify the End of The Summer. A sign that Autumn's days are announcing their turn to become the seasonal host?
Maybe. Personally I'm yet to get my head around the fact its Summer, even as the evenings drawn in with each dusk arriving earlier than the previous one.
Onwards then into what turned out to be one of the worst pieces of broken ground I've walked over for some time. No make that walked through. Or maybe even under.
Initially hopping from tussock to tussock I turned to make sure Dog was ok. He'd disappeared. Nope there he was, the only sign of his passage the top of long sedge grasses moving, as he followed a track deep deep down in the undergrowth.
I persevered. Carefully. This was ankle snapping territory. The trusted bog hop gait, so suavely demonstrated not half an hour before soon became an arm whirling, keep the balance, plummet forward until finally the inevitable happened.
My foot went into a pool of water, far below and out of sight, with the result - a boot filled with a tantalising mixture of rain water and Grade A fresh bog land mulch (and all free of charge)
Bugger - this is the sort of incident that rarely happens to me. Even then it should be in some wild and harsh environment. Not 50m from the dry & well worn path in front of me.
I finished the rest of the walk with a noticeable squelch each time my right foot hit the deck. But I had to smile along the way.
Putting the valley's water levels down to this summer's rainfall level I mentally marked the route as passable, but with care and at the right time of the year.
So why, when I came to one of the Forest's permanent pool of standing water was it's level 2-3m below its normal mark; Foreshore mud clearly visible? A typical mid summer scene in fact.
Is this still a wet Summer this year? Or maybe a warm season with periods of rainfall that have coloured the general perception of inclement weather.
Or has the high season already passed, leaving us to face an early Autumn? One that indicates the
non Winter season is now one extended period of warm & occasionally wet weather?
Well I don't know, and I doubt whether the Met Office are truly qualified these days to proffer an opinion that anyone would trust.
I squelched my way back into the typical Soddam & Gomorrah scene surrounding the car park. As I started homewards to renew battle with a pc clean-up, I skirted Forest ponies obstructing the main access routes & road. Their particular season in full swing having relearnt the quickest way to get Oohs & Aahs from day trippers and more relevantly their free handouts.
I really need to get away soon!Labels: nature, New Forest, walks
Friday, July 24
Running fast. Standing still.
A combination of work, home and the usual day to day life drudge means that any time spent in front of this damned mono visual blinking radiation emitting time wasting device (aka Internet PC) are few and far between at present.
I've managed to keep up with my regular blog/forum reads each day, although any interaction in those places has also been similarly limited by time & energy.
Regrettably my fine record of monthly wildcamps that started so well (and so early this year), has turned to a pile of mush in response to circumstance. Many of these beyond my direct control, but all requiring the mature & supportive responses that I like to think is part of what make me Who I Am.
But today, at the end of yet another endlessly milling week I've uncovered a few hours of my own. Time to sit back & spend some solitary moments on my own whims. Something that during the last few weeks I've felt increasingly driven to saviour during the pell-mell rush that seems to be my waking existence.
Now is that time, more than ever, when I feel drawn to find that special renewal of spirit that comes with a few night's wildcamping in some lonely and desolate wild location. Far from my fellow human, but so close to the true reality of existence. Water. Shelter. Food. Nature. Bliss.
But for the moment my dismally puny recharge comes as I think back to some of those high ridge wildcamps. Places where I sat savouring the blending of Time, Space & Solitude.
The quiet gap that follows the end of a long day's trek.
The wildcamp pitch. Refuelling the body's needs.
And then an opportunity to fill the gap before sleep by busily doing nothing in particular but become one with the surroundings. True - only a transitory visitor. But one open to the measure and pleasure of the temporary resting place.
Meanwhile there are the trip reports from fellow Outdoor Bloggers as they discuss their recent sorties out in the Great Outdoors (You lucky sods!)
All this helps keep me on the right side of sanity. Although those who have met me know that such a description is always applied a little warily when citing my general demeanour.
So for now I teeter (titter?) along life's own high ridge. Balancing The Present alongside The Past. Awaiting The Future where control of my own moments & movements can one again be retaken in a more selfish manner.
So what if this summer is yet again turning out to be damp and changeable?
The weather is warm. The grass is full grown. Tree crowns are dark and leaf laden.
Get out there if you are able. Saviour these moments.
To store up pleasant memories for colder days ahead.
And I don't mean the Winter.Labels: Mental Health, nature
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
But who knows for sure?
Maybe the Meteorological Office & its ubiquitous stooge the TV Weatherman?
Perhaps.
Or then again.......Nope - probably not with their track record over recent times.
For this weekend was the last straw for me in treating seriously the dire content of the dumbed down weather forecast for the masses.
Take Saturday's TV forecast beamed out around 22:00 in the evening on BBC1.
'Bad weather on Sunday for the south of England, but not until around 5pm' cheerily pronounced the Metman's grinning monkey, 'Enjoy the Sunday sunshine while you can'.
Meanwhile, blue screen background behind him, the forecaster waved his arms with enthusiastic animation as a computer generated model of the weather for the next 24 hours silently confirmed his projection. Its crude overview indicating clouds and rain cruising across from Ireland, and due to reach my own locale until late on Sunday.
It must be true - the time was at the bottom of the cartoon after all.
Plans made accordingly I departed to bed. Why then did I look out of the window early Sunday morning to see thick cloud cover. Which by lunchtime had built into light drizzle for the rest of the afternoon? By then I'd given up in disgust and was watching the rain blow in from the coast whilst getting some work sorted in the office.
(Well it seemed like a good way to use the time bearing in mind the happier alternatives that had gone by the board)
How is it the high tech, multi million pound Met Office weather models can be so inept about weather only 12 hours ahead?
That's not the worse case I can relate. The TV forecasts have been getting progressively more dreadful over a period of many months. Its almost as if the senseless drive to make the forecast more "accessible" to the drooling TV couch potato has up-ended any accuracy they once had.
And for what?
The conditions Outdoor are largely irrelevant for Mr Lardy Arse TV Watcher.
Nope. I've had it with the TV & Radio forecasts from now on.
Here's my three top tips on how to predict the forthcoming weather:
1. In hilly areas, refer to the Mountain Weather Information Service's report for the next 1-2 days. These tend to have a very high level of accuracy & are essential reading for high hill walking at times of bad weather.
2. Learn to read & interpret a pressure chart. I like this site, although the level of detail can be intimidating for the uninitiated at first (click on the dates at the foot of the page).
Another excellent source is on the MWIS site.
Or there's this over on the European Centre for Medium-Range Weather Forecasts site
3. DIY. Look out of the window & go outdoors. Check the flow of air movement especially in comparison to the clouds overhead. Sense the air temperature - colder or warmer than earlier? Look at the clouds and the formations. Then back indoors to tap the barometer to see if its rising or falling.
Then take your best guess!
4. Finally - down to the seashore & pick up some seaweed.
Only a fraction of the cost of the Met Office's new "second most powerful computer in the UK" but probably a damn sight more accurate than the drivel fed to us from the goggle box each day.
Better still - sod the forecast - just get outside anyway.
And pack a waterproof, just in case.
Walkers & Cattle - Advice
The Enemy #1 - The Cow
Genetically over engineered over many centuries into a meat & milk provider. Typically two tone in colour. Heavy nasal drooling at one end. And a different sort of drooling at the other.
If in doubt carefully use a scratch & sniff test to quickly distinguish the key differences. Try not to lick your fingers afterwards.
The Enemy #2 - The Bullock
The juvenile male. Often identified by a tendency to unexpectedly demonstrate their sexual awakening by attempting to mount each other. Often repeatedly. Despite mixed success.
Intensely curious and prone to rapidly cover a field's length seconds after you've strayed within the barb wire/electrified boundary fence fortification.
The Owner - The Cattle Farmer
Some believe this to be a mix of the two genres. Often distinguished by the use of green wellingtons, dung coloured (typically blue) overalls, & a loud greeting call "Gerroff-my-land-you-townies".
Well ok I may be guilty of ever egging those descriptions a little.
Except for the green wellies.
But more seriously today's BBC reports have hi-lighted certain dangers associated with these usually tranquil beasts (I meant the cows by the way)
Beware of cows with their calves. Especially if you encounter them whilst accompanied by a dog.
Personally, even when not dog accompanied, I have a tendency to avoid any beast weighing in excess of 1/2 ton and capable of short bursts of speed in my general direction. No matter what its motivation may be.
The NFU advice has been issued as a result of the deaths of 3 walkers in 3 months.
Their advice to walkers
"if you have a dog with you, keep it under close control, but do not hang on to it should a cow or bull start acting aggressively. If you feel threatened, just carry on as normal, do not run, move to the edge of the field and if possible find another way round the field, returning to the original path as soon as is possible. And remember to close the gate".
(I love that mention of the gate. A good idea to prevent yet another headlong chase down the next field, but at the same time rather a recognisable farmy piece of advice)
The main problem for those of not familiar with bovine nature - what is aggressive behaviour?
Most cattle will wander over to a stile if they spot a walker. After all chewing cud and trying to mount your brothers can becomes tedious after a few weeks of such wild experiences.
I regularly walk across a large open expanse of common land watching the behaviour of cattle.
Based, I assume on their previous encounters, a few cattle will hang back from the main herd, effectively acting as scouts. These will initiate a rapid move towards the cause of any disquiet, bringing the rest of the herd cavorting behind them, feet drumming hard.
Not a pleasant prospect if you happen to be that cause.
Unfortunately the latest victim was a farmer. But back at the Royal Welsh Show in July the FUW (think NFU Wales) was quoted as saying that "Cases of potentially-deadly stampeding cattle unwittingly spooked by dog walkers are almost certainly set to rise"
(Lets ignore the comment "In part it was due to cash-strapped "townies" holidaying in the UK at a time of recession and heading for the countryside to relax")
Here's my advice, based on years of experience using farm paths. Its personal, so make up your own mind at your own risk.
1. Don’t keep the dog on a lead, but do keep it under control at all times.
If its not sufficiently well trained to stay to heel, or be sent away, you really shouldn't be out with it amongst farm animals.
2. By all means carry a stout stick. But as most people, including myself, do not carry one try picking up a few small stones (not rocks!) before entering a field.
It’s a last ditch deterrent. Better a few stings on a cow's thick hide, and a potential dressing down from a farmer, than being knocked over & injured by a fast moving herd.
3. If the beasts move towards you, make loud single syllable noises, such as they'd expect from the cowhand (cowherd?) also make yourself look bigger, but try not to wave your hands about alarmingly. Not so much noise that they become spooked, but enough to give you time for a rapid & controlled exit, whilst they try to work out just what the hell you are.
Thinking herding noises.
(I used this on my last Dartmoor trip for a couple of miles, in an area covered with impenetrable gorse thickets and narrow paths. A river was on one side. A steep rise on the other. The cows & their calves wouldn’t take the hint to veer away, despite my vectoring approaches. As this was the only way off the moor unless I turned back for a five mile detour, near the end of a long day I had little choice on this occasion.
4. Don’t (completely) turn your back or try to out sprint them. Back away steadily whilst ensuring you remain upright & prepared to move off to one side to avoid any confrontation.
5. Keep an eye out for all potential exit routes, moving well around any herd where possible. Remember that most of the boundary hedgerows will be hiding barbed wire. Its meant to prevent the escape of large curious animals. That works the same where you are concerned as well.
Its not a good time to find this out when entangled in this as part of any rapid exit.
Remember Steve McQueen in the Great Escape?
6. If it does come to a close up encounter I'm told a hard slap across the snout will work wonders.
Personally I've not test this particular tip. Not do I ever intend to get into a situation where I need to test the hypothesis.
If someone slapped me across the snout I’d tend to thrash about a fair bit, or take it as an attack. But quite what a 1/2 ton beast may do …..?
7. Finally (or should this be firstly?) if in doubt make a detour to avoid crossing the field.
I'm not too proud to admit I've done this on many occasions where cows/horses have shown rather too much interest in my presence before I've even entered the field.
This is one circumstance where Flight before Fight is A Good Thing
Any more tips - leave a comment please.Labels: nature
Sunday, August 2
Its Summer? No its Autumn? Just take your pick
An early Sunday start prepping two motorcycles ready for a long weekend at a Well Known Event (but more on that later in the week perhaps)
Whilst I'm on the topic, when did the centre-stand become surplus to requirement? Trying single handed to get each bike on a paddock stand, for simple chain maintenance (a five minute job) became a heart stopping half hour if the end result wasn't to be one's pride and joy lying lifeless on its side after toppling over during the stand/mounting process.
Since when did a centre stand become a luxury item?
So imagine my joy when I wandered back indoors only to find my pc screen infected with a rather nasty Trojan virus which required some major low level surgery to eradicate.
And yes, I do use current Firewall & Anti-Virus packages.
Two hours later that was sorted, leaving many more hours to run some alternative malware/spyware software and complete a low level purge.
Time for a walk then? More like essential.
Out to Burbush in the New Forest for a bit of contemplative R&R, accompanied by a MP3 player of very loud rock music. Always works well when I'm in an anti-social frame of mind.
Predictably, given the summer season, the rural back roads were busy & the New Forest car park a seething mass of humanity. Why does the term 'tourist on holiday' seem to require leaving their brain & common sense in a small pail by the holiday accommodation's front door each day?
Oh well - a quiet route was essential today, far away from marked paths and over publicised guidebook routes.
A success in that I saw no-one else once I'd left the vicinity of the car park. Sort of a success in a spur of the moment decision to try something a little more physically challenging by hopping off the back of my first route to link up with a longer outlying circuit.
It was via bog land. It wasn't any surprise. I know the land here abouts is liable to be undercut by narrow rivulets of flowing water, especially after rain. Adopting the trusted bog hop gait that Darren knows so well I quickly crossed onto the lower slopes of the far valley side, and picked up a pony track up to the pine topped mount ahead, in which nestled a World War II searchlight emplacement.
All going spiffing so far. A good workout over rough ground, much akin to Dartmoor in some places, and at a fast pace. Dog by my side, we moved ever onwards.
As I followed the ridge I was watching the boggy land below looking for a better track to cut across to rejoin the original route. An excellent & quiet circular if it wasn't for 400m of path crossing a major watershed plateau. Even the sinking of various peat and straw bales a few years earlier had failed to turn it into better than an inevitable paddle even during drought conditions. So its always been a bugbear of mine to find someway to hop this impassable section without getting a guaranteed soaking.
Today I thought I had cracked it. Spotting a clear pony track down I headed to the valley for a short 200m traverse to the far slope.
Along the way my path meandered by a solitary blackberry bush, already full of ripe fruit. A pause briefly to saviour a couple of large juicy berries unadulterated by proximity to car or human activity. Its going to be a bumper crop this year.
But hang on - doesn't ripe fruit signify the End of The Summer. A sign that Autumn's days are announcing their turn to become the seasonal host?
Maybe. Personally I'm yet to get my head around the fact its Summer, even as the evenings drawn in with each dusk arriving earlier than the previous one.
Onwards then into what turned out to be one of the worst pieces of broken ground I've walked over for some time. No make that walked through. Or maybe even under.
Initially hopping from tussock to tussock I turned to make sure Dog was ok. He'd disappeared. Nope there he was, the only sign of his passage the top of long sedge grasses moving, as he followed a track deep deep down in the undergrowth.
I persevered. Carefully. This was ankle snapping territory. The trusted bog hop gait, so suavely demonstrated not half an hour before soon became an arm whirling, keep the balance, plummet forward until finally the inevitable happened.
My foot went into a pool of water, far below and out of sight, with the result - a boot filled with a tantalising mixture of rain water and Grade A fresh bog land mulch (and all free of charge)
Bugger - this is the sort of incident that rarely happens to me. Even then it should be in some wild and harsh environment. Not 50m from the dry & well worn path in front of me.
I finished the rest of the walk with a noticeable squelch each time my right foot hit the deck. But I had to smile along the way.
Putting the valley's water levels down to this summer's rainfall level I mentally marked the route as passable, but with care and at the right time of the year.
So why, when I came to one of the Forest's permanent pool of standing water was it's level 2-3m below its normal mark; Foreshore mud clearly visible? A typical mid summer scene in fact.
Is this still a wet Summer this year? Or maybe a warm season with periods of rainfall that have coloured the general perception of inclement weather.
Or has the high season already passed, leaving us to face an early Autumn? One that indicates the
non Winter season is now one extended period of warm & occasionally wet weather?
Well I don't know, and I doubt whether the Met Office are truly qualified these days to proffer an opinion that anyone would trust.
I squelched my way back into the typical Soddam & Gomorrah scene surrounding the car park. As I started homewards to renew battle with a pc clean-up, I skirted Forest ponies obstructing the main access routes & road. Their particular season in full swing having relearnt the quickest way to get Oohs & Aahs from day trippers and more relevantly their free handouts.
I really need to get away soon!Labels: nature, New Forest, walks
Friday, July 24
Running fast. Standing still.
A combination of work, home and the usual day to day life drudge means that any time spent in front of this damned mono visual blinking radiation emitting time wasting device (aka Internet PC) are few and far between at present.
I've managed to keep up with my regular blog/forum reads each day, although any interaction in those places has also been similarly limited by time & energy.
Regrettably my fine record of monthly wildcamps that started so well (and so early this year), has turned to a pile of mush in response to circumstance. Many of these beyond my direct control, but all requiring the mature & supportive responses that I like to think is part of what make me Who I Am.
But today, at the end of yet another endlessly milling week I've uncovered a few hours of my own. Time to sit back & spend some solitary moments on my own whims. Something that during the last few weeks I've felt increasingly driven to saviour during the pell-mell rush that seems to be my waking existence.
Now is that time, more than ever, when I feel drawn to find that special renewal of spirit that comes with a few night's wildcamping in some lonely and desolate wild location. Far from my fellow human, but so close to the true reality of existence. Water. Shelter. Food. Nature. Bliss.
But for the moment my dismally puny recharge comes as I think back to some of those high ridge wildcamps. Places where I sat savouring the blending of Time, Space & Solitude.
The quiet gap that follows the end of a long day's trek.
The wildcamp pitch. Refuelling the body's needs.
And then an opportunity to fill the gap before sleep by busily doing nothing in particular but become one with the surroundings. True - only a transitory visitor. But one open to the measure and pleasure of the temporary resting place.
Meanwhile there are the trip reports from fellow Outdoor Bloggers as they discuss their recent sorties out in the Great Outdoors (You lucky sods!)
All this helps keep me on the right side of sanity. Although those who have met me know that such a description is always applied a little warily when citing my general demeanour.
So for now I teeter (titter?) along life's own high ridge. Balancing The Present alongside The Past. Awaiting The Future where control of my own moments & movements can one again be retaken in a more selfish manner.
So what if this summer is yet again turning out to be damp and changeable?
The weather is warm. The grass is full grown. Tree crowns are dark and leaf laden.
Get out there if you are able. Saviour these moments.
To store up pleasant memories for colder days ahead.
And I don't mean the Winter.Labels: Mental Health, nature
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
Genetically over engineered over many centuries into a meat & milk provider. Typically two tone in colour. Heavy nasal drooling at one end. And a different sort of drooling at the other.
If in doubt carefully use a scratch & sniff test to quickly distinguish the key differences. Try not to lick your fingers afterwards.
The Enemy #2 - The Bullock
The juvenile male. Often identified by a tendency to unexpectedly demonstrate their sexual awakening by attempting to mount each other. Often repeatedly. Despite mixed success.
Intensely curious and prone to rapidly cover a field's length seconds after you've strayed within the barb wire/electrified boundary fence fortification.
The Owner - The Cattle Farmer
Some believe this to be a mix of the two genres. Often distinguished by the use of green wellingtons, dung coloured (typically blue) overalls, & a loud greeting call "Gerroff-my-land-you-townies".
Well ok I may be guilty of ever egging those descriptions a little.
Except for the green wellies.
But more seriously today's BBC reports have hi-lighted certain dangers associated with these usually tranquil beasts (I meant the cows by the way)
Beware of cows with their calves. Especially if you encounter them whilst accompanied by a dog.
Personally, even when not dog accompanied, I have a tendency to avoid any beast weighing in excess of 1/2 ton and capable of short bursts of speed in my general direction. No matter what its motivation may be.
The NFU advice has been issued as a result of the deaths of 3 walkers in 3 months.
Their advice to walkers
"if you have a dog with you, keep it under close control, but do not hang on to it should a cow or bull start acting aggressively. If you feel threatened, just carry on as normal, do not run, move to the edge of the field and if possible find another way round the field, returning to the original path as soon as is possible. And remember to close the gate".
(I love that mention of the gate. A good idea to prevent yet another headlong chase down the next field, but at the same time rather a recognisable farmy piece of advice)
The main problem for those of not familiar with bovine nature - what is aggressive behaviour?
Most cattle will wander over to a stile if they spot a walker. After all chewing cud and trying to mount your brothers can becomes tedious after a few weeks of such wild experiences.
I regularly walk across a large open expanse of common land watching the behaviour of cattle.
Based, I assume on their previous encounters, a few cattle will hang back from the main herd, effectively acting as scouts. These will initiate a rapid move towards the cause of any disquiet, bringing the rest of the herd cavorting behind them, feet drumming hard.
Not a pleasant prospect if you happen to be that cause.
Unfortunately the latest victim was a farmer. But back at the Royal Welsh Show in July the FUW (think NFU Wales) was quoted as saying that "Cases of potentially-deadly stampeding cattle unwittingly spooked by dog walkers are almost certainly set to rise"
(Lets ignore the comment "In part it was due to cash-strapped "townies" holidaying in the UK at a time of recession and heading for the countryside to relax")
Here's my advice, based on years of experience using farm paths. Its personal, so make up your own mind at your own risk.
1. Don’t keep the dog on a lead, but do keep it under control at all times.
If its not sufficiently well trained to stay to heel, or be sent away, you really shouldn't be out with it amongst farm animals.
2. By all means carry a stout stick. But as most people, including myself, do not carry one try picking up a few small stones (not rocks!) before entering a field.
It’s a last ditch deterrent. Better a few stings on a cow's thick hide, and a potential dressing down from a farmer, than being knocked over & injured by a fast moving herd.
3. If the beasts move towards you, make loud single syllable noises, such as they'd expect from the cowhand (cowherd?) also make yourself look bigger, but try not to wave your hands about alarmingly. Not so much noise that they become spooked, but enough to give you time for a rapid & controlled exit, whilst they try to work out just what the hell you are.
Thinking herding noises.
(I used this on my last Dartmoor trip for a couple of miles, in an area covered with impenetrable gorse thickets and narrow paths. A river was on one side. A steep rise on the other. The cows & their calves wouldn’t take the hint to veer away, despite my vectoring approaches. As this was the only way off the moor unless I turned back for a five mile detour, near the end of a long day I had little choice on this occasion.
4. Don’t (completely) turn your back or try to out sprint them. Back away steadily whilst ensuring you remain upright & prepared to move off to one side to avoid any confrontation.
5. Keep an eye out for all potential exit routes, moving well around any herd where possible. Remember that most of the boundary hedgerows will be hiding barbed wire. Its meant to prevent the escape of large curious animals. That works the same where you are concerned as well.
Its not a good time to find this out when entangled in this as part of any rapid exit.
Remember Steve McQueen in the Great Escape?
6. If it does come to a close up encounter I'm told a hard slap across the snout will work wonders.
Personally I've not test this particular tip. Not do I ever intend to get into a situation where I need to test the hypothesis.
If someone slapped me across the snout I’d tend to thrash about a fair bit, or take it as an attack. But quite what a 1/2 ton beast may do …..?
7. Finally (or should this be firstly?) if in doubt make a detour to avoid crossing the field.
I'm not too proud to admit I've done this on many occasions where cows/horses have shown rather too much interest in my presence before I've even entered the field.
This is one circumstance where Flight before Fight is A Good Thing
Any more tips - leave a comment please.
Labels: nature
Its Summer? No its Autumn? Just take your pick
An early Sunday start prepping two motorcycles ready for a long weekend at a Well Known Event (but more on that later in the week perhaps)
Whilst I'm on the topic, when did the centre-stand become surplus to requirement? Trying single handed to get each bike on a paddock stand, for simple chain maintenance (a five minute job) became a heart stopping half hour if the end result wasn't to be one's pride and joy lying lifeless on its side after toppling over during the stand/mounting process.
Since when did a centre stand become a luxury item?
So imagine my joy when I wandered back indoors only to find my pc screen infected with a rather nasty Trojan virus which required some major low level surgery to eradicate.
And yes, I do use current Firewall & Anti-Virus packages.
Two hours later that was sorted, leaving many more hours to run some alternative malware/spyware software and complete a low level purge.
Time for a walk then? More like essential.
Out to Burbush in the New Forest for a bit of contemplative R&R, accompanied by a MP3 player of very loud rock music. Always works well when I'm in an anti-social frame of mind.
Predictably, given the summer season, the rural back roads were busy & the New Forest car park a seething mass of humanity. Why does the term 'tourist on holiday' seem to require leaving their brain & common sense in a small pail by the holiday accommodation's front door each day?
Oh well - a quiet route was essential today, far away from marked paths and over publicised guidebook routes.
A success in that I saw no-one else once I'd left the vicinity of the car park. Sort of a success in a spur of the moment decision to try something a little more physically challenging by hopping off the back of my first route to link up with a longer outlying circuit.
It was via bog land. It wasn't any surprise. I know the land here abouts is liable to be undercut by narrow rivulets of flowing water, especially after rain. Adopting the trusted bog hop gait that Darren knows so well I quickly crossed onto the lower slopes of the far valley side, and picked up a pony track up to the pine topped mount ahead, in which nestled a World War II searchlight emplacement.
All going spiffing so far. A good workout over rough ground, much akin to Dartmoor in some places, and at a fast pace. Dog by my side, we moved ever onwards.
As I followed the ridge I was watching the boggy land below looking for a better track to cut across to rejoin the original route. An excellent & quiet circular if it wasn't for 400m of path crossing a major watershed plateau. Even the sinking of various peat and straw bales a few years earlier had failed to turn it into better than an inevitable paddle even during drought conditions. So its always been a bugbear of mine to find someway to hop this impassable section without getting a guaranteed soaking.
Today I thought I had cracked it. Spotting a clear pony track down I headed to the valley for a short 200m traverse to the far slope.
Along the way my path meandered by a solitary blackberry bush, already full of ripe fruit. A pause briefly to saviour a couple of large juicy berries unadulterated by proximity to car or human activity. Its going to be a bumper crop this year.
But hang on - doesn't ripe fruit signify the End of The Summer. A sign that Autumn's days are announcing their turn to become the seasonal host?
Maybe. Personally I'm yet to get my head around the fact its Summer, even as the evenings drawn in with each dusk arriving earlier than the previous one.
Onwards then into what turned out to be one of the worst pieces of broken ground I've walked over for some time. No make that walked through. Or maybe even under.
Initially hopping from tussock to tussock I turned to make sure Dog was ok. He'd disappeared. Nope there he was, the only sign of his passage the top of long sedge grasses moving, as he followed a track deep deep down in the undergrowth.
I persevered. Carefully. This was ankle snapping territory. The trusted bog hop gait, so suavely demonstrated not half an hour before soon became an arm whirling, keep the balance, plummet forward until finally the inevitable happened.
My foot went into a pool of water, far below and out of sight, with the result - a boot filled with a tantalising mixture of rain water and Grade A fresh bog land mulch (and all free of charge)
Bugger - this is the sort of incident that rarely happens to me. Even then it should be in some wild and harsh environment. Not 50m from the dry & well worn path in front of me.
I finished the rest of the walk with a noticeable squelch each time my right foot hit the deck. But I had to smile along the way.
Putting the valley's water levels down to this summer's rainfall level I mentally marked the route as passable, but with care and at the right time of the year.
So why, when I came to one of the Forest's permanent pool of standing water was it's level 2-3m below its normal mark; Foreshore mud clearly visible? A typical mid summer scene in fact.
Is this still a wet Summer this year? Or maybe a warm season with periods of rainfall that have coloured the general perception of inclement weather.
Or has the high season already passed, leaving us to face an early Autumn? One that indicates the
non Winter season is now one extended period of warm & occasionally wet weather?
Well I don't know, and I doubt whether the Met Office are truly qualified these days to proffer an opinion that anyone would trust.
I squelched my way back into the typical Soddam & Gomorrah scene surrounding the car park. As I started homewards to renew battle with a pc clean-up, I skirted Forest ponies obstructing the main access routes & road. Their particular season in full swing having relearnt the quickest way to get Oohs & Aahs from day trippers and more relevantly their free handouts.
I really need to get away soon!Labels: nature, New Forest, walks
Friday, July 24
Running fast. Standing still.
A combination of work, home and the usual day to day life drudge means that any time spent in front of this damned mono visual blinking radiation emitting time wasting device (aka Internet PC) are few and far between at present.
I've managed to keep up with my regular blog/forum reads each day, although any interaction in those places has also been similarly limited by time & energy.
Regrettably my fine record of monthly wildcamps that started so well (and so early this year), has turned to a pile of mush in response to circumstance. Many of these beyond my direct control, but all requiring the mature & supportive responses that I like to think is part of what make me Who I Am.
But today, at the end of yet another endlessly milling week I've uncovered a few hours of my own. Time to sit back & spend some solitary moments on my own whims. Something that during the last few weeks I've felt increasingly driven to saviour during the pell-mell rush that seems to be my waking existence.
Now is that time, more than ever, when I feel drawn to find that special renewal of spirit that comes with a few night's wildcamping in some lonely and desolate wild location. Far from my fellow human, but so close to the true reality of existence. Water. Shelter. Food. Nature. Bliss.
But for the moment my dismally puny recharge comes as I think back to some of those high ridge wildcamps. Places where I sat savouring the blending of Time, Space & Solitude.
The quiet gap that follows the end of a long day's trek.
The wildcamp pitch. Refuelling the body's needs.
And then an opportunity to fill the gap before sleep by busily doing nothing in particular but become one with the surroundings. True - only a transitory visitor. But one open to the measure and pleasure of the temporary resting place.
Meanwhile there are the trip reports from fellow Outdoor Bloggers as they discuss their recent sorties out in the Great Outdoors (You lucky sods!)
All this helps keep me on the right side of sanity. Although those who have met me know that such a description is always applied a little warily when citing my general demeanour.
So for now I teeter (titter?) along life's own high ridge. Balancing The Present alongside The Past. Awaiting The Future where control of my own moments & movements can one again be retaken in a more selfish manner.
So what if this summer is yet again turning out to be damp and changeable?
The weather is warm. The grass is full grown. Tree crowns are dark and leaf laden.
Get out there if you are able. Saviour these moments.
To store up pleasant memories for colder days ahead.
And I don't mean the Winter.Labels: Mental Health, nature
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
Whilst I'm on the topic, when did the centre-stand become surplus to requirement? Trying single handed to get each bike on a paddock stand, for simple chain maintenance (a five minute job) became a heart stopping half hour if the end result wasn't to be one's pride and joy lying lifeless on its side after toppling over during the stand/mounting process.
Since when did a centre stand become a luxury item?
So imagine my joy when I wandered back indoors only to find my pc screen infected with a rather nasty Trojan virus which required some major low level surgery to eradicate.
And yes, I do use current Firewall & Anti-Virus packages.
Two hours later that was sorted, leaving many more hours to run some alternative malware/spyware software and complete a low level purge.
Time for a walk then? More like essential.
Out to Burbush in the New Forest for a bit of contemplative R&R, accompanied by a MP3 player of very loud rock music. Always works well when I'm in an anti-social frame of mind.
Predictably, given the summer season, the rural back roads were busy & the New Forest car park a seething mass of humanity. Why does the term 'tourist on holiday' seem to require leaving their brain & common sense in a small pail by the holiday accommodation's front door each day?
Oh well - a quiet route was essential today, far away from marked paths and over publicised guidebook routes.
A success in that I saw no-one else once I'd left the vicinity of the car park. Sort of a success in a spur of the moment decision to try something a little more physically challenging by hopping off the back of my first route to link up with a longer outlying circuit.
It was via bog land. It wasn't any surprise. I know the land here abouts is liable to be undercut by narrow rivulets of flowing water, especially after rain. Adopting the trusted bog hop gait that Darren knows so well I quickly crossed onto the lower slopes of the far valley side, and picked up a pony track up to the pine topped mount ahead, in which nestled a World War II searchlight emplacement.
All going spiffing so far. A good workout over rough ground, much akin to Dartmoor in some places, and at a fast pace. Dog by my side, we moved ever onwards.
As I followed the ridge I was watching the boggy land below looking for a better track to cut across to rejoin the original route. An excellent & quiet circular if it wasn't for 400m of path crossing a major watershed plateau. Even the sinking of various peat and straw bales a few years earlier had failed to turn it into better than an inevitable paddle even during drought conditions. So its always been a bugbear of mine to find someway to hop this impassable section without getting a guaranteed soaking.
Today I thought I had cracked it. Spotting a clear pony track down I headed to the valley for a short 200m traverse to the far slope.
Along the way my path meandered by a solitary blackberry bush, already full of ripe fruit. A pause briefly to saviour a couple of large juicy berries unadulterated by proximity to car or human activity. Its going to be a bumper crop this year.
But hang on - doesn't ripe fruit signify the End of The Summer. A sign that Autumn's days are announcing their turn to become the seasonal host?
Maybe. Personally I'm yet to get my head around the fact its Summer, even as the evenings drawn in with each dusk arriving earlier than the previous one.
Onwards then into what turned out to be one of the worst pieces of broken ground I've walked over for some time. No make that walked through. Or maybe even under.
Initially hopping from tussock to tussock I turned to make sure Dog was ok. He'd disappeared. Nope there he was, the only sign of his passage the top of long sedge grasses moving, as he followed a track deep deep down in the undergrowth.
I persevered. Carefully. This was ankle snapping territory. The trusted bog hop gait, so suavely demonstrated not half an hour before soon became an arm whirling, keep the balance, plummet forward until finally the inevitable happened.
My foot went into a pool of water, far below and out of sight, with the result - a boot filled with a tantalising mixture of rain water and Grade A fresh bog land mulch (and all free of charge)
Bugger - this is the sort of incident that rarely happens to me. Even then it should be in some wild and harsh environment. Not 50m from the dry & well worn path in front of me.
I finished the rest of the walk with a noticeable squelch each time my right foot hit the deck. But I had to smile along the way.
Putting the valley's water levels down to this summer's rainfall level I mentally marked the route as passable, but with care and at the right time of the year.
So why, when I came to one of the Forest's permanent pool of standing water was it's level 2-3m below its normal mark; Foreshore mud clearly visible? A typical mid summer scene in fact.
Is this still a wet Summer this year? Or maybe a warm season with periods of rainfall that have coloured the general perception of inclement weather.
Or has the high season already passed, leaving us to face an early Autumn? One that indicates the
non Winter season is now one extended period of warm & occasionally wet weather?
Well I don't know, and I doubt whether the Met Office are truly qualified these days to proffer an opinion that anyone would trust.
I squelched my way back into the typical Soddam & Gomorrah scene surrounding the car park. As I started homewards to renew battle with a pc clean-up, I skirted Forest ponies obstructing the main access routes & road. Their particular season in full swing having relearnt the quickest way to get Oohs & Aahs from day trippers and more relevantly their free handouts.
I really need to get away soon!
Labels: nature, New Forest, walks
Running fast. Standing still.
A combination of work, home and the usual day to day life drudge means that any time spent in front of this damned mono visual blinking radiation emitting time wasting device (aka Internet PC) are few and far between at present.
I've managed to keep up with my regular blog/forum reads each day, although any interaction in those places has also been similarly limited by time & energy.
Regrettably my fine record of monthly wildcamps that started so well (and so early this year), has turned to a pile of mush in response to circumstance. Many of these beyond my direct control, but all requiring the mature & supportive responses that I like to think is part of what make me Who I Am.
But today, at the end of yet another endlessly milling week I've uncovered a few hours of my own. Time to sit back & spend some solitary moments on my own whims. Something that during the last few weeks I've felt increasingly driven to saviour during the pell-mell rush that seems to be my waking existence.
Now is that time, more than ever, when I feel drawn to find that special renewal of spirit that comes with a few night's wildcamping in some lonely and desolate wild location. Far from my fellow human, but so close to the true reality of existence. Water. Shelter. Food. Nature. Bliss.
But for the moment my dismally puny recharge comes as I think back to some of those high ridge wildcamps. Places where I sat savouring the blending of Time, Space & Solitude.
The quiet gap that follows the end of a long day's trek.
The wildcamp pitch. Refuelling the body's needs.
And then an opportunity to fill the gap before sleep by busily doing nothing in particular but become one with the surroundings. True - only a transitory visitor. But one open to the measure and pleasure of the temporary resting place.
Meanwhile there are the trip reports from fellow Outdoor Bloggers as they discuss their recent sorties out in the Great Outdoors (You lucky sods!)
All this helps keep me on the right side of sanity. Although those who have met me know that such a description is always applied a little warily when citing my general demeanour.
So for now I teeter (titter?) along life's own high ridge. Balancing The Present alongside The Past. Awaiting The Future where control of my own moments & movements can one again be retaken in a more selfish manner.
So what if this summer is yet again turning out to be damp and changeable?
The weather is warm. The grass is full grown. Tree crowns are dark and leaf laden.
Get out there if you are able. Saviour these moments.
To store up pleasant memories for colder days ahead.
And I don't mean the Winter.Labels: Mental Health, nature
I've managed to keep up with my regular blog/forum reads each day, although any interaction in those places has also been similarly limited by time & energy.
Regrettably my fine record of monthly wildcamps that started so well (and so early this year), has turned to a pile of mush in response to circumstance. Many of these beyond my direct control, but all requiring the mature & supportive responses that I like to think is part of what make me Who I Am.
But today, at the end of yet another endlessly milling week I've uncovered a few hours of my own. Time to sit back & spend some solitary moments on my own whims. Something that during the last few weeks I've felt increasingly driven to saviour during the pell-mell rush that seems to be my waking existence.
Now is that time, more than ever, when I feel drawn to find that special renewal of spirit that comes with a few night's wildcamping in some lonely and desolate wild location. Far from my fellow human, but so close to the true reality of existence. Water. Shelter. Food. Nature. Bliss.
But for the moment my dismally puny recharge comes as I think back to some of those high ridge wildcamps. Places where I sat savouring the blending of Time, Space & Solitude.
The quiet gap that follows the end of a long day's trek.
The wildcamp pitch. Refuelling the body's needs.
And then an opportunity to fill the gap before sleep by busily doing nothing in particular but become one with the surroundings. True - only a transitory visitor. But one open to the measure and pleasure of the temporary resting place.
Meanwhile there are the trip reports from fellow Outdoor Bloggers as they discuss their recent sorties out in the Great Outdoors (You lucky sods!)
All this helps keep me on the right side of sanity. Although those who have met me know that such a description is always applied a little warily when citing my general demeanour.
So for now I teeter (titter?) along life's own high ridge. Balancing The Present alongside The Past. Awaiting The Future where control of my own moments & movements can one again be retaken in a more selfish manner.
So what if this summer is yet again turning out to be damp and changeable?
The weather is warm. The grass is full grown. Tree crowns are dark and leaf laden.
Get out there if you are able. Saviour these moments.
To store up pleasant memories for colder days ahead.
And I don't mean the Winter.
Labels: Mental Health, nature
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
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