Wednesday, June 23
Dartmoor Bound
With work\life changes immanent (once again) my thoughts have turned selfish recently.
So July will see me heading for a week on Dartmoor, merrily wildcamping for as many nights as gives my pleasure (God am I going to smell after this one!)
Its all slightly karmic really.
Last year's trips were panning out so well with one in April, and a second in May. June's trip was planned, but personal events led to a postponement, which spookily has lasted just over a year.
Time to get back to where I belong.
After all I do a duty to The Fan to field test the new MP3 Player.
Yeh.
As if I need an excuse!
Monday, April 5
Nat's Big Walk- Nomad's Land
Whilst you consider your 2010 walking ideas there's one individual who started his own research some time ago.
"My name is Nathaniel Severs, I am 24 years old and in 2010, I am walking the entire coastline of mainland Britain (7,000 miles) for three great charities"
Leaving his Portsmouth home in early January the schedule means he'll next have the comfort of his own bed a few days before Xmas (Hope he remembered to cancel the milk & newspapers)
You can follow his the route map progress & read his trip reports on his Blog Nomad's Land. For those following the current vogue of Keeping Up To The Moment there is even a Twitter feed.
Another local lad, Seb Green, completed his Coastal Walk Challenge back in 2008 which I covered at the time.
My site stats still show regular traffic coming to this Blog via a "Seb Green" keyword search. So its possible that there are a number of people out there considering a similar idea.
Seb's route was 3,500 mile. Nat's estimate is 7,000 miles. Not too sure where the extra distance comes from, but as Seb's journey took Feb-Dec 2008 including a one month break then Nat's walk is going to be a long one indeed.
Is the Coastal Walk starting to taking over from the Lands End\John O' Groats route as The UK Walking Challenge?
Sunday, April 4
Walker's Aid: Hill Lists & Database Resources
Thankfully its come around to that time of year once again.
Longer daylight hours, warmer temperatures, & (whisper it quietly) even a glimpse of sunshine.
Time then to scratch that Getting Serious Outdoors itch steadily building up over the dark Winter days.
Only problem - what to do & where to go for this year's walking challenges?
For me that means not just digging out the maps, but also turning to the myriad of on-line resources to feed a questioning mind with specific locale information and assist with ideas for route planning.
I thought I'd share some of my own sources with you adding a new set of Site Links under the heading of HILL LISTS & DATABASES (see right hand side of this page)
Here you'll find hill & summit lists covering both the UK & worldwide providing a variety of free hill data downloads for your own use & adaption (build your own Tick List?)
Hope they help you as much as they have me over the years.
Sunday, March 7
Hengistbury Head & Fi(a)tness Trends
As promised earlier (and following some mild reflection \ toning down) where did all the Nordic Walkers come from so suddenly? And more to the point, what do some of them hope to achieve? (The clue was in the photo - walking poles and cafe seat BTW)
Saturday's duties took me into the Christchurch area. So for a change I took a walk out over Hengistbury Head, along Mudeford Sandspit, before tracing a route along the shore of Christchurch Harbour and back to the car.
Its not a long trip, less than 5 miles even taking the longer alternatives. However it manages to include a short but steep ascent & some superb coastal views.
To the east is The Needles Lighthouse drawing the eye beyond to the Isle of Wight.
And turning westwards a sweep across Bournemouth Bay. Swanage in the far distance, with the dowdy sprawl of the Poole/Bournemouth conurbation as one's gaze tracks the beach back towards your position.
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Quickly turning to the north what remains of the Dorset heathland these days, along with the New Forest in the distance, is laid out before your feet. Twinkling distant in today's sunlight are the Rivers Stour & Avon, their floodplain meanderings finally joining up as they reach Christchurch, its Priory clearly silhouetted against the town.
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Sounds idyllic doesn't it? A pity then the local council charge prohibitive amounts to use the car park. But despite that the area this Saturday morning was teeming with people, dogs, kids etc etc.
Well I should have known really. Its not a place to come for a quiet walk, not unless there's a gale lashing rain inland from the English Channel. Which for some reason tends to deter some people.
Not so your humble scribe. Although it has the dubious pleasure of being one of the few places where I had a (well fitted) cap ripped from my head and discarded some 50m away. Mind you it was a bit gusty that day - and I did seem to be the only one on the headland tasting salty raindrops. The rain actually wind sped spray spat up from the sea some 300m distant at the foot of the cliff 30+m below.
But that's another tale.
As usual I parked in one of the side streets to avoid the parking charge & avoid the predatory Traffic Wardens that roam the area. As I walked towards the headland track contouring the coastline the unexpected drone of bagpipes was wafted on the stiff breeze.
Well I say wafted.
Common to most bagpipe enthusiasts, interested in remaining on good terms with their neighbours, the only practice sites seem to be far out in the wilds as the skirl(?) of the pipes does have a tendency to carry some considerable distance.
Especially true today. Turning a corner the hedgerow on my right dropped away to reveal two of the buggers playing a spirited duet (whilst trying not to look as if they were up to no good in the bushes)
They needn't have worried - their playing was accomplished. Although quite what a brace of pipers were doing here on the south coast was another question entirely. Particularly when dressed in full Highland Regalia.
Nearing the Head the amount people increased - and with it an increasing number of those carrying/using walking poles. At first I thought nothing of it. That is until I noticed the strange outdoor regalia being worn. Trainers, jeans, tracksuits. It felt like a poorly funded fashion show. But the poles were clearly in pristine condition sporting brand names I'd not previously come across before.
And so it continued as I strode purposefully up to the OS trig point on the Head itself.
Onwards across the headland, wind blowing hard as usual, to eventually descend the far side, a spur of the moment decision made to head for the cafe on Mudeford Spit.
Note I've carefully not mentioned the cafe's name, or provided a link. If you're in this area use the Hungry Hiker next to the car park, which has a good reputation. Avoid the Spit's cafe unless you happen to like slow service, costly but poor quality food & the dubious distinction of queuing for a table whilst staring out over all the empty spaces!
This was the first (and last) time my business will be remitted at said establishment. A pity as its sister premises on Christchurch Quay is a long time & favourite haunt of mine, although recent visits suggest a subtle drop in ambiance & service.
Sitting in the cafe and awaiting my order, my attention was again drawn to the frequency of fellow diners with nice shiny walking poles leaning haphazardly by their tables.
It seems that Nordic Walking as a fitness regime has hit this area big time. Quite how or why this has happened remains a mystery to me.
Now please don't take my skepticism as a negative feeling. I'm all for anything that gets people outdoors and enjoying the landscape. But judging by the amount of food being consumed today's exercise benefit was for fast being negated by a mass intake of carbs, fats & sugary substances.
As I pushed away my half eaten meal (a salad - naturally) I made for the exit and a more solitary route back to avoid the excess of humanity working hard at working hard. But I couldn't help but wonder as I passed the "Noddy Train" stop, its lengthening queue of people awaiting the 5 minute ride back to the car park, just how many of the Stick Brigade would take that option for their return journey. Full bellies complaining at the thought of the reasonably short walk back.
Maybe I was right.
My route back followed the edge of the harbour. A quiet & solitary amble with not a soul met along the way until I neared the tarmac track to exit the headland. And with it the inevitable bottleneck of people, sticks & wandering dogs.
Now I remember why I avoid this area like a plague during the summer months; And most of the Winter ones as well.
A good walking route, like a good wine, is to be enjoyed & savoured for inner contentment. And regrettably the well intentioned aims to make this area into a 'Visitor Attraction' has instead created a strange sort of venue.
My tip - it can be an enjoyable walk with superb veiws. But go when the weather is foul & the Stick People are more likely to stay away.
Labels: Fitness, New Forest, walks
Sunday, November 22
UK Walking - Take a new look at youself?
So. Back in front of this fag ash littered keyboard. Once more banging down on random keys with a vague hope that something literate, informative, perhaps even entertaining, pops up on your screen to brighten up your day.
Well somebody out there may benefit from my increasingly occasional wittering.
There's not a lot to report from the Great Outdoors at present. Well not as far as this Blogger is concerned.
A recent job role change means I now see far more of the UK during the hours of daylight. Which for one such as myself who hates Autumn's shortening days - well it must be a bonus.
On the down side, any sights I do see are part of a rush from one area of the UK to another. 60-70 hours weeks. Long & frequent hands-free telephone conversations whilst driving. A continual juggling of people, places, and e-mail catch-up 7 days a week. The result? An inevitable disinclination to spend any of my brief free time sat in front of a computer.
I'd hoped the thinking time during long drives would prove productive with article ideas & reflections.
In fact my day to day existence has become such a pressure pot that the 'me' space, source of my creative side, has quietly slipped into dormancy. A reaction to a semi-exhausted body, and a mind full of business matters and related chaff.
A certain lifestyle madness has now slipped into the driving seat. Temporarily.
But I can see the little bugger smirking back at me. And I do know its game, from past encounters.
I have ways to overcome & defeat it, given time.
But for the present I let it steer, awaiting that moment when my internal energies get to grips with the situation and come out kicking and spitting. To strike the interloper in the goolies, and send it packing, bent double and moaning loudly in defeat.
Its not all doom & gloom.
Over the years I've learnt to take the knocks of hard times by keeping an eye out for small benefits along the way.
A short chat about the Wicklow Mountains area with someone who lives on the edge of the National Park, provides personal insight about the Wicklow Way. Later a few minutes of flight wait time at Dublin Airport is used to confirm a direct coach connection from the airport - a trip of around an hour.
With potential for free air travel to Ireland, Powerscourt Waterfall looks a tempting visit.
At another location, the tedium of a long and complex business meeting is lightened by the view of sunset crossing the Cleeve Hill range, an area previously unknown to me. That evening a few minutes on the Internet reveal possibilities for evening sorties in the new year, once the days draw out once again. Once more, any travel costs courtesy of my gadabout wanderings.
Local knowledge, easily provided, is always a useful guide. Even if the people supplying it seem to take their area for granted.
And don’t we all?
With the sea a couple of miles away, a choice of river systems, and the New Forest ten minutes drive, I've been guilty of taking the same approach at times.
I know why that state has come about. But perhaps the saying "Travel broadens the mind" has some unusual spin-offs on this occasion?
True my seemingly constant journeying is reinforcing my long held belief that there is so very much to do outdoors in the UK. Mostly with easy access.
So maybe its time I took a new look at my own back yard once more?
But enough for now. This pesky note, originally a short courtesy jotting on my recent lack of Blogging activity, seems to have once again spawned a life of its own in trying to run off to play with thoughts and words, as the story unrolls.
Time to switch off the monitor; Power down the pc; And pick up a good book to escape into far from electronic temptation, and tired cliché ridden entertainment.Labels: walks
Sunday, October 25
OMM 2009 - All done
Well done to (Podcast) Bob & Rose finishing a commendable 161st in the OMM 2009 Shortscore Event. (No idea how high up they finished in the Veteran category - results have not yet been published)
There's even four Podcasts to listen to (Perhaps Bob is on someone else's Podcast - whatever next!)
This year the satellite comms has stunned the organisers with their ability to contact & e-mail very remote locations. And the event webcam was near TV quality, as shown by the 42" TV used at the entrants area to show what was going on.
Oh.
And nothing untoward happened.
Except the event being enjoyed by those involved.
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
Monday, May 18
Lake District Wildcamping Trip - Journey's end. Nearly.
Dateline: Ambleside YHA...
Well another wildamping escapade draws to a close. Not so much beaten by the inclement weather; More of a mutually agreed draw. But it's been a close run thing at times.
Sat here on the hostel's steam-driven Internet connection (at a cost which appears I am paying for best anthracite coal to keep it lurching along) the train times for the journey back south are appearing as if by magic, making the rail trip on Tuesday a rather drawn out affair.
A chance then to reflect on 3 night's wildcamping in some of the worst weather I've encountered for many years.
Hang on. The boiler stoker is signalling to me that he needs a tea-break.
JH signing off for for the present.
Trip notes on their way.Labels: Lake District, walks
Sunday, May 10
Walk route planning - online mapping
Here's a tip that may help with route planning.
This time next week I'll be wildcamped somewhere high on a Lake District fell side. With a few spots already in mind I've been looking at other ideas to put together a longer trip.
Naturally the OS Map & reference books were first source. Followed by more detailed work on-line where the amount of specific & highly detailed photographic images is proving very useful.
During this process I've occasionally turned to Google Earth to get a bird's eye view of the ground, especially searching for certain map features that really aren't too well marked. GE has been good, but can be slow.
I've also experimented with Multimap which is rapidly winning my what-a-good-idea award.
I can switch from a road map, to an OS map view, to aerial. Zooming in, and then flipping to and fro between the OS and aerial view. All at very fine detail, and virtually instantly, whereas Google Maps can be slow. And most importantly without losing my current map location.
A real time saver when building up that route, especially when searching for out of the way places. Labels: Blogger tip, walks
Sunday, February 22
Godshill Wander- Cock, Balls & a Loss
With the spring weather holding and a rare day of free time to myself I took down my walking diaries from the bookshelf earlier this morning to look back over my various trip reports.
I've been keeping a description of all new routes for over fifteen years now. Initially each year had plenty of entries, but as the local variations were ticked off the number of new entries each year has dropped, replaced by infrequent longer reports of wildcamping weeks away.
I've always found it beneficial to keep such a diary. Apart from the smile it brings to my lips as I'm reminded of past journeys, each description ends with a footnote suggesting possibilities for future trips that I've spotted along the way. Over time this has led to uncovering some of my best wildcamping spots, despite the original visit being many years ago.
Today I spotted am idea from the late 1990's - a circular trip using a familiar stretch of the Avon Valley Footpath, north of Fordingbridge, to visit Frankenbury (Grid Ref: OL22/166152), an iron age hill fort.
It's a subject of which I understand only a little, but these old defences are always a worthy reason for a walk as I try to get a taste of why our ancestors chose such places for their homes and lives.
Luckily Dorset and the surrounding areas are extremely rich in ancient hill defences. These vary wildly from the grandiose (Maiden Castle) to the mundane (Buckland Rings) So what would I uncover today?
I crossed the suspended bridge over the River Avon - unique in its construction method in Hampshire I believe.
Onto the muddy track across the water meadows and over a number of drainage channels, dotted here and there with their sluice gates. Long ago boats and their cargo travelled along the waterways in this area from the coast inland to Salisbury, 30 miles away. But that was then. Today the remaining ditches remind one more of a fenland scene, were it not for small hills edging along the wide Avon Valley.
Along the way the path forked. To the left ugly recycling bins and agricultural debris. To the right a drop to a track alongside the river and amongst the trees. Beast & beauty? No contest.
Down to the river then. With further reminders of seasonal changes, far more advanced that I would have thought likely at this time of year.
The trees positively dripping with catkins, some the largest I've seen. 
Nearing the hill fort itself a few early primroses in bloom, alongside the stems of bluebells awaiting their turn once the clumps of snowdrops had had their chance.
The path opened onto a forest nature trail, with the inevitable crowds of Sunday strollers. After the natural beauty of the footpath the Nature Trail, composed of ugly 'visitor friendly' tracks & wth the removal of much of the native woodland, was a shock. I quickly cut across this section moving upwards to the hill fort, there to find the remains unhappily now located on agricultural land.
Little remained other than than a small ring defence rampart crowded with hedgerow, tree & briar.
Today it guarded a field of grazing cattle. No sense of history to be found here. This visit, as I've discovered in the past, not so much a reminder of ancient times. More a surprise that such places ever survive at all where modern farming meets ancient remains.
I returned to the nature trail, meeting people oblivious to the historic fortification alongside the man made track as they blindly followed the ugly track, and its clue points -whatever they were.
Needless to say I didn't have my 3 clues by now. Or even any idea what the questions were. But I did have a reason for the human activity as I approached Sandy Balls Holiday Camp, even at this time of year a busy spot.
So instead onto the field footpaths, avoiding the camp. Trying to match the marks on the map to the path on the ground whilst factoring in numerous "Keep Out" & "Private" signs garlanding the trees and hedgerow
Seems like the local landowner & the Camp's visitors may have had their disagreements in the past. But the Godshill area, as I'd noted before from previous visits seems plagued with a need to parcel up land with barb wire defences in the name of horse grazing. And parochial demonstrations of ownership. Its an area where trouser ripping is to be expected as one negotiates the miserly footpaths around the village.
Ah the village. Today that meant the Fighting Cocks Pub for a pint and a pie. It was not to be. The deterrent of Sunday crowds queing for food meant instead I settled for two pints & a Kit-Kat. Dog faring slightly better thanks to abundant dog chews available on the bar for a small charitable donation.
We moved on along Godshill Ridge and onto the open forest. Finally I could leave off the detailed map-to-ground route work and was able to return to my normal practice of pick a point on the horizon and find the least muddy way to it. In this case the unmissable treeline of Godshill Enclosure on the rise above.
West then back to the AVP and a familiar descent back to the valley and my starting point.
Along the way Dog and myself exchanged greetings with a Very Large Bull busily munching its fodder.
I've no idea of the breed, but the maleness of the creature was indisputable as I looked at the enormity of his undercarriage.
A short distance covered, barely 6 miles, but a lengthy wander of 4 hours. A leisurely time for the most, when not bent forward map reading.
But out long enough to breathe deep of the coming changes. And, for a time, enjoy a period of solitary peace amongst the greening shoots of Nature.
Now I wonder how many new visitors to this site will arrive via Google search for Cock or Balls? lolLabels: nature, New Forest, walks
Saturday, February 7
Remember me this way
Today a cold and icy wander along the paths and hidden tracks that criss-cross Wilverley Enclosure in the New Forest.
Clean transparent ice, freshly thrown across the puddles, despite the 3 deg temperature.
Signs of snow in the undergrowth still clearly visible. Ahead a couple of cheeky deer break cover. Their white rumps flashing, stubby tails held high, as they casually hop along the track before me. No urgency to dash for thicket cover today. A sign that the recent hard weather and reduced human traffic along this way had toned down their usual fight or flight response.
In the weak sunshine a bench beckons. Its siting always a friendly welcome at the junction of four major tracks. A position carefully chosen for sunlight and quiet reflection deep amongst the trees.
Today the bench is crowned with twin wreaths - in remembrance to one who's memorial it represents.
A physical manifestation to match the mental appreciation I often offer up to its unknown benefactor.
A fellow traveller. Similarly in tune with time & place. A special spot.
The path unwinds before me as I start uphill. I leave behind the one for whom a journey has completed. Marked for others to note; To reflect; To share; Despite the absence of their physical presence on this bright and quiet late winter morning.Labels: New Forest, walks
Friday, February 6
Walk with me a while
For those stuck indoors.
Sat gazing through steamed-up windows at snow (or in my case cold rain & slush)?
I offer a walking route description with a subtle difference from the standard fare.
Walking with Oswald, King of Northumbria
Alf Wainwright - eat your heart out.
;-)Labels: walks
Saturday, January 10
Kingston walkabout - Remember the birds
I'm sure there's a streak of masochism somewhere in my personality.
After a week of frozen early morning workday starts and the inevitable car de-icing/warm-up routine, a Saturday lie-in would be a simple and highly attractive pleasure. But not today.
Somehow I'd arranged a very early appointment for my car's MOT. With recent weather & road conditions this required a pre-check that all lights/windows were clear, clean & functional. Plus the small matter of getting the motor properly warmed up prior to the car's CO2 check. Which for a diesel engine, mostly used for the commuter stop-start grind, requires a little high rev driving in an attempt to blow out some of the gunge that tends to build-up in the engine systems.
I woke to a picturesque Xmas card view of heavy frosts garlanding the trees, as if visited by snowfall, but in this case the result of an overnight freezing fog. The heaviest sign of frost so far this season.
Hence early morning sub zero temperatures found me driving up and down the local stretch of dual carriageway getting all things mechanical up to a reasonable operating temperature.
MOT sorted, it meant I was able to clear my normal Saturday chores earlier than usual, leaving time for a few stolen pleasures, during which myself and the collie wandered off to revisit an area near Kingston, along the Avon Valley Footpath south of Ringwood, and east of the River Avon.
Its not a huge area to roam over and doesn't offer any real distance walks, but there is always a rich variety of wildlife along the way with pools, a lake and a river amongst a mix of heathland, hedgerow and mixed woodland. During Xmas I'd spotted a grey heron, various members of the duck/geese/swan families, solitary buzzards, and watched a fisherman landed a small jack pike from near the river ford (just why do pike always look so p*ssed off?)
If you'd come across myself and dog today, you would have found me grinning as I recalled childhood experiences. Carefully making a slip-slide traverse of a wide frozen pool. A wide bare mud dip in the land in summertime. Today transformed into a skating rink of boot depth frozen water. Half remembered skills flooded back as I carefully made my way across, dog ordered 'slow to heel', as he learnt a new skill. Better that than risk a headlong dash with inevitable loss of four pawed traction. His pride couldn't take the ignomy of that; And I didn't fancy the potential vet's bill.
Unsurprisingly the lake was mostly frozen. It provided a near unique opportunity to sneak out onto the thick ice, dog safe on the shore, in an attempt to get a photo of frost on the lake's edge. That was until I heard an ominous sound and looking down saw three lengthening cracks working their way out from my position. Aware of the potential risk, I hadn't strayed far out from lakeside, but it was enough to get wet boot & trousers if things worsened. Discretion required a careful but rapid retreat back to terra firma.
(The Lake photographed from The Lake)
Courtesy of my latest piece of gear I could measure the land temperature at -2°C. Stopping at the river's ford, current strong despite the water's frozen edges, I checked the water reading at a positive balmy 3°C.
(River's edge)
Somehow today I managed to resist the urge to pop in for a warming dip. Instead we retraced our steps. Or breath forming clouds before us as we wandered through the frozen landscape. Birds darting in and out of the hedgerows. Their normal caution discarded with the need find scarce but so essential food to endure this extended cold spell.
Pleasure for man & dog. A dangerous time for wildlife.
We returned home - the dog to his 'well-done' dog biscuit; Myself to a tot of whiskey in a hot coffee.
But firstly I made sure the bird seed hoppers were full & the various bird baths cleared of ice and refilled with fresh water.
A simple action. But a possible life saver for some of our feathered co-travellers.
Saturday, January 3
Dur Hill '08: Better times are coming
Earlier today I came across a half scribbled piece, penned around this time in 2008. With the thermometer barely reaching 3°C during the past week it seemed timely to wake it from a long hibernation as a reminder of the inevitability of better times to come. Eventually.
(Ice - thick and multi layered)
As I turned off the car engine I caught sight of the temperature display .... 9°C .... the warmest it's been for a week or so. Lifting the estate's boot I let the solitary collie jump down to join me for Saturday's New Forest wander. I could feel a slight breeze on my cheek to confirm the wind shift promised by last night's weather report. No longer blowing from the cold east, now a benign south westerly. Herald of rain sometime during the next few days perhaps. For the moment a refreshing change after many outdoor sorties of chin hunkered deep down inside the neck of my fleece, that instinctive seeking of respite from the ever pervasive chilling.
I find it usually takes me 3 days or so to come to terms with very cold weather, probably due to the cocoon offered by centrally heated house and office, my main habitats at this time of year.
But today a weak winter sun brings respite to man and dog alike as we steer clear of the post Xmas chaos, specifically other walkers, for a private amble over familiar ground. Around the Dur Hill enclosure whose western edge can usually be relied on for some solitude at this time of year. Once a widely forested area the last few years have seen certain 'improvements' most noticeably removal of much woodland and scrub leaving large barren areas as a result. Other than this past human activity, such as RAF Sopley's radio transmitter building, have long since disappeared leaving the area with a feeling of remoteness despite its proximity to the nearby Bournemouth conurbation.
But a cosmetic pretence suddenly shattered as overhead a plane drones its throaty descent downwards to Bournemouth International Airport (strange naming for its Christchurch based location)
The lingerings of uninterrupted icy days have left a churned landscape to pick our way over. At times a solid unyielding ground, still glassy and insincere underfoot, as if walking on a concrete ice-rink. The path continues, and with its next twist detouring a clump of impenetrable gorse bush, comes endless pools of thick cloying black mud and water, leading between a tunnel of yet more gorse. Each pool with slick edges, treacherous to negotiate. Unless heavily mud spattered trousers, or worse an unexpected cold dip, is a preference.
No matter. This change in the weather brings with it a general lifting of spirits. Tremblings of warmer days to come. Softer times to savour.
Man & dog trudge onwards. A shared and renewed interest in all around.Labels: New Forest, walks
Sunday, December 14
Seb Green - Home again
Seb Green finished his coastal wandering earlier today.
Wisely he seems to already have plans for his next challenges. To quote the website report posted for today's arrival "You had a dream and you have made your dream reality. You achieved everything you hoped to achieve - and so much more. You went away a boy and came back a man, head held high, knowing who you are"
Once the media kerfuffle has died down I'll be contacting one of my varied local connections, there for his arrival earlier today, for a more reflective chat with Seb if he's interested.
More of a walker/outdoor/kit roundup piece. Looking beyond the charity/publicity junket he's at the centre at present.
Tuesday, December 2
Seb Green - True celebrity
So the weather has got decidedly colder recently. Then there is that edgy wind that's been blowing for the last few days. Suddenly the joy of a long outdoor trek becomes much less attractive. Especially where there is no shelter - something like a cliff-top walk perhaps?
Bear a thought then for a true celebrity, previously mentioned on this blog - Seb Green on his Round Britain walk.
Currently somewhere north of Plymouth he's on the final stretch of his 3,000+ mile walk, and expects to arrive home in Weymouth during the next couple of weeks.
A celebrity? Well in my eyes one truly deserving of that oft misused and abused title.
His fame has come through selfless effort, unabashed contrition for his original mistake, and continual and communal improvements. That's of truer value than those boasters using the C title as a result of a hard working agent or as over excessive use of silicon implants.
Consider the charities benefiting from the £14,000+ raised. Or the people he's encountered along the way, seeing for themselves that something positive can come from an anti-social act. The proof that not all of modern yoof is a feral hooded knife wielder lurking on a street corner.
However I suspect the real gift for Seb will be the self knowledge and personal awareness gained over the months since his February start. A better understanding of self reliance and personal responsibility - an essential part of maturing as a human being.
Something that some people two or three times his age have yet to discover.
Welcome home Seb.
Saturday, November 15
Saturday morning - New Forest Dogging
On a whim today I decided to visit one of my regular circuits deep amongst woodland, south of Wilverley Plain. Luckily a track well known to me, as a mixture of sudden leaf drop & a period of wet and damp conditions, has altered the terrain sufficiently to obscure some of the side-tracks, leading from the main shale surfaced tourist paths - ones tend to keep well clear of wherever possible.
On the entry gate into the enclosure I'd spotted a new information sign advising of one of those New Forest events that appear out of the blue, and are always accompanied by a Caution & Care notice for regular NF users. And any concerned insurer, no doubt.
So no surprise then, on coning to cross one of the shale tracks, to find a couple of competitors busily working their dog teams in the ABSA Sleddog Championship 2008/09.
Unlike previous events I've met this time the teams were using only one dog per sled/musher. But, as usual, the dogs seem to be enjoying themselves tremendously, as the mushers did most of the sled pushing on a nearby uphill section.
If you've not encountered this sport before the sleds are lightweight frames mounted on large bicycle wheels. A sturdy build to take the knocks of travelling at speed over the hard & uneven forest tracks.
Later I moved from the dank woodland into the weak daylight of Wilverley Plain, and recalled my last visit here. That was back in October to cover the Forest Uprising Group's protests against the New Forest National Park's proposals.
Then it hit me.
On one hand the NFPA, talking up the tightening of dog access in the New Forest. The same authority today permitting a competitive dog centred event. One that results in some limitation of access in a popular area for the whole weekend (Not that I've any problem with the event or its organisers BTW)
A timely reminder that FUG presented their formal response on the NFPA's consultation draft yesterday, on the last day for submissions.
With around 9,000 responses to work through the NFPA is going to be rather busy trying to settle down the hornet's nest they've raised, ready for the formal submission to the full National Park Authority in summer 2009.
With further workgroups and public meetings in the pipeline expect sparks to continue to fly for some time yet.
Me, I went back to the sled race. It seemed to me that the dogs were getting the better of the deal today. And long may it stay so into the future.Labels: New Forest, walks
Tuesday, November 11
Numbering the days or Counting the cost
50
My age next year.
For those of you that have had the dubious distinction of meeting me in the flesh that's probably a hard fact to swallow. But a true one nevertheless. This lithe body, is a temple, testament to years of loose living & looser women (I remain ever hopeful - lol) Amazingly still unfettered by any short term leasing arrangement with certain Dark Forces.
Nope - its all my own work, as it were. For luckily I've inherited a simple healthiness with a level of natural fitness that becomes the envy of those tubby-tum middle-aged men I see amongst my age group these days.
360
The number of places available on the 2009 TGO Challenge, 60 up on the usual 300 limit, in recognition of the 30th anniversary of this event.
509
The number of applications received for 2009. With wider publicity of recent years the TGO continues to go from strength to strength as an internationally famous event, despite the physical and mental rigours required of those taking part, and the self reliant nature of the challenge.
149
The number of those initially listed on the short list.
40
Those on the short list who may be lucky enough, so I'm informed by those with experience of past events, to move over to the entrant list as some of the 2009 Challengers find themselves having to withdraw ahead of the event.
90
My short list number.
Well that's me buggered then.
I thought something suitably emphatic was called for in 2009. A symbolic achievement on passing my half century mark. An age that many years ago I wouldn't have seriously expected to reach, such was my lifestyle and its associated high risk activities (Lots of fun along the way though)
So that leaves me with a quandary. What else to do with the 2 week break from work that is already booked?
Too short a time to wildcamp the SW Coastal Footpath, one of my long term ambitions. All too easily 'squandered' on challenging, but potentially unmemorable, wildcamping weeks of my own design. Definitely too disinterested in the usual fall backs such as Coast to Coast, Pennine Way, Offa Dyke etc. All undoubtedly superb end to end journeys in themselves, but not that ....... well ..........different ....... to be honest.
Hmm. I guess that's what I'm looking for. A trip that delivers the chance for my steady movement across this land of ours. A point to point challenge with a recognisable aim, even to a non walker, but with that special something that I can look back at in the years ahead, and grin at having done it.
Any ideas folks?
All comments count. Naturally.Labels: TGO Challenge, walks
Sunday, October 26
A walk on the Algarve - Carveiro
Dawn. The sun's rays, already a reminder of the southerly latitude. An offshore breeze unexpected, but a welcome respite after a week of blue sky and mid 20s temperatures each day.
Waking early I decided to sneak out for a short while, to walk amongst the pitted red cliffs.
Amongst? For below the shadeless cliff top path marking the sudden drop down to the Atlantic I discovered a maze of steps, paths and tunnels leading down to hidden paths on the lower rock ledges edging the shoreline.
(Tunnel)
Rock, red pitted and pock marked. And through it all shards of sea shells clearly visible, deeply embedded in the strata. Surely a landscape more used to lunar exploration?
A solo daybreak walk then; Before the oppressive heat turned the cliff bowl into a cauldron of heat, at least for one more used to an UK climate.
I wandered for some while along traditional fisherman's paths. Some worn away through centuries of habitual usage. Others clearly revealing the local inhabitants' intent to bend this barren land to their human desires with carved steps and chilled dark tunnels popping up without warning as my exploration continued.
Above and behind me the small town, until recent times a quiet fishing village, now a thriving tourist escape, especially those from England and Ireland.
Its inhabitants slowly rising to meet another day of trade and trinket exchange.
But before me for the present the seemingly endless horizon of the Atlantic sea. And in the distance a five master schooner, sails furled, slowly motoring westwards towards its port.
I sit with my back to the wind, the sun now hot on my arms and face, as I watch the ship slip by. Its solitary behaviour matching my own as I carefully continue my exploration of this strange land. Acutely aware that a moment's lack of concentration amongst such rugged landscape could be harshly punished. A slip down to the sea and rocks below. Or worse to be swallowed up by one of the deep and dark sink holes that border the tracks.
Around me signs of night fishing activity. Discarded cigarette packs & bottles amongst abused tackle. A dangerous place then in the daylight. But possibly lethal at night for the unwary. Or drunk.
An alien and wild landscape. So unlike any place I'd encountered before. But, in common with those wilder places where caution is required, a deeply satisfying area to explore.
Finally that increasingly insistent voice of personal safety reminds me the odds had been played enough for so early in the day. Time to head back up the cliff paths.
Back to re-don the tourist disguise and greet an incautiously early cold beer before another day on the beach. Just one more lazily tanning holidaymaker to any casual onlooker. But inside me a quiet satisfaction in lifting aside one of the veils worn by this small Portuguese village. To have tasted a little of its truer identity. However briefly.
To travel; To experience a different culture and climate. And on this occasion a truly different landscape.Labels: walks
Sunday, September 28
Hincheslea Wood - Rebirth
Back in April last year I described a wander around Hincheslea Wood (OL22: GR 275 010) in the New Forest remarking that this burnt out building may have been about to arise from its ashes.
Earlier today I came across the replacement building, fast approaching its completion.
Neighbours, approached for their comments on the refurbishment, had no comment to make.
Being more concerned with local childcare facilities.
Labels: New Forest, walks
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
So July will see me heading for a week on Dartmoor, merrily wildcamping for as many nights as gives my pleasure (God am I going to smell after this one!)
Its all slightly karmic really.
Last year's trips were panning out so well with one in April, and a second in May. June's trip was planned, but personal events led to a postponement, which spookily has lasted just over a year.
Time to get back to where I belong.
After all I do a duty to The Fan to field test the new MP3 Player.
Yeh.
As if I need an excuse!
Nat's Big Walk- Nomad's Land
Whilst you consider your 2010 walking ideas there's one individual who started his own research some time ago.
"My name is Nathaniel Severs, I am 24 years old and in 2010, I am walking the entire coastline of mainland Britain (7,000 miles) for three great charities"
Leaving his Portsmouth home in early January the schedule means he'll next have the comfort of his own bed a few days before Xmas (Hope he remembered to cancel the milk & newspapers)
You can follow his the route map progress & read his trip reports on his Blog Nomad's Land. For those following the current vogue of Keeping Up To The Moment there is even a Twitter feed.
Another local lad, Seb Green, completed his Coastal Walk Challenge back in 2008 which I covered at the time.
My site stats still show regular traffic coming to this Blog via a "Seb Green" keyword search. So its possible that there are a number of people out there considering a similar idea.
Seb's route was 3,500 mile. Nat's estimate is 7,000 miles. Not too sure where the extra distance comes from, but as Seb's journey took Feb-Dec 2008 including a one month break then Nat's walk is going to be a long one indeed.
Is the Coastal Walk starting to taking over from the Lands End\John O' Groats route as The UK Walking Challenge?
Sunday, April 4
Walker's Aid: Hill Lists & Database Resources
Thankfully its come around to that time of year once again.
Longer daylight hours, warmer temperatures, & (whisper it quietly) even a glimpse of sunshine.
Time then to scratch that Getting Serious Outdoors itch steadily building up over the dark Winter days.
Only problem - what to do & where to go for this year's walking challenges?
For me that means not just digging out the maps, but also turning to the myriad of on-line resources to feed a questioning mind with specific locale information and assist with ideas for route planning.
I thought I'd share some of my own sources with you adding a new set of Site Links under the heading of HILL LISTS & DATABASES (see right hand side of this page)
Here you'll find hill & summit lists covering both the UK & worldwide providing a variety of free hill data downloads for your own use & adaption (build your own Tick List?)
Hope they help you as much as they have me over the years.
Sunday, March 7
Hengistbury Head & Fi(a)tness Trends
As promised earlier (and following some mild reflection \ toning down) where did all the Nordic Walkers come from so suddenly? And more to the point, what do some of them hope to achieve? (The clue was in the photo - walking poles and cafe seat BTW)
Saturday's duties took me into the Christchurch area. So for a change I took a walk out over Hengistbury Head, along Mudeford Sandspit, before tracing a route along the shore of Christchurch Harbour and back to the car.
Its not a long trip, less than 5 miles even taking the longer alternatives. However it manages to include a short but steep ascent & some superb coastal views.
To the east is The Needles Lighthouse drawing the eye beyond to the Isle of Wight.
And turning westwards a sweep across Bournemouth Bay. Swanage in the far distance, with the dowdy sprawl of the Poole/Bournemouth conurbation as one's gaze tracks the beach back towards your position.
Quickly turning to the north what remains of the Dorset heathland these days, along with the New Forest in the distance, is laid out before your feet. Twinkling distant in today's sunlight are the Rivers Stour & Avon, their floodplain meanderings finally joining up as they reach Christchurch, its Priory clearly silhouetted against the town.
Sounds idyllic doesn't it? A pity then the local council charge prohibitive amounts to use the car park. But despite that the area this Saturday morning was teeming with people, dogs, kids etc etc.
Well I should have known really. Its not a place to come for a quiet walk, not unless there's a gale lashing rain inland from the English Channel. Which for some reason tends to deter some people.
Not so your humble scribe. Although it has the dubious pleasure of being one of the few places where I had a (well fitted) cap ripped from my head and discarded some 50m away. Mind you it was a bit gusty that day - and I did seem to be the only one on the headland tasting salty raindrops. The rain actually wind sped spray spat up from the sea some 300m distant at the foot of the cliff 30+m below.
But that's another tale.
As usual I parked in one of the side streets to avoid the parking charge & avoid the predatory Traffic Wardens that roam the area. As I walked towards the headland track contouring the coastline the unexpected drone of bagpipes was wafted on the stiff breeze.
Well I say wafted.
Common to most bagpipe enthusiasts, interested in remaining on good terms with their neighbours, the only practice sites seem to be far out in the wilds as the skirl(?) of the pipes does have a tendency to carry some considerable distance.
Especially true today. Turning a corner the hedgerow on my right dropped away to reveal two of the buggers playing a spirited duet (whilst trying not to look as if they were up to no good in the bushes)
They needn't have worried - their playing was accomplished. Although quite what a brace of pipers were doing here on the south coast was another question entirely. Particularly when dressed in full Highland Regalia.
Nearing the Head the amount people increased - and with it an increasing number of those carrying/using walking poles. At first I thought nothing of it. That is until I noticed the strange outdoor regalia being worn. Trainers, jeans, tracksuits. It felt like a poorly funded fashion show. But the poles were clearly in pristine condition sporting brand names I'd not previously come across before.
And so it continued as I strode purposefully up to the OS trig point on the Head itself.
Onwards across the headland, wind blowing hard as usual, to eventually descend the far side, a spur of the moment decision made to head for the cafe on Mudeford Spit.
Note I've carefully not mentioned the cafe's name, or provided a link. If you're in this area use the Hungry Hiker next to the car park, which has a good reputation. Avoid the Spit's cafe unless you happen to like slow service, costly but poor quality food & the dubious distinction of queuing for a table whilst staring out over all the empty spaces!
This was the first (and last) time my business will be remitted at said establishment. A pity as its sister premises on Christchurch Quay is a long time & favourite haunt of mine, although recent visits suggest a subtle drop in ambiance & service.
Sitting in the cafe and awaiting my order, my attention was again drawn to the frequency of fellow diners with nice shiny walking poles leaning haphazardly by their tables.
It seems that Nordic Walking as a fitness regime has hit this area big time. Quite how or why this has happened remains a mystery to me.
Now please don't take my skepticism as a negative feeling. I'm all for anything that gets people outdoors and enjoying the landscape. But judging by the amount of food being consumed today's exercise benefit was for fast being negated by a mass intake of carbs, fats & sugary substances.
As I pushed away my half eaten meal (a salad - naturally) I made for the exit and a more solitary route back to avoid the excess of humanity working hard at working hard. But I couldn't help but wonder as I passed the "Noddy Train" stop, its lengthening queue of people awaiting the 5 minute ride back to the car park, just how many of the Stick Brigade would take that option for their return journey. Full bellies complaining at the thought of the reasonably short walk back.
Maybe I was right.
My route back followed the edge of the harbour. A quiet & solitary amble with not a soul met along the way until I neared the tarmac track to exit the headland. And with it the inevitable bottleneck of people, sticks & wandering dogs.
Now I remember why I avoid this area like a plague during the summer months; And most of the Winter ones as well.
A good walking route, like a good wine, is to be enjoyed & savoured for inner contentment. And regrettably the well intentioned aims to make this area into a 'Visitor Attraction' has instead created a strange sort of venue.
My tip - it can be an enjoyable walk with superb veiws. But go when the weather is foul & the Stick People are more likely to stay away.
Labels: Fitness, New Forest, walks
Sunday, November 22
UK Walking - Take a new look at youself?
So. Back in front of this fag ash littered keyboard. Once more banging down on random keys with a vague hope that something literate, informative, perhaps even entertaining, pops up on your screen to brighten up your day.
Well somebody out there may benefit from my increasingly occasional wittering.
There's not a lot to report from the Great Outdoors at present. Well not as far as this Blogger is concerned.
A recent job role change means I now see far more of the UK during the hours of daylight. Which for one such as myself who hates Autumn's shortening days - well it must be a bonus.
On the down side, any sights I do see are part of a rush from one area of the UK to another. 60-70 hours weeks. Long & frequent hands-free telephone conversations whilst driving. A continual juggling of people, places, and e-mail catch-up 7 days a week. The result? An inevitable disinclination to spend any of my brief free time sat in front of a computer.
I'd hoped the thinking time during long drives would prove productive with article ideas & reflections.
In fact my day to day existence has become such a pressure pot that the 'me' space, source of my creative side, has quietly slipped into dormancy. A reaction to a semi-exhausted body, and a mind full of business matters and related chaff.
A certain lifestyle madness has now slipped into the driving seat. Temporarily.
But I can see the little bugger smirking back at me. And I do know its game, from past encounters.
I have ways to overcome & defeat it, given time.
But for the present I let it steer, awaiting that moment when my internal energies get to grips with the situation and come out kicking and spitting. To strike the interloper in the goolies, and send it packing, bent double and moaning loudly in defeat.
Its not all doom & gloom.
Over the years I've learnt to take the knocks of hard times by keeping an eye out for small benefits along the way.
A short chat about the Wicklow Mountains area with someone who lives on the edge of the National Park, provides personal insight about the Wicklow Way. Later a few minutes of flight wait time at Dublin Airport is used to confirm a direct coach connection from the airport - a trip of around an hour.
With potential for free air travel to Ireland, Powerscourt Waterfall looks a tempting visit.
At another location, the tedium of a long and complex business meeting is lightened by the view of sunset crossing the Cleeve Hill range, an area previously unknown to me. That evening a few minutes on the Internet reveal possibilities for evening sorties in the new year, once the days draw out once again. Once more, any travel costs courtesy of my gadabout wanderings.
Local knowledge, easily provided, is always a useful guide. Even if the people supplying it seem to take their area for granted.
And don’t we all?
With the sea a couple of miles away, a choice of river systems, and the New Forest ten minutes drive, I've been guilty of taking the same approach at times.
I know why that state has come about. But perhaps the saying "Travel broadens the mind" has some unusual spin-offs on this occasion?
True my seemingly constant journeying is reinforcing my long held belief that there is so very much to do outdoors in the UK. Mostly with easy access.
So maybe its time I took a new look at my own back yard once more?
But enough for now. This pesky note, originally a short courtesy jotting on my recent lack of Blogging activity, seems to have once again spawned a life of its own in trying to run off to play with thoughts and words, as the story unrolls.
Time to switch off the monitor; Power down the pc; And pick up a good book to escape into far from electronic temptation, and tired cliché ridden entertainment.Labels: walks
Sunday, October 25
OMM 2009 - All done
Well done to (Podcast) Bob & Rose finishing a commendable 161st in the OMM 2009 Shortscore Event. (No idea how high up they finished in the Veteran category - results have not yet been published)
There's even four Podcasts to listen to (Perhaps Bob is on someone else's Podcast - whatever next!)
This year the satellite comms has stunned the organisers with their ability to contact & e-mail very remote locations. And the event webcam was near TV quality, as shown by the 42" TV used at the entrants area to show what was going on.
Oh.
And nothing untoward happened.
Except the event being enjoyed by those involved.
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
Monday, May 18
Lake District Wildcamping Trip - Journey's end. Nearly.
Dateline: Ambleside YHA...
Well another wildamping escapade draws to a close. Not so much beaten by the inclement weather; More of a mutually agreed draw. But it's been a close run thing at times.
Sat here on the hostel's steam-driven Internet connection (at a cost which appears I am paying for best anthracite coal to keep it lurching along) the train times for the journey back south are appearing as if by magic, making the rail trip on Tuesday a rather drawn out affair.
A chance then to reflect on 3 night's wildcamping in some of the worst weather I've encountered for many years.
Hang on. The boiler stoker is signalling to me that he needs a tea-break.
JH signing off for for the present.
Trip notes on their way.Labels: Lake District, walks
Sunday, May 10
Walk route planning - online mapping
Here's a tip that may help with route planning.
This time next week I'll be wildcamped somewhere high on a Lake District fell side. With a few spots already in mind I've been looking at other ideas to put together a longer trip.
Naturally the OS Map & reference books were first source. Followed by more detailed work on-line where the amount of specific & highly detailed photographic images is proving very useful.
During this process I've occasionally turned to Google Earth to get a bird's eye view of the ground, especially searching for certain map features that really aren't too well marked. GE has been good, but can be slow.
I've also experimented with Multimap which is rapidly winning my what-a-good-idea award.
I can switch from a road map, to an OS map view, to aerial. Zooming in, and then flipping to and fro between the OS and aerial view. All at very fine detail, and virtually instantly, whereas Google Maps can be slow. And most importantly without losing my current map location.
A real time saver when building up that route, especially when searching for out of the way places. Labels: Blogger tip, walks
Sunday, February 22
Godshill Wander- Cock, Balls & a Loss
With the spring weather holding and a rare day of free time to myself I took down my walking diaries from the bookshelf earlier this morning to look back over my various trip reports.
I've been keeping a description of all new routes for over fifteen years now. Initially each year had plenty of entries, but as the local variations were ticked off the number of new entries each year has dropped, replaced by infrequent longer reports of wildcamping weeks away.
I've always found it beneficial to keep such a diary. Apart from the smile it brings to my lips as I'm reminded of past journeys, each description ends with a footnote suggesting possibilities for future trips that I've spotted along the way. Over time this has led to uncovering some of my best wildcamping spots, despite the original visit being many years ago.
Today I spotted am idea from the late 1990's - a circular trip using a familiar stretch of the Avon Valley Footpath, north of Fordingbridge, to visit Frankenbury (Grid Ref: OL22/166152), an iron age hill fort.
It's a subject of which I understand only a little, but these old defences are always a worthy reason for a walk as I try to get a taste of why our ancestors chose such places for their homes and lives.
Luckily Dorset and the surrounding areas are extremely rich in ancient hill defences. These vary wildly from the grandiose (Maiden Castle) to the mundane (Buckland Rings) So what would I uncover today?
I crossed the suspended bridge over the River Avon - unique in its construction method in Hampshire I believe.
Onto the muddy track across the water meadows and over a number of drainage channels, dotted here and there with their sluice gates. Long ago boats and their cargo travelled along the waterways in this area from the coast inland to Salisbury, 30 miles away. But that was then. Today the remaining ditches remind one more of a fenland scene, were it not for small hills edging along the wide Avon Valley.
Along the way the path forked. To the left ugly recycling bins and agricultural debris. To the right a drop to a track alongside the river and amongst the trees. Beast & beauty? No contest.
Down to the river then. With further reminders of seasonal changes, far more advanced that I would have thought likely at this time of year.
The trees positively dripping with catkins, some the largest I've seen.
Nearing the hill fort itself a few early primroses in bloom, alongside the stems of bluebells awaiting their turn once the clumps of snowdrops had had their chance.
The path opened onto a forest nature trail, with the inevitable crowds of Sunday strollers. After the natural beauty of the footpath the Nature Trail, composed of ugly 'visitor friendly' tracks & wth the removal of much of the native woodland, was a shock. I quickly cut across this section moving upwards to the hill fort, there to find the remains unhappily now located on agricultural land.
Little remained other than than a small ring defence rampart crowded with hedgerow, tree & briar.
Today it guarded a field of grazing cattle. No sense of history to be found here. This visit, as I've discovered in the past, not so much a reminder of ancient times. More a surprise that such places ever survive at all where modern farming meets ancient remains.
I returned to the nature trail, meeting people oblivious to the historic fortification alongside the man made track as they blindly followed the ugly track, and its clue points -whatever they were.
Needless to say I didn't have my 3 clues by now. Or even any idea what the questions were. But I did have a reason for the human activity as I approached Sandy Balls Holiday Camp, even at this time of year a busy spot.
So instead onto the field footpaths, avoiding the camp. Trying to match the marks on the map to the path on the ground whilst factoring in numerous "Keep Out" & "Private" signs garlanding the trees and hedgerow
Seems like the local landowner & the Camp's visitors may have had their disagreements in the past. But the Godshill area, as I'd noted before from previous visits seems plagued with a need to parcel up land with barb wire defences in the name of horse grazing. And parochial demonstrations of ownership. Its an area where trouser ripping is to be expected as one negotiates the miserly footpaths around the village.
Ah the village. Today that meant the Fighting Cocks Pub for a pint and a pie. It was not to be. The deterrent of Sunday crowds queing for food meant instead I settled for two pints & a Kit-Kat. Dog faring slightly better thanks to abundant dog chews available on the bar for a small charitable donation.
We moved on along Godshill Ridge and onto the open forest. Finally I could leave off the detailed map-to-ground route work and was able to return to my normal practice of pick a point on the horizon and find the least muddy way to it. In this case the unmissable treeline of Godshill Enclosure on the rise above.
West then back to the AVP and a familiar descent back to the valley and my starting point.
Along the way Dog and myself exchanged greetings with a Very Large Bull busily munching its fodder.
I've no idea of the breed, but the maleness of the creature was indisputable as I looked at the enormity of his undercarriage.
A short distance covered, barely 6 miles, but a lengthy wander of 4 hours. A leisurely time for the most, when not bent forward map reading.
But out long enough to breathe deep of the coming changes. And, for a time, enjoy a period of solitary peace amongst the greening shoots of Nature.
Now I wonder how many new visitors to this site will arrive via Google search for Cock or Balls? lolLabels: nature, New Forest, walks
Saturday, February 7
Remember me this way
Today a cold and icy wander along the paths and hidden tracks that criss-cross Wilverley Enclosure in the New Forest.
Clean transparent ice, freshly thrown across the puddles, despite the 3 deg temperature.
Signs of snow in the undergrowth still clearly visible. Ahead a couple of cheeky deer break cover. Their white rumps flashing, stubby tails held high, as they casually hop along the track before me. No urgency to dash for thicket cover today. A sign that the recent hard weather and reduced human traffic along this way had toned down their usual fight or flight response.
In the weak sunshine a bench beckons. Its siting always a friendly welcome at the junction of four major tracks. A position carefully chosen for sunlight and quiet reflection deep amongst the trees.
Today the bench is crowned with twin wreaths - in remembrance to one who's memorial it represents.
A physical manifestation to match the mental appreciation I often offer up to its unknown benefactor.
A fellow traveller. Similarly in tune with time & place. A special spot.
The path unwinds before me as I start uphill. I leave behind the one for whom a journey has completed. Marked for others to note; To reflect; To share; Despite the absence of their physical presence on this bright and quiet late winter morning.Labels: New Forest, walks
Friday, February 6
Walk with me a while
For those stuck indoors.
Sat gazing through steamed-up windows at snow (or in my case cold rain & slush)?
I offer a walking route description with a subtle difference from the standard fare.
Walking with Oswald, King of Northumbria
Alf Wainwright - eat your heart out.
;-)Labels: walks
Saturday, January 10
Kingston walkabout - Remember the birds
I'm sure there's a streak of masochism somewhere in my personality.
After a week of frozen early morning workday starts and the inevitable car de-icing/warm-up routine, a Saturday lie-in would be a simple and highly attractive pleasure. But not today.
Somehow I'd arranged a very early appointment for my car's MOT. With recent weather & road conditions this required a pre-check that all lights/windows were clear, clean & functional. Plus the small matter of getting the motor properly warmed up prior to the car's CO2 check. Which for a diesel engine, mostly used for the commuter stop-start grind, requires a little high rev driving in an attempt to blow out some of the gunge that tends to build-up in the engine systems.
I woke to a picturesque Xmas card view of heavy frosts garlanding the trees, as if visited by snowfall, but in this case the result of an overnight freezing fog. The heaviest sign of frost so far this season.
Hence early morning sub zero temperatures found me driving up and down the local stretch of dual carriageway getting all things mechanical up to a reasonable operating temperature.
MOT sorted, it meant I was able to clear my normal Saturday chores earlier than usual, leaving time for a few stolen pleasures, during which myself and the collie wandered off to revisit an area near Kingston, along the Avon Valley Footpath south of Ringwood, and east of the River Avon.
Its not a huge area to roam over and doesn't offer any real distance walks, but there is always a rich variety of wildlife along the way with pools, a lake and a river amongst a mix of heathland, hedgerow and mixed woodland. During Xmas I'd spotted a grey heron, various members of the duck/geese/swan families, solitary buzzards, and watched a fisherman landed a small jack pike from near the river ford (just why do pike always look so p*ssed off?)
If you'd come across myself and dog today, you would have found me grinning as I recalled childhood experiences. Carefully making a slip-slide traverse of a wide frozen pool. A wide bare mud dip in the land in summertime. Today transformed into a skating rink of boot depth frozen water. Half remembered skills flooded back as I carefully made my way across, dog ordered 'slow to heel', as he learnt a new skill. Better that than risk a headlong dash with inevitable loss of four pawed traction. His pride couldn't take the ignomy of that; And I didn't fancy the potential vet's bill.
Unsurprisingly the lake was mostly frozen. It provided a near unique opportunity to sneak out onto the thick ice, dog safe on the shore, in an attempt to get a photo of frost on the lake's edge. That was until I heard an ominous sound and looking down saw three lengthening cracks working their way out from my position. Aware of the potential risk, I hadn't strayed far out from lakeside, but it was enough to get wet boot & trousers if things worsened. Discretion required a careful but rapid retreat back to terra firma.
(The Lake photographed from The Lake)
Courtesy of my latest piece of gear I could measure the land temperature at -2°C. Stopping at the river's ford, current strong despite the water's frozen edges, I checked the water reading at a positive balmy 3°C.
(River's edge)
Somehow today I managed to resist the urge to pop in for a warming dip. Instead we retraced our steps. Or breath forming clouds before us as we wandered through the frozen landscape. Birds darting in and out of the hedgerows. Their normal caution discarded with the need find scarce but so essential food to endure this extended cold spell.
Pleasure for man & dog. A dangerous time for wildlife.
We returned home - the dog to his 'well-done' dog biscuit; Myself to a tot of whiskey in a hot coffee.
But firstly I made sure the bird seed hoppers were full & the various bird baths cleared of ice and refilled with fresh water.
A simple action. But a possible life saver for some of our feathered co-travellers.
Saturday, January 3
Dur Hill '08: Better times are coming
Earlier today I came across a half scribbled piece, penned around this time in 2008. With the thermometer barely reaching 3°C during the past week it seemed timely to wake it from a long hibernation as a reminder of the inevitability of better times to come. Eventually.
(Ice - thick and multi layered)
As I turned off the car engine I caught sight of the temperature display .... 9°C .... the warmest it's been for a week or so. Lifting the estate's boot I let the solitary collie jump down to join me for Saturday's New Forest wander. I could feel a slight breeze on my cheek to confirm the wind shift promised by last night's weather report. No longer blowing from the cold east, now a benign south westerly. Herald of rain sometime during the next few days perhaps. For the moment a refreshing change after many outdoor sorties of chin hunkered deep down inside the neck of my fleece, that instinctive seeking of respite from the ever pervasive chilling.
I find it usually takes me 3 days or so to come to terms with very cold weather, probably due to the cocoon offered by centrally heated house and office, my main habitats at this time of year.
But today a weak winter sun brings respite to man and dog alike as we steer clear of the post Xmas chaos, specifically other walkers, for a private amble over familiar ground. Around the Dur Hill enclosure whose western edge can usually be relied on for some solitude at this time of year. Once a widely forested area the last few years have seen certain 'improvements' most noticeably removal of much woodland and scrub leaving large barren areas as a result. Other than this past human activity, such as RAF Sopley's radio transmitter building, have long since disappeared leaving the area with a feeling of remoteness despite its proximity to the nearby Bournemouth conurbation.
But a cosmetic pretence suddenly shattered as overhead a plane drones its throaty descent downwards to Bournemouth International Airport (strange naming for its Christchurch based location)
The lingerings of uninterrupted icy days have left a churned landscape to pick our way over. At times a solid unyielding ground, still glassy and insincere underfoot, as if walking on a concrete ice-rink. The path continues, and with its next twist detouring a clump of impenetrable gorse bush, comes endless pools of thick cloying black mud and water, leading between a tunnel of yet more gorse. Each pool with slick edges, treacherous to negotiate. Unless heavily mud spattered trousers, or worse an unexpected cold dip, is a preference.
No matter. This change in the weather brings with it a general lifting of spirits. Tremblings of warmer days to come. Softer times to savour.
Man & dog trudge onwards. A shared and renewed interest in all around.Labels: New Forest, walks
Sunday, December 14
Seb Green - Home again
Seb Green finished his coastal wandering earlier today.
Wisely he seems to already have plans for his next challenges. To quote the website report posted for today's arrival "You had a dream and you have made your dream reality. You achieved everything you hoped to achieve - and so much more. You went away a boy and came back a man, head held high, knowing who you are"
Once the media kerfuffle has died down I'll be contacting one of my varied local connections, there for his arrival earlier today, for a more reflective chat with Seb if he's interested.
More of a walker/outdoor/kit roundup piece. Looking beyond the charity/publicity junket he's at the centre at present.
Tuesday, December 2
Seb Green - True celebrity
So the weather has got decidedly colder recently. Then there is that edgy wind that's been blowing for the last few days. Suddenly the joy of a long outdoor trek becomes much less attractive. Especially where there is no shelter - something like a cliff-top walk perhaps?
Bear a thought then for a true celebrity, previously mentioned on this blog - Seb Green on his Round Britain walk.
Currently somewhere north of Plymouth he's on the final stretch of his 3,000+ mile walk, and expects to arrive home in Weymouth during the next couple of weeks.
A celebrity? Well in my eyes one truly deserving of that oft misused and abused title.
His fame has come through selfless effort, unabashed contrition for his original mistake, and continual and communal improvements. That's of truer value than those boasters using the C title as a result of a hard working agent or as over excessive use of silicon implants.
Consider the charities benefiting from the £14,000+ raised. Or the people he's encountered along the way, seeing for themselves that something positive can come from an anti-social act. The proof that not all of modern yoof is a feral hooded knife wielder lurking on a street corner.
However I suspect the real gift for Seb will be the self knowledge and personal awareness gained over the months since his February start. A better understanding of self reliance and personal responsibility - an essential part of maturing as a human being.
Something that some people two or three times his age have yet to discover.
Welcome home Seb.
Saturday, November 15
Saturday morning - New Forest Dogging
On a whim today I decided to visit one of my regular circuits deep amongst woodland, south of Wilverley Plain. Luckily a track well known to me, as a mixture of sudden leaf drop & a period of wet and damp conditions, has altered the terrain sufficiently to obscure some of the side-tracks, leading from the main shale surfaced tourist paths - ones tend to keep well clear of wherever possible.
On the entry gate into the enclosure I'd spotted a new information sign advising of one of those New Forest events that appear out of the blue, and are always accompanied by a Caution & Care notice for regular NF users. And any concerned insurer, no doubt.
So no surprise then, on coning to cross one of the shale tracks, to find a couple of competitors busily working their dog teams in the ABSA Sleddog Championship 2008/09.
Unlike previous events I've met this time the teams were using only one dog per sled/musher. But, as usual, the dogs seem to be enjoying themselves tremendously, as the mushers did most of the sled pushing on a nearby uphill section.
If you've not encountered this sport before the sleds are lightweight frames mounted on large bicycle wheels. A sturdy build to take the knocks of travelling at speed over the hard & uneven forest tracks.
Later I moved from the dank woodland into the weak daylight of Wilverley Plain, and recalled my last visit here. That was back in October to cover the Forest Uprising Group's protests against the New Forest National Park's proposals.
Then it hit me.
On one hand the NFPA, talking up the tightening of dog access in the New Forest. The same authority today permitting a competitive dog centred event. One that results in some limitation of access in a popular area for the whole weekend (Not that I've any problem with the event or its organisers BTW)
A timely reminder that FUG presented their formal response on the NFPA's consultation draft yesterday, on the last day for submissions.
With around 9,000 responses to work through the NFPA is going to be rather busy trying to settle down the hornet's nest they've raised, ready for the formal submission to the full National Park Authority in summer 2009.
With further workgroups and public meetings in the pipeline expect sparks to continue to fly for some time yet.
Me, I went back to the sled race. It seemed to me that the dogs were getting the better of the deal today. And long may it stay so into the future.Labels: New Forest, walks
Tuesday, November 11
Numbering the days or Counting the cost
50
My age next year.
For those of you that have had the dubious distinction of meeting me in the flesh that's probably a hard fact to swallow. But a true one nevertheless. This lithe body, is a temple, testament to years of loose living & looser women (I remain ever hopeful - lol) Amazingly still unfettered by any short term leasing arrangement with certain Dark Forces.
Nope - its all my own work, as it were. For luckily I've inherited a simple healthiness with a level of natural fitness that becomes the envy of those tubby-tum middle-aged men I see amongst my age group these days.
360
The number of places available on the 2009 TGO Challenge, 60 up on the usual 300 limit, in recognition of the 30th anniversary of this event.
509
The number of applications received for 2009. With wider publicity of recent years the TGO continues to go from strength to strength as an internationally famous event, despite the physical and mental rigours required of those taking part, and the self reliant nature of the challenge.
149
The number of those initially listed on the short list.
40
Those on the short list who may be lucky enough, so I'm informed by those with experience of past events, to move over to the entrant list as some of the 2009 Challengers find themselves having to withdraw ahead of the event.
90
My short list number.
Well that's me buggered then.
I thought something suitably emphatic was called for in 2009. A symbolic achievement on passing my half century mark. An age that many years ago I wouldn't have seriously expected to reach, such was my lifestyle and its associated high risk activities (Lots of fun along the way though)
So that leaves me with a quandary. What else to do with the 2 week break from work that is already booked?
Too short a time to wildcamp the SW Coastal Footpath, one of my long term ambitions. All too easily 'squandered' on challenging, but potentially unmemorable, wildcamping weeks of my own design. Definitely too disinterested in the usual fall backs such as Coast to Coast, Pennine Way, Offa Dyke etc. All undoubtedly superb end to end journeys in themselves, but not that ....... well ..........different ....... to be honest.
Hmm. I guess that's what I'm looking for. A trip that delivers the chance for my steady movement across this land of ours. A point to point challenge with a recognisable aim, even to a non walker, but with that special something that I can look back at in the years ahead, and grin at having done it.
Any ideas folks?
All comments count. Naturally.Labels: TGO Challenge, walks
Sunday, October 26
A walk on the Algarve - Carveiro
Dawn. The sun's rays, already a reminder of the southerly latitude. An offshore breeze unexpected, but a welcome respite after a week of blue sky and mid 20s temperatures each day.
Waking early I decided to sneak out for a short while, to walk amongst the pitted red cliffs.
Amongst? For below the shadeless cliff top path marking the sudden drop down to the Atlantic I discovered a maze of steps, paths and tunnels leading down to hidden paths on the lower rock ledges edging the shoreline.
(Tunnel)
Rock, red pitted and pock marked. And through it all shards of sea shells clearly visible, deeply embedded in the strata. Surely a landscape more used to lunar exploration?
A solo daybreak walk then; Before the oppressive heat turned the cliff bowl into a cauldron of heat, at least for one more used to an UK climate.
I wandered for some while along traditional fisherman's paths. Some worn away through centuries of habitual usage. Others clearly revealing the local inhabitants' intent to bend this barren land to their human desires with carved steps and chilled dark tunnels popping up without warning as my exploration continued.
Above and behind me the small town, until recent times a quiet fishing village, now a thriving tourist escape, especially those from England and Ireland.
Its inhabitants slowly rising to meet another day of trade and trinket exchange.
But before me for the present the seemingly endless horizon of the Atlantic sea. And in the distance a five master schooner, sails furled, slowly motoring westwards towards its port.
I sit with my back to the wind, the sun now hot on my arms and face, as I watch the ship slip by. Its solitary behaviour matching my own as I carefully continue my exploration of this strange land. Acutely aware that a moment's lack of concentration amongst such rugged landscape could be harshly punished. A slip down to the sea and rocks below. Or worse to be swallowed up by one of the deep and dark sink holes that border the tracks.
Around me signs of night fishing activity. Discarded cigarette packs & bottles amongst abused tackle. A dangerous place then in the daylight. But possibly lethal at night for the unwary. Or drunk.
An alien and wild landscape. So unlike any place I'd encountered before. But, in common with those wilder places where caution is required, a deeply satisfying area to explore.
Finally that increasingly insistent voice of personal safety reminds me the odds had been played enough for so early in the day. Time to head back up the cliff paths.
Back to re-don the tourist disguise and greet an incautiously early cold beer before another day on the beach. Just one more lazily tanning holidaymaker to any casual onlooker. But inside me a quiet satisfaction in lifting aside one of the veils worn by this small Portuguese village. To have tasted a little of its truer identity. However briefly.
To travel; To experience a different culture and climate. And on this occasion a truly different landscape.Labels: walks
Sunday, September 28
Hincheslea Wood - Rebirth
Back in April last year I described a wander around Hincheslea Wood (OL22: GR 275 010) in the New Forest remarking that this burnt out building may have been about to arise from its ashes. Earlier today I came across the replacement building, fast approaching its completion.
Neighbours, approached for their comments on the refurbishment, had no comment to make.
Being more concerned with local childcare facilities.
Labels: New Forest, walks
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
"My name is Nathaniel Severs, I am 24 years old and in 2010, I am walking the entire coastline of mainland Britain (7,000 miles) for three great charities"
Leaving his Portsmouth home in early January the schedule means he'll next have the comfort of his own bed a few days before Xmas (Hope he remembered to cancel the milk & newspapers)
You can follow his the route map progress & read his trip reports on his Blog Nomad's Land. For those following the current vogue of Keeping Up To The Moment there is even a Twitter feed.
Another local lad, Seb Green, completed his Coastal Walk Challenge back in 2008 which I covered at the time.
My site stats still show regular traffic coming to this Blog via a "Seb Green" keyword search. So its possible that there are a number of people out there considering a similar idea.
Seb's route was 3,500 mile. Nat's estimate is 7,000 miles. Not too sure where the extra distance comes from, but as Seb's journey took Feb-Dec 2008 including a one month break then Nat's walk is going to be a long one indeed.
Is the Coastal Walk starting to taking over from the Lands End\John O' Groats route as The UK Walking Challenge?
Walker's Aid: Hill Lists & Database Resources
Thankfully its come around to that time of year once again.
Longer daylight hours, warmer temperatures, & (whisper it quietly) even a glimpse of sunshine.
Time then to scratch that Getting Serious Outdoors itch steadily building up over the dark Winter days.
Only problem - what to do & where to go for this year's walking challenges?
For me that means not just digging out the maps, but also turning to the myriad of on-line resources to feed a questioning mind with specific locale information and assist with ideas for route planning.
I thought I'd share some of my own sources with you adding a new set of Site Links under the heading of HILL LISTS & DATABASES (see right hand side of this page)
Here you'll find hill & summit lists covering both the UK & worldwide providing a variety of free hill data downloads for your own use & adaption (build your own Tick List?)
Hope they help you as much as they have me over the years.
Sunday, March 7
Hengistbury Head & Fi(a)tness Trends
As promised earlier (and following some mild reflection \ toning down) where did all the Nordic Walkers come from so suddenly? And more to the point, what do some of them hope to achieve? (The clue was in the photo - walking poles and cafe seat BTW)
Saturday's duties took me into the Christchurch area. So for a change I took a walk out over Hengistbury Head, along Mudeford Sandspit, before tracing a route along the shore of Christchurch Harbour and back to the car.
Its not a long trip, less than 5 miles even taking the longer alternatives. However it manages to include a short but steep ascent & some superb coastal views.
To the east is The Needles Lighthouse drawing the eye beyond to the Isle of Wight.
And turning westwards a sweep across Bournemouth Bay. Swanage in the far distance, with the dowdy sprawl of the Poole/Bournemouth conurbation as one's gaze tracks the beach back towards your position.
Quickly turning to the north what remains of the Dorset heathland these days, along with the New Forest in the distance, is laid out before your feet. Twinkling distant in today's sunlight are the Rivers Stour & Avon, their floodplain meanderings finally joining up as they reach Christchurch, its Priory clearly silhouetted against the town.
Sounds idyllic doesn't it? A pity then the local council charge prohibitive amounts to use the car park. But despite that the area this Saturday morning was teeming with people, dogs, kids etc etc.
Well I should have known really. Its not a place to come for a quiet walk, not unless there's a gale lashing rain inland from the English Channel. Which for some reason tends to deter some people.
Not so your humble scribe. Although it has the dubious pleasure of being one of the few places where I had a (well fitted) cap ripped from my head and discarded some 50m away. Mind you it was a bit gusty that day - and I did seem to be the only one on the headland tasting salty raindrops. The rain actually wind sped spray spat up from the sea some 300m distant at the foot of the cliff 30+m below.
But that's another tale.
As usual I parked in one of the side streets to avoid the parking charge & avoid the predatory Traffic Wardens that roam the area. As I walked towards the headland track contouring the coastline the unexpected drone of bagpipes was wafted on the stiff breeze.
Well I say wafted.
Common to most bagpipe enthusiasts, interested in remaining on good terms with their neighbours, the only practice sites seem to be far out in the wilds as the skirl(?) of the pipes does have a tendency to carry some considerable distance.
Especially true today. Turning a corner the hedgerow on my right dropped away to reveal two of the buggers playing a spirited duet (whilst trying not to look as if they were up to no good in the bushes)
They needn't have worried - their playing was accomplished. Although quite what a brace of pipers were doing here on the south coast was another question entirely. Particularly when dressed in full Highland Regalia.
Nearing the Head the amount people increased - and with it an increasing number of those carrying/using walking poles. At first I thought nothing of it. That is until I noticed the strange outdoor regalia being worn. Trainers, jeans, tracksuits. It felt like a poorly funded fashion show. But the poles were clearly in pristine condition sporting brand names I'd not previously come across before.
And so it continued as I strode purposefully up to the OS trig point on the Head itself.
Onwards across the headland, wind blowing hard as usual, to eventually descend the far side, a spur of the moment decision made to head for the cafe on Mudeford Spit.
Note I've carefully not mentioned the cafe's name, or provided a link. If you're in this area use the Hungry Hiker next to the car park, which has a good reputation. Avoid the Spit's cafe unless you happen to like slow service, costly but poor quality food & the dubious distinction of queuing for a table whilst staring out over all the empty spaces!
This was the first (and last) time my business will be remitted at said establishment. A pity as its sister premises on Christchurch Quay is a long time & favourite haunt of mine, although recent visits suggest a subtle drop in ambiance & service.
Sitting in the cafe and awaiting my order, my attention was again drawn to the frequency of fellow diners with nice shiny walking poles leaning haphazardly by their tables.
It seems that Nordic Walking as a fitness regime has hit this area big time. Quite how or why this has happened remains a mystery to me.
Now please don't take my skepticism as a negative feeling. I'm all for anything that gets people outdoors and enjoying the landscape. But judging by the amount of food being consumed today's exercise benefit was for fast being negated by a mass intake of carbs, fats & sugary substances.
As I pushed away my half eaten meal (a salad - naturally) I made for the exit and a more solitary route back to avoid the excess of humanity working hard at working hard. But I couldn't help but wonder as I passed the "Noddy Train" stop, its lengthening queue of people awaiting the 5 minute ride back to the car park, just how many of the Stick Brigade would take that option for their return journey. Full bellies complaining at the thought of the reasonably short walk back.
Maybe I was right.
My route back followed the edge of the harbour. A quiet & solitary amble with not a soul met along the way until I neared the tarmac track to exit the headland. And with it the inevitable bottleneck of people, sticks & wandering dogs.
Now I remember why I avoid this area like a plague during the summer months; And most of the Winter ones as well.
A good walking route, like a good wine, is to be enjoyed & savoured for inner contentment. And regrettably the well intentioned aims to make this area into a 'Visitor Attraction' has instead created a strange sort of venue.
My tip - it can be an enjoyable walk with superb veiws. But go when the weather is foul & the Stick People are more likely to stay away.
Labels: Fitness, New Forest, walks
Sunday, November 22
UK Walking - Take a new look at youself?
So. Back in front of this fag ash littered keyboard. Once more banging down on random keys with a vague hope that something literate, informative, perhaps even entertaining, pops up on your screen to brighten up your day.
Well somebody out there may benefit from my increasingly occasional wittering.
There's not a lot to report from the Great Outdoors at present. Well not as far as this Blogger is concerned.
A recent job role change means I now see far more of the UK during the hours of daylight. Which for one such as myself who hates Autumn's shortening days - well it must be a bonus.
On the down side, any sights I do see are part of a rush from one area of the UK to another. 60-70 hours weeks. Long & frequent hands-free telephone conversations whilst driving. A continual juggling of people, places, and e-mail catch-up 7 days a week. The result? An inevitable disinclination to spend any of my brief free time sat in front of a computer.
I'd hoped the thinking time during long drives would prove productive with article ideas & reflections.
In fact my day to day existence has become such a pressure pot that the 'me' space, source of my creative side, has quietly slipped into dormancy. A reaction to a semi-exhausted body, and a mind full of business matters and related chaff.
A certain lifestyle madness has now slipped into the driving seat. Temporarily.
But I can see the little bugger smirking back at me. And I do know its game, from past encounters.
I have ways to overcome & defeat it, given time.
But for the present I let it steer, awaiting that moment when my internal energies get to grips with the situation and come out kicking and spitting. To strike the interloper in the goolies, and send it packing, bent double and moaning loudly in defeat.
Its not all doom & gloom.
Over the years I've learnt to take the knocks of hard times by keeping an eye out for small benefits along the way.
A short chat about the Wicklow Mountains area with someone who lives on the edge of the National Park, provides personal insight about the Wicklow Way. Later a few minutes of flight wait time at Dublin Airport is used to confirm a direct coach connection from the airport - a trip of around an hour.
With potential for free air travel to Ireland, Powerscourt Waterfall looks a tempting visit.
At another location, the tedium of a long and complex business meeting is lightened by the view of sunset crossing the Cleeve Hill range, an area previously unknown to me. That evening a few minutes on the Internet reveal possibilities for evening sorties in the new year, once the days draw out once again. Once more, any travel costs courtesy of my gadabout wanderings.
Local knowledge, easily provided, is always a useful guide. Even if the people supplying it seem to take their area for granted.
And don’t we all?
With the sea a couple of miles away, a choice of river systems, and the New Forest ten minutes drive, I've been guilty of taking the same approach at times.
I know why that state has come about. But perhaps the saying "Travel broadens the mind" has some unusual spin-offs on this occasion?
True my seemingly constant journeying is reinforcing my long held belief that there is so very much to do outdoors in the UK. Mostly with easy access.
So maybe its time I took a new look at my own back yard once more?
But enough for now. This pesky note, originally a short courtesy jotting on my recent lack of Blogging activity, seems to have once again spawned a life of its own in trying to run off to play with thoughts and words, as the story unrolls.
Time to switch off the monitor; Power down the pc; And pick up a good book to escape into far from electronic temptation, and tired cliché ridden entertainment.Labels: walks
Sunday, October 25
OMM 2009 - All done
Well done to (Podcast) Bob & Rose finishing a commendable 161st in the OMM 2009 Shortscore Event. (No idea how high up they finished in the Veteran category - results have not yet been published)
There's even four Podcasts to listen to (Perhaps Bob is on someone else's Podcast - whatever next!)
This year the satellite comms has stunned the organisers with their ability to contact & e-mail very remote locations. And the event webcam was near TV quality, as shown by the 42" TV used at the entrants area to show what was going on.
Oh.
And nothing untoward happened.
Except the event being enjoyed by those involved.
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
Monday, May 18
Lake District Wildcamping Trip - Journey's end. Nearly.
Dateline: Ambleside YHA...
Well another wildamping escapade draws to a close. Not so much beaten by the inclement weather; More of a mutually agreed draw. But it's been a close run thing at times.
Sat here on the hostel's steam-driven Internet connection (at a cost which appears I am paying for best anthracite coal to keep it lurching along) the train times for the journey back south are appearing as if by magic, making the rail trip on Tuesday a rather drawn out affair.
A chance then to reflect on 3 night's wildcamping in some of the worst weather I've encountered for many years.
Hang on. The boiler stoker is signalling to me that he needs a tea-break.
JH signing off for for the present.
Trip notes on their way.Labels: Lake District, walks
Sunday, May 10
Walk route planning - online mapping
Here's a tip that may help with route planning.
This time next week I'll be wildcamped somewhere high on a Lake District fell side. With a few spots already in mind I've been looking at other ideas to put together a longer trip.
Naturally the OS Map & reference books were first source. Followed by more detailed work on-line where the amount of specific & highly detailed photographic images is proving very useful.
During this process I've occasionally turned to Google Earth to get a bird's eye view of the ground, especially searching for certain map features that really aren't too well marked. GE has been good, but can be slow.
I've also experimented with Multimap which is rapidly winning my what-a-good-idea award.
I can switch from a road map, to an OS map view, to aerial. Zooming in, and then flipping to and fro between the OS and aerial view. All at very fine detail, and virtually instantly, whereas Google Maps can be slow. And most importantly without losing my current map location.
A real time saver when building up that route, especially when searching for out of the way places. Labels: Blogger tip, walks
Sunday, February 22
Godshill Wander- Cock, Balls & a Loss
With the spring weather holding and a rare day of free time to myself I took down my walking diaries from the bookshelf earlier this morning to look back over my various trip reports.
I've been keeping a description of all new routes for over fifteen years now. Initially each year had plenty of entries, but as the local variations were ticked off the number of new entries each year has dropped, replaced by infrequent longer reports of wildcamping weeks away.
I've always found it beneficial to keep such a diary. Apart from the smile it brings to my lips as I'm reminded of past journeys, each description ends with a footnote suggesting possibilities for future trips that I've spotted along the way. Over time this has led to uncovering some of my best wildcamping spots, despite the original visit being many years ago.
Today I spotted am idea from the late 1990's - a circular trip using a familiar stretch of the Avon Valley Footpath, north of Fordingbridge, to visit Frankenbury (Grid Ref: OL22/166152), an iron age hill fort.
It's a subject of which I understand only a little, but these old defences are always a worthy reason for a walk as I try to get a taste of why our ancestors chose such places for their homes and lives.
Luckily Dorset and the surrounding areas are extremely rich in ancient hill defences. These vary wildly from the grandiose (Maiden Castle) to the mundane (Buckland Rings) So what would I uncover today?
I crossed the suspended bridge over the River Avon - unique in its construction method in Hampshire I believe.
Onto the muddy track across the water meadows and over a number of drainage channels, dotted here and there with their sluice gates. Long ago boats and their cargo travelled along the waterways in this area from the coast inland to Salisbury, 30 miles away. But that was then. Today the remaining ditches remind one more of a fenland scene, were it not for small hills edging along the wide Avon Valley.
Along the way the path forked. To the left ugly recycling bins and agricultural debris. To the right a drop to a track alongside the river and amongst the trees. Beast & beauty? No contest.
Down to the river then. With further reminders of seasonal changes, far more advanced that I would have thought likely at this time of year.
The trees positively dripping with catkins, some the largest I've seen.
Nearing the hill fort itself a few early primroses in bloom, alongside the stems of bluebells awaiting their turn once the clumps of snowdrops had had their chance.
The path opened onto a forest nature trail, with the inevitable crowds of Sunday strollers. After the natural beauty of the footpath the Nature Trail, composed of ugly 'visitor friendly' tracks & wth the removal of much of the native woodland, was a shock. I quickly cut across this section moving upwards to the hill fort, there to find the remains unhappily now located on agricultural land.
Little remained other than than a small ring defence rampart crowded with hedgerow, tree & briar.
Today it guarded a field of grazing cattle. No sense of history to be found here. This visit, as I've discovered in the past, not so much a reminder of ancient times. More a surprise that such places ever survive at all where modern farming meets ancient remains.
I returned to the nature trail, meeting people oblivious to the historic fortification alongside the man made track as they blindly followed the ugly track, and its clue points -whatever they were.
Needless to say I didn't have my 3 clues by now. Or even any idea what the questions were. But I did have a reason for the human activity as I approached Sandy Balls Holiday Camp, even at this time of year a busy spot.
So instead onto the field footpaths, avoiding the camp. Trying to match the marks on the map to the path on the ground whilst factoring in numerous "Keep Out" & "Private" signs garlanding the trees and hedgerow
Seems like the local landowner & the Camp's visitors may have had their disagreements in the past. But the Godshill area, as I'd noted before from previous visits seems plagued with a need to parcel up land with barb wire defences in the name of horse grazing. And parochial demonstrations of ownership. Its an area where trouser ripping is to be expected as one negotiates the miserly footpaths around the village.
Ah the village. Today that meant the Fighting Cocks Pub for a pint and a pie. It was not to be. The deterrent of Sunday crowds queing for food meant instead I settled for two pints & a Kit-Kat. Dog faring slightly better thanks to abundant dog chews available on the bar for a small charitable donation.
We moved on along Godshill Ridge and onto the open forest. Finally I could leave off the detailed map-to-ground route work and was able to return to my normal practice of pick a point on the horizon and find the least muddy way to it. In this case the unmissable treeline of Godshill Enclosure on the rise above.
West then back to the AVP and a familiar descent back to the valley and my starting point.
Along the way Dog and myself exchanged greetings with a Very Large Bull busily munching its fodder.
I've no idea of the breed, but the maleness of the creature was indisputable as I looked at the enormity of his undercarriage.
A short distance covered, barely 6 miles, but a lengthy wander of 4 hours. A leisurely time for the most, when not bent forward map reading.
But out long enough to breathe deep of the coming changes. And, for a time, enjoy a period of solitary peace amongst the greening shoots of Nature.
Now I wonder how many new visitors to this site will arrive via Google search for Cock or Balls? lolLabels: nature, New Forest, walks
Saturday, February 7
Remember me this way
Today a cold and icy wander along the paths and hidden tracks that criss-cross Wilverley Enclosure in the New Forest.
Clean transparent ice, freshly thrown across the puddles, despite the 3 deg temperature.
Signs of snow in the undergrowth still clearly visible. Ahead a couple of cheeky deer break cover. Their white rumps flashing, stubby tails held high, as they casually hop along the track before me. No urgency to dash for thicket cover today. A sign that the recent hard weather and reduced human traffic along this way had toned down their usual fight or flight response.
In the weak sunshine a bench beckons. Its siting always a friendly welcome at the junction of four major tracks. A position carefully chosen for sunlight and quiet reflection deep amongst the trees.
Today the bench is crowned with twin wreaths - in remembrance to one who's memorial it represents.
A physical manifestation to match the mental appreciation I often offer up to its unknown benefactor.
A fellow traveller. Similarly in tune with time & place. A special spot.
The path unwinds before me as I start uphill. I leave behind the one for whom a journey has completed. Marked for others to note; To reflect; To share; Despite the absence of their physical presence on this bright and quiet late winter morning.Labels: New Forest, walks
Friday, February 6
Walk with me a while
For those stuck indoors.
Sat gazing through steamed-up windows at snow (or in my case cold rain & slush)?
I offer a walking route description with a subtle difference from the standard fare.
Walking with Oswald, King of Northumbria
Alf Wainwright - eat your heart out.
;-)Labels: walks
Saturday, January 10
Kingston walkabout - Remember the birds
I'm sure there's a streak of masochism somewhere in my personality.
After a week of frozen early morning workday starts and the inevitable car de-icing/warm-up routine, a Saturday lie-in would be a simple and highly attractive pleasure. But not today.
Somehow I'd arranged a very early appointment for my car's MOT. With recent weather & road conditions this required a pre-check that all lights/windows were clear, clean & functional. Plus the small matter of getting the motor properly warmed up prior to the car's CO2 check. Which for a diesel engine, mostly used for the commuter stop-start grind, requires a little high rev driving in an attempt to blow out some of the gunge that tends to build-up in the engine systems.
I woke to a picturesque Xmas card view of heavy frosts garlanding the trees, as if visited by snowfall, but in this case the result of an overnight freezing fog. The heaviest sign of frost so far this season.
Hence early morning sub zero temperatures found me driving up and down the local stretch of dual carriageway getting all things mechanical up to a reasonable operating temperature.
MOT sorted, it meant I was able to clear my normal Saturday chores earlier than usual, leaving time for a few stolen pleasures, during which myself and the collie wandered off to revisit an area near Kingston, along the Avon Valley Footpath south of Ringwood, and east of the River Avon.
Its not a huge area to roam over and doesn't offer any real distance walks, but there is always a rich variety of wildlife along the way with pools, a lake and a river amongst a mix of heathland, hedgerow and mixed woodland. During Xmas I'd spotted a grey heron, various members of the duck/geese/swan families, solitary buzzards, and watched a fisherman landed a small jack pike from near the river ford (just why do pike always look so p*ssed off?)
If you'd come across myself and dog today, you would have found me grinning as I recalled childhood experiences. Carefully making a slip-slide traverse of a wide frozen pool. A wide bare mud dip in the land in summertime. Today transformed into a skating rink of boot depth frozen water. Half remembered skills flooded back as I carefully made my way across, dog ordered 'slow to heel', as he learnt a new skill. Better that than risk a headlong dash with inevitable loss of four pawed traction. His pride couldn't take the ignomy of that; And I didn't fancy the potential vet's bill.
Unsurprisingly the lake was mostly frozen. It provided a near unique opportunity to sneak out onto the thick ice, dog safe on the shore, in an attempt to get a photo of frost on the lake's edge. That was until I heard an ominous sound and looking down saw three lengthening cracks working their way out from my position. Aware of the potential risk, I hadn't strayed far out from lakeside, but it was enough to get wet boot & trousers if things worsened. Discretion required a careful but rapid retreat back to terra firma.
(The Lake photographed from The Lake)
Courtesy of my latest piece of gear I could measure the land temperature at -2°C. Stopping at the river's ford, current strong despite the water's frozen edges, I checked the water reading at a positive balmy 3°C.
(River's edge)
Somehow today I managed to resist the urge to pop in for a warming dip. Instead we retraced our steps. Or breath forming clouds before us as we wandered through the frozen landscape. Birds darting in and out of the hedgerows. Their normal caution discarded with the need find scarce but so essential food to endure this extended cold spell.
Pleasure for man & dog. A dangerous time for wildlife.
We returned home - the dog to his 'well-done' dog biscuit; Myself to a tot of whiskey in a hot coffee.
But firstly I made sure the bird seed hoppers were full & the various bird baths cleared of ice and refilled with fresh water.
A simple action. But a possible life saver for some of our feathered co-travellers.
Saturday, January 3
Dur Hill '08: Better times are coming
Earlier today I came across a half scribbled piece, penned around this time in 2008. With the thermometer barely reaching 3°C during the past week it seemed timely to wake it from a long hibernation as a reminder of the inevitability of better times to come. Eventually.
(Ice - thick and multi layered)
As I turned off the car engine I caught sight of the temperature display .... 9°C .... the warmest it's been for a week or so. Lifting the estate's boot I let the solitary collie jump down to join me for Saturday's New Forest wander. I could feel a slight breeze on my cheek to confirm the wind shift promised by last night's weather report. No longer blowing from the cold east, now a benign south westerly. Herald of rain sometime during the next few days perhaps. For the moment a refreshing change after many outdoor sorties of chin hunkered deep down inside the neck of my fleece, that instinctive seeking of respite from the ever pervasive chilling.
I find it usually takes me 3 days or so to come to terms with very cold weather, probably due to the cocoon offered by centrally heated house and office, my main habitats at this time of year.
But today a weak winter sun brings respite to man and dog alike as we steer clear of the post Xmas chaos, specifically other walkers, for a private amble over familiar ground. Around the Dur Hill enclosure whose western edge can usually be relied on for some solitude at this time of year. Once a widely forested area the last few years have seen certain 'improvements' most noticeably removal of much woodland and scrub leaving large barren areas as a result. Other than this past human activity, such as RAF Sopley's radio transmitter building, have long since disappeared leaving the area with a feeling of remoteness despite its proximity to the nearby Bournemouth conurbation.
But a cosmetic pretence suddenly shattered as overhead a plane drones its throaty descent downwards to Bournemouth International Airport (strange naming for its Christchurch based location)
The lingerings of uninterrupted icy days have left a churned landscape to pick our way over. At times a solid unyielding ground, still glassy and insincere underfoot, as if walking on a concrete ice-rink. The path continues, and with its next twist detouring a clump of impenetrable gorse bush, comes endless pools of thick cloying black mud and water, leading between a tunnel of yet more gorse. Each pool with slick edges, treacherous to negotiate. Unless heavily mud spattered trousers, or worse an unexpected cold dip, is a preference.
No matter. This change in the weather brings with it a general lifting of spirits. Tremblings of warmer days to come. Softer times to savour.
Man & dog trudge onwards. A shared and renewed interest in all around.Labels: New Forest, walks
Sunday, December 14
Seb Green - Home again
Seb Green finished his coastal wandering earlier today.
Wisely he seems to already have plans for his next challenges. To quote the website report posted for today's arrival "You had a dream and you have made your dream reality. You achieved everything you hoped to achieve - and so much more. You went away a boy and came back a man, head held high, knowing who you are"
Once the media kerfuffle has died down I'll be contacting one of my varied local connections, there for his arrival earlier today, for a more reflective chat with Seb if he's interested.
More of a walker/outdoor/kit roundup piece. Looking beyond the charity/publicity junket he's at the centre at present.
Tuesday, December 2
Seb Green - True celebrity
So the weather has got decidedly colder recently. Then there is that edgy wind that's been blowing for the last few days. Suddenly the joy of a long outdoor trek becomes much less attractive. Especially where there is no shelter - something like a cliff-top walk perhaps?
Bear a thought then for a true celebrity, previously mentioned on this blog - Seb Green on his Round Britain walk.
Currently somewhere north of Plymouth he's on the final stretch of his 3,000+ mile walk, and expects to arrive home in Weymouth during the next couple of weeks.
A celebrity? Well in my eyes one truly deserving of that oft misused and abused title.
His fame has come through selfless effort, unabashed contrition for his original mistake, and continual and communal improvements. That's of truer value than those boasters using the C title as a result of a hard working agent or as over excessive use of silicon implants.
Consider the charities benefiting from the £14,000+ raised. Or the people he's encountered along the way, seeing for themselves that something positive can come from an anti-social act. The proof that not all of modern yoof is a feral hooded knife wielder lurking on a street corner.
However I suspect the real gift for Seb will be the self knowledge and personal awareness gained over the months since his February start. A better understanding of self reliance and personal responsibility - an essential part of maturing as a human being.
Something that some people two or three times his age have yet to discover.
Welcome home Seb.
Saturday, November 15
Saturday morning - New Forest Dogging
On a whim today I decided to visit one of my regular circuits deep amongst woodland, south of Wilverley Plain. Luckily a track well known to me, as a mixture of sudden leaf drop & a period of wet and damp conditions, has altered the terrain sufficiently to obscure some of the side-tracks, leading from the main shale surfaced tourist paths - ones tend to keep well clear of wherever possible.
On the entry gate into the enclosure I'd spotted a new information sign advising of one of those New Forest events that appear out of the blue, and are always accompanied by a Caution & Care notice for regular NF users. And any concerned insurer, no doubt.
So no surprise then, on coning to cross one of the shale tracks, to find a couple of competitors busily working their dog teams in the ABSA Sleddog Championship 2008/09.
Unlike previous events I've met this time the teams were using only one dog per sled/musher. But, as usual, the dogs seem to be enjoying themselves tremendously, as the mushers did most of the sled pushing on a nearby uphill section.
If you've not encountered this sport before the sleds are lightweight frames mounted on large bicycle wheels. A sturdy build to take the knocks of travelling at speed over the hard & uneven forest tracks.
Later I moved from the dank woodland into the weak daylight of Wilverley Plain, and recalled my last visit here. That was back in October to cover the Forest Uprising Group's protests against the New Forest National Park's proposals.
Then it hit me.
On one hand the NFPA, talking up the tightening of dog access in the New Forest. The same authority today permitting a competitive dog centred event. One that results in some limitation of access in a popular area for the whole weekend (Not that I've any problem with the event or its organisers BTW)
A timely reminder that FUG presented their formal response on the NFPA's consultation draft yesterday, on the last day for submissions.
With around 9,000 responses to work through the NFPA is going to be rather busy trying to settle down the hornet's nest they've raised, ready for the formal submission to the full National Park Authority in summer 2009.
With further workgroups and public meetings in the pipeline expect sparks to continue to fly for some time yet.
Me, I went back to the sled race. It seemed to me that the dogs were getting the better of the deal today. And long may it stay so into the future.Labels: New Forest, walks
Tuesday, November 11
Numbering the days or Counting the cost
50
My age next year.
For those of you that have had the dubious distinction of meeting me in the flesh that's probably a hard fact to swallow. But a true one nevertheless. This lithe body, is a temple, testament to years of loose living & looser women (I remain ever hopeful - lol) Amazingly still unfettered by any short term leasing arrangement with certain Dark Forces.
Nope - its all my own work, as it were. For luckily I've inherited a simple healthiness with a level of natural fitness that becomes the envy of those tubby-tum middle-aged men I see amongst my age group these days.
360
The number of places available on the 2009 TGO Challenge, 60 up on the usual 300 limit, in recognition of the 30th anniversary of this event.
509
The number of applications received for 2009. With wider publicity of recent years the TGO continues to go from strength to strength as an internationally famous event, despite the physical and mental rigours required of those taking part, and the self reliant nature of the challenge.
149
The number of those initially listed on the short list.
40
Those on the short list who may be lucky enough, so I'm informed by those with experience of past events, to move over to the entrant list as some of the 2009 Challengers find themselves having to withdraw ahead of the event.
90
My short list number.
Well that's me buggered then.
I thought something suitably emphatic was called for in 2009. A symbolic achievement on passing my half century mark. An age that many years ago I wouldn't have seriously expected to reach, such was my lifestyle and its associated high risk activities (Lots of fun along the way though)
So that leaves me with a quandary. What else to do with the 2 week break from work that is already booked?
Too short a time to wildcamp the SW Coastal Footpath, one of my long term ambitions. All too easily 'squandered' on challenging, but potentially unmemorable, wildcamping weeks of my own design. Definitely too disinterested in the usual fall backs such as Coast to Coast, Pennine Way, Offa Dyke etc. All undoubtedly superb end to end journeys in themselves, but not that ....... well ..........different ....... to be honest.
Hmm. I guess that's what I'm looking for. A trip that delivers the chance for my steady movement across this land of ours. A point to point challenge with a recognisable aim, even to a non walker, but with that special something that I can look back at in the years ahead, and grin at having done it.
Any ideas folks?
All comments count. Naturally.Labels: TGO Challenge, walks
Sunday, October 26
A walk on the Algarve - Carveiro
Dawn. The sun's rays, already a reminder of the southerly latitude. An offshore breeze unexpected, but a welcome respite after a week of blue sky and mid 20s temperatures each day.
Waking early I decided to sneak out for a short while, to walk amongst the pitted red cliffs.
Amongst? For below the shadeless cliff top path marking the sudden drop down to the Atlantic I discovered a maze of steps, paths and tunnels leading down to hidden paths on the lower rock ledges edging the shoreline.
(Tunnel)
Rock, red pitted and pock marked. And through it all shards of sea shells clearly visible, deeply embedded in the strata. Surely a landscape more used to lunar exploration?
A solo daybreak walk then; Before the oppressive heat turned the cliff bowl into a cauldron of heat, at least for one more used to an UK climate.
I wandered for some while along traditional fisherman's paths. Some worn away through centuries of habitual usage. Others clearly revealing the local inhabitants' intent to bend this barren land to their human desires with carved steps and chilled dark tunnels popping up without warning as my exploration continued.
Above and behind me the small town, until recent times a quiet fishing village, now a thriving tourist escape, especially those from England and Ireland.
Its inhabitants slowly rising to meet another day of trade and trinket exchange.
But before me for the present the seemingly endless horizon of the Atlantic sea. And in the distance a five master schooner, sails furled, slowly motoring westwards towards its port.
I sit with my back to the wind, the sun now hot on my arms and face, as I watch the ship slip by. Its solitary behaviour matching my own as I carefully continue my exploration of this strange land. Acutely aware that a moment's lack of concentration amongst such rugged landscape could be harshly punished. A slip down to the sea and rocks below. Or worse to be swallowed up by one of the deep and dark sink holes that border the tracks.
Around me signs of night fishing activity. Discarded cigarette packs & bottles amongst abused tackle. A dangerous place then in the daylight. But possibly lethal at night for the unwary. Or drunk.
An alien and wild landscape. So unlike any place I'd encountered before. But, in common with those wilder places where caution is required, a deeply satisfying area to explore.
Finally that increasingly insistent voice of personal safety reminds me the odds had been played enough for so early in the day. Time to head back up the cliff paths.
Back to re-don the tourist disguise and greet an incautiously early cold beer before another day on the beach. Just one more lazily tanning holidaymaker to any casual onlooker. But inside me a quiet satisfaction in lifting aside one of the veils worn by this small Portuguese village. To have tasted a little of its truer identity. However briefly.
To travel; To experience a different culture and climate. And on this occasion a truly different landscape.Labels: walks
Sunday, September 28
Hincheslea Wood - Rebirth
Back in April last year I described a wander around Hincheslea Wood (OL22: GR 275 010) in the New Forest remarking that this burnt out building may have been about to arise from its ashes. Earlier today I came across the replacement building, fast approaching its completion.
Neighbours, approached for their comments on the refurbishment, had no comment to make.
Being more concerned with local childcare facilities.
Labels: New Forest, walks
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
Longer daylight hours, warmer temperatures, & (whisper it quietly) even a glimpse of sunshine.
Time then to scratch that Getting Serious Outdoors itch steadily building up over the dark Winter days.
Only problem - what to do & where to go for this year's walking challenges?
For me that means not just digging out the maps, but also turning to the myriad of on-line resources to feed a questioning mind with specific locale information and assist with ideas for route planning.
I thought I'd share some of my own sources with you adding a new set of Site Links under the heading of HILL LISTS & DATABASES (see right hand side of this page)
Here you'll find hill & summit lists covering both the UK & worldwide providing a variety of free hill data downloads for your own use & adaption (build your own Tick List?)
Hope they help you as much as they have me over the years.
Hengistbury Head & Fi(a)tness Trends
As promised earlier (and following some mild reflection \ toning down) where did all the Nordic Walkers come from so suddenly? And more to the point, what do some of them hope to achieve? (The clue was in the photo - walking poles and cafe seat BTW)
Saturday's duties took me into the Christchurch area. So for a change I took a walk out over Hengistbury Head, along Mudeford Sandspit, before tracing a route along the shore of Christchurch Harbour and back to the car.
Its not a long trip, less than 5 miles even taking the longer alternatives. However it manages to include a short but steep ascent & some superb coastal views.
To the east is The Needles Lighthouse drawing the eye beyond to the Isle of Wight.
And turning westwards a sweep across Bournemouth Bay. Swanage in the far distance, with the dowdy sprawl of the Poole/Bournemouth conurbation as one's gaze tracks the beach back towards your position.
Quickly turning to the north what remains of the Dorset heathland these days, along with the New Forest in the distance, is laid out before your feet. Twinkling distant in today's sunlight are the Rivers Stour & Avon, their floodplain meanderings finally joining up as they reach Christchurch, its Priory clearly silhouetted against the town.
Sounds idyllic doesn't it? A pity then the local council charge prohibitive amounts to use the car park. But despite that the area this Saturday morning was teeming with people, dogs, kids etc etc.
Well I should have known really. Its not a place to come for a quiet walk, not unless there's a gale lashing rain inland from the English Channel. Which for some reason tends to deter some people.
Not so your humble scribe. Although it has the dubious pleasure of being one of the few places where I had a (well fitted) cap ripped from my head and discarded some 50m away. Mind you it was a bit gusty that day - and I did seem to be the only one on the headland tasting salty raindrops. The rain actually wind sped spray spat up from the sea some 300m distant at the foot of the cliff 30+m below.
But that's another tale.
As usual I parked in one of the side streets to avoid the parking charge & avoid the predatory Traffic Wardens that roam the area. As I walked towards the headland track contouring the coastline the unexpected drone of bagpipes was wafted on the stiff breeze.
Well I say wafted.
Common to most bagpipe enthusiasts, interested in remaining on good terms with their neighbours, the only practice sites seem to be far out in the wilds as the skirl(?) of the pipes does have a tendency to carry some considerable distance.
Especially true today. Turning a corner the hedgerow on my right dropped away to reveal two of the buggers playing a spirited duet (whilst trying not to look as if they were up to no good in the bushes)
They needn't have worried - their playing was accomplished. Although quite what a brace of pipers were doing here on the south coast was another question entirely. Particularly when dressed in full Highland Regalia.
Nearing the Head the amount people increased - and with it an increasing number of those carrying/using walking poles. At first I thought nothing of it. That is until I noticed the strange outdoor regalia being worn. Trainers, jeans, tracksuits. It felt like a poorly funded fashion show. But the poles were clearly in pristine condition sporting brand names I'd not previously come across before.
And so it continued as I strode purposefully up to the OS trig point on the Head itself.
Onwards across the headland, wind blowing hard as usual, to eventually descend the far side, a spur of the moment decision made to head for the cafe on Mudeford Spit.
Note I've carefully not mentioned the cafe's name, or provided a link. If you're in this area use the Hungry Hiker next to the car park, which has a good reputation. Avoid the Spit's cafe unless you happen to like slow service, costly but poor quality food & the dubious distinction of queuing for a table whilst staring out over all the empty spaces!
This was the first (and last) time my business will be remitted at said establishment. A pity as its sister premises on Christchurch Quay is a long time & favourite haunt of mine, although recent visits suggest a subtle drop in ambiance & service.
Sitting in the cafe and awaiting my order, my attention was again drawn to the frequency of fellow diners with nice shiny walking poles leaning haphazardly by their tables.
It seems that Nordic Walking as a fitness regime has hit this area big time. Quite how or why this has happened remains a mystery to me.
Now please don't take my skepticism as a negative feeling. I'm all for anything that gets people outdoors and enjoying the landscape. But judging by the amount of food being consumed today's exercise benefit was for fast being negated by a mass intake of carbs, fats & sugary substances.
As I pushed away my half eaten meal (a salad - naturally) I made for the exit and a more solitary route back to avoid the excess of humanity working hard at working hard. But I couldn't help but wonder as I passed the "Noddy Train" stop, its lengthening queue of people awaiting the 5 minute ride back to the car park, just how many of the Stick Brigade would take that option for their return journey. Full bellies complaining at the thought of the reasonably short walk back.
Maybe I was right.
My route back followed the edge of the harbour. A quiet & solitary amble with not a soul met along the way until I neared the tarmac track to exit the headland. And with it the inevitable bottleneck of people, sticks & wandering dogs.
Now I remember why I avoid this area like a plague during the summer months; And most of the Winter ones as well.
A good walking route, like a good wine, is to be enjoyed & savoured for inner contentment. And regrettably the well intentioned aims to make this area into a 'Visitor Attraction' has instead created a strange sort of venue.
My tip - it can be an enjoyable walk with superb veiws. But go when the weather is foul & the Stick People are more likely to stay away.
Labels: Fitness, New Forest, walks
Sunday, November 22
UK Walking - Take a new look at youself?
So. Back in front of this fag ash littered keyboard. Once more banging down on random keys with a vague hope that something literate, informative, perhaps even entertaining, pops up on your screen to brighten up your day.
Well somebody out there may benefit from my increasingly occasional wittering.
There's not a lot to report from the Great Outdoors at present. Well not as far as this Blogger is concerned.
A recent job role change means I now see far more of the UK during the hours of daylight. Which for one such as myself who hates Autumn's shortening days - well it must be a bonus.
On the down side, any sights I do see are part of a rush from one area of the UK to another. 60-70 hours weeks. Long & frequent hands-free telephone conversations whilst driving. A continual juggling of people, places, and e-mail catch-up 7 days a week. The result? An inevitable disinclination to spend any of my brief free time sat in front of a computer.
I'd hoped the thinking time during long drives would prove productive with article ideas & reflections.
In fact my day to day existence has become such a pressure pot that the 'me' space, source of my creative side, has quietly slipped into dormancy. A reaction to a semi-exhausted body, and a mind full of business matters and related chaff.
A certain lifestyle madness has now slipped into the driving seat. Temporarily.
But I can see the little bugger smirking back at me. And I do know its game, from past encounters.
I have ways to overcome & defeat it, given time.
But for the present I let it steer, awaiting that moment when my internal energies get to grips with the situation and come out kicking and spitting. To strike the interloper in the goolies, and send it packing, bent double and moaning loudly in defeat.
Its not all doom & gloom.
Over the years I've learnt to take the knocks of hard times by keeping an eye out for small benefits along the way.
A short chat about the Wicklow Mountains area with someone who lives on the edge of the National Park, provides personal insight about the Wicklow Way. Later a few minutes of flight wait time at Dublin Airport is used to confirm a direct coach connection from the airport - a trip of around an hour.
With potential for free air travel to Ireland, Powerscourt Waterfall looks a tempting visit.
At another location, the tedium of a long and complex business meeting is lightened by the view of sunset crossing the Cleeve Hill range, an area previously unknown to me. That evening a few minutes on the Internet reveal possibilities for evening sorties in the new year, once the days draw out once again. Once more, any travel costs courtesy of my gadabout wanderings.
Local knowledge, easily provided, is always a useful guide. Even if the people supplying it seem to take their area for granted.
And don’t we all?
With the sea a couple of miles away, a choice of river systems, and the New Forest ten minutes drive, I've been guilty of taking the same approach at times.
I know why that state has come about. But perhaps the saying "Travel broadens the mind" has some unusual spin-offs on this occasion?
True my seemingly constant journeying is reinforcing my long held belief that there is so very much to do outdoors in the UK. Mostly with easy access.
So maybe its time I took a new look at my own back yard once more?
But enough for now. This pesky note, originally a short courtesy jotting on my recent lack of Blogging activity, seems to have once again spawned a life of its own in trying to run off to play with thoughts and words, as the story unrolls.
Time to switch off the monitor; Power down the pc; And pick up a good book to escape into far from electronic temptation, and tired cliché ridden entertainment.Labels: walks
Sunday, October 25
OMM 2009 - All done
Well done to (Podcast) Bob & Rose finishing a commendable 161st in the OMM 2009 Shortscore Event. (No idea how high up they finished in the Veteran category - results have not yet been published)
There's even four Podcasts to listen to (Perhaps Bob is on someone else's Podcast - whatever next!)
This year the satellite comms has stunned the organisers with their ability to contact & e-mail very remote locations. And the event webcam was near TV quality, as shown by the 42" TV used at the entrants area to show what was going on.
Oh.
And nothing untoward happened.
Except the event being enjoyed by those involved.
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
Monday, May 18
Lake District Wildcamping Trip - Journey's end. Nearly.
Dateline: Ambleside YHA...
Well another wildamping escapade draws to a close. Not so much beaten by the inclement weather; More of a mutually agreed draw. But it's been a close run thing at times.
Sat here on the hostel's steam-driven Internet connection (at a cost which appears I am paying for best anthracite coal to keep it lurching along) the train times for the journey back south are appearing as if by magic, making the rail trip on Tuesday a rather drawn out affair.
A chance then to reflect on 3 night's wildcamping in some of the worst weather I've encountered for many years.
Hang on. The boiler stoker is signalling to me that he needs a tea-break.
JH signing off for for the present.
Trip notes on their way.Labels: Lake District, walks
Sunday, May 10
Walk route planning - online mapping
Here's a tip that may help with route planning.
This time next week I'll be wildcamped somewhere high on a Lake District fell side. With a few spots already in mind I've been looking at other ideas to put together a longer trip.
Naturally the OS Map & reference books were first source. Followed by more detailed work on-line where the amount of specific & highly detailed photographic images is proving very useful.
During this process I've occasionally turned to Google Earth to get a bird's eye view of the ground, especially searching for certain map features that really aren't too well marked. GE has been good, but can be slow.
I've also experimented with Multimap which is rapidly winning my what-a-good-idea award.
I can switch from a road map, to an OS map view, to aerial. Zooming in, and then flipping to and fro between the OS and aerial view. All at very fine detail, and virtually instantly, whereas Google Maps can be slow. And most importantly without losing my current map location.
A real time saver when building up that route, especially when searching for out of the way places. Labels: Blogger tip, walks
Sunday, February 22
Godshill Wander- Cock, Balls & a Loss
With the spring weather holding and a rare day of free time to myself I took down my walking diaries from the bookshelf earlier this morning to look back over my various trip reports.
I've been keeping a description of all new routes for over fifteen years now. Initially each year had plenty of entries, but as the local variations were ticked off the number of new entries each year has dropped, replaced by infrequent longer reports of wildcamping weeks away.
I've always found it beneficial to keep such a diary. Apart from the smile it brings to my lips as I'm reminded of past journeys, each description ends with a footnote suggesting possibilities for future trips that I've spotted along the way. Over time this has led to uncovering some of my best wildcamping spots, despite the original visit being many years ago.
Today I spotted am idea from the late 1990's - a circular trip using a familiar stretch of the Avon Valley Footpath, north of Fordingbridge, to visit Frankenbury (Grid Ref: OL22/166152), an iron age hill fort.
It's a subject of which I understand only a little, but these old defences are always a worthy reason for a walk as I try to get a taste of why our ancestors chose such places for their homes and lives.
Luckily Dorset and the surrounding areas are extremely rich in ancient hill defences. These vary wildly from the grandiose (Maiden Castle) to the mundane (Buckland Rings) So what would I uncover today?
I crossed the suspended bridge over the River Avon - unique in its construction method in Hampshire I believe.
Onto the muddy track across the water meadows and over a number of drainage channels, dotted here and there with their sluice gates. Long ago boats and their cargo travelled along the waterways in this area from the coast inland to Salisbury, 30 miles away. But that was then. Today the remaining ditches remind one more of a fenland scene, were it not for small hills edging along the wide Avon Valley.
Along the way the path forked. To the left ugly recycling bins and agricultural debris. To the right a drop to a track alongside the river and amongst the trees. Beast & beauty? No contest.
Down to the river then. With further reminders of seasonal changes, far more advanced that I would have thought likely at this time of year.
The trees positively dripping with catkins, some the largest I've seen.
Nearing the hill fort itself a few early primroses in bloom, alongside the stems of bluebells awaiting their turn once the clumps of snowdrops had had their chance.
The path opened onto a forest nature trail, with the inevitable crowds of Sunday strollers. After the natural beauty of the footpath the Nature Trail, composed of ugly 'visitor friendly' tracks & wth the removal of much of the native woodland, was a shock. I quickly cut across this section moving upwards to the hill fort, there to find the remains unhappily now located on agricultural land.
Little remained other than than a small ring defence rampart crowded with hedgerow, tree & briar.
Today it guarded a field of grazing cattle. No sense of history to be found here. This visit, as I've discovered in the past, not so much a reminder of ancient times. More a surprise that such places ever survive at all where modern farming meets ancient remains.
I returned to the nature trail, meeting people oblivious to the historic fortification alongside the man made track as they blindly followed the ugly track, and its clue points -whatever they were.
Needless to say I didn't have my 3 clues by now. Or even any idea what the questions were. But I did have a reason for the human activity as I approached Sandy Balls Holiday Camp, even at this time of year a busy spot.
So instead onto the field footpaths, avoiding the camp. Trying to match the marks on the map to the path on the ground whilst factoring in numerous "Keep Out" & "Private" signs garlanding the trees and hedgerow
Seems like the local landowner & the Camp's visitors may have had their disagreements in the past. But the Godshill area, as I'd noted before from previous visits seems plagued with a need to parcel up land with barb wire defences in the name of horse grazing. And parochial demonstrations of ownership. Its an area where trouser ripping is to be expected as one negotiates the miserly footpaths around the village.
Ah the village. Today that meant the Fighting Cocks Pub for a pint and a pie. It was not to be. The deterrent of Sunday crowds queing for food meant instead I settled for two pints & a Kit-Kat. Dog faring slightly better thanks to abundant dog chews available on the bar for a small charitable donation.
We moved on along Godshill Ridge and onto the open forest. Finally I could leave off the detailed map-to-ground route work and was able to return to my normal practice of pick a point on the horizon and find the least muddy way to it. In this case the unmissable treeline of Godshill Enclosure on the rise above.
West then back to the AVP and a familiar descent back to the valley and my starting point.
Along the way Dog and myself exchanged greetings with a Very Large Bull busily munching its fodder.
I've no idea of the breed, but the maleness of the creature was indisputable as I looked at the enormity of his undercarriage.
A short distance covered, barely 6 miles, but a lengthy wander of 4 hours. A leisurely time for the most, when not bent forward map reading.
But out long enough to breathe deep of the coming changes. And, for a time, enjoy a period of solitary peace amongst the greening shoots of Nature.
Now I wonder how many new visitors to this site will arrive via Google search for Cock or Balls? lolLabels: nature, New Forest, walks
Saturday, February 7
Remember me this way
Today a cold and icy wander along the paths and hidden tracks that criss-cross Wilverley Enclosure in the New Forest.
Clean transparent ice, freshly thrown across the puddles, despite the 3 deg temperature.
Signs of snow in the undergrowth still clearly visible. Ahead a couple of cheeky deer break cover. Their white rumps flashing, stubby tails held high, as they casually hop along the track before me. No urgency to dash for thicket cover today. A sign that the recent hard weather and reduced human traffic along this way had toned down their usual fight or flight response.
In the weak sunshine a bench beckons. Its siting always a friendly welcome at the junction of four major tracks. A position carefully chosen for sunlight and quiet reflection deep amongst the trees.
Today the bench is crowned with twin wreaths - in remembrance to one who's memorial it represents.
A physical manifestation to match the mental appreciation I often offer up to its unknown benefactor.
A fellow traveller. Similarly in tune with time & place. A special spot.
The path unwinds before me as I start uphill. I leave behind the one for whom a journey has completed. Marked for others to note; To reflect; To share; Despite the absence of their physical presence on this bright and quiet late winter morning.Labels: New Forest, walks
Friday, February 6
Walk with me a while
For those stuck indoors.
Sat gazing through steamed-up windows at snow (or in my case cold rain & slush)?
I offer a walking route description with a subtle difference from the standard fare.
Walking with Oswald, King of Northumbria
Alf Wainwright - eat your heart out.
;-)Labels: walks
Saturday, January 10
Kingston walkabout - Remember the birds
I'm sure there's a streak of masochism somewhere in my personality.
After a week of frozen early morning workday starts and the inevitable car de-icing/warm-up routine, a Saturday lie-in would be a simple and highly attractive pleasure. But not today.
Somehow I'd arranged a very early appointment for my car's MOT. With recent weather & road conditions this required a pre-check that all lights/windows were clear, clean & functional. Plus the small matter of getting the motor properly warmed up prior to the car's CO2 check. Which for a diesel engine, mostly used for the commuter stop-start grind, requires a little high rev driving in an attempt to blow out some of the gunge that tends to build-up in the engine systems.
I woke to a picturesque Xmas card view of heavy frosts garlanding the trees, as if visited by snowfall, but in this case the result of an overnight freezing fog. The heaviest sign of frost so far this season.
Hence early morning sub zero temperatures found me driving up and down the local stretch of dual carriageway getting all things mechanical up to a reasonable operating temperature.
MOT sorted, it meant I was able to clear my normal Saturday chores earlier than usual, leaving time for a few stolen pleasures, during which myself and the collie wandered off to revisit an area near Kingston, along the Avon Valley Footpath south of Ringwood, and east of the River Avon.
Its not a huge area to roam over and doesn't offer any real distance walks, but there is always a rich variety of wildlife along the way with pools, a lake and a river amongst a mix of heathland, hedgerow and mixed woodland. During Xmas I'd spotted a grey heron, various members of the duck/geese/swan families, solitary buzzards, and watched a fisherman landed a small jack pike from near the river ford (just why do pike always look so p*ssed off?)
If you'd come across myself and dog today, you would have found me grinning as I recalled childhood experiences. Carefully making a slip-slide traverse of a wide frozen pool. A wide bare mud dip in the land in summertime. Today transformed into a skating rink of boot depth frozen water. Half remembered skills flooded back as I carefully made my way across, dog ordered 'slow to heel', as he learnt a new skill. Better that than risk a headlong dash with inevitable loss of four pawed traction. His pride couldn't take the ignomy of that; And I didn't fancy the potential vet's bill.
Unsurprisingly the lake was mostly frozen. It provided a near unique opportunity to sneak out onto the thick ice, dog safe on the shore, in an attempt to get a photo of frost on the lake's edge. That was until I heard an ominous sound and looking down saw three lengthening cracks working their way out from my position. Aware of the potential risk, I hadn't strayed far out from lakeside, but it was enough to get wet boot & trousers if things worsened. Discretion required a careful but rapid retreat back to terra firma.
(The Lake photographed from The Lake)
Courtesy of my latest piece of gear I could measure the land temperature at -2°C. Stopping at the river's ford, current strong despite the water's frozen edges, I checked the water reading at a positive balmy 3°C.
(River's edge)
Somehow today I managed to resist the urge to pop in for a warming dip. Instead we retraced our steps. Or breath forming clouds before us as we wandered through the frozen landscape. Birds darting in and out of the hedgerows. Their normal caution discarded with the need find scarce but so essential food to endure this extended cold spell.
Pleasure for man & dog. A dangerous time for wildlife.
We returned home - the dog to his 'well-done' dog biscuit; Myself to a tot of whiskey in a hot coffee.
But firstly I made sure the bird seed hoppers were full & the various bird baths cleared of ice and refilled with fresh water.
A simple action. But a possible life saver for some of our feathered co-travellers.
Saturday, January 3
Dur Hill '08: Better times are coming
Earlier today I came across a half scribbled piece, penned around this time in 2008. With the thermometer barely reaching 3°C during the past week it seemed timely to wake it from a long hibernation as a reminder of the inevitability of better times to come. Eventually.
(Ice - thick and multi layered)
As I turned off the car engine I caught sight of the temperature display .... 9°C .... the warmest it's been for a week or so. Lifting the estate's boot I let the solitary collie jump down to join me for Saturday's New Forest wander. I could feel a slight breeze on my cheek to confirm the wind shift promised by last night's weather report. No longer blowing from the cold east, now a benign south westerly. Herald of rain sometime during the next few days perhaps. For the moment a refreshing change after many outdoor sorties of chin hunkered deep down inside the neck of my fleece, that instinctive seeking of respite from the ever pervasive chilling.
I find it usually takes me 3 days or so to come to terms with very cold weather, probably due to the cocoon offered by centrally heated house and office, my main habitats at this time of year.
But today a weak winter sun brings respite to man and dog alike as we steer clear of the post Xmas chaos, specifically other walkers, for a private amble over familiar ground. Around the Dur Hill enclosure whose western edge can usually be relied on for some solitude at this time of year. Once a widely forested area the last few years have seen certain 'improvements' most noticeably removal of much woodland and scrub leaving large barren areas as a result. Other than this past human activity, such as RAF Sopley's radio transmitter building, have long since disappeared leaving the area with a feeling of remoteness despite its proximity to the nearby Bournemouth conurbation.
But a cosmetic pretence suddenly shattered as overhead a plane drones its throaty descent downwards to Bournemouth International Airport (strange naming for its Christchurch based location)
The lingerings of uninterrupted icy days have left a churned landscape to pick our way over. At times a solid unyielding ground, still glassy and insincere underfoot, as if walking on a concrete ice-rink. The path continues, and with its next twist detouring a clump of impenetrable gorse bush, comes endless pools of thick cloying black mud and water, leading between a tunnel of yet more gorse. Each pool with slick edges, treacherous to negotiate. Unless heavily mud spattered trousers, or worse an unexpected cold dip, is a preference.
No matter. This change in the weather brings with it a general lifting of spirits. Tremblings of warmer days to come. Softer times to savour.
Man & dog trudge onwards. A shared and renewed interest in all around.Labels: New Forest, walks
Sunday, December 14
Seb Green - Home again
Seb Green finished his coastal wandering earlier today.
Wisely he seems to already have plans for his next challenges. To quote the website report posted for today's arrival "You had a dream and you have made your dream reality. You achieved everything you hoped to achieve - and so much more. You went away a boy and came back a man, head held high, knowing who you are"
Once the media kerfuffle has died down I'll be contacting one of my varied local connections, there for his arrival earlier today, for a more reflective chat with Seb if he's interested.
More of a walker/outdoor/kit roundup piece. Looking beyond the charity/publicity junket he's at the centre at present.
Tuesday, December 2
Seb Green - True celebrity
So the weather has got decidedly colder recently. Then there is that edgy wind that's been blowing for the last few days. Suddenly the joy of a long outdoor trek becomes much less attractive. Especially where there is no shelter - something like a cliff-top walk perhaps?
Bear a thought then for a true celebrity, previously mentioned on this blog - Seb Green on his Round Britain walk.
Currently somewhere north of Plymouth he's on the final stretch of his 3,000+ mile walk, and expects to arrive home in Weymouth during the next couple of weeks.
A celebrity? Well in my eyes one truly deserving of that oft misused and abused title.
His fame has come through selfless effort, unabashed contrition for his original mistake, and continual and communal improvements. That's of truer value than those boasters using the C title as a result of a hard working agent or as over excessive use of silicon implants.
Consider the charities benefiting from the £14,000+ raised. Or the people he's encountered along the way, seeing for themselves that something positive can come from an anti-social act. The proof that not all of modern yoof is a feral hooded knife wielder lurking on a street corner.
However I suspect the real gift for Seb will be the self knowledge and personal awareness gained over the months since his February start. A better understanding of self reliance and personal responsibility - an essential part of maturing as a human being.
Something that some people two or three times his age have yet to discover.
Welcome home Seb.
Saturday, November 15
Saturday morning - New Forest Dogging
On a whim today I decided to visit one of my regular circuits deep amongst woodland, south of Wilverley Plain. Luckily a track well known to me, as a mixture of sudden leaf drop & a period of wet and damp conditions, has altered the terrain sufficiently to obscure some of the side-tracks, leading from the main shale surfaced tourist paths - ones tend to keep well clear of wherever possible.
On the entry gate into the enclosure I'd spotted a new information sign advising of one of those New Forest events that appear out of the blue, and are always accompanied by a Caution & Care notice for regular NF users. And any concerned insurer, no doubt.
So no surprise then, on coning to cross one of the shale tracks, to find a couple of competitors busily working their dog teams in the ABSA Sleddog Championship 2008/09.
Unlike previous events I've met this time the teams were using only one dog per sled/musher. But, as usual, the dogs seem to be enjoying themselves tremendously, as the mushers did most of the sled pushing on a nearby uphill section.
If you've not encountered this sport before the sleds are lightweight frames mounted on large bicycle wheels. A sturdy build to take the knocks of travelling at speed over the hard & uneven forest tracks.
Later I moved from the dank woodland into the weak daylight of Wilverley Plain, and recalled my last visit here. That was back in October to cover the Forest Uprising Group's protests against the New Forest National Park's proposals.
Then it hit me.
On one hand the NFPA, talking up the tightening of dog access in the New Forest. The same authority today permitting a competitive dog centred event. One that results in some limitation of access in a popular area for the whole weekend (Not that I've any problem with the event or its organisers BTW)
A timely reminder that FUG presented their formal response on the NFPA's consultation draft yesterday, on the last day for submissions.
With around 9,000 responses to work through the NFPA is going to be rather busy trying to settle down the hornet's nest they've raised, ready for the formal submission to the full National Park Authority in summer 2009.
With further workgroups and public meetings in the pipeline expect sparks to continue to fly for some time yet.
Me, I went back to the sled race. It seemed to me that the dogs were getting the better of the deal today. And long may it stay so into the future.Labels: New Forest, walks
Tuesday, November 11
Numbering the days or Counting the cost
50
My age next year.
For those of you that have had the dubious distinction of meeting me in the flesh that's probably a hard fact to swallow. But a true one nevertheless. This lithe body, is a temple, testament to years of loose living & looser women (I remain ever hopeful - lol) Amazingly still unfettered by any short term leasing arrangement with certain Dark Forces.
Nope - its all my own work, as it were. For luckily I've inherited a simple healthiness with a level of natural fitness that becomes the envy of those tubby-tum middle-aged men I see amongst my age group these days.
360
The number of places available on the 2009 TGO Challenge, 60 up on the usual 300 limit, in recognition of the 30th anniversary of this event.
509
The number of applications received for 2009. With wider publicity of recent years the TGO continues to go from strength to strength as an internationally famous event, despite the physical and mental rigours required of those taking part, and the self reliant nature of the challenge.
149
The number of those initially listed on the short list.
40
Those on the short list who may be lucky enough, so I'm informed by those with experience of past events, to move over to the entrant list as some of the 2009 Challengers find themselves having to withdraw ahead of the event.
90
My short list number.
Well that's me buggered then.
I thought something suitably emphatic was called for in 2009. A symbolic achievement on passing my half century mark. An age that many years ago I wouldn't have seriously expected to reach, such was my lifestyle and its associated high risk activities (Lots of fun along the way though)
So that leaves me with a quandary. What else to do with the 2 week break from work that is already booked?
Too short a time to wildcamp the SW Coastal Footpath, one of my long term ambitions. All too easily 'squandered' on challenging, but potentially unmemorable, wildcamping weeks of my own design. Definitely too disinterested in the usual fall backs such as Coast to Coast, Pennine Way, Offa Dyke etc. All undoubtedly superb end to end journeys in themselves, but not that ....... well ..........different ....... to be honest.
Hmm. I guess that's what I'm looking for. A trip that delivers the chance for my steady movement across this land of ours. A point to point challenge with a recognisable aim, even to a non walker, but with that special something that I can look back at in the years ahead, and grin at having done it.
Any ideas folks?
All comments count. Naturally.Labels: TGO Challenge, walks
Sunday, October 26
A walk on the Algarve - Carveiro
Dawn. The sun's rays, already a reminder of the southerly latitude. An offshore breeze unexpected, but a welcome respite after a week of blue sky and mid 20s temperatures each day.
Waking early I decided to sneak out for a short while, to walk amongst the pitted red cliffs.
Amongst? For below the shadeless cliff top path marking the sudden drop down to the Atlantic I discovered a maze of steps, paths and tunnels leading down to hidden paths on the lower rock ledges edging the shoreline.
(Tunnel)
Rock, red pitted and pock marked. And through it all shards of sea shells clearly visible, deeply embedded in the strata. Surely a landscape more used to lunar exploration?
A solo daybreak walk then; Before the oppressive heat turned the cliff bowl into a cauldron of heat, at least for one more used to an UK climate.
I wandered for some while along traditional fisherman's paths. Some worn away through centuries of habitual usage. Others clearly revealing the local inhabitants' intent to bend this barren land to their human desires with carved steps and chilled dark tunnels popping up without warning as my exploration continued.
Above and behind me the small town, until recent times a quiet fishing village, now a thriving tourist escape, especially those from England and Ireland.
Its inhabitants slowly rising to meet another day of trade and trinket exchange.
But before me for the present the seemingly endless horizon of the Atlantic sea. And in the distance a five master schooner, sails furled, slowly motoring westwards towards its port.
I sit with my back to the wind, the sun now hot on my arms and face, as I watch the ship slip by. Its solitary behaviour matching my own as I carefully continue my exploration of this strange land. Acutely aware that a moment's lack of concentration amongst such rugged landscape could be harshly punished. A slip down to the sea and rocks below. Or worse to be swallowed up by one of the deep and dark sink holes that border the tracks.
Around me signs of night fishing activity. Discarded cigarette packs & bottles amongst abused tackle. A dangerous place then in the daylight. But possibly lethal at night for the unwary. Or drunk.
An alien and wild landscape. So unlike any place I'd encountered before. But, in common with those wilder places where caution is required, a deeply satisfying area to explore.
Finally that increasingly insistent voice of personal safety reminds me the odds had been played enough for so early in the day. Time to head back up the cliff paths.
Back to re-don the tourist disguise and greet an incautiously early cold beer before another day on the beach. Just one more lazily tanning holidaymaker to any casual onlooker. But inside me a quiet satisfaction in lifting aside one of the veils worn by this small Portuguese village. To have tasted a little of its truer identity. However briefly.
To travel; To experience a different culture and climate. And on this occasion a truly different landscape.Labels: walks
Sunday, September 28
Hincheslea Wood - Rebirth
Back in April last year I described a wander around Hincheslea Wood (OL22: GR 275 010) in the New Forest remarking that this burnt out building may have been about to arise from its ashes. Earlier today I came across the replacement building, fast approaching its completion.
Neighbours, approached for their comments on the refurbishment, had no comment to make.
Being more concerned with local childcare facilities.
Labels: New Forest, walks
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
Saturday's duties took me into the Christchurch area. So for a change I took a walk out over Hengistbury Head, along Mudeford Sandspit, before tracing a route along the shore of Christchurch Harbour and back to the car.
Its not a long trip, less than 5 miles even taking the longer alternatives. However it manages to include a short but steep ascent & some superb coastal views.
To the east is The Needles Lighthouse drawing the eye beyond to the Isle of Wight.
And turning westwards a sweep across Bournemouth Bay. Swanage in the far distance, with the dowdy sprawl of the Poole/Bournemouth conurbation as one's gaze tracks the beach back towards your position.
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Quickly turning to the north what remains of the Dorset heathland these days, along with the New Forest in the distance, is laid out before your feet. Twinkling distant in today's sunlight are the Rivers Stour & Avon, their floodplain meanderings finally joining up as they reach Christchurch, its Priory clearly silhouetted against the town.
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Sounds idyllic doesn't it? A pity then the local council charge prohibitive amounts to use the car park. But despite that the area this Saturday morning was teeming with people, dogs, kids etc etc.
Well I should have known really. Its not a place to come for a quiet walk, not unless there's a gale lashing rain inland from the English Channel. Which for some reason tends to deter some people.
Not so your humble scribe. Although it has the dubious pleasure of being one of the few places where I had a (well fitted) cap ripped from my head and discarded some 50m away. Mind you it was a bit gusty that day - and I did seem to be the only one on the headland tasting salty raindrops. The rain actually wind sped spray spat up from the sea some 300m distant at the foot of the cliff 30+m below.
But that's another tale.
As usual I parked in one of the side streets to avoid the parking charge & avoid the predatory Traffic Wardens that roam the area. As I walked towards the headland track contouring the coastline the unexpected drone of bagpipes was wafted on the stiff breeze.
Well I say wafted.
Common to most bagpipe enthusiasts, interested in remaining on good terms with their neighbours, the only practice sites seem to be far out in the wilds as the skirl(?) of the pipes does have a tendency to carry some considerable distance.
Especially true today. Turning a corner the hedgerow on my right dropped away to reveal two of the buggers playing a spirited duet (whilst trying not to look as if they were up to no good in the bushes)
They needn't have worried - their playing was accomplished. Although quite what a brace of pipers were doing here on the south coast was another question entirely. Particularly when dressed in full Highland Regalia.
Nearing the Head the amount people increased - and with it an increasing number of those carrying/using walking poles. At first I thought nothing of it. That is until I noticed the strange outdoor regalia being worn. Trainers, jeans, tracksuits. It felt like a poorly funded fashion show. But the poles were clearly in pristine condition sporting brand names I'd not previously come across before.
And so it continued as I strode purposefully up to the OS trig point on the Head itself.
Onwards across the headland, wind blowing hard as usual, to eventually descend the far side, a spur of the moment decision made to head for the cafe on Mudeford Spit.
Note I've carefully not mentioned the cafe's name, or provided a link. If you're in this area use the Hungry Hiker next to the car park, which has a good reputation. Avoid the Spit's cafe unless you happen to like slow service, costly but poor quality food & the dubious distinction of queuing for a table whilst staring out over all the empty spaces!
This was the first (and last) time my business will be remitted at said establishment. A pity as its sister premises on Christchurch Quay is a long time & favourite haunt of mine, although recent visits suggest a subtle drop in ambiance & service.
Sitting in the cafe and awaiting my order, my attention was again drawn to the frequency of fellow diners with nice shiny walking poles leaning haphazardly by their tables.
It seems that Nordic Walking as a fitness regime has hit this area big time. Quite how or why this has happened remains a mystery to me.
Now please don't take my skepticism as a negative feeling. I'm all for anything that gets people outdoors and enjoying the landscape. But judging by the amount of food being consumed today's exercise benefit was for fast being negated by a mass intake of carbs, fats & sugary substances.
As I pushed away my half eaten meal (a salad - naturally) I made for the exit and a more solitary route back to avoid the excess of humanity working hard at working hard. But I couldn't help but wonder as I passed the "Noddy Train" stop, its lengthening queue of people awaiting the 5 minute ride back to the car park, just how many of the Stick Brigade would take that option for their return journey. Full bellies complaining at the thought of the reasonably short walk back.
Maybe I was right.
My route back followed the edge of the harbour. A quiet & solitary amble with not a soul met along the way until I neared the tarmac track to exit the headland. And with it the inevitable bottleneck of people, sticks & wandering dogs.
Now I remember why I avoid this area like a plague during the summer months; And most of the Winter ones as well.
A good walking route, like a good wine, is to be enjoyed & savoured for inner contentment. And regrettably the well intentioned aims to make this area into a 'Visitor Attraction' has instead created a strange sort of venue.
My tip - it can be an enjoyable walk with superb veiws. But go when the weather is foul & the Stick People are more likely to stay away.
Labels: Fitness, New Forest, walks
UK Walking - Take a new look at youself?
So. Back in front of this fag ash littered keyboard. Once more banging down on random keys with a vague hope that something literate, informative, perhaps even entertaining, pops up on your screen to brighten up your day.
Well somebody out there may benefit from my increasingly occasional wittering.
There's not a lot to report from the Great Outdoors at present. Well not as far as this Blogger is concerned.
A recent job role change means I now see far more of the UK during the hours of daylight. Which for one such as myself who hates Autumn's shortening days - well it must be a bonus.
On the down side, any sights I do see are part of a rush from one area of the UK to another. 60-70 hours weeks. Long & frequent hands-free telephone conversations whilst driving. A continual juggling of people, places, and e-mail catch-up 7 days a week. The result? An inevitable disinclination to spend any of my brief free time sat in front of a computer.
I'd hoped the thinking time during long drives would prove productive with article ideas & reflections.
In fact my day to day existence has become such a pressure pot that the 'me' space, source of my creative side, has quietly slipped into dormancy. A reaction to a semi-exhausted body, and a mind full of business matters and related chaff.
A certain lifestyle madness has now slipped into the driving seat. Temporarily.
But I can see the little bugger smirking back at me. And I do know its game, from past encounters.
I have ways to overcome & defeat it, given time.
But for the present I let it steer, awaiting that moment when my internal energies get to grips with the situation and come out kicking and spitting. To strike the interloper in the goolies, and send it packing, bent double and moaning loudly in defeat.
Its not all doom & gloom.
Over the years I've learnt to take the knocks of hard times by keeping an eye out for small benefits along the way.
A short chat about the Wicklow Mountains area with someone who lives on the edge of the National Park, provides personal insight about the Wicklow Way. Later a few minutes of flight wait time at Dublin Airport is used to confirm a direct coach connection from the airport - a trip of around an hour.
With potential for free air travel to Ireland, Powerscourt Waterfall looks a tempting visit.
At another location, the tedium of a long and complex business meeting is lightened by the view of sunset crossing the Cleeve Hill range, an area previously unknown to me. That evening a few minutes on the Internet reveal possibilities for evening sorties in the new year, once the days draw out once again. Once more, any travel costs courtesy of my gadabout wanderings.
Local knowledge, easily provided, is always a useful guide. Even if the people supplying it seem to take their area for granted.
And don’t we all?
With the sea a couple of miles away, a choice of river systems, and the New Forest ten minutes drive, I've been guilty of taking the same approach at times.
I know why that state has come about. But perhaps the saying "Travel broadens the mind" has some unusual spin-offs on this occasion?
True my seemingly constant journeying is reinforcing my long held belief that there is so very much to do outdoors in the UK. Mostly with easy access.
So maybe its time I took a new look at my own back yard once more?
But enough for now. This pesky note, originally a short courtesy jotting on my recent lack of Blogging activity, seems to have once again spawned a life of its own in trying to run off to play with thoughts and words, as the story unrolls.
Time to switch off the monitor; Power down the pc; And pick up a good book to escape into far from electronic temptation, and tired cliché ridden entertainment.Labels: walks
Sunday, October 25
OMM 2009 - All done
Well done to (Podcast) Bob & Rose finishing a commendable 161st in the OMM 2009 Shortscore Event. (No idea how high up they finished in the Veteran category - results have not yet been published)
There's even four Podcasts to listen to (Perhaps Bob is on someone else's Podcast - whatever next!)
This year the satellite comms has stunned the organisers with their ability to contact & e-mail very remote locations. And the event webcam was near TV quality, as shown by the 42" TV used at the entrants area to show what was going on.
Oh.
And nothing untoward happened.
Except the event being enjoyed by those involved.
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
Monday, May 18
Lake District Wildcamping Trip - Journey's end. Nearly.
Dateline: Ambleside YHA...
Well another wildamping escapade draws to a close. Not so much beaten by the inclement weather; More of a mutually agreed draw. But it's been a close run thing at times.
Sat here on the hostel's steam-driven Internet connection (at a cost which appears I am paying for best anthracite coal to keep it lurching along) the train times for the journey back south are appearing as if by magic, making the rail trip on Tuesday a rather drawn out affair.
A chance then to reflect on 3 night's wildcamping in some of the worst weather I've encountered for many years.
Hang on. The boiler stoker is signalling to me that he needs a tea-break.
JH signing off for for the present.
Trip notes on their way.Labels: Lake District, walks
Sunday, May 10
Walk route planning - online mapping
Here's a tip that may help with route planning.
This time next week I'll be wildcamped somewhere high on a Lake District fell side. With a few spots already in mind I've been looking at other ideas to put together a longer trip.
Naturally the OS Map & reference books were first source. Followed by more detailed work on-line where the amount of specific & highly detailed photographic images is proving very useful.
During this process I've occasionally turned to Google Earth to get a bird's eye view of the ground, especially searching for certain map features that really aren't too well marked. GE has been good, but can be slow.
I've also experimented with Multimap which is rapidly winning my what-a-good-idea award.
I can switch from a road map, to an OS map view, to aerial. Zooming in, and then flipping to and fro between the OS and aerial view. All at very fine detail, and virtually instantly, whereas Google Maps can be slow. And most importantly without losing my current map location.
A real time saver when building up that route, especially when searching for out of the way places. Labels: Blogger tip, walks
Sunday, February 22
Godshill Wander- Cock, Balls & a Loss
With the spring weather holding and a rare day of free time to myself I took down my walking diaries from the bookshelf earlier this morning to look back over my various trip reports.
I've been keeping a description of all new routes for over fifteen years now. Initially each year had plenty of entries, but as the local variations were ticked off the number of new entries each year has dropped, replaced by infrequent longer reports of wildcamping weeks away.
I've always found it beneficial to keep such a diary. Apart from the smile it brings to my lips as I'm reminded of past journeys, each description ends with a footnote suggesting possibilities for future trips that I've spotted along the way. Over time this has led to uncovering some of my best wildcamping spots, despite the original visit being many years ago.
Today I spotted am idea from the late 1990's - a circular trip using a familiar stretch of the Avon Valley Footpath, north of Fordingbridge, to visit Frankenbury (Grid Ref: OL22/166152), an iron age hill fort.
It's a subject of which I understand only a little, but these old defences are always a worthy reason for a walk as I try to get a taste of why our ancestors chose such places for their homes and lives.
Luckily Dorset and the surrounding areas are extremely rich in ancient hill defences. These vary wildly from the grandiose (Maiden Castle) to the mundane (Buckland Rings) So what would I uncover today?
I crossed the suspended bridge over the River Avon - unique in its construction method in Hampshire I believe.
Onto the muddy track across the water meadows and over a number of drainage channels, dotted here and there with their sluice gates. Long ago boats and their cargo travelled along the waterways in this area from the coast inland to Salisbury, 30 miles away. But that was then. Today the remaining ditches remind one more of a fenland scene, were it not for small hills edging along the wide Avon Valley.
Along the way the path forked. To the left ugly recycling bins and agricultural debris. To the right a drop to a track alongside the river and amongst the trees. Beast & beauty? No contest.
Down to the river then. With further reminders of seasonal changes, far more advanced that I would have thought likely at this time of year.
The trees positively dripping with catkins, some the largest I've seen.
Nearing the hill fort itself a few early primroses in bloom, alongside the stems of bluebells awaiting their turn once the clumps of snowdrops had had their chance.
The path opened onto a forest nature trail, with the inevitable crowds of Sunday strollers. After the natural beauty of the footpath the Nature Trail, composed of ugly 'visitor friendly' tracks & wth the removal of much of the native woodland, was a shock. I quickly cut across this section moving upwards to the hill fort, there to find the remains unhappily now located on agricultural land.
Little remained other than than a small ring defence rampart crowded with hedgerow, tree & briar.
Today it guarded a field of grazing cattle. No sense of history to be found here. This visit, as I've discovered in the past, not so much a reminder of ancient times. More a surprise that such places ever survive at all where modern farming meets ancient remains.
I returned to the nature trail, meeting people oblivious to the historic fortification alongside the man made track as they blindly followed the ugly track, and its clue points -whatever they were.
Needless to say I didn't have my 3 clues by now. Or even any idea what the questions were. But I did have a reason for the human activity as I approached Sandy Balls Holiday Camp, even at this time of year a busy spot.
So instead onto the field footpaths, avoiding the camp. Trying to match the marks on the map to the path on the ground whilst factoring in numerous "Keep Out" & "Private" signs garlanding the trees and hedgerow
Seems like the local landowner & the Camp's visitors may have had their disagreements in the past. But the Godshill area, as I'd noted before from previous visits seems plagued with a need to parcel up land with barb wire defences in the name of horse grazing. And parochial demonstrations of ownership. Its an area where trouser ripping is to be expected as one negotiates the miserly footpaths around the village.
Ah the village. Today that meant the Fighting Cocks Pub for a pint and a pie. It was not to be. The deterrent of Sunday crowds queing for food meant instead I settled for two pints & a Kit-Kat. Dog faring slightly better thanks to abundant dog chews available on the bar for a small charitable donation.
We moved on along Godshill Ridge and onto the open forest. Finally I could leave off the detailed map-to-ground route work and was able to return to my normal practice of pick a point on the horizon and find the least muddy way to it. In this case the unmissable treeline of Godshill Enclosure on the rise above.
West then back to the AVP and a familiar descent back to the valley and my starting point.
Along the way Dog and myself exchanged greetings with a Very Large Bull busily munching its fodder.
I've no idea of the breed, but the maleness of the creature was indisputable as I looked at the enormity of his undercarriage.
A short distance covered, barely 6 miles, but a lengthy wander of 4 hours. A leisurely time for the most, when not bent forward map reading.
But out long enough to breathe deep of the coming changes. And, for a time, enjoy a period of solitary peace amongst the greening shoots of Nature.
Now I wonder how many new visitors to this site will arrive via Google search for Cock or Balls? lolLabels: nature, New Forest, walks
Saturday, February 7
Remember me this way
Today a cold and icy wander along the paths and hidden tracks that criss-cross Wilverley Enclosure in the New Forest.
Clean transparent ice, freshly thrown across the puddles, despite the 3 deg temperature.
Signs of snow in the undergrowth still clearly visible. Ahead a couple of cheeky deer break cover. Their white rumps flashing, stubby tails held high, as they casually hop along the track before me. No urgency to dash for thicket cover today. A sign that the recent hard weather and reduced human traffic along this way had toned down their usual fight or flight response.
In the weak sunshine a bench beckons. Its siting always a friendly welcome at the junction of four major tracks. A position carefully chosen for sunlight and quiet reflection deep amongst the trees.
Today the bench is crowned with twin wreaths - in remembrance to one who's memorial it represents.
A physical manifestation to match the mental appreciation I often offer up to its unknown benefactor.
A fellow traveller. Similarly in tune with time & place. A special spot.
The path unwinds before me as I start uphill. I leave behind the one for whom a journey has completed. Marked for others to note; To reflect; To share; Despite the absence of their physical presence on this bright and quiet late winter morning.Labels: New Forest, walks
Friday, February 6
Walk with me a while
For those stuck indoors.
Sat gazing through steamed-up windows at snow (or in my case cold rain & slush)?
I offer a walking route description with a subtle difference from the standard fare.
Walking with Oswald, King of Northumbria
Alf Wainwright - eat your heart out.
;-)Labels: walks
Saturday, January 10
Kingston walkabout - Remember the birds
I'm sure there's a streak of masochism somewhere in my personality.
After a week of frozen early morning workday starts and the inevitable car de-icing/warm-up routine, a Saturday lie-in would be a simple and highly attractive pleasure. But not today.
Somehow I'd arranged a very early appointment for my car's MOT. With recent weather & road conditions this required a pre-check that all lights/windows were clear, clean & functional. Plus the small matter of getting the motor properly warmed up prior to the car's CO2 check. Which for a diesel engine, mostly used for the commuter stop-start grind, requires a little high rev driving in an attempt to blow out some of the gunge that tends to build-up in the engine systems.
I woke to a picturesque Xmas card view of heavy frosts garlanding the trees, as if visited by snowfall, but in this case the result of an overnight freezing fog. The heaviest sign of frost so far this season.
Hence early morning sub zero temperatures found me driving up and down the local stretch of dual carriageway getting all things mechanical up to a reasonable operating temperature.
MOT sorted, it meant I was able to clear my normal Saturday chores earlier than usual, leaving time for a few stolen pleasures, during which myself and the collie wandered off to revisit an area near Kingston, along the Avon Valley Footpath south of Ringwood, and east of the River Avon.
Its not a huge area to roam over and doesn't offer any real distance walks, but there is always a rich variety of wildlife along the way with pools, a lake and a river amongst a mix of heathland, hedgerow and mixed woodland. During Xmas I'd spotted a grey heron, various members of the duck/geese/swan families, solitary buzzards, and watched a fisherman landed a small jack pike from near the river ford (just why do pike always look so p*ssed off?)
If you'd come across myself and dog today, you would have found me grinning as I recalled childhood experiences. Carefully making a slip-slide traverse of a wide frozen pool. A wide bare mud dip in the land in summertime. Today transformed into a skating rink of boot depth frozen water. Half remembered skills flooded back as I carefully made my way across, dog ordered 'slow to heel', as he learnt a new skill. Better that than risk a headlong dash with inevitable loss of four pawed traction. His pride couldn't take the ignomy of that; And I didn't fancy the potential vet's bill.
Unsurprisingly the lake was mostly frozen. It provided a near unique opportunity to sneak out onto the thick ice, dog safe on the shore, in an attempt to get a photo of frost on the lake's edge. That was until I heard an ominous sound and looking down saw three lengthening cracks working their way out from my position. Aware of the potential risk, I hadn't strayed far out from lakeside, but it was enough to get wet boot & trousers if things worsened. Discretion required a careful but rapid retreat back to terra firma.
(The Lake photographed from The Lake)
Courtesy of my latest piece of gear I could measure the land temperature at -2°C. Stopping at the river's ford, current strong despite the water's frozen edges, I checked the water reading at a positive balmy 3°C.
(River's edge)
Somehow today I managed to resist the urge to pop in for a warming dip. Instead we retraced our steps. Or breath forming clouds before us as we wandered through the frozen landscape. Birds darting in and out of the hedgerows. Their normal caution discarded with the need find scarce but so essential food to endure this extended cold spell.
Pleasure for man & dog. A dangerous time for wildlife.
We returned home - the dog to his 'well-done' dog biscuit; Myself to a tot of whiskey in a hot coffee.
But firstly I made sure the bird seed hoppers were full & the various bird baths cleared of ice and refilled with fresh water.
A simple action. But a possible life saver for some of our feathered co-travellers.
Saturday, January 3
Dur Hill '08: Better times are coming
Earlier today I came across a half scribbled piece, penned around this time in 2008. With the thermometer barely reaching 3°C during the past week it seemed timely to wake it from a long hibernation as a reminder of the inevitability of better times to come. Eventually.
(Ice - thick and multi layered)
As I turned off the car engine I caught sight of the temperature display .... 9°C .... the warmest it's been for a week or so. Lifting the estate's boot I let the solitary collie jump down to join me for Saturday's New Forest wander. I could feel a slight breeze on my cheek to confirm the wind shift promised by last night's weather report. No longer blowing from the cold east, now a benign south westerly. Herald of rain sometime during the next few days perhaps. For the moment a refreshing change after many outdoor sorties of chin hunkered deep down inside the neck of my fleece, that instinctive seeking of respite from the ever pervasive chilling.
I find it usually takes me 3 days or so to come to terms with very cold weather, probably due to the cocoon offered by centrally heated house and office, my main habitats at this time of year.
But today a weak winter sun brings respite to man and dog alike as we steer clear of the post Xmas chaos, specifically other walkers, for a private amble over familiar ground. Around the Dur Hill enclosure whose western edge can usually be relied on for some solitude at this time of year. Once a widely forested area the last few years have seen certain 'improvements' most noticeably removal of much woodland and scrub leaving large barren areas as a result. Other than this past human activity, such as RAF Sopley's radio transmitter building, have long since disappeared leaving the area with a feeling of remoteness despite its proximity to the nearby Bournemouth conurbation.
But a cosmetic pretence suddenly shattered as overhead a plane drones its throaty descent downwards to Bournemouth International Airport (strange naming for its Christchurch based location)
The lingerings of uninterrupted icy days have left a churned landscape to pick our way over. At times a solid unyielding ground, still glassy and insincere underfoot, as if walking on a concrete ice-rink. The path continues, and with its next twist detouring a clump of impenetrable gorse bush, comes endless pools of thick cloying black mud and water, leading between a tunnel of yet more gorse. Each pool with slick edges, treacherous to negotiate. Unless heavily mud spattered trousers, or worse an unexpected cold dip, is a preference.
No matter. This change in the weather brings with it a general lifting of spirits. Tremblings of warmer days to come. Softer times to savour.
Man & dog trudge onwards. A shared and renewed interest in all around.Labels: New Forest, walks
Sunday, December 14
Seb Green - Home again
Seb Green finished his coastal wandering earlier today.
Wisely he seems to already have plans for his next challenges. To quote the website report posted for today's arrival "You had a dream and you have made your dream reality. You achieved everything you hoped to achieve - and so much more. You went away a boy and came back a man, head held high, knowing who you are"
Once the media kerfuffle has died down I'll be contacting one of my varied local connections, there for his arrival earlier today, for a more reflective chat with Seb if he's interested.
More of a walker/outdoor/kit roundup piece. Looking beyond the charity/publicity junket he's at the centre at present.
Tuesday, December 2
Seb Green - True celebrity
So the weather has got decidedly colder recently. Then there is that edgy wind that's been blowing for the last few days. Suddenly the joy of a long outdoor trek becomes much less attractive. Especially where there is no shelter - something like a cliff-top walk perhaps?
Bear a thought then for a true celebrity, previously mentioned on this blog - Seb Green on his Round Britain walk.
Currently somewhere north of Plymouth he's on the final stretch of his 3,000+ mile walk, and expects to arrive home in Weymouth during the next couple of weeks.
A celebrity? Well in my eyes one truly deserving of that oft misused and abused title.
His fame has come through selfless effort, unabashed contrition for his original mistake, and continual and communal improvements. That's of truer value than those boasters using the C title as a result of a hard working agent or as over excessive use of silicon implants.
Consider the charities benefiting from the £14,000+ raised. Or the people he's encountered along the way, seeing for themselves that something positive can come from an anti-social act. The proof that not all of modern yoof is a feral hooded knife wielder lurking on a street corner.
However I suspect the real gift for Seb will be the self knowledge and personal awareness gained over the months since his February start. A better understanding of self reliance and personal responsibility - an essential part of maturing as a human being.
Something that some people two or three times his age have yet to discover.
Welcome home Seb.
Saturday, November 15
Saturday morning - New Forest Dogging
On a whim today I decided to visit one of my regular circuits deep amongst woodland, south of Wilverley Plain. Luckily a track well known to me, as a mixture of sudden leaf drop & a period of wet and damp conditions, has altered the terrain sufficiently to obscure some of the side-tracks, leading from the main shale surfaced tourist paths - ones tend to keep well clear of wherever possible.
On the entry gate into the enclosure I'd spotted a new information sign advising of one of those New Forest events that appear out of the blue, and are always accompanied by a Caution & Care notice for regular NF users. And any concerned insurer, no doubt.
So no surprise then, on coning to cross one of the shale tracks, to find a couple of competitors busily working their dog teams in the ABSA Sleddog Championship 2008/09.
Unlike previous events I've met this time the teams were using only one dog per sled/musher. But, as usual, the dogs seem to be enjoying themselves tremendously, as the mushers did most of the sled pushing on a nearby uphill section.
If you've not encountered this sport before the sleds are lightweight frames mounted on large bicycle wheels. A sturdy build to take the knocks of travelling at speed over the hard & uneven forest tracks.
Later I moved from the dank woodland into the weak daylight of Wilverley Plain, and recalled my last visit here. That was back in October to cover the Forest Uprising Group's protests against the New Forest National Park's proposals.
Then it hit me.
On one hand the NFPA, talking up the tightening of dog access in the New Forest. The same authority today permitting a competitive dog centred event. One that results in some limitation of access in a popular area for the whole weekend (Not that I've any problem with the event or its organisers BTW)
A timely reminder that FUG presented their formal response on the NFPA's consultation draft yesterday, on the last day for submissions.
With around 9,000 responses to work through the NFPA is going to be rather busy trying to settle down the hornet's nest they've raised, ready for the formal submission to the full National Park Authority in summer 2009.
With further workgroups and public meetings in the pipeline expect sparks to continue to fly for some time yet.
Me, I went back to the sled race. It seemed to me that the dogs were getting the better of the deal today. And long may it stay so into the future.Labels: New Forest, walks
Tuesday, November 11
Numbering the days or Counting the cost
50
My age next year.
For those of you that have had the dubious distinction of meeting me in the flesh that's probably a hard fact to swallow. But a true one nevertheless. This lithe body, is a temple, testament to years of loose living & looser women (I remain ever hopeful - lol) Amazingly still unfettered by any short term leasing arrangement with certain Dark Forces.
Nope - its all my own work, as it were. For luckily I've inherited a simple healthiness with a level of natural fitness that becomes the envy of those tubby-tum middle-aged men I see amongst my age group these days.
360
The number of places available on the 2009 TGO Challenge, 60 up on the usual 300 limit, in recognition of the 30th anniversary of this event.
509
The number of applications received for 2009. With wider publicity of recent years the TGO continues to go from strength to strength as an internationally famous event, despite the physical and mental rigours required of those taking part, and the self reliant nature of the challenge.
149
The number of those initially listed on the short list.
40
Those on the short list who may be lucky enough, so I'm informed by those with experience of past events, to move over to the entrant list as some of the 2009 Challengers find themselves having to withdraw ahead of the event.
90
My short list number.
Well that's me buggered then.
I thought something suitably emphatic was called for in 2009. A symbolic achievement on passing my half century mark. An age that many years ago I wouldn't have seriously expected to reach, such was my lifestyle and its associated high risk activities (Lots of fun along the way though)
So that leaves me with a quandary. What else to do with the 2 week break from work that is already booked?
Too short a time to wildcamp the SW Coastal Footpath, one of my long term ambitions. All too easily 'squandered' on challenging, but potentially unmemorable, wildcamping weeks of my own design. Definitely too disinterested in the usual fall backs such as Coast to Coast, Pennine Way, Offa Dyke etc. All undoubtedly superb end to end journeys in themselves, but not that ....... well ..........different ....... to be honest.
Hmm. I guess that's what I'm looking for. A trip that delivers the chance for my steady movement across this land of ours. A point to point challenge with a recognisable aim, even to a non walker, but with that special something that I can look back at in the years ahead, and grin at having done it.
Any ideas folks?
All comments count. Naturally.Labels: TGO Challenge, walks
Sunday, October 26
A walk on the Algarve - Carveiro
Dawn. The sun's rays, already a reminder of the southerly latitude. An offshore breeze unexpected, but a welcome respite after a week of blue sky and mid 20s temperatures each day.
Waking early I decided to sneak out for a short while, to walk amongst the pitted red cliffs.
Amongst? For below the shadeless cliff top path marking the sudden drop down to the Atlantic I discovered a maze of steps, paths and tunnels leading down to hidden paths on the lower rock ledges edging the shoreline.
(Tunnel)
Rock, red pitted and pock marked. And through it all shards of sea shells clearly visible, deeply embedded in the strata. Surely a landscape more used to lunar exploration?
A solo daybreak walk then; Before the oppressive heat turned the cliff bowl into a cauldron of heat, at least for one more used to an UK climate.
I wandered for some while along traditional fisherman's paths. Some worn away through centuries of habitual usage. Others clearly revealing the local inhabitants' intent to bend this barren land to their human desires with carved steps and chilled dark tunnels popping up without warning as my exploration continued.
Above and behind me the small town, until recent times a quiet fishing village, now a thriving tourist escape, especially those from England and Ireland.
Its inhabitants slowly rising to meet another day of trade and trinket exchange.
But before me for the present the seemingly endless horizon of the Atlantic sea. And in the distance a five master schooner, sails furled, slowly motoring westwards towards its port.
I sit with my back to the wind, the sun now hot on my arms and face, as I watch the ship slip by. Its solitary behaviour matching my own as I carefully continue my exploration of this strange land. Acutely aware that a moment's lack of concentration amongst such rugged landscape could be harshly punished. A slip down to the sea and rocks below. Or worse to be swallowed up by one of the deep and dark sink holes that border the tracks.
Around me signs of night fishing activity. Discarded cigarette packs & bottles amongst abused tackle. A dangerous place then in the daylight. But possibly lethal at night for the unwary. Or drunk.
An alien and wild landscape. So unlike any place I'd encountered before. But, in common with those wilder places where caution is required, a deeply satisfying area to explore.
Finally that increasingly insistent voice of personal safety reminds me the odds had been played enough for so early in the day. Time to head back up the cliff paths.
Back to re-don the tourist disguise and greet an incautiously early cold beer before another day on the beach. Just one more lazily tanning holidaymaker to any casual onlooker. But inside me a quiet satisfaction in lifting aside one of the veils worn by this small Portuguese village. To have tasted a little of its truer identity. However briefly.
To travel; To experience a different culture and climate. And on this occasion a truly different landscape.Labels: walks
Sunday, September 28
Hincheslea Wood - Rebirth
Back in April last year I described a wander around Hincheslea Wood (OL22: GR 275 010) in the New Forest remarking that this burnt out building may have been about to arise from its ashes. Earlier today I came across the replacement building, fast approaching its completion.
Neighbours, approached for their comments on the refurbishment, had no comment to make.
Being more concerned with local childcare facilities.
Labels: New Forest, walks
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
Well somebody out there may benefit from my increasingly occasional wittering.
There's not a lot to report from the Great Outdoors at present. Well not as far as this Blogger is concerned.
A recent job role change means I now see far more of the UK during the hours of daylight. Which for one such as myself who hates Autumn's shortening days - well it must be a bonus.
On the down side, any sights I do see are part of a rush from one area of the UK to another. 60-70 hours weeks. Long & frequent hands-free telephone conversations whilst driving. A continual juggling of people, places, and e-mail catch-up 7 days a week. The result? An inevitable disinclination to spend any of my brief free time sat in front of a computer.
I'd hoped the thinking time during long drives would prove productive with article ideas & reflections.
In fact my day to day existence has become such a pressure pot that the 'me' space, source of my creative side, has quietly slipped into dormancy. A reaction to a semi-exhausted body, and a mind full of business matters and related chaff.
A certain lifestyle madness has now slipped into the driving seat. Temporarily.
But I can see the little bugger smirking back at me. And I do know its game, from past encounters.
I have ways to overcome & defeat it, given time.
But for the present I let it steer, awaiting that moment when my internal energies get to grips with the situation and come out kicking and spitting. To strike the interloper in the goolies, and send it packing, bent double and moaning loudly in defeat.
Its not all doom & gloom.
Over the years I've learnt to take the knocks of hard times by keeping an eye out for small benefits along the way.
A short chat about the Wicklow Mountains area with someone who lives on the edge of the National Park, provides personal insight about the Wicklow Way. Later a few minutes of flight wait time at Dublin Airport is used to confirm a direct coach connection from the airport - a trip of around an hour.
With potential for free air travel to Ireland, Powerscourt Waterfall looks a tempting visit.
At another location, the tedium of a long and complex business meeting is lightened by the view of sunset crossing the Cleeve Hill range, an area previously unknown to me. That evening a few minutes on the Internet reveal possibilities for evening sorties in the new year, once the days draw out once again. Once more, any travel costs courtesy of my gadabout wanderings.
Local knowledge, easily provided, is always a useful guide. Even if the people supplying it seem to take their area for granted.
And don’t we all?
With the sea a couple of miles away, a choice of river systems, and the New Forest ten minutes drive, I've been guilty of taking the same approach at times.
I know why that state has come about. But perhaps the saying "Travel broadens the mind" has some unusual spin-offs on this occasion?
True my seemingly constant journeying is reinforcing my long held belief that there is so very much to do outdoors in the UK. Mostly with easy access.
So maybe its time I took a new look at my own back yard once more?
But enough for now. This pesky note, originally a short courtesy jotting on my recent lack of Blogging activity, seems to have once again spawned a life of its own in trying to run off to play with thoughts and words, as the story unrolls.
Time to switch off the monitor; Power down the pc; And pick up a good book to escape into far from electronic temptation, and tired cliché ridden entertainment.
Labels: walks
OMM 2009 - All done
Well done to (Podcast) Bob & Rose finishing a commendable 161st in the OMM 2009 Shortscore Event. (No idea how high up they finished in the Veteran category - results have not yet been published)
There's even four Podcasts to listen to (Perhaps Bob is on someone else's Podcast - whatever next!)
This year the satellite comms has stunned the organisers with their ability to contact & e-mail very remote locations. And the event webcam was near TV quality, as shown by the 42" TV used at the entrants area to show what was going on.
Oh.
And nothing untoward happened.
Except the event being enjoyed by those involved.
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
Monday, May 18
Lake District Wildcamping Trip - Journey's end. Nearly.
Dateline: Ambleside YHA...
Well another wildamping escapade draws to a close. Not so much beaten by the inclement weather; More of a mutually agreed draw. But it's been a close run thing at times.
Sat here on the hostel's steam-driven Internet connection (at a cost which appears I am paying for best anthracite coal to keep it lurching along) the train times for the journey back south are appearing as if by magic, making the rail trip on Tuesday a rather drawn out affair.
A chance then to reflect on 3 night's wildcamping in some of the worst weather I've encountered for many years.
Hang on. The boiler stoker is signalling to me that he needs a tea-break.
JH signing off for for the present.
Trip notes on their way.Labels: Lake District, walks
Sunday, May 10
Walk route planning - online mapping
Here's a tip that may help with route planning.
This time next week I'll be wildcamped somewhere high on a Lake District fell side. With a few spots already in mind I've been looking at other ideas to put together a longer trip.
Naturally the OS Map & reference books were first source. Followed by more detailed work on-line where the amount of specific & highly detailed photographic images is proving very useful.
During this process I've occasionally turned to Google Earth to get a bird's eye view of the ground, especially searching for certain map features that really aren't too well marked. GE has been good, but can be slow.
I've also experimented with Multimap which is rapidly winning my what-a-good-idea award.
I can switch from a road map, to an OS map view, to aerial. Zooming in, and then flipping to and fro between the OS and aerial view. All at very fine detail, and virtually instantly, whereas Google Maps can be slow. And most importantly without losing my current map location.
A real time saver when building up that route, especially when searching for out of the way places. Labels: Blogger tip, walks
Sunday, February 22
Godshill Wander- Cock, Balls & a Loss
With the spring weather holding and a rare day of free time to myself I took down my walking diaries from the bookshelf earlier this morning to look back over my various trip reports.
I've been keeping a description of all new routes for over fifteen years now. Initially each year had plenty of entries, but as the local variations were ticked off the number of new entries each year has dropped, replaced by infrequent longer reports of wildcamping weeks away.
I've always found it beneficial to keep such a diary. Apart from the smile it brings to my lips as I'm reminded of past journeys, each description ends with a footnote suggesting possibilities for future trips that I've spotted along the way. Over time this has led to uncovering some of my best wildcamping spots, despite the original visit being many years ago.
Today I spotted am idea from the late 1990's - a circular trip using a familiar stretch of the Avon Valley Footpath, north of Fordingbridge, to visit Frankenbury (Grid Ref: OL22/166152), an iron age hill fort.
It's a subject of which I understand only a little, but these old defences are always a worthy reason for a walk as I try to get a taste of why our ancestors chose such places for their homes and lives.
Luckily Dorset and the surrounding areas are extremely rich in ancient hill defences. These vary wildly from the grandiose (Maiden Castle) to the mundane (Buckland Rings) So what would I uncover today?
I crossed the suspended bridge over the River Avon - unique in its construction method in Hampshire I believe.
Onto the muddy track across the water meadows and over a number of drainage channels, dotted here and there with their sluice gates. Long ago boats and their cargo travelled along the waterways in this area from the coast inland to Salisbury, 30 miles away. But that was then. Today the remaining ditches remind one more of a fenland scene, were it not for small hills edging along the wide Avon Valley.
Along the way the path forked. To the left ugly recycling bins and agricultural debris. To the right a drop to a track alongside the river and amongst the trees. Beast & beauty? No contest.
Down to the river then. With further reminders of seasonal changes, far more advanced that I would have thought likely at this time of year.
The trees positively dripping with catkins, some the largest I've seen.
Nearing the hill fort itself a few early primroses in bloom, alongside the stems of bluebells awaiting their turn once the clumps of snowdrops had had their chance.
The path opened onto a forest nature trail, with the inevitable crowds of Sunday strollers. After the natural beauty of the footpath the Nature Trail, composed of ugly 'visitor friendly' tracks & wth the removal of much of the native woodland, was a shock. I quickly cut across this section moving upwards to the hill fort, there to find the remains unhappily now located on agricultural land.
Little remained other than than a small ring defence rampart crowded with hedgerow, tree & briar.
Today it guarded a field of grazing cattle. No sense of history to be found here. This visit, as I've discovered in the past, not so much a reminder of ancient times. More a surprise that such places ever survive at all where modern farming meets ancient remains.
I returned to the nature trail, meeting people oblivious to the historic fortification alongside the man made track as they blindly followed the ugly track, and its clue points -whatever they were.
Needless to say I didn't have my 3 clues by now. Or even any idea what the questions were. But I did have a reason for the human activity as I approached Sandy Balls Holiday Camp, even at this time of year a busy spot.
So instead onto the field footpaths, avoiding the camp. Trying to match the marks on the map to the path on the ground whilst factoring in numerous "Keep Out" & "Private" signs garlanding the trees and hedgerow
Seems like the local landowner & the Camp's visitors may have had their disagreements in the past. But the Godshill area, as I'd noted before from previous visits seems plagued with a need to parcel up land with barb wire defences in the name of horse grazing. And parochial demonstrations of ownership. Its an area where trouser ripping is to be expected as one negotiates the miserly footpaths around the village.
Ah the village. Today that meant the Fighting Cocks Pub for a pint and a pie. It was not to be. The deterrent of Sunday crowds queing for food meant instead I settled for two pints & a Kit-Kat. Dog faring slightly better thanks to abundant dog chews available on the bar for a small charitable donation.
We moved on along Godshill Ridge and onto the open forest. Finally I could leave off the detailed map-to-ground route work and was able to return to my normal practice of pick a point on the horizon and find the least muddy way to it. In this case the unmissable treeline of Godshill Enclosure on the rise above.
West then back to the AVP and a familiar descent back to the valley and my starting point.
Along the way Dog and myself exchanged greetings with a Very Large Bull busily munching its fodder.
I've no idea of the breed, but the maleness of the creature was indisputable as I looked at the enormity of his undercarriage.
A short distance covered, barely 6 miles, but a lengthy wander of 4 hours. A leisurely time for the most, when not bent forward map reading.
But out long enough to breathe deep of the coming changes. And, for a time, enjoy a period of solitary peace amongst the greening shoots of Nature.
Now I wonder how many new visitors to this site will arrive via Google search for Cock or Balls? lolLabels: nature, New Forest, walks
Saturday, February 7
Remember me this way
Today a cold and icy wander along the paths and hidden tracks that criss-cross Wilverley Enclosure in the New Forest.
Clean transparent ice, freshly thrown across the puddles, despite the 3 deg temperature.
Signs of snow in the undergrowth still clearly visible. Ahead a couple of cheeky deer break cover. Their white rumps flashing, stubby tails held high, as they casually hop along the track before me. No urgency to dash for thicket cover today. A sign that the recent hard weather and reduced human traffic along this way had toned down their usual fight or flight response.
In the weak sunshine a bench beckons. Its siting always a friendly welcome at the junction of four major tracks. A position carefully chosen for sunlight and quiet reflection deep amongst the trees.
Today the bench is crowned with twin wreaths - in remembrance to one who's memorial it represents.
A physical manifestation to match the mental appreciation I often offer up to its unknown benefactor.
A fellow traveller. Similarly in tune with time & place. A special spot.
The path unwinds before me as I start uphill. I leave behind the one for whom a journey has completed. Marked for others to note; To reflect; To share; Despite the absence of their physical presence on this bright and quiet late winter morning.Labels: New Forest, walks
Friday, February 6
Walk with me a while
For those stuck indoors.
Sat gazing through steamed-up windows at snow (or in my case cold rain & slush)?
I offer a walking route description with a subtle difference from the standard fare.
Walking with Oswald, King of Northumbria
Alf Wainwright - eat your heart out.
;-)Labels: walks
Saturday, January 10
Kingston walkabout - Remember the birds
I'm sure there's a streak of masochism somewhere in my personality.
After a week of frozen early morning workday starts and the inevitable car de-icing/warm-up routine, a Saturday lie-in would be a simple and highly attractive pleasure. But not today.
Somehow I'd arranged a very early appointment for my car's MOT. With recent weather & road conditions this required a pre-check that all lights/windows were clear, clean & functional. Plus the small matter of getting the motor properly warmed up prior to the car's CO2 check. Which for a diesel engine, mostly used for the commuter stop-start grind, requires a little high rev driving in an attempt to blow out some of the gunge that tends to build-up in the engine systems.
I woke to a picturesque Xmas card view of heavy frosts garlanding the trees, as if visited by snowfall, but in this case the result of an overnight freezing fog. The heaviest sign of frost so far this season.
Hence early morning sub zero temperatures found me driving up and down the local stretch of dual carriageway getting all things mechanical up to a reasonable operating temperature.
MOT sorted, it meant I was able to clear my normal Saturday chores earlier than usual, leaving time for a few stolen pleasures, during which myself and the collie wandered off to revisit an area near Kingston, along the Avon Valley Footpath south of Ringwood, and east of the River Avon.
Its not a huge area to roam over and doesn't offer any real distance walks, but there is always a rich variety of wildlife along the way with pools, a lake and a river amongst a mix of heathland, hedgerow and mixed woodland. During Xmas I'd spotted a grey heron, various members of the duck/geese/swan families, solitary buzzards, and watched a fisherman landed a small jack pike from near the river ford (just why do pike always look so p*ssed off?)
If you'd come across myself and dog today, you would have found me grinning as I recalled childhood experiences. Carefully making a slip-slide traverse of a wide frozen pool. A wide bare mud dip in the land in summertime. Today transformed into a skating rink of boot depth frozen water. Half remembered skills flooded back as I carefully made my way across, dog ordered 'slow to heel', as he learnt a new skill. Better that than risk a headlong dash with inevitable loss of four pawed traction. His pride couldn't take the ignomy of that; And I didn't fancy the potential vet's bill.
Unsurprisingly the lake was mostly frozen. It provided a near unique opportunity to sneak out onto the thick ice, dog safe on the shore, in an attempt to get a photo of frost on the lake's edge. That was until I heard an ominous sound and looking down saw three lengthening cracks working their way out from my position. Aware of the potential risk, I hadn't strayed far out from lakeside, but it was enough to get wet boot & trousers if things worsened. Discretion required a careful but rapid retreat back to terra firma.
(The Lake photographed from The Lake)
Courtesy of my latest piece of gear I could measure the land temperature at -2°C. Stopping at the river's ford, current strong despite the water's frozen edges, I checked the water reading at a positive balmy 3°C.
(River's edge)
Somehow today I managed to resist the urge to pop in for a warming dip. Instead we retraced our steps. Or breath forming clouds before us as we wandered through the frozen landscape. Birds darting in and out of the hedgerows. Their normal caution discarded with the need find scarce but so essential food to endure this extended cold spell.
Pleasure for man & dog. A dangerous time for wildlife.
We returned home - the dog to his 'well-done' dog biscuit; Myself to a tot of whiskey in a hot coffee.
But firstly I made sure the bird seed hoppers were full & the various bird baths cleared of ice and refilled with fresh water.
A simple action. But a possible life saver for some of our feathered co-travellers.
Saturday, January 3
Dur Hill '08: Better times are coming
Earlier today I came across a half scribbled piece, penned around this time in 2008. With the thermometer barely reaching 3°C during the past week it seemed timely to wake it from a long hibernation as a reminder of the inevitability of better times to come. Eventually.
(Ice - thick and multi layered)
As I turned off the car engine I caught sight of the temperature display .... 9°C .... the warmest it's been for a week or so. Lifting the estate's boot I let the solitary collie jump down to join me for Saturday's New Forest wander. I could feel a slight breeze on my cheek to confirm the wind shift promised by last night's weather report. No longer blowing from the cold east, now a benign south westerly. Herald of rain sometime during the next few days perhaps. For the moment a refreshing change after many outdoor sorties of chin hunkered deep down inside the neck of my fleece, that instinctive seeking of respite from the ever pervasive chilling.
I find it usually takes me 3 days or so to come to terms with very cold weather, probably due to the cocoon offered by centrally heated house and office, my main habitats at this time of year.
But today a weak winter sun brings respite to man and dog alike as we steer clear of the post Xmas chaos, specifically other walkers, for a private amble over familiar ground. Around the Dur Hill enclosure whose western edge can usually be relied on for some solitude at this time of year. Once a widely forested area the last few years have seen certain 'improvements' most noticeably removal of much woodland and scrub leaving large barren areas as a result. Other than this past human activity, such as RAF Sopley's radio transmitter building, have long since disappeared leaving the area with a feeling of remoteness despite its proximity to the nearby Bournemouth conurbation.
But a cosmetic pretence suddenly shattered as overhead a plane drones its throaty descent downwards to Bournemouth International Airport (strange naming for its Christchurch based location)
The lingerings of uninterrupted icy days have left a churned landscape to pick our way over. At times a solid unyielding ground, still glassy and insincere underfoot, as if walking on a concrete ice-rink. The path continues, and with its next twist detouring a clump of impenetrable gorse bush, comes endless pools of thick cloying black mud and water, leading between a tunnel of yet more gorse. Each pool with slick edges, treacherous to negotiate. Unless heavily mud spattered trousers, or worse an unexpected cold dip, is a preference.
No matter. This change in the weather brings with it a general lifting of spirits. Tremblings of warmer days to come. Softer times to savour.
Man & dog trudge onwards. A shared and renewed interest in all around.Labels: New Forest, walks
Sunday, December 14
Seb Green - Home again
Seb Green finished his coastal wandering earlier today.
Wisely he seems to already have plans for his next challenges. To quote the website report posted for today's arrival "You had a dream and you have made your dream reality. You achieved everything you hoped to achieve - and so much more. You went away a boy and came back a man, head held high, knowing who you are"
Once the media kerfuffle has died down I'll be contacting one of my varied local connections, there for his arrival earlier today, for a more reflective chat with Seb if he's interested.
More of a walker/outdoor/kit roundup piece. Looking beyond the charity/publicity junket he's at the centre at present.
Tuesday, December 2
Seb Green - True celebrity
So the weather has got decidedly colder recently. Then there is that edgy wind that's been blowing for the last few days. Suddenly the joy of a long outdoor trek becomes much less attractive. Especially where there is no shelter - something like a cliff-top walk perhaps?
Bear a thought then for a true celebrity, previously mentioned on this blog - Seb Green on his Round Britain walk.
Currently somewhere north of Plymouth he's on the final stretch of his 3,000+ mile walk, and expects to arrive home in Weymouth during the next couple of weeks.
A celebrity? Well in my eyes one truly deserving of that oft misused and abused title.
His fame has come through selfless effort, unabashed contrition for his original mistake, and continual and communal improvements. That's of truer value than those boasters using the C title as a result of a hard working agent or as over excessive use of silicon implants.
Consider the charities benefiting from the £14,000+ raised. Or the people he's encountered along the way, seeing for themselves that something positive can come from an anti-social act. The proof that not all of modern yoof is a feral hooded knife wielder lurking on a street corner.
However I suspect the real gift for Seb will be the self knowledge and personal awareness gained over the months since his February start. A better understanding of self reliance and personal responsibility - an essential part of maturing as a human being.
Something that some people two or three times his age have yet to discover.
Welcome home Seb.
Saturday, November 15
Saturday morning - New Forest Dogging
On a whim today I decided to visit one of my regular circuits deep amongst woodland, south of Wilverley Plain. Luckily a track well known to me, as a mixture of sudden leaf drop & a period of wet and damp conditions, has altered the terrain sufficiently to obscure some of the side-tracks, leading from the main shale surfaced tourist paths - ones tend to keep well clear of wherever possible.
On the entry gate into the enclosure I'd spotted a new information sign advising of one of those New Forest events that appear out of the blue, and are always accompanied by a Caution & Care notice for regular NF users. And any concerned insurer, no doubt.
So no surprise then, on coning to cross one of the shale tracks, to find a couple of competitors busily working their dog teams in the ABSA Sleddog Championship 2008/09.
Unlike previous events I've met this time the teams were using only one dog per sled/musher. But, as usual, the dogs seem to be enjoying themselves tremendously, as the mushers did most of the sled pushing on a nearby uphill section.
If you've not encountered this sport before the sleds are lightweight frames mounted on large bicycle wheels. A sturdy build to take the knocks of travelling at speed over the hard & uneven forest tracks.
Later I moved from the dank woodland into the weak daylight of Wilverley Plain, and recalled my last visit here. That was back in October to cover the Forest Uprising Group's protests against the New Forest National Park's proposals.
Then it hit me.
On one hand the NFPA, talking up the tightening of dog access in the New Forest. The same authority today permitting a competitive dog centred event. One that results in some limitation of access in a popular area for the whole weekend (Not that I've any problem with the event or its organisers BTW)
A timely reminder that FUG presented their formal response on the NFPA's consultation draft yesterday, on the last day for submissions.
With around 9,000 responses to work through the NFPA is going to be rather busy trying to settle down the hornet's nest they've raised, ready for the formal submission to the full National Park Authority in summer 2009.
With further workgroups and public meetings in the pipeline expect sparks to continue to fly for some time yet.
Me, I went back to the sled race. It seemed to me that the dogs were getting the better of the deal today. And long may it stay so into the future.Labels: New Forest, walks
Tuesday, November 11
Numbering the days or Counting the cost
50
My age next year.
For those of you that have had the dubious distinction of meeting me in the flesh that's probably a hard fact to swallow. But a true one nevertheless. This lithe body, is a temple, testament to years of loose living & looser women (I remain ever hopeful - lol) Amazingly still unfettered by any short term leasing arrangement with certain Dark Forces.
Nope - its all my own work, as it were. For luckily I've inherited a simple healthiness with a level of natural fitness that becomes the envy of those tubby-tum middle-aged men I see amongst my age group these days.
360
The number of places available on the 2009 TGO Challenge, 60 up on the usual 300 limit, in recognition of the 30th anniversary of this event.
509
The number of applications received for 2009. With wider publicity of recent years the TGO continues to go from strength to strength as an internationally famous event, despite the physical and mental rigours required of those taking part, and the self reliant nature of the challenge.
149
The number of those initially listed on the short list.
40
Those on the short list who may be lucky enough, so I'm informed by those with experience of past events, to move over to the entrant list as some of the 2009 Challengers find themselves having to withdraw ahead of the event.
90
My short list number.
Well that's me buggered then.
I thought something suitably emphatic was called for in 2009. A symbolic achievement on passing my half century mark. An age that many years ago I wouldn't have seriously expected to reach, such was my lifestyle and its associated high risk activities (Lots of fun along the way though)
So that leaves me with a quandary. What else to do with the 2 week break from work that is already booked?
Too short a time to wildcamp the SW Coastal Footpath, one of my long term ambitions. All too easily 'squandered' on challenging, but potentially unmemorable, wildcamping weeks of my own design. Definitely too disinterested in the usual fall backs such as Coast to Coast, Pennine Way, Offa Dyke etc. All undoubtedly superb end to end journeys in themselves, but not that ....... well ..........different ....... to be honest.
Hmm. I guess that's what I'm looking for. A trip that delivers the chance for my steady movement across this land of ours. A point to point challenge with a recognisable aim, even to a non walker, but with that special something that I can look back at in the years ahead, and grin at having done it.
Any ideas folks?
All comments count. Naturally.Labels: TGO Challenge, walks
Sunday, October 26
A walk on the Algarve - Carveiro
Dawn. The sun's rays, already a reminder of the southerly latitude. An offshore breeze unexpected, but a welcome respite after a week of blue sky and mid 20s temperatures each day.
Waking early I decided to sneak out for a short while, to walk amongst the pitted red cliffs.
Amongst? For below the shadeless cliff top path marking the sudden drop down to the Atlantic I discovered a maze of steps, paths and tunnels leading down to hidden paths on the lower rock ledges edging the shoreline.
(Tunnel)
Rock, red pitted and pock marked. And through it all shards of sea shells clearly visible, deeply embedded in the strata. Surely a landscape more used to lunar exploration?
A solo daybreak walk then; Before the oppressive heat turned the cliff bowl into a cauldron of heat, at least for one more used to an UK climate.
I wandered for some while along traditional fisherman's paths. Some worn away through centuries of habitual usage. Others clearly revealing the local inhabitants' intent to bend this barren land to their human desires with carved steps and chilled dark tunnels popping up without warning as my exploration continued.
Above and behind me the small town, until recent times a quiet fishing village, now a thriving tourist escape, especially those from England and Ireland.
Its inhabitants slowly rising to meet another day of trade and trinket exchange.
But before me for the present the seemingly endless horizon of the Atlantic sea. And in the distance a five master schooner, sails furled, slowly motoring westwards towards its port.
I sit with my back to the wind, the sun now hot on my arms and face, as I watch the ship slip by. Its solitary behaviour matching my own as I carefully continue my exploration of this strange land. Acutely aware that a moment's lack of concentration amongst such rugged landscape could be harshly punished. A slip down to the sea and rocks below. Or worse to be swallowed up by one of the deep and dark sink holes that border the tracks.
Around me signs of night fishing activity. Discarded cigarette packs & bottles amongst abused tackle. A dangerous place then in the daylight. But possibly lethal at night for the unwary. Or drunk.
An alien and wild landscape. So unlike any place I'd encountered before. But, in common with those wilder places where caution is required, a deeply satisfying area to explore.
Finally that increasingly insistent voice of personal safety reminds me the odds had been played enough for so early in the day. Time to head back up the cliff paths.
Back to re-don the tourist disguise and greet an incautiously early cold beer before another day on the beach. Just one more lazily tanning holidaymaker to any casual onlooker. But inside me a quiet satisfaction in lifting aside one of the veils worn by this small Portuguese village. To have tasted a little of its truer identity. However briefly.
To travel; To experience a different culture and climate. And on this occasion a truly different landscape.Labels: walks
Sunday, September 28
Hincheslea Wood - Rebirth
Back in April last year I described a wander around Hincheslea Wood (OL22: GR 275 010) in the New Forest remarking that this burnt out building may have been about to arise from its ashes. Earlier today I came across the replacement building, fast approaching its completion.
Neighbours, approached for their comments on the refurbishment, had no comment to make.
Being more concerned with local childcare facilities.
Labels: New Forest, walks
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
There's even four Podcasts to listen to (Perhaps Bob is on someone else's Podcast - whatever next!)
This year the satellite comms has stunned the organisers with their ability to contact & e-mail very remote locations. And the event webcam was near TV quality, as shown by the 42" TV used at the entrants area to show what was going on.
Oh.
And nothing untoward happened.
Except the event being enjoyed by those involved.
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
Monday, May 18
Lake District Wildcamping Trip - Journey's end. Nearly.
Dateline: Ambleside YHA...
Well another wildamping escapade draws to a close. Not so much beaten by the inclement weather; More of a mutually agreed draw. But it's been a close run thing at times.
Sat here on the hostel's steam-driven Internet connection (at a cost which appears I am paying for best anthracite coal to keep it lurching along) the train times for the journey back south are appearing as if by magic, making the rail trip on Tuesday a rather drawn out affair.
A chance then to reflect on 3 night's wildcamping in some of the worst weather I've encountered for many years.
Hang on. The boiler stoker is signalling to me that he needs a tea-break.
JH signing off for for the present.
Trip notes on their way.Labels: Lake District, walks
Sunday, May 10
Walk route planning - online mapping
Here's a tip that may help with route planning.
This time next week I'll be wildcamped somewhere high on a Lake District fell side. With a few spots already in mind I've been looking at other ideas to put together a longer trip.
Naturally the OS Map & reference books were first source. Followed by more detailed work on-line where the amount of specific & highly detailed photographic images is proving very useful.
During this process I've occasionally turned to Google Earth to get a bird's eye view of the ground, especially searching for certain map features that really aren't too well marked. GE has been good, but can be slow.
I've also experimented with Multimap which is rapidly winning my what-a-good-idea award.
I can switch from a road map, to an OS map view, to aerial. Zooming in, and then flipping to and fro between the OS and aerial view. All at very fine detail, and virtually instantly, whereas Google Maps can be slow. And most importantly without losing my current map location.
A real time saver when building up that route, especially when searching for out of the way places. Labels: Blogger tip, walks
Sunday, February 22
Godshill Wander- Cock, Balls & a Loss
With the spring weather holding and a rare day of free time to myself I took down my walking diaries from the bookshelf earlier this morning to look back over my various trip reports.
I've been keeping a description of all new routes for over fifteen years now. Initially each year had plenty of entries, but as the local variations were ticked off the number of new entries each year has dropped, replaced by infrequent longer reports of wildcamping weeks away.
I've always found it beneficial to keep such a diary. Apart from the smile it brings to my lips as I'm reminded of past journeys, each description ends with a footnote suggesting possibilities for future trips that I've spotted along the way. Over time this has led to uncovering some of my best wildcamping spots, despite the original visit being many years ago.
Today I spotted am idea from the late 1990's - a circular trip using a familiar stretch of the Avon Valley Footpath, north of Fordingbridge, to visit Frankenbury (Grid Ref: OL22/166152), an iron age hill fort.
It's a subject of which I understand only a little, but these old defences are always a worthy reason for a walk as I try to get a taste of why our ancestors chose such places for their homes and lives.
Luckily Dorset and the surrounding areas are extremely rich in ancient hill defences. These vary wildly from the grandiose (Maiden Castle) to the mundane (Buckland Rings) So what would I uncover today?
I crossed the suspended bridge over the River Avon - unique in its construction method in Hampshire I believe.
Onto the muddy track across the water meadows and over a number of drainage channels, dotted here and there with their sluice gates. Long ago boats and their cargo travelled along the waterways in this area from the coast inland to Salisbury, 30 miles away. But that was then. Today the remaining ditches remind one more of a fenland scene, were it not for small hills edging along the wide Avon Valley.
Along the way the path forked. To the left ugly recycling bins and agricultural debris. To the right a drop to a track alongside the river and amongst the trees. Beast & beauty? No contest.
Down to the river then. With further reminders of seasonal changes, far more advanced that I would have thought likely at this time of year.
The trees positively dripping with catkins, some the largest I've seen.
Nearing the hill fort itself a few early primroses in bloom, alongside the stems of bluebells awaiting their turn once the clumps of snowdrops had had their chance.
The path opened onto a forest nature trail, with the inevitable crowds of Sunday strollers. After the natural beauty of the footpath the Nature Trail, composed of ugly 'visitor friendly' tracks & wth the removal of much of the native woodland, was a shock. I quickly cut across this section moving upwards to the hill fort, there to find the remains unhappily now located on agricultural land.
Little remained other than than a small ring defence rampart crowded with hedgerow, tree & briar.
Today it guarded a field of grazing cattle. No sense of history to be found here. This visit, as I've discovered in the past, not so much a reminder of ancient times. More a surprise that such places ever survive at all where modern farming meets ancient remains.
I returned to the nature trail, meeting people oblivious to the historic fortification alongside the man made track as they blindly followed the ugly track, and its clue points -whatever they were.
Needless to say I didn't have my 3 clues by now. Or even any idea what the questions were. But I did have a reason for the human activity as I approached Sandy Balls Holiday Camp, even at this time of year a busy spot.
So instead onto the field footpaths, avoiding the camp. Trying to match the marks on the map to the path on the ground whilst factoring in numerous "Keep Out" & "Private" signs garlanding the trees and hedgerow
Seems like the local landowner & the Camp's visitors may have had their disagreements in the past. But the Godshill area, as I'd noted before from previous visits seems plagued with a need to parcel up land with barb wire defences in the name of horse grazing. And parochial demonstrations of ownership. Its an area where trouser ripping is to be expected as one negotiates the miserly footpaths around the village.
Ah the village. Today that meant the Fighting Cocks Pub for a pint and a pie. It was not to be. The deterrent of Sunday crowds queing for food meant instead I settled for two pints & a Kit-Kat. Dog faring slightly better thanks to abundant dog chews available on the bar for a small charitable donation.
We moved on along Godshill Ridge and onto the open forest. Finally I could leave off the detailed map-to-ground route work and was able to return to my normal practice of pick a point on the horizon and find the least muddy way to it. In this case the unmissable treeline of Godshill Enclosure on the rise above.
West then back to the AVP and a familiar descent back to the valley and my starting point.
Along the way Dog and myself exchanged greetings with a Very Large Bull busily munching its fodder.
I've no idea of the breed, but the maleness of the creature was indisputable as I looked at the enormity of his undercarriage.
A short distance covered, barely 6 miles, but a lengthy wander of 4 hours. A leisurely time for the most, when not bent forward map reading.
But out long enough to breathe deep of the coming changes. And, for a time, enjoy a period of solitary peace amongst the greening shoots of Nature.
Now I wonder how many new visitors to this site will arrive via Google search for Cock or Balls? lolLabels: nature, New Forest, walks
Saturday, February 7
Remember me this way
Today a cold and icy wander along the paths and hidden tracks that criss-cross Wilverley Enclosure in the New Forest.
Clean transparent ice, freshly thrown across the puddles, despite the 3 deg temperature.
Signs of snow in the undergrowth still clearly visible. Ahead a couple of cheeky deer break cover. Their white rumps flashing, stubby tails held high, as they casually hop along the track before me. No urgency to dash for thicket cover today. A sign that the recent hard weather and reduced human traffic along this way had toned down their usual fight or flight response.
In the weak sunshine a bench beckons. Its siting always a friendly welcome at the junction of four major tracks. A position carefully chosen for sunlight and quiet reflection deep amongst the trees.
Today the bench is crowned with twin wreaths - in remembrance to one who's memorial it represents.
A physical manifestation to match the mental appreciation I often offer up to its unknown benefactor.
A fellow traveller. Similarly in tune with time & place. A special spot.
The path unwinds before me as I start uphill. I leave behind the one for whom a journey has completed. Marked for others to note; To reflect; To share; Despite the absence of their physical presence on this bright and quiet late winter morning.Labels: New Forest, walks
Friday, February 6
Walk with me a while
For those stuck indoors.
Sat gazing through steamed-up windows at snow (or in my case cold rain & slush)?
I offer a walking route description with a subtle difference from the standard fare.
Walking with Oswald, King of Northumbria
Alf Wainwright - eat your heart out.
;-)Labels: walks
Saturday, January 10
Kingston walkabout - Remember the birds
I'm sure there's a streak of masochism somewhere in my personality.
After a week of frozen early morning workday starts and the inevitable car de-icing/warm-up routine, a Saturday lie-in would be a simple and highly attractive pleasure. But not today.
Somehow I'd arranged a very early appointment for my car's MOT. With recent weather & road conditions this required a pre-check that all lights/windows were clear, clean & functional. Plus the small matter of getting the motor properly warmed up prior to the car's CO2 check. Which for a diesel engine, mostly used for the commuter stop-start grind, requires a little high rev driving in an attempt to blow out some of the gunge that tends to build-up in the engine systems.
I woke to a picturesque Xmas card view of heavy frosts garlanding the trees, as if visited by snowfall, but in this case the result of an overnight freezing fog. The heaviest sign of frost so far this season.
Hence early morning sub zero temperatures found me driving up and down the local stretch of dual carriageway getting all things mechanical up to a reasonable operating temperature.
MOT sorted, it meant I was able to clear my normal Saturday chores earlier than usual, leaving time for a few stolen pleasures, during which myself and the collie wandered off to revisit an area near Kingston, along the Avon Valley Footpath south of Ringwood, and east of the River Avon.
Its not a huge area to roam over and doesn't offer any real distance walks, but there is always a rich variety of wildlife along the way with pools, a lake and a river amongst a mix of heathland, hedgerow and mixed woodland. During Xmas I'd spotted a grey heron, various members of the duck/geese/swan families, solitary buzzards, and watched a fisherman landed a small jack pike from near the river ford (just why do pike always look so p*ssed off?)
If you'd come across myself and dog today, you would have found me grinning as I recalled childhood experiences. Carefully making a slip-slide traverse of a wide frozen pool. A wide bare mud dip in the land in summertime. Today transformed into a skating rink of boot depth frozen water. Half remembered skills flooded back as I carefully made my way across, dog ordered 'slow to heel', as he learnt a new skill. Better that than risk a headlong dash with inevitable loss of four pawed traction. His pride couldn't take the ignomy of that; And I didn't fancy the potential vet's bill.
Unsurprisingly the lake was mostly frozen. It provided a near unique opportunity to sneak out onto the thick ice, dog safe on the shore, in an attempt to get a photo of frost on the lake's edge. That was until I heard an ominous sound and looking down saw three lengthening cracks working their way out from my position. Aware of the potential risk, I hadn't strayed far out from lakeside, but it was enough to get wet boot & trousers if things worsened. Discretion required a careful but rapid retreat back to terra firma.
(The Lake photographed from The Lake)
Courtesy of my latest piece of gear I could measure the land temperature at -2°C. Stopping at the river's ford, current strong despite the water's frozen edges, I checked the water reading at a positive balmy 3°C.
(River's edge)
Somehow today I managed to resist the urge to pop in for a warming dip. Instead we retraced our steps. Or breath forming clouds before us as we wandered through the frozen landscape. Birds darting in and out of the hedgerows. Their normal caution discarded with the need find scarce but so essential food to endure this extended cold spell.
Pleasure for man & dog. A dangerous time for wildlife.
We returned home - the dog to his 'well-done' dog biscuit; Myself to a tot of whiskey in a hot coffee.
But firstly I made sure the bird seed hoppers were full & the various bird baths cleared of ice and refilled with fresh water.
A simple action. But a possible life saver for some of our feathered co-travellers.
Saturday, January 3
Dur Hill '08: Better times are coming
Earlier today I came across a half scribbled piece, penned around this time in 2008. With the thermometer barely reaching 3°C during the past week it seemed timely to wake it from a long hibernation as a reminder of the inevitability of better times to come. Eventually.
(Ice - thick and multi layered)
As I turned off the car engine I caught sight of the temperature display .... 9°C .... the warmest it's been for a week or so. Lifting the estate's boot I let the solitary collie jump down to join me for Saturday's New Forest wander. I could feel a slight breeze on my cheek to confirm the wind shift promised by last night's weather report. No longer blowing from the cold east, now a benign south westerly. Herald of rain sometime during the next few days perhaps. For the moment a refreshing change after many outdoor sorties of chin hunkered deep down inside the neck of my fleece, that instinctive seeking of respite from the ever pervasive chilling.
I find it usually takes me 3 days or so to come to terms with very cold weather, probably due to the cocoon offered by centrally heated house and office, my main habitats at this time of year.
But today a weak winter sun brings respite to man and dog alike as we steer clear of the post Xmas chaos, specifically other walkers, for a private amble over familiar ground. Around the Dur Hill enclosure whose western edge can usually be relied on for some solitude at this time of year. Once a widely forested area the last few years have seen certain 'improvements' most noticeably removal of much woodland and scrub leaving large barren areas as a result. Other than this past human activity, such as RAF Sopley's radio transmitter building, have long since disappeared leaving the area with a feeling of remoteness despite its proximity to the nearby Bournemouth conurbation.
But a cosmetic pretence suddenly shattered as overhead a plane drones its throaty descent downwards to Bournemouth International Airport (strange naming for its Christchurch based location)
The lingerings of uninterrupted icy days have left a churned landscape to pick our way over. At times a solid unyielding ground, still glassy and insincere underfoot, as if walking on a concrete ice-rink. The path continues, and with its next twist detouring a clump of impenetrable gorse bush, comes endless pools of thick cloying black mud and water, leading between a tunnel of yet more gorse. Each pool with slick edges, treacherous to negotiate. Unless heavily mud spattered trousers, or worse an unexpected cold dip, is a preference.
No matter. This change in the weather brings with it a general lifting of spirits. Tremblings of warmer days to come. Softer times to savour.
Man & dog trudge onwards. A shared and renewed interest in all around.Labels: New Forest, walks
Sunday, December 14
Seb Green - Home again
Seb Green finished his coastal wandering earlier today.
Wisely he seems to already have plans for his next challenges. To quote the website report posted for today's arrival "You had a dream and you have made your dream reality. You achieved everything you hoped to achieve - and so much more. You went away a boy and came back a man, head held high, knowing who you are"
Once the media kerfuffle has died down I'll be contacting one of my varied local connections, there for his arrival earlier today, for a more reflective chat with Seb if he's interested.
More of a walker/outdoor/kit roundup piece. Looking beyond the charity/publicity junket he's at the centre at present.
Tuesday, December 2
Seb Green - True celebrity
So the weather has got decidedly colder recently. Then there is that edgy wind that's been blowing for the last few days. Suddenly the joy of a long outdoor trek becomes much less attractive. Especially where there is no shelter - something like a cliff-top walk perhaps?
Bear a thought then for a true celebrity, previously mentioned on this blog - Seb Green on his Round Britain walk.
Currently somewhere north of Plymouth he's on the final stretch of his 3,000+ mile walk, and expects to arrive home in Weymouth during the next couple of weeks.
A celebrity? Well in my eyes one truly deserving of that oft misused and abused title.
His fame has come through selfless effort, unabashed contrition for his original mistake, and continual and communal improvements. That's of truer value than those boasters using the C title as a result of a hard working agent or as over excessive use of silicon implants.
Consider the charities benefiting from the £14,000+ raised. Or the people he's encountered along the way, seeing for themselves that something positive can come from an anti-social act. The proof that not all of modern yoof is a feral hooded knife wielder lurking on a street corner.
However I suspect the real gift for Seb will be the self knowledge and personal awareness gained over the months since his February start. A better understanding of self reliance and personal responsibility - an essential part of maturing as a human being.
Something that some people two or three times his age have yet to discover.
Welcome home Seb.
Saturday, November 15
Saturday morning - New Forest Dogging
On a whim today I decided to visit one of my regular circuits deep amongst woodland, south of Wilverley Plain. Luckily a track well known to me, as a mixture of sudden leaf drop & a period of wet and damp conditions, has altered the terrain sufficiently to obscure some of the side-tracks, leading from the main shale surfaced tourist paths - ones tend to keep well clear of wherever possible.
On the entry gate into the enclosure I'd spotted a new information sign advising of one of those New Forest events that appear out of the blue, and are always accompanied by a Caution & Care notice for regular NF users. And any concerned insurer, no doubt.
So no surprise then, on coning to cross one of the shale tracks, to find a couple of competitors busily working their dog teams in the ABSA Sleddog Championship 2008/09.
Unlike previous events I've met this time the teams were using only one dog per sled/musher. But, as usual, the dogs seem to be enjoying themselves tremendously, as the mushers did most of the sled pushing on a nearby uphill section.
If you've not encountered this sport before the sleds are lightweight frames mounted on large bicycle wheels. A sturdy build to take the knocks of travelling at speed over the hard & uneven forest tracks.
Later I moved from the dank woodland into the weak daylight of Wilverley Plain, and recalled my last visit here. That was back in October to cover the Forest Uprising Group's protests against the New Forest National Park's proposals.
Then it hit me.
On one hand the NFPA, talking up the tightening of dog access in the New Forest. The same authority today permitting a competitive dog centred event. One that results in some limitation of access in a popular area for the whole weekend (Not that I've any problem with the event or its organisers BTW)
A timely reminder that FUG presented their formal response on the NFPA's consultation draft yesterday, on the last day for submissions.
With around 9,000 responses to work through the NFPA is going to be rather busy trying to settle down the hornet's nest they've raised, ready for the formal submission to the full National Park Authority in summer 2009.
With further workgroups and public meetings in the pipeline expect sparks to continue to fly for some time yet.
Me, I went back to the sled race. It seemed to me that the dogs were getting the better of the deal today. And long may it stay so into the future.Labels: New Forest, walks
Tuesday, November 11
Numbering the days or Counting the cost
50
My age next year.
For those of you that have had the dubious distinction of meeting me in the flesh that's probably a hard fact to swallow. But a true one nevertheless. This lithe body, is a temple, testament to years of loose living & looser women (I remain ever hopeful - lol) Amazingly still unfettered by any short term leasing arrangement with certain Dark Forces.
Nope - its all my own work, as it were. For luckily I've inherited a simple healthiness with a level of natural fitness that becomes the envy of those tubby-tum middle-aged men I see amongst my age group these days.
360
The number of places available on the 2009 TGO Challenge, 60 up on the usual 300 limit, in recognition of the 30th anniversary of this event.
509
The number of applications received for 2009. With wider publicity of recent years the TGO continues to go from strength to strength as an internationally famous event, despite the physical and mental rigours required of those taking part, and the self reliant nature of the challenge.
149
The number of those initially listed on the short list.
40
Those on the short list who may be lucky enough, so I'm informed by those with experience of past events, to move over to the entrant list as some of the 2009 Challengers find themselves having to withdraw ahead of the event.
90
My short list number.
Well that's me buggered then.
I thought something suitably emphatic was called for in 2009. A symbolic achievement on passing my half century mark. An age that many years ago I wouldn't have seriously expected to reach, such was my lifestyle and its associated high risk activities (Lots of fun along the way though)
So that leaves me with a quandary. What else to do with the 2 week break from work that is already booked?
Too short a time to wildcamp the SW Coastal Footpath, one of my long term ambitions. All too easily 'squandered' on challenging, but potentially unmemorable, wildcamping weeks of my own design. Definitely too disinterested in the usual fall backs such as Coast to Coast, Pennine Way, Offa Dyke etc. All undoubtedly superb end to end journeys in themselves, but not that ....... well ..........different ....... to be honest.
Hmm. I guess that's what I'm looking for. A trip that delivers the chance for my steady movement across this land of ours. A point to point challenge with a recognisable aim, even to a non walker, but with that special something that I can look back at in the years ahead, and grin at having done it.
Any ideas folks?
All comments count. Naturally.Labels: TGO Challenge, walks
Sunday, October 26
A walk on the Algarve - Carveiro
Dawn. The sun's rays, already a reminder of the southerly latitude. An offshore breeze unexpected, but a welcome respite after a week of blue sky and mid 20s temperatures each day.
Waking early I decided to sneak out for a short while, to walk amongst the pitted red cliffs.
Amongst? For below the shadeless cliff top path marking the sudden drop down to the Atlantic I discovered a maze of steps, paths and tunnels leading down to hidden paths on the lower rock ledges edging the shoreline.
(Tunnel)
Rock, red pitted and pock marked. And through it all shards of sea shells clearly visible, deeply embedded in the strata. Surely a landscape more used to lunar exploration?
A solo daybreak walk then; Before the oppressive heat turned the cliff bowl into a cauldron of heat, at least for one more used to an UK climate.
I wandered for some while along traditional fisherman's paths. Some worn away through centuries of habitual usage. Others clearly revealing the local inhabitants' intent to bend this barren land to their human desires with carved steps and chilled dark tunnels popping up without warning as my exploration continued.
Above and behind me the small town, until recent times a quiet fishing village, now a thriving tourist escape, especially those from England and Ireland.
Its inhabitants slowly rising to meet another day of trade and trinket exchange.
But before me for the present the seemingly endless horizon of the Atlantic sea. And in the distance a five master schooner, sails furled, slowly motoring westwards towards its port.
I sit with my back to the wind, the sun now hot on my arms and face, as I watch the ship slip by. Its solitary behaviour matching my own as I carefully continue my exploration of this strange land. Acutely aware that a moment's lack of concentration amongst such rugged landscape could be harshly punished. A slip down to the sea and rocks below. Or worse to be swallowed up by one of the deep and dark sink holes that border the tracks.
Around me signs of night fishing activity. Discarded cigarette packs & bottles amongst abused tackle. A dangerous place then in the daylight. But possibly lethal at night for the unwary. Or drunk.
An alien and wild landscape. So unlike any place I'd encountered before. But, in common with those wilder places where caution is required, a deeply satisfying area to explore.
Finally that increasingly insistent voice of personal safety reminds me the odds had been played enough for so early in the day. Time to head back up the cliff paths.
Back to re-don the tourist disguise and greet an incautiously early cold beer before another day on the beach. Just one more lazily tanning holidaymaker to any casual onlooker. But inside me a quiet satisfaction in lifting aside one of the veils worn by this small Portuguese village. To have tasted a little of its truer identity. However briefly.
To travel; To experience a different culture and climate. And on this occasion a truly different landscape.Labels: walks
Sunday, September 28
Hincheslea Wood - Rebirth
Back in April last year I described a wander around Hincheslea Wood (OL22: GR 275 010) in the New Forest remarking that this burnt out building may have been about to arise from its ashes. Earlier today I came across the replacement building, fast approaching its completion.
Neighbours, approached for their comments on the refurbishment, had no comment to make.
Being more concerned with local childcare facilities.
Labels: New Forest, walks
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
Lake District Wildcamping Trip - Journey's end. Nearly.
Dateline: Ambleside YHA...
Well another wildamping escapade draws to a close. Not so much beaten by the inclement weather; More of a mutually agreed draw. But it's been a close run thing at times.
Sat here on the hostel's steam-driven Internet connection (at a cost which appears I am paying for best anthracite coal to keep it lurching along) the train times for the journey back south are appearing as if by magic, making the rail trip on Tuesday a rather drawn out affair.
A chance then to reflect on 3 night's wildcamping in some of the worst weather I've encountered for many years.
Hang on. The boiler stoker is signalling to me that he needs a tea-break.
JH signing off for for the present.
Trip notes on their way.Labels: Lake District, walks
Sunday, May 10
Walk route planning - online mapping
Here's a tip that may help with route planning.
This time next week I'll be wildcamped somewhere high on a Lake District fell side. With a few spots already in mind I've been looking at other ideas to put together a longer trip.
Naturally the OS Map & reference books were first source. Followed by more detailed work on-line where the amount of specific & highly detailed photographic images is proving very useful.
During this process I've occasionally turned to Google Earth to get a bird's eye view of the ground, especially searching for certain map features that really aren't too well marked. GE has been good, but can be slow.
I've also experimented with Multimap which is rapidly winning my what-a-good-idea award.
I can switch from a road map, to an OS map view, to aerial. Zooming in, and then flipping to and fro between the OS and aerial view. All at very fine detail, and virtually instantly, whereas Google Maps can be slow. And most importantly without losing my current map location.
A real time saver when building up that route, especially when searching for out of the way places. Labels: Blogger tip, walks
Sunday, February 22
Godshill Wander- Cock, Balls & a Loss
With the spring weather holding and a rare day of free time to myself I took down my walking diaries from the bookshelf earlier this morning to look back over my various trip reports.
I've been keeping a description of all new routes for over fifteen years now. Initially each year had plenty of entries, but as the local variations were ticked off the number of new entries each year has dropped, replaced by infrequent longer reports of wildcamping weeks away.
I've always found it beneficial to keep such a diary. Apart from the smile it brings to my lips as I'm reminded of past journeys, each description ends with a footnote suggesting possibilities for future trips that I've spotted along the way. Over time this has led to uncovering some of my best wildcamping spots, despite the original visit being many years ago.
Today I spotted am idea from the late 1990's - a circular trip using a familiar stretch of the Avon Valley Footpath, north of Fordingbridge, to visit Frankenbury (Grid Ref: OL22/166152), an iron age hill fort.
It's a subject of which I understand only a little, but these old defences are always a worthy reason for a walk as I try to get a taste of why our ancestors chose such places for their homes and lives.
Luckily Dorset and the surrounding areas are extremely rich in ancient hill defences. These vary wildly from the grandiose (Maiden Castle) to the mundane (Buckland Rings) So what would I uncover today?
I crossed the suspended bridge over the River Avon - unique in its construction method in Hampshire I believe.
Onto the muddy track across the water meadows and over a number of drainage channels, dotted here and there with their sluice gates. Long ago boats and their cargo travelled along the waterways in this area from the coast inland to Salisbury, 30 miles away. But that was then. Today the remaining ditches remind one more of a fenland scene, were it not for small hills edging along the wide Avon Valley.
Along the way the path forked. To the left ugly recycling bins and agricultural debris. To the right a drop to a track alongside the river and amongst the trees. Beast & beauty? No contest.
Down to the river then. With further reminders of seasonal changes, far more advanced that I would have thought likely at this time of year.
The trees positively dripping with catkins, some the largest I've seen.
Nearing the hill fort itself a few early primroses in bloom, alongside the stems of bluebells awaiting their turn once the clumps of snowdrops had had their chance.
The path opened onto a forest nature trail, with the inevitable crowds of Sunday strollers. After the natural beauty of the footpath the Nature Trail, composed of ugly 'visitor friendly' tracks & wth the removal of much of the native woodland, was a shock. I quickly cut across this section moving upwards to the hill fort, there to find the remains unhappily now located on agricultural land.
Little remained other than than a small ring defence rampart crowded with hedgerow, tree & briar.
Today it guarded a field of grazing cattle. No sense of history to be found here. This visit, as I've discovered in the past, not so much a reminder of ancient times. More a surprise that such places ever survive at all where modern farming meets ancient remains.
I returned to the nature trail, meeting people oblivious to the historic fortification alongside the man made track as they blindly followed the ugly track, and its clue points -whatever they were.
Needless to say I didn't have my 3 clues by now. Or even any idea what the questions were. But I did have a reason for the human activity as I approached Sandy Balls Holiday Camp, even at this time of year a busy spot.
So instead onto the field footpaths, avoiding the camp. Trying to match the marks on the map to the path on the ground whilst factoring in numerous "Keep Out" & "Private" signs garlanding the trees and hedgerow
Seems like the local landowner & the Camp's visitors may have had their disagreements in the past. But the Godshill area, as I'd noted before from previous visits seems plagued with a need to parcel up land with barb wire defences in the name of horse grazing. And parochial demonstrations of ownership. Its an area where trouser ripping is to be expected as one negotiates the miserly footpaths around the village.
Ah the village. Today that meant the Fighting Cocks Pub for a pint and a pie. It was not to be. The deterrent of Sunday crowds queing for food meant instead I settled for two pints & a Kit-Kat. Dog faring slightly better thanks to abundant dog chews available on the bar for a small charitable donation.
We moved on along Godshill Ridge and onto the open forest. Finally I could leave off the detailed map-to-ground route work and was able to return to my normal practice of pick a point on the horizon and find the least muddy way to it. In this case the unmissable treeline of Godshill Enclosure on the rise above.
West then back to the AVP and a familiar descent back to the valley and my starting point.
Along the way Dog and myself exchanged greetings with a Very Large Bull busily munching its fodder.
I've no idea of the breed, but the maleness of the creature was indisputable as I looked at the enormity of his undercarriage.
A short distance covered, barely 6 miles, but a lengthy wander of 4 hours. A leisurely time for the most, when not bent forward map reading.
But out long enough to breathe deep of the coming changes. And, for a time, enjoy a period of solitary peace amongst the greening shoots of Nature.
Now I wonder how many new visitors to this site will arrive via Google search for Cock or Balls? lolLabels: nature, New Forest, walks
Saturday, February 7
Remember me this way
Today a cold and icy wander along the paths and hidden tracks that criss-cross Wilverley Enclosure in the New Forest.
Clean transparent ice, freshly thrown across the puddles, despite the 3 deg temperature.
Signs of snow in the undergrowth still clearly visible. Ahead a couple of cheeky deer break cover. Their white rumps flashing, stubby tails held high, as they casually hop along the track before me. No urgency to dash for thicket cover today. A sign that the recent hard weather and reduced human traffic along this way had toned down their usual fight or flight response.
In the weak sunshine a bench beckons. Its siting always a friendly welcome at the junction of four major tracks. A position carefully chosen for sunlight and quiet reflection deep amongst the trees.
Today the bench is crowned with twin wreaths - in remembrance to one who's memorial it represents.
A physical manifestation to match the mental appreciation I often offer up to its unknown benefactor.
A fellow traveller. Similarly in tune with time & place. A special spot.
The path unwinds before me as I start uphill. I leave behind the one for whom a journey has completed. Marked for others to note; To reflect; To share; Despite the absence of their physical presence on this bright and quiet late winter morning.Labels: New Forest, walks
Friday, February 6
Walk with me a while
For those stuck indoors.
Sat gazing through steamed-up windows at snow (or in my case cold rain & slush)?
I offer a walking route description with a subtle difference from the standard fare.
Walking with Oswald, King of Northumbria
Alf Wainwright - eat your heart out.
;-)Labels: walks
Saturday, January 10
Kingston walkabout - Remember the birds
I'm sure there's a streak of masochism somewhere in my personality.
After a week of frozen early morning workday starts and the inevitable car de-icing/warm-up routine, a Saturday lie-in would be a simple and highly attractive pleasure. But not today.
Somehow I'd arranged a very early appointment for my car's MOT. With recent weather & road conditions this required a pre-check that all lights/windows were clear, clean & functional. Plus the small matter of getting the motor properly warmed up prior to the car's CO2 check. Which for a diesel engine, mostly used for the commuter stop-start grind, requires a little high rev driving in an attempt to blow out some of the gunge that tends to build-up in the engine systems.
I woke to a picturesque Xmas card view of heavy frosts garlanding the trees, as if visited by snowfall, but in this case the result of an overnight freezing fog. The heaviest sign of frost so far this season.
Hence early morning sub zero temperatures found me driving up and down the local stretch of dual carriageway getting all things mechanical up to a reasonable operating temperature.
MOT sorted, it meant I was able to clear my normal Saturday chores earlier than usual, leaving time for a few stolen pleasures, during which myself and the collie wandered off to revisit an area near Kingston, along the Avon Valley Footpath south of Ringwood, and east of the River Avon.
Its not a huge area to roam over and doesn't offer any real distance walks, but there is always a rich variety of wildlife along the way with pools, a lake and a river amongst a mix of heathland, hedgerow and mixed woodland. During Xmas I'd spotted a grey heron, various members of the duck/geese/swan families, solitary buzzards, and watched a fisherman landed a small jack pike from near the river ford (just why do pike always look so p*ssed off?)
If you'd come across myself and dog today, you would have found me grinning as I recalled childhood experiences. Carefully making a slip-slide traverse of a wide frozen pool. A wide bare mud dip in the land in summertime. Today transformed into a skating rink of boot depth frozen water. Half remembered skills flooded back as I carefully made my way across, dog ordered 'slow to heel', as he learnt a new skill. Better that than risk a headlong dash with inevitable loss of four pawed traction. His pride couldn't take the ignomy of that; And I didn't fancy the potential vet's bill.
Unsurprisingly the lake was mostly frozen. It provided a near unique opportunity to sneak out onto the thick ice, dog safe on the shore, in an attempt to get a photo of frost on the lake's edge. That was until I heard an ominous sound and looking down saw three lengthening cracks working their way out from my position. Aware of the potential risk, I hadn't strayed far out from lakeside, but it was enough to get wet boot & trousers if things worsened. Discretion required a careful but rapid retreat back to terra firma.
(The Lake photographed from The Lake)
Courtesy of my latest piece of gear I could measure the land temperature at -2°C. Stopping at the river's ford, current strong despite the water's frozen edges, I checked the water reading at a positive balmy 3°C.
(River's edge)
Somehow today I managed to resist the urge to pop in for a warming dip. Instead we retraced our steps. Or breath forming clouds before us as we wandered through the frozen landscape. Birds darting in and out of the hedgerows. Their normal caution discarded with the need find scarce but so essential food to endure this extended cold spell.
Pleasure for man & dog. A dangerous time for wildlife.
We returned home - the dog to his 'well-done' dog biscuit; Myself to a tot of whiskey in a hot coffee.
But firstly I made sure the bird seed hoppers were full & the various bird baths cleared of ice and refilled with fresh water.
A simple action. But a possible life saver for some of our feathered co-travellers.
Saturday, January 3
Dur Hill '08: Better times are coming
Earlier today I came across a half scribbled piece, penned around this time in 2008. With the thermometer barely reaching 3°C during the past week it seemed timely to wake it from a long hibernation as a reminder of the inevitability of better times to come. Eventually.
(Ice - thick and multi layered)
As I turned off the car engine I caught sight of the temperature display .... 9°C .... the warmest it's been for a week or so. Lifting the estate's boot I let the solitary collie jump down to join me for Saturday's New Forest wander. I could feel a slight breeze on my cheek to confirm the wind shift promised by last night's weather report. No longer blowing from the cold east, now a benign south westerly. Herald of rain sometime during the next few days perhaps. For the moment a refreshing change after many outdoor sorties of chin hunkered deep down inside the neck of my fleece, that instinctive seeking of respite from the ever pervasive chilling.
I find it usually takes me 3 days or so to come to terms with very cold weather, probably due to the cocoon offered by centrally heated house and office, my main habitats at this time of year.
But today a weak winter sun brings respite to man and dog alike as we steer clear of the post Xmas chaos, specifically other walkers, for a private amble over familiar ground. Around the Dur Hill enclosure whose western edge can usually be relied on for some solitude at this time of year. Once a widely forested area the last few years have seen certain 'improvements' most noticeably removal of much woodland and scrub leaving large barren areas as a result. Other than this past human activity, such as RAF Sopley's radio transmitter building, have long since disappeared leaving the area with a feeling of remoteness despite its proximity to the nearby Bournemouth conurbation.
But a cosmetic pretence suddenly shattered as overhead a plane drones its throaty descent downwards to Bournemouth International Airport (strange naming for its Christchurch based location)
The lingerings of uninterrupted icy days have left a churned landscape to pick our way over. At times a solid unyielding ground, still glassy and insincere underfoot, as if walking on a concrete ice-rink. The path continues, and with its next twist detouring a clump of impenetrable gorse bush, comes endless pools of thick cloying black mud and water, leading between a tunnel of yet more gorse. Each pool with slick edges, treacherous to negotiate. Unless heavily mud spattered trousers, or worse an unexpected cold dip, is a preference.
No matter. This change in the weather brings with it a general lifting of spirits. Tremblings of warmer days to come. Softer times to savour.
Man & dog trudge onwards. A shared and renewed interest in all around.Labels: New Forest, walks
Sunday, December 14
Seb Green - Home again
Seb Green finished his coastal wandering earlier today.
Wisely he seems to already have plans for his next challenges. To quote the website report posted for today's arrival "You had a dream and you have made your dream reality. You achieved everything you hoped to achieve - and so much more. You went away a boy and came back a man, head held high, knowing who you are"
Once the media kerfuffle has died down I'll be contacting one of my varied local connections, there for his arrival earlier today, for a more reflective chat with Seb if he's interested.
More of a walker/outdoor/kit roundup piece. Looking beyond the charity/publicity junket he's at the centre at present.
Tuesday, December 2
Seb Green - True celebrity
So the weather has got decidedly colder recently. Then there is that edgy wind that's been blowing for the last few days. Suddenly the joy of a long outdoor trek becomes much less attractive. Especially where there is no shelter - something like a cliff-top walk perhaps?
Bear a thought then for a true celebrity, previously mentioned on this blog - Seb Green on his Round Britain walk.
Currently somewhere north of Plymouth he's on the final stretch of his 3,000+ mile walk, and expects to arrive home in Weymouth during the next couple of weeks.
A celebrity? Well in my eyes one truly deserving of that oft misused and abused title.
His fame has come through selfless effort, unabashed contrition for his original mistake, and continual and communal improvements. That's of truer value than those boasters using the C title as a result of a hard working agent or as over excessive use of silicon implants.
Consider the charities benefiting from the £14,000+ raised. Or the people he's encountered along the way, seeing for themselves that something positive can come from an anti-social act. The proof that not all of modern yoof is a feral hooded knife wielder lurking on a street corner.
However I suspect the real gift for Seb will be the self knowledge and personal awareness gained over the months since his February start. A better understanding of self reliance and personal responsibility - an essential part of maturing as a human being.
Something that some people two or three times his age have yet to discover.
Welcome home Seb.
Saturday, November 15
Saturday morning - New Forest Dogging
On a whim today I decided to visit one of my regular circuits deep amongst woodland, south of Wilverley Plain. Luckily a track well known to me, as a mixture of sudden leaf drop & a period of wet and damp conditions, has altered the terrain sufficiently to obscure some of the side-tracks, leading from the main shale surfaced tourist paths - ones tend to keep well clear of wherever possible.
On the entry gate into the enclosure I'd spotted a new information sign advising of one of those New Forest events that appear out of the blue, and are always accompanied by a Caution & Care notice for regular NF users. And any concerned insurer, no doubt.
So no surprise then, on coning to cross one of the shale tracks, to find a couple of competitors busily working their dog teams in the ABSA Sleddog Championship 2008/09.
Unlike previous events I've met this time the teams were using only one dog per sled/musher. But, as usual, the dogs seem to be enjoying themselves tremendously, as the mushers did most of the sled pushing on a nearby uphill section.
If you've not encountered this sport before the sleds are lightweight frames mounted on large bicycle wheels. A sturdy build to take the knocks of travelling at speed over the hard & uneven forest tracks.
Later I moved from the dank woodland into the weak daylight of Wilverley Plain, and recalled my last visit here. That was back in October to cover the Forest Uprising Group's protests against the New Forest National Park's proposals.
Then it hit me.
On one hand the NFPA, talking up the tightening of dog access in the New Forest. The same authority today permitting a competitive dog centred event. One that results in some limitation of access in a popular area for the whole weekend (Not that I've any problem with the event or its organisers BTW)
A timely reminder that FUG presented their formal response on the NFPA's consultation draft yesterday, on the last day for submissions.
With around 9,000 responses to work through the NFPA is going to be rather busy trying to settle down the hornet's nest they've raised, ready for the formal submission to the full National Park Authority in summer 2009.
With further workgroups and public meetings in the pipeline expect sparks to continue to fly for some time yet.
Me, I went back to the sled race. It seemed to me that the dogs were getting the better of the deal today. And long may it stay so into the future.Labels: New Forest, walks
Tuesday, November 11
Numbering the days or Counting the cost
50
My age next year.
For those of you that have had the dubious distinction of meeting me in the flesh that's probably a hard fact to swallow. But a true one nevertheless. This lithe body, is a temple, testament to years of loose living & looser women (I remain ever hopeful - lol) Amazingly still unfettered by any short term leasing arrangement with certain Dark Forces.
Nope - its all my own work, as it were. For luckily I've inherited a simple healthiness with a level of natural fitness that becomes the envy of those tubby-tum middle-aged men I see amongst my age group these days.
360
The number of places available on the 2009 TGO Challenge, 60 up on the usual 300 limit, in recognition of the 30th anniversary of this event.
509
The number of applications received for 2009. With wider publicity of recent years the TGO continues to go from strength to strength as an internationally famous event, despite the physical and mental rigours required of those taking part, and the self reliant nature of the challenge.
149
The number of those initially listed on the short list.
40
Those on the short list who may be lucky enough, so I'm informed by those with experience of past events, to move over to the entrant list as some of the 2009 Challengers find themselves having to withdraw ahead of the event.
90
My short list number.
Well that's me buggered then.
I thought something suitably emphatic was called for in 2009. A symbolic achievement on passing my half century mark. An age that many years ago I wouldn't have seriously expected to reach, such was my lifestyle and its associated high risk activities (Lots of fun along the way though)
So that leaves me with a quandary. What else to do with the 2 week break from work that is already booked?
Too short a time to wildcamp the SW Coastal Footpath, one of my long term ambitions. All too easily 'squandered' on challenging, but potentially unmemorable, wildcamping weeks of my own design. Definitely too disinterested in the usual fall backs such as Coast to Coast, Pennine Way, Offa Dyke etc. All undoubtedly superb end to end journeys in themselves, but not that ....... well ..........different ....... to be honest.
Hmm. I guess that's what I'm looking for. A trip that delivers the chance for my steady movement across this land of ours. A point to point challenge with a recognisable aim, even to a non walker, but with that special something that I can look back at in the years ahead, and grin at having done it.
Any ideas folks?
All comments count. Naturally.Labels: TGO Challenge, walks
Sunday, October 26
A walk on the Algarve - Carveiro
Dawn. The sun's rays, already a reminder of the southerly latitude. An offshore breeze unexpected, but a welcome respite after a week of blue sky and mid 20s temperatures each day.
Waking early I decided to sneak out for a short while, to walk amongst the pitted red cliffs.
Amongst? For below the shadeless cliff top path marking the sudden drop down to the Atlantic I discovered a maze of steps, paths and tunnels leading down to hidden paths on the lower rock ledges edging the shoreline.
(Tunnel)
Rock, red pitted and pock marked. And through it all shards of sea shells clearly visible, deeply embedded in the strata. Surely a landscape more used to lunar exploration?
A solo daybreak walk then; Before the oppressive heat turned the cliff bowl into a cauldron of heat, at least for one more used to an UK climate.
I wandered for some while along traditional fisherman's paths. Some worn away through centuries of habitual usage. Others clearly revealing the local inhabitants' intent to bend this barren land to their human desires with carved steps and chilled dark tunnels popping up without warning as my exploration continued.
Above and behind me the small town, until recent times a quiet fishing village, now a thriving tourist escape, especially those from England and Ireland.
Its inhabitants slowly rising to meet another day of trade and trinket exchange.
But before me for the present the seemingly endless horizon of the Atlantic sea. And in the distance a five master schooner, sails furled, slowly motoring westwards towards its port.
I sit with my back to the wind, the sun now hot on my arms and face, as I watch the ship slip by. Its solitary behaviour matching my own as I carefully continue my exploration of this strange land. Acutely aware that a moment's lack of concentration amongst such rugged landscape could be harshly punished. A slip down to the sea and rocks below. Or worse to be swallowed up by one of the deep and dark sink holes that border the tracks.
Around me signs of night fishing activity. Discarded cigarette packs & bottles amongst abused tackle. A dangerous place then in the daylight. But possibly lethal at night for the unwary. Or drunk.
An alien and wild landscape. So unlike any place I'd encountered before. But, in common with those wilder places where caution is required, a deeply satisfying area to explore.
Finally that increasingly insistent voice of personal safety reminds me the odds had been played enough for so early in the day. Time to head back up the cliff paths.
Back to re-don the tourist disguise and greet an incautiously early cold beer before another day on the beach. Just one more lazily tanning holidaymaker to any casual onlooker. But inside me a quiet satisfaction in lifting aside one of the veils worn by this small Portuguese village. To have tasted a little of its truer identity. However briefly.
To travel; To experience a different culture and climate. And on this occasion a truly different landscape.Labels: walks
Sunday, September 28
Hincheslea Wood - Rebirth
Back in April last year I described a wander around Hincheslea Wood (OL22: GR 275 010) in the New Forest remarking that this burnt out building may have been about to arise from its ashes. Earlier today I came across the replacement building, fast approaching its completion.
Neighbours, approached for their comments on the refurbishment, had no comment to make.
Being more concerned with local childcare facilities.
Labels: New Forest, walks
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
Well another wildamping escapade draws to a close. Not so much beaten by the inclement weather; More of a mutually agreed draw. But it's been a close run thing at times.
Sat here on the hostel's steam-driven Internet connection (at a cost which appears I am paying for best anthracite coal to keep it lurching along) the train times for the journey back south are appearing as if by magic, making the rail trip on Tuesday a rather drawn out affair.
A chance then to reflect on 3 night's wildcamping in some of the worst weather I've encountered for many years.
Hang on. The boiler stoker is signalling to me that he needs a tea-break.
JH signing off for for the present.
Trip notes on their way.
Labels: Lake District, walks
Walk route planning - online mapping
Here's a tip that may help with route planning.
This time next week I'll be wildcamped somewhere high on a Lake District fell side. With a few spots already in mind I've been looking at other ideas to put together a longer trip.
Naturally the OS Map & reference books were first source. Followed by more detailed work on-line where the amount of specific & highly detailed photographic images is proving very useful.
During this process I've occasionally turned to Google Earth to get a bird's eye view of the ground, especially searching for certain map features that really aren't too well marked. GE has been good, but can be slow.
I've also experimented with Multimap which is rapidly winning my what-a-good-idea award.
I can switch from a road map, to an OS map view, to aerial. Zooming in, and then flipping to and fro between the OS and aerial view. All at very fine detail, and virtually instantly, whereas Google Maps can be slow. And most importantly without losing my current map location.
A real time saver when building up that route, especially when searching for out of the way places. Labels: Blogger tip, walks
Sunday, February 22
Godshill Wander- Cock, Balls & a Loss
With the spring weather holding and a rare day of free time to myself I took down my walking diaries from the bookshelf earlier this morning to look back over my various trip reports.
I've been keeping a description of all new routes for over fifteen years now. Initially each year had plenty of entries, but as the local variations were ticked off the number of new entries each year has dropped, replaced by infrequent longer reports of wildcamping weeks away.
I've always found it beneficial to keep such a diary. Apart from the smile it brings to my lips as I'm reminded of past journeys, each description ends with a footnote suggesting possibilities for future trips that I've spotted along the way. Over time this has led to uncovering some of my best wildcamping spots, despite the original visit being many years ago.
Today I spotted am idea from the late 1990's - a circular trip using a familiar stretch of the Avon Valley Footpath, north of Fordingbridge, to visit Frankenbury (Grid Ref: OL22/166152), an iron age hill fort.
It's a subject of which I understand only a little, but these old defences are always a worthy reason for a walk as I try to get a taste of why our ancestors chose such places for their homes and lives.
Luckily Dorset and the surrounding areas are extremely rich in ancient hill defences. These vary wildly from the grandiose (Maiden Castle) to the mundane (Buckland Rings) So what would I uncover today?
I crossed the suspended bridge over the River Avon - unique in its construction method in Hampshire I believe.
Onto the muddy track across the water meadows and over a number of drainage channels, dotted here and there with their sluice gates. Long ago boats and their cargo travelled along the waterways in this area from the coast inland to Salisbury, 30 miles away. But that was then. Today the remaining ditches remind one more of a fenland scene, were it not for small hills edging along the wide Avon Valley.
Along the way the path forked. To the left ugly recycling bins and agricultural debris. To the right a drop to a track alongside the river and amongst the trees. Beast & beauty? No contest.
Down to the river then. With further reminders of seasonal changes, far more advanced that I would have thought likely at this time of year.
The trees positively dripping with catkins, some the largest I've seen.
Nearing the hill fort itself a few early primroses in bloom, alongside the stems of bluebells awaiting their turn once the clumps of snowdrops had had their chance.
The path opened onto a forest nature trail, with the inevitable crowds of Sunday strollers. After the natural beauty of the footpath the Nature Trail, composed of ugly 'visitor friendly' tracks & wth the removal of much of the native woodland, was a shock. I quickly cut across this section moving upwards to the hill fort, there to find the remains unhappily now located on agricultural land.
Little remained other than than a small ring defence rampart crowded with hedgerow, tree & briar.
Today it guarded a field of grazing cattle. No sense of history to be found here. This visit, as I've discovered in the past, not so much a reminder of ancient times. More a surprise that such places ever survive at all where modern farming meets ancient remains.
I returned to the nature trail, meeting people oblivious to the historic fortification alongside the man made track as they blindly followed the ugly track, and its clue points -whatever they were.
Needless to say I didn't have my 3 clues by now. Or even any idea what the questions were. But I did have a reason for the human activity as I approached Sandy Balls Holiday Camp, even at this time of year a busy spot.
So instead onto the field footpaths, avoiding the camp. Trying to match the marks on the map to the path on the ground whilst factoring in numerous "Keep Out" & "Private" signs garlanding the trees and hedgerow
Seems like the local landowner & the Camp's visitors may have had their disagreements in the past. But the Godshill area, as I'd noted before from previous visits seems plagued with a need to parcel up land with barb wire defences in the name of horse grazing. And parochial demonstrations of ownership. Its an area where trouser ripping is to be expected as one negotiates the miserly footpaths around the village.
Ah the village. Today that meant the Fighting Cocks Pub for a pint and a pie. It was not to be. The deterrent of Sunday crowds queing for food meant instead I settled for two pints & a Kit-Kat. Dog faring slightly better thanks to abundant dog chews available on the bar for a small charitable donation.
We moved on along Godshill Ridge and onto the open forest. Finally I could leave off the detailed map-to-ground route work and was able to return to my normal practice of pick a point on the horizon and find the least muddy way to it. In this case the unmissable treeline of Godshill Enclosure on the rise above.
West then back to the AVP and a familiar descent back to the valley and my starting point.
Along the way Dog and myself exchanged greetings with a Very Large Bull busily munching its fodder.
I've no idea of the breed, but the maleness of the creature was indisputable as I looked at the enormity of his undercarriage.
A short distance covered, barely 6 miles, but a lengthy wander of 4 hours. A leisurely time for the most, when not bent forward map reading.
But out long enough to breathe deep of the coming changes. And, for a time, enjoy a period of solitary peace amongst the greening shoots of Nature.
Now I wonder how many new visitors to this site will arrive via Google search for Cock or Balls? lolLabels: nature, New Forest, walks
Saturday, February 7
Remember me this way
Today a cold and icy wander along the paths and hidden tracks that criss-cross Wilverley Enclosure in the New Forest.
Clean transparent ice, freshly thrown across the puddles, despite the 3 deg temperature.
Signs of snow in the undergrowth still clearly visible. Ahead a couple of cheeky deer break cover. Their white rumps flashing, stubby tails held high, as they casually hop along the track before me. No urgency to dash for thicket cover today. A sign that the recent hard weather and reduced human traffic along this way had toned down their usual fight or flight response.
In the weak sunshine a bench beckons. Its siting always a friendly welcome at the junction of four major tracks. A position carefully chosen for sunlight and quiet reflection deep amongst the trees.
Today the bench is crowned with twin wreaths - in remembrance to one who's memorial it represents.
A physical manifestation to match the mental appreciation I often offer up to its unknown benefactor.
A fellow traveller. Similarly in tune with time & place. A special spot.
The path unwinds before me as I start uphill. I leave behind the one for whom a journey has completed. Marked for others to note; To reflect; To share; Despite the absence of their physical presence on this bright and quiet late winter morning.Labels: New Forest, walks
Friday, February 6
Walk with me a while
For those stuck indoors.
Sat gazing through steamed-up windows at snow (or in my case cold rain & slush)?
I offer a walking route description with a subtle difference from the standard fare.
Walking with Oswald, King of Northumbria
Alf Wainwright - eat your heart out.
;-)Labels: walks
Saturday, January 10
Kingston walkabout - Remember the birds
I'm sure there's a streak of masochism somewhere in my personality.
After a week of frozen early morning workday starts and the inevitable car de-icing/warm-up routine, a Saturday lie-in would be a simple and highly attractive pleasure. But not today.
Somehow I'd arranged a very early appointment for my car's MOT. With recent weather & road conditions this required a pre-check that all lights/windows were clear, clean & functional. Plus the small matter of getting the motor properly warmed up prior to the car's CO2 check. Which for a diesel engine, mostly used for the commuter stop-start grind, requires a little high rev driving in an attempt to blow out some of the gunge that tends to build-up in the engine systems.
I woke to a picturesque Xmas card view of heavy frosts garlanding the trees, as if visited by snowfall, but in this case the result of an overnight freezing fog. The heaviest sign of frost so far this season.
Hence early morning sub zero temperatures found me driving up and down the local stretch of dual carriageway getting all things mechanical up to a reasonable operating temperature.
MOT sorted, it meant I was able to clear my normal Saturday chores earlier than usual, leaving time for a few stolen pleasures, during which myself and the collie wandered off to revisit an area near Kingston, along the Avon Valley Footpath south of Ringwood, and east of the River Avon.
Its not a huge area to roam over and doesn't offer any real distance walks, but there is always a rich variety of wildlife along the way with pools, a lake and a river amongst a mix of heathland, hedgerow and mixed woodland. During Xmas I'd spotted a grey heron, various members of the duck/geese/swan families, solitary buzzards, and watched a fisherman landed a small jack pike from near the river ford (just why do pike always look so p*ssed off?)
If you'd come across myself and dog today, you would have found me grinning as I recalled childhood experiences. Carefully making a slip-slide traverse of a wide frozen pool. A wide bare mud dip in the land in summertime. Today transformed into a skating rink of boot depth frozen water. Half remembered skills flooded back as I carefully made my way across, dog ordered 'slow to heel', as he learnt a new skill. Better that than risk a headlong dash with inevitable loss of four pawed traction. His pride couldn't take the ignomy of that; And I didn't fancy the potential vet's bill.
Unsurprisingly the lake was mostly frozen. It provided a near unique opportunity to sneak out onto the thick ice, dog safe on the shore, in an attempt to get a photo of frost on the lake's edge. That was until I heard an ominous sound and looking down saw three lengthening cracks working their way out from my position. Aware of the potential risk, I hadn't strayed far out from lakeside, but it was enough to get wet boot & trousers if things worsened. Discretion required a careful but rapid retreat back to terra firma.
(The Lake photographed from The Lake)
Courtesy of my latest piece of gear I could measure the land temperature at -2°C. Stopping at the river's ford, current strong despite the water's frozen edges, I checked the water reading at a positive balmy 3°C.
(River's edge)
Somehow today I managed to resist the urge to pop in for a warming dip. Instead we retraced our steps. Or breath forming clouds before us as we wandered through the frozen landscape. Birds darting in and out of the hedgerows. Their normal caution discarded with the need find scarce but so essential food to endure this extended cold spell.
Pleasure for man & dog. A dangerous time for wildlife.
We returned home - the dog to his 'well-done' dog biscuit; Myself to a tot of whiskey in a hot coffee.
But firstly I made sure the bird seed hoppers were full & the various bird baths cleared of ice and refilled with fresh water.
A simple action. But a possible life saver for some of our feathered co-travellers.
Saturday, January 3
Dur Hill '08: Better times are coming
Earlier today I came across a half scribbled piece, penned around this time in 2008. With the thermometer barely reaching 3°C during the past week it seemed timely to wake it from a long hibernation as a reminder of the inevitability of better times to come. Eventually.
(Ice - thick and multi layered)
As I turned off the car engine I caught sight of the temperature display .... 9°C .... the warmest it's been for a week or so. Lifting the estate's boot I let the solitary collie jump down to join me for Saturday's New Forest wander. I could feel a slight breeze on my cheek to confirm the wind shift promised by last night's weather report. No longer blowing from the cold east, now a benign south westerly. Herald of rain sometime during the next few days perhaps. For the moment a refreshing change after many outdoor sorties of chin hunkered deep down inside the neck of my fleece, that instinctive seeking of respite from the ever pervasive chilling.
I find it usually takes me 3 days or so to come to terms with very cold weather, probably due to the cocoon offered by centrally heated house and office, my main habitats at this time of year.
But today a weak winter sun brings respite to man and dog alike as we steer clear of the post Xmas chaos, specifically other walkers, for a private amble over familiar ground. Around the Dur Hill enclosure whose western edge can usually be relied on for some solitude at this time of year. Once a widely forested area the last few years have seen certain 'improvements' most noticeably removal of much woodland and scrub leaving large barren areas as a result. Other than this past human activity, such as RAF Sopley's radio transmitter building, have long since disappeared leaving the area with a feeling of remoteness despite its proximity to the nearby Bournemouth conurbation.
But a cosmetic pretence suddenly shattered as overhead a plane drones its throaty descent downwards to Bournemouth International Airport (strange naming for its Christchurch based location)
The lingerings of uninterrupted icy days have left a churned landscape to pick our way over. At times a solid unyielding ground, still glassy and insincere underfoot, as if walking on a concrete ice-rink. The path continues, and with its next twist detouring a clump of impenetrable gorse bush, comes endless pools of thick cloying black mud and water, leading between a tunnel of yet more gorse. Each pool with slick edges, treacherous to negotiate. Unless heavily mud spattered trousers, or worse an unexpected cold dip, is a preference.
No matter. This change in the weather brings with it a general lifting of spirits. Tremblings of warmer days to come. Softer times to savour.
Man & dog trudge onwards. A shared and renewed interest in all around.Labels: New Forest, walks
Sunday, December 14
Seb Green - Home again
Seb Green finished his coastal wandering earlier today.
Wisely he seems to already have plans for his next challenges. To quote the website report posted for today's arrival "You had a dream and you have made your dream reality. You achieved everything you hoped to achieve - and so much more. You went away a boy and came back a man, head held high, knowing who you are"
Once the media kerfuffle has died down I'll be contacting one of my varied local connections, there for his arrival earlier today, for a more reflective chat with Seb if he's interested.
More of a walker/outdoor/kit roundup piece. Looking beyond the charity/publicity junket he's at the centre at present.
Tuesday, December 2
Seb Green - True celebrity
So the weather has got decidedly colder recently. Then there is that edgy wind that's been blowing for the last few days. Suddenly the joy of a long outdoor trek becomes much less attractive. Especially where there is no shelter - something like a cliff-top walk perhaps?
Bear a thought then for a true celebrity, previously mentioned on this blog - Seb Green on his Round Britain walk.
Currently somewhere north of Plymouth he's on the final stretch of his 3,000+ mile walk, and expects to arrive home in Weymouth during the next couple of weeks.
A celebrity? Well in my eyes one truly deserving of that oft misused and abused title.
His fame has come through selfless effort, unabashed contrition for his original mistake, and continual and communal improvements. That's of truer value than those boasters using the C title as a result of a hard working agent or as over excessive use of silicon implants.
Consider the charities benefiting from the £14,000+ raised. Or the people he's encountered along the way, seeing for themselves that something positive can come from an anti-social act. The proof that not all of modern yoof is a feral hooded knife wielder lurking on a street corner.
However I suspect the real gift for Seb will be the self knowledge and personal awareness gained over the months since his February start. A better understanding of self reliance and personal responsibility - an essential part of maturing as a human being.
Something that some people two or three times his age have yet to discover.
Welcome home Seb.
Saturday, November 15
Saturday morning - New Forest Dogging
On a whim today I decided to visit one of my regular circuits deep amongst woodland, south of Wilverley Plain. Luckily a track well known to me, as a mixture of sudden leaf drop & a period of wet and damp conditions, has altered the terrain sufficiently to obscure some of the side-tracks, leading from the main shale surfaced tourist paths - ones tend to keep well clear of wherever possible.
On the entry gate into the enclosure I'd spotted a new information sign advising of one of those New Forest events that appear out of the blue, and are always accompanied by a Caution & Care notice for regular NF users. And any concerned insurer, no doubt.
So no surprise then, on coning to cross one of the shale tracks, to find a couple of competitors busily working their dog teams in the ABSA Sleddog Championship 2008/09.
Unlike previous events I've met this time the teams were using only one dog per sled/musher. But, as usual, the dogs seem to be enjoying themselves tremendously, as the mushers did most of the sled pushing on a nearby uphill section.
If you've not encountered this sport before the sleds are lightweight frames mounted on large bicycle wheels. A sturdy build to take the knocks of travelling at speed over the hard & uneven forest tracks.
Later I moved from the dank woodland into the weak daylight of Wilverley Plain, and recalled my last visit here. That was back in October to cover the Forest Uprising Group's protests against the New Forest National Park's proposals.
Then it hit me.
On one hand the NFPA, talking up the tightening of dog access in the New Forest. The same authority today permitting a competitive dog centred event. One that results in some limitation of access in a popular area for the whole weekend (Not that I've any problem with the event or its organisers BTW)
A timely reminder that FUG presented their formal response on the NFPA's consultation draft yesterday, on the last day for submissions.
With around 9,000 responses to work through the NFPA is going to be rather busy trying to settle down the hornet's nest they've raised, ready for the formal submission to the full National Park Authority in summer 2009.
With further workgroups and public meetings in the pipeline expect sparks to continue to fly for some time yet.
Me, I went back to the sled race. It seemed to me that the dogs were getting the better of the deal today. And long may it stay so into the future.Labels: New Forest, walks
Tuesday, November 11
Numbering the days or Counting the cost
50
My age next year.
For those of you that have had the dubious distinction of meeting me in the flesh that's probably a hard fact to swallow. But a true one nevertheless. This lithe body, is a temple, testament to years of loose living & looser women (I remain ever hopeful - lol) Amazingly still unfettered by any short term leasing arrangement with certain Dark Forces.
Nope - its all my own work, as it were. For luckily I've inherited a simple healthiness with a level of natural fitness that becomes the envy of those tubby-tum middle-aged men I see amongst my age group these days.
360
The number of places available on the 2009 TGO Challenge, 60 up on the usual 300 limit, in recognition of the 30th anniversary of this event.
509
The number of applications received for 2009. With wider publicity of recent years the TGO continues to go from strength to strength as an internationally famous event, despite the physical and mental rigours required of those taking part, and the self reliant nature of the challenge.
149
The number of those initially listed on the short list.
40
Those on the short list who may be lucky enough, so I'm informed by those with experience of past events, to move over to the entrant list as some of the 2009 Challengers find themselves having to withdraw ahead of the event.
90
My short list number.
Well that's me buggered then.
I thought something suitably emphatic was called for in 2009. A symbolic achievement on passing my half century mark. An age that many years ago I wouldn't have seriously expected to reach, such was my lifestyle and its associated high risk activities (Lots of fun along the way though)
So that leaves me with a quandary. What else to do with the 2 week break from work that is already booked?
Too short a time to wildcamp the SW Coastal Footpath, one of my long term ambitions. All too easily 'squandered' on challenging, but potentially unmemorable, wildcamping weeks of my own design. Definitely too disinterested in the usual fall backs such as Coast to Coast, Pennine Way, Offa Dyke etc. All undoubtedly superb end to end journeys in themselves, but not that ....... well ..........different ....... to be honest.
Hmm. I guess that's what I'm looking for. A trip that delivers the chance for my steady movement across this land of ours. A point to point challenge with a recognisable aim, even to a non walker, but with that special something that I can look back at in the years ahead, and grin at having done it.
Any ideas folks?
All comments count. Naturally.Labels: TGO Challenge, walks
Sunday, October 26
A walk on the Algarve - Carveiro
Dawn. The sun's rays, already a reminder of the southerly latitude. An offshore breeze unexpected, but a welcome respite after a week of blue sky and mid 20s temperatures each day.
Waking early I decided to sneak out for a short while, to walk amongst the pitted red cliffs.
Amongst? For below the shadeless cliff top path marking the sudden drop down to the Atlantic I discovered a maze of steps, paths and tunnels leading down to hidden paths on the lower rock ledges edging the shoreline.
(Tunnel)
Rock, red pitted and pock marked. And through it all shards of sea shells clearly visible, deeply embedded in the strata. Surely a landscape more used to lunar exploration?
A solo daybreak walk then; Before the oppressive heat turned the cliff bowl into a cauldron of heat, at least for one more used to an UK climate.
I wandered for some while along traditional fisherman's paths. Some worn away through centuries of habitual usage. Others clearly revealing the local inhabitants' intent to bend this barren land to their human desires with carved steps and chilled dark tunnels popping up without warning as my exploration continued.
Above and behind me the small town, until recent times a quiet fishing village, now a thriving tourist escape, especially those from England and Ireland.
Its inhabitants slowly rising to meet another day of trade and trinket exchange.
But before me for the present the seemingly endless horizon of the Atlantic sea. And in the distance a five master schooner, sails furled, slowly motoring westwards towards its port.
I sit with my back to the wind, the sun now hot on my arms and face, as I watch the ship slip by. Its solitary behaviour matching my own as I carefully continue my exploration of this strange land. Acutely aware that a moment's lack of concentration amongst such rugged landscape could be harshly punished. A slip down to the sea and rocks below. Or worse to be swallowed up by one of the deep and dark sink holes that border the tracks.
Around me signs of night fishing activity. Discarded cigarette packs & bottles amongst abused tackle. A dangerous place then in the daylight. But possibly lethal at night for the unwary. Or drunk.
An alien and wild landscape. So unlike any place I'd encountered before. But, in common with those wilder places where caution is required, a deeply satisfying area to explore.
Finally that increasingly insistent voice of personal safety reminds me the odds had been played enough for so early in the day. Time to head back up the cliff paths.
Back to re-don the tourist disguise and greet an incautiously early cold beer before another day on the beach. Just one more lazily tanning holidaymaker to any casual onlooker. But inside me a quiet satisfaction in lifting aside one of the veils worn by this small Portuguese village. To have tasted a little of its truer identity. However briefly.
To travel; To experience a different culture and climate. And on this occasion a truly different landscape.Labels: walks
Sunday, September 28
Hincheslea Wood - Rebirth
Back in April last year I described a wander around Hincheslea Wood (OL22: GR 275 010) in the New Forest remarking that this burnt out building may have been about to arise from its ashes. Earlier today I came across the replacement building, fast approaching its completion.
Neighbours, approached for their comments on the refurbishment, had no comment to make.
Being more concerned with local childcare facilities.
Labels: New Forest, walks
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
This time next week I'll be wildcamped somewhere high on a Lake District fell side. With a few spots already in mind I've been looking at other ideas to put together a longer trip.
Naturally the OS Map & reference books were first source. Followed by more detailed work on-line where the amount of specific & highly detailed photographic images is proving very useful.
During this process I've occasionally turned to Google Earth to get a bird's eye view of the ground, especially searching for certain map features that really aren't too well marked. GE has been good, but can be slow.
I've also experimented with Multimap which is rapidly winning my what-a-good-idea award.
I can switch from a road map, to an OS map view, to aerial. Zooming in, and then flipping to and fro between the OS and aerial view. All at very fine detail, and virtually instantly, whereas Google Maps can be slow. And most importantly without losing my current map location.
A real time saver when building up that route, especially when searching for out of the way places.
Labels: Blogger tip, walks
Godshill Wander- Cock, Balls & a Loss
With the spring weather holding and a rare day of free time to myself I took down my walking diaries from the bookshelf earlier this morning to look back over my various trip reports.
I've been keeping a description of all new routes for over fifteen years now. Initially each year had plenty of entries, but as the local variations were ticked off the number of new entries each year has dropped, replaced by infrequent longer reports of wildcamping weeks away.
I've always found it beneficial to keep such a diary. Apart from the smile it brings to my lips as I'm reminded of past journeys, each description ends with a footnote suggesting possibilities for future trips that I've spotted along the way. Over time this has led to uncovering some of my best wildcamping spots, despite the original visit being many years ago.
Today I spotted am idea from the late 1990's - a circular trip using a familiar stretch of the Avon Valley Footpath, north of Fordingbridge, to visit Frankenbury (Grid Ref: OL22/166152), an iron age hill fort.
It's a subject of which I understand only a little, but these old defences are always a worthy reason for a walk as I try to get a taste of why our ancestors chose such places for their homes and lives.
Luckily Dorset and the surrounding areas are extremely rich in ancient hill defences. These vary wildly from the grandiose (Maiden Castle) to the mundane (Buckland Rings) So what would I uncover today?
I crossed the suspended bridge over the River Avon - unique in its construction method in Hampshire I believe.
Onto the muddy track across the water meadows and over a number of drainage channels, dotted here and there with their sluice gates. Long ago boats and their cargo travelled along the waterways in this area from the coast inland to Salisbury, 30 miles away. But that was then. Today the remaining ditches remind one more of a fenland scene, were it not for small hills edging along the wide Avon Valley.
Along the way the path forked. To the left ugly recycling bins and agricultural debris. To the right a drop to a track alongside the river and amongst the trees. Beast & beauty? No contest.
Down to the river then. With further reminders of seasonal changes, far more advanced that I would have thought likely at this time of year.
The trees positively dripping with catkins, some the largest I've seen.
Nearing the hill fort itself a few early primroses in bloom, alongside the stems of bluebells awaiting their turn once the clumps of snowdrops had had their chance.
The path opened onto a forest nature trail, with the inevitable crowds of Sunday strollers. After the natural beauty of the footpath the Nature Trail, composed of ugly 'visitor friendly' tracks & wth the removal of much of the native woodland, was a shock. I quickly cut across this section moving upwards to the hill fort, there to find the remains unhappily now located on agricultural land.
Little remained other than than a small ring defence rampart crowded with hedgerow, tree & briar.
Today it guarded a field of grazing cattle. No sense of history to be found here. This visit, as I've discovered in the past, not so much a reminder of ancient times. More a surprise that such places ever survive at all where modern farming meets ancient remains.
I returned to the nature trail, meeting people oblivious to the historic fortification alongside the man made track as they blindly followed the ugly track, and its clue points -whatever they were.
Needless to say I didn't have my 3 clues by now. Or even any idea what the questions were. But I did have a reason for the human activity as I approached Sandy Balls Holiday Camp, even at this time of year a busy spot.
So instead onto the field footpaths, avoiding the camp. Trying to match the marks on the map to the path on the ground whilst factoring in numerous "Keep Out" & "Private" signs garlanding the trees and hedgerow
Seems like the local landowner & the Camp's visitors may have had their disagreements in the past. But the Godshill area, as I'd noted before from previous visits seems plagued with a need to parcel up land with barb wire defences in the name of horse grazing. And parochial demonstrations of ownership. Its an area where trouser ripping is to be expected as one negotiates the miserly footpaths around the village.
Ah the village. Today that meant the Fighting Cocks Pub for a pint and a pie. It was not to be. The deterrent of Sunday crowds queing for food meant instead I settled for two pints & a Kit-Kat. Dog faring slightly better thanks to abundant dog chews available on the bar for a small charitable donation.
We moved on along Godshill Ridge and onto the open forest. Finally I could leave off the detailed map-to-ground route work and was able to return to my normal practice of pick a point on the horizon and find the least muddy way to it. In this case the unmissable treeline of Godshill Enclosure on the rise above.
West then back to the AVP and a familiar descent back to the valley and my starting point.
Along the way Dog and myself exchanged greetings with a Very Large Bull busily munching its fodder.
I've no idea of the breed, but the maleness of the creature was indisputable as I looked at the enormity of his undercarriage.
A short distance covered, barely 6 miles, but a lengthy wander of 4 hours. A leisurely time for the most, when not bent forward map reading.
But out long enough to breathe deep of the coming changes. And, for a time, enjoy a period of solitary peace amongst the greening shoots of Nature.
Now I wonder how many new visitors to this site will arrive via Google search for Cock or Balls? lolLabels: nature, New Forest, walks
Saturday, February 7
Remember me this way
Today a cold and icy wander along the paths and hidden tracks that criss-cross Wilverley Enclosure in the New Forest.
Clean transparent ice, freshly thrown across the puddles, despite the 3 deg temperature.
Signs of snow in the undergrowth still clearly visible. Ahead a couple of cheeky deer break cover. Their white rumps flashing, stubby tails held high, as they casually hop along the track before me. No urgency to dash for thicket cover today. A sign that the recent hard weather and reduced human traffic along this way had toned down their usual fight or flight response.
In the weak sunshine a bench beckons. Its siting always a friendly welcome at the junction of four major tracks. A position carefully chosen for sunlight and quiet reflection deep amongst the trees.
Today the bench is crowned with twin wreaths - in remembrance to one who's memorial it represents.
A physical manifestation to match the mental appreciation I often offer up to its unknown benefactor.
A fellow traveller. Similarly in tune with time & place. A special spot.
The path unwinds before me as I start uphill. I leave behind the one for whom a journey has completed. Marked for others to note; To reflect; To share; Despite the absence of their physical presence on this bright and quiet late winter morning.Labels: New Forest, walks
Friday, February 6
Walk with me a while
For those stuck indoors.
Sat gazing through steamed-up windows at snow (or in my case cold rain & slush)?
I offer a walking route description with a subtle difference from the standard fare.
Walking with Oswald, King of Northumbria
Alf Wainwright - eat your heart out.
;-)Labels: walks
Saturday, January 10
Kingston walkabout - Remember the birds
I'm sure there's a streak of masochism somewhere in my personality.
After a week of frozen early morning workday starts and the inevitable car de-icing/warm-up routine, a Saturday lie-in would be a simple and highly attractive pleasure. But not today.
Somehow I'd arranged a very early appointment for my car's MOT. With recent weather & road conditions this required a pre-check that all lights/windows were clear, clean & functional. Plus the small matter of getting the motor properly warmed up prior to the car's CO2 check. Which for a diesel engine, mostly used for the commuter stop-start grind, requires a little high rev driving in an attempt to blow out some of the gunge that tends to build-up in the engine systems.
I woke to a picturesque Xmas card view of heavy frosts garlanding the trees, as if visited by snowfall, but in this case the result of an overnight freezing fog. The heaviest sign of frost so far this season.
Hence early morning sub zero temperatures found me driving up and down the local stretch of dual carriageway getting all things mechanical up to a reasonable operating temperature.
MOT sorted, it meant I was able to clear my normal Saturday chores earlier than usual, leaving time for a few stolen pleasures, during which myself and the collie wandered off to revisit an area near Kingston, along the Avon Valley Footpath south of Ringwood, and east of the River Avon.
Its not a huge area to roam over and doesn't offer any real distance walks, but there is always a rich variety of wildlife along the way with pools, a lake and a river amongst a mix of heathland, hedgerow and mixed woodland. During Xmas I'd spotted a grey heron, various members of the duck/geese/swan families, solitary buzzards, and watched a fisherman landed a small jack pike from near the river ford (just why do pike always look so p*ssed off?)
If you'd come across myself and dog today, you would have found me grinning as I recalled childhood experiences. Carefully making a slip-slide traverse of a wide frozen pool. A wide bare mud dip in the land in summertime. Today transformed into a skating rink of boot depth frozen water. Half remembered skills flooded back as I carefully made my way across, dog ordered 'slow to heel', as he learnt a new skill. Better that than risk a headlong dash with inevitable loss of four pawed traction. His pride couldn't take the ignomy of that; And I didn't fancy the potential vet's bill.
Unsurprisingly the lake was mostly frozen. It provided a near unique opportunity to sneak out onto the thick ice, dog safe on the shore, in an attempt to get a photo of frost on the lake's edge. That was until I heard an ominous sound and looking down saw three lengthening cracks working their way out from my position. Aware of the potential risk, I hadn't strayed far out from lakeside, but it was enough to get wet boot & trousers if things worsened. Discretion required a careful but rapid retreat back to terra firma.
(The Lake photographed from The Lake)
Courtesy of my latest piece of gear I could measure the land temperature at -2°C. Stopping at the river's ford, current strong despite the water's frozen edges, I checked the water reading at a positive balmy 3°C.
(River's edge)
Somehow today I managed to resist the urge to pop in for a warming dip. Instead we retraced our steps. Or breath forming clouds before us as we wandered through the frozen landscape. Birds darting in and out of the hedgerows. Their normal caution discarded with the need find scarce but so essential food to endure this extended cold spell.
Pleasure for man & dog. A dangerous time for wildlife.
We returned home - the dog to his 'well-done' dog biscuit; Myself to a tot of whiskey in a hot coffee.
But firstly I made sure the bird seed hoppers were full & the various bird baths cleared of ice and refilled with fresh water.
A simple action. But a possible life saver for some of our feathered co-travellers.
Saturday, January 3
Dur Hill '08: Better times are coming
Earlier today I came across a half scribbled piece, penned around this time in 2008. With the thermometer barely reaching 3°C during the past week it seemed timely to wake it from a long hibernation as a reminder of the inevitability of better times to come. Eventually.
(Ice - thick and multi layered)
As I turned off the car engine I caught sight of the temperature display .... 9°C .... the warmest it's been for a week or so. Lifting the estate's boot I let the solitary collie jump down to join me for Saturday's New Forest wander. I could feel a slight breeze on my cheek to confirm the wind shift promised by last night's weather report. No longer blowing from the cold east, now a benign south westerly. Herald of rain sometime during the next few days perhaps. For the moment a refreshing change after many outdoor sorties of chin hunkered deep down inside the neck of my fleece, that instinctive seeking of respite from the ever pervasive chilling.
I find it usually takes me 3 days or so to come to terms with very cold weather, probably due to the cocoon offered by centrally heated house and office, my main habitats at this time of year.
But today a weak winter sun brings respite to man and dog alike as we steer clear of the post Xmas chaos, specifically other walkers, for a private amble over familiar ground. Around the Dur Hill enclosure whose western edge can usually be relied on for some solitude at this time of year. Once a widely forested area the last few years have seen certain 'improvements' most noticeably removal of much woodland and scrub leaving large barren areas as a result. Other than this past human activity, such as RAF Sopley's radio transmitter building, have long since disappeared leaving the area with a feeling of remoteness despite its proximity to the nearby Bournemouth conurbation.
But a cosmetic pretence suddenly shattered as overhead a plane drones its throaty descent downwards to Bournemouth International Airport (strange naming for its Christchurch based location)
The lingerings of uninterrupted icy days have left a churned landscape to pick our way over. At times a solid unyielding ground, still glassy and insincere underfoot, as if walking on a concrete ice-rink. The path continues, and with its next twist detouring a clump of impenetrable gorse bush, comes endless pools of thick cloying black mud and water, leading between a tunnel of yet more gorse. Each pool with slick edges, treacherous to negotiate. Unless heavily mud spattered trousers, or worse an unexpected cold dip, is a preference.
No matter. This change in the weather brings with it a general lifting of spirits. Tremblings of warmer days to come. Softer times to savour.
Man & dog trudge onwards. A shared and renewed interest in all around.Labels: New Forest, walks
Sunday, December 14
Seb Green - Home again
Seb Green finished his coastal wandering earlier today.
Wisely he seems to already have plans for his next challenges. To quote the website report posted for today's arrival "You had a dream and you have made your dream reality. You achieved everything you hoped to achieve - and so much more. You went away a boy and came back a man, head held high, knowing who you are"
Once the media kerfuffle has died down I'll be contacting one of my varied local connections, there for his arrival earlier today, for a more reflective chat with Seb if he's interested.
More of a walker/outdoor/kit roundup piece. Looking beyond the charity/publicity junket he's at the centre at present.
Tuesday, December 2
Seb Green - True celebrity
So the weather has got decidedly colder recently. Then there is that edgy wind that's been blowing for the last few days. Suddenly the joy of a long outdoor trek becomes much less attractive. Especially where there is no shelter - something like a cliff-top walk perhaps?
Bear a thought then for a true celebrity, previously mentioned on this blog - Seb Green on his Round Britain walk.
Currently somewhere north of Plymouth he's on the final stretch of his 3,000+ mile walk, and expects to arrive home in Weymouth during the next couple of weeks.
A celebrity? Well in my eyes one truly deserving of that oft misused and abused title.
His fame has come through selfless effort, unabashed contrition for his original mistake, and continual and communal improvements. That's of truer value than those boasters using the C title as a result of a hard working agent or as over excessive use of silicon implants.
Consider the charities benefiting from the £14,000+ raised. Or the people he's encountered along the way, seeing for themselves that something positive can come from an anti-social act. The proof that not all of modern yoof is a feral hooded knife wielder lurking on a street corner.
However I suspect the real gift for Seb will be the self knowledge and personal awareness gained over the months since his February start. A better understanding of self reliance and personal responsibility - an essential part of maturing as a human being.
Something that some people two or three times his age have yet to discover.
Welcome home Seb.
Saturday, November 15
Saturday morning - New Forest Dogging
On a whim today I decided to visit one of my regular circuits deep amongst woodland, south of Wilverley Plain. Luckily a track well known to me, as a mixture of sudden leaf drop & a period of wet and damp conditions, has altered the terrain sufficiently to obscure some of the side-tracks, leading from the main shale surfaced tourist paths - ones tend to keep well clear of wherever possible.
On the entry gate into the enclosure I'd spotted a new information sign advising of one of those New Forest events that appear out of the blue, and are always accompanied by a Caution & Care notice for regular NF users. And any concerned insurer, no doubt.
So no surprise then, on coning to cross one of the shale tracks, to find a couple of competitors busily working their dog teams in the ABSA Sleddog Championship 2008/09.
Unlike previous events I've met this time the teams were using only one dog per sled/musher. But, as usual, the dogs seem to be enjoying themselves tremendously, as the mushers did most of the sled pushing on a nearby uphill section.
If you've not encountered this sport before the sleds are lightweight frames mounted on large bicycle wheels. A sturdy build to take the knocks of travelling at speed over the hard & uneven forest tracks.
Later I moved from the dank woodland into the weak daylight of Wilverley Plain, and recalled my last visit here. That was back in October to cover the Forest Uprising Group's protests against the New Forest National Park's proposals.
Then it hit me.
On one hand the NFPA, talking up the tightening of dog access in the New Forest. The same authority today permitting a competitive dog centred event. One that results in some limitation of access in a popular area for the whole weekend (Not that I've any problem with the event or its organisers BTW)
A timely reminder that FUG presented their formal response on the NFPA's consultation draft yesterday, on the last day for submissions.
With around 9,000 responses to work through the NFPA is going to be rather busy trying to settle down the hornet's nest they've raised, ready for the formal submission to the full National Park Authority in summer 2009.
With further workgroups and public meetings in the pipeline expect sparks to continue to fly for some time yet.
Me, I went back to the sled race. It seemed to me that the dogs were getting the better of the deal today. And long may it stay so into the future.Labels: New Forest, walks
Tuesday, November 11
Numbering the days or Counting the cost
50
My age next year.
For those of you that have had the dubious distinction of meeting me in the flesh that's probably a hard fact to swallow. But a true one nevertheless. This lithe body, is a temple, testament to years of loose living & looser women (I remain ever hopeful - lol) Amazingly still unfettered by any short term leasing arrangement with certain Dark Forces.
Nope - its all my own work, as it were. For luckily I've inherited a simple healthiness with a level of natural fitness that becomes the envy of those tubby-tum middle-aged men I see amongst my age group these days.
360
The number of places available on the 2009 TGO Challenge, 60 up on the usual 300 limit, in recognition of the 30th anniversary of this event.
509
The number of applications received for 2009. With wider publicity of recent years the TGO continues to go from strength to strength as an internationally famous event, despite the physical and mental rigours required of those taking part, and the self reliant nature of the challenge.
149
The number of those initially listed on the short list.
40
Those on the short list who may be lucky enough, so I'm informed by those with experience of past events, to move over to the entrant list as some of the 2009 Challengers find themselves having to withdraw ahead of the event.
90
My short list number.
Well that's me buggered then.
I thought something suitably emphatic was called for in 2009. A symbolic achievement on passing my half century mark. An age that many years ago I wouldn't have seriously expected to reach, such was my lifestyle and its associated high risk activities (Lots of fun along the way though)
So that leaves me with a quandary. What else to do with the 2 week break from work that is already booked?
Too short a time to wildcamp the SW Coastal Footpath, one of my long term ambitions. All too easily 'squandered' on challenging, but potentially unmemorable, wildcamping weeks of my own design. Definitely too disinterested in the usual fall backs such as Coast to Coast, Pennine Way, Offa Dyke etc. All undoubtedly superb end to end journeys in themselves, but not that ....... well ..........different ....... to be honest.
Hmm. I guess that's what I'm looking for. A trip that delivers the chance for my steady movement across this land of ours. A point to point challenge with a recognisable aim, even to a non walker, but with that special something that I can look back at in the years ahead, and grin at having done it.
Any ideas folks?
All comments count. Naturally.Labels: TGO Challenge, walks
Sunday, October 26
A walk on the Algarve - Carveiro
Dawn. The sun's rays, already a reminder of the southerly latitude. An offshore breeze unexpected, but a welcome respite after a week of blue sky and mid 20s temperatures each day.
Waking early I decided to sneak out for a short while, to walk amongst the pitted red cliffs.
Amongst? For below the shadeless cliff top path marking the sudden drop down to the Atlantic I discovered a maze of steps, paths and tunnels leading down to hidden paths on the lower rock ledges edging the shoreline.
(Tunnel)
Rock, red pitted and pock marked. And through it all shards of sea shells clearly visible, deeply embedded in the strata. Surely a landscape more used to lunar exploration?
A solo daybreak walk then; Before the oppressive heat turned the cliff bowl into a cauldron of heat, at least for one more used to an UK climate.
I wandered for some while along traditional fisherman's paths. Some worn away through centuries of habitual usage. Others clearly revealing the local inhabitants' intent to bend this barren land to their human desires with carved steps and chilled dark tunnels popping up without warning as my exploration continued.
Above and behind me the small town, until recent times a quiet fishing village, now a thriving tourist escape, especially those from England and Ireland.
Its inhabitants slowly rising to meet another day of trade and trinket exchange.
But before me for the present the seemingly endless horizon of the Atlantic sea. And in the distance a five master schooner, sails furled, slowly motoring westwards towards its port.
I sit with my back to the wind, the sun now hot on my arms and face, as I watch the ship slip by. Its solitary behaviour matching my own as I carefully continue my exploration of this strange land. Acutely aware that a moment's lack of concentration amongst such rugged landscape could be harshly punished. A slip down to the sea and rocks below. Or worse to be swallowed up by one of the deep and dark sink holes that border the tracks.
Around me signs of night fishing activity. Discarded cigarette packs & bottles amongst abused tackle. A dangerous place then in the daylight. But possibly lethal at night for the unwary. Or drunk.
An alien and wild landscape. So unlike any place I'd encountered before. But, in common with those wilder places where caution is required, a deeply satisfying area to explore.
Finally that increasingly insistent voice of personal safety reminds me the odds had been played enough for so early in the day. Time to head back up the cliff paths.
Back to re-don the tourist disguise and greet an incautiously early cold beer before another day on the beach. Just one more lazily tanning holidaymaker to any casual onlooker. But inside me a quiet satisfaction in lifting aside one of the veils worn by this small Portuguese village. To have tasted a little of its truer identity. However briefly.
To travel; To experience a different culture and climate. And on this occasion a truly different landscape.Labels: walks
Sunday, September 28
Hincheslea Wood - Rebirth
Back in April last year I described a wander around Hincheslea Wood (OL22: GR 275 010) in the New Forest remarking that this burnt out building may have been about to arise from its ashes. Earlier today I came across the replacement building, fast approaching its completion.
Neighbours, approached for their comments on the refurbishment, had no comment to make.
Being more concerned with local childcare facilities.
Labels: New Forest, walks
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
With the spring weather holding and a rare day of free time to myself I took down my walking diaries from the bookshelf earlier this morning to look back over my various trip reports.
I've been keeping a description of all new routes for over fifteen years now. Initially each year had plenty of entries, but as the local variations were ticked off the number of new entries each year has dropped, replaced by infrequent longer reports of wildcamping weeks away.
I've always found it beneficial to keep such a diary. Apart from the smile it brings to my lips as I'm reminded of past journeys, each description ends with a footnote suggesting possibilities for future trips that I've spotted along the way. Over time this has led to uncovering some of my best wildcamping spots, despite the original visit being many years ago.
Today I spotted am idea from the late 1990's - a circular trip using a familiar stretch of the Avon Valley Footpath, north of Fordingbridge, to visit Frankenbury (Grid Ref: OL22/166152), an iron age hill fort.
It's a subject of which I understand only a little, but these old defences are always a worthy reason for a walk as I try to get a taste of why our ancestors chose such places for their homes and lives.
Luckily Dorset and the surrounding areas are extremely rich in ancient hill defences. These vary wildly from the grandiose (Maiden Castle) to the mundane (Buckland Rings) So what would I uncover today?
I crossed the suspended bridge over the River Avon - unique in its construction method in Hampshire I believe.
Onto the muddy track across the water meadows and over a number of drainage channels, dotted here and there with their sluice gates. Long ago boats and their cargo travelled along the waterways in this area from the coast inland to Salisbury, 30 miles away. But that was then. Today the remaining ditches remind one more of a fenland scene, were it not for small hills edging along the wide Avon Valley.
Along the way the path forked. To the left ugly recycling bins and agricultural debris. To the right a drop to a track alongside the river and amongst the trees. Beast & beauty? No contest.
Down to the river then. With further reminders of seasonal changes, far more advanced that I would have thought likely at this time of year.
The trees positively dripping with catkins, some the largest I've seen.
Nearing the hill fort itself a few early primroses in bloom, alongside the stems of bluebells awaiting their turn once the clumps of snowdrops had had their chance.
The path opened onto a forest nature trail, with the inevitable crowds of Sunday strollers. After the natural beauty of the footpath the Nature Trail, composed of ugly 'visitor friendly' tracks & wth the removal of much of the native woodland, was a shock. I quickly cut across this section moving upwards to the hill fort, there to find the remains unhappily now located on agricultural land.
Little remained other than than a small ring defence rampart crowded with hedgerow, tree & briar.
Today it guarded a field of grazing cattle. No sense of history to be found here. This visit, as I've discovered in the past, not so much a reminder of ancient times. More a surprise that such places ever survive at all where modern farming meets ancient remains.
I returned to the nature trail, meeting people oblivious to the historic fortification alongside the man made track as they blindly followed the ugly track, and its clue points -whatever they were.
Needless to say I didn't have my 3 clues by now. Or even any idea what the questions were. But I did have a reason for the human activity as I approached Sandy Balls Holiday Camp, even at this time of year a busy spot.
So instead onto the field footpaths, avoiding the camp. Trying to match the marks on the map to the path on the ground whilst factoring in numerous "Keep Out" & "Private" signs garlanding the trees and hedgerow
I've been keeping a description of all new routes for over fifteen years now. Initially each year had plenty of entries, but as the local variations were ticked off the number of new entries each year has dropped, replaced by infrequent longer reports of wildcamping weeks away.
I've always found it beneficial to keep such a diary. Apart from the smile it brings to my lips as I'm reminded of past journeys, each description ends with a footnote suggesting possibilities for future trips that I've spotted along the way. Over time this has led to uncovering some of my best wildcamping spots, despite the original visit being many years ago.
Today I spotted am idea from the late 1990's - a circular trip using a familiar stretch of the Avon Valley Footpath, north of Fordingbridge, to visit Frankenbury (Grid Ref: OL22/166152), an iron age hill fort.
It's a subject of which I understand only a little, but these old defences are always a worthy reason for a walk as I try to get a taste of why our ancestors chose such places for their homes and lives.
Luckily Dorset and the surrounding areas are extremely rich in ancient hill defences. These vary wildly from the grandiose (Maiden Castle) to the mundane (Buckland Rings) So what would I uncover today?
I crossed the suspended bridge over the River Avon - unique in its construction method in Hampshire I believe.
Onto the muddy track across the water meadows and over a number of drainage channels, dotted here and there with their sluice gates. Long ago boats and their cargo travelled along the waterways in this area from the coast inland to Salisbury, 30 miles away. But that was then. Today the remaining ditches remind one more of a fenland scene, were it not for small hills edging along the wide Avon Valley.
Along the way the path forked. To the left ugly recycling bins and agricultural debris. To the right a drop to a track alongside the river and amongst the trees. Beast & beauty? No contest.
Down to the river then. With further reminders of seasonal changes, far more advanced that I would have thought likely at this time of year.
The trees positively dripping with catkins, some the largest I've seen.
Nearing the hill fort itself a few early primroses in bloom, alongside the stems of bluebells awaiting their turn once the clumps of snowdrops had had their chance.
The path opened onto a forest nature trail, with the inevitable crowds of Sunday strollers. After the natural beauty of the footpath the Nature Trail, composed of ugly 'visitor friendly' tracks & wth the removal of much of the native woodland, was a shock. I quickly cut across this section moving upwards to the hill fort, there to find the remains unhappily now located on agricultural land.
Little remained other than than a small ring defence rampart crowded with hedgerow, tree & briar.
Today it guarded a field of grazing cattle. No sense of history to be found here. This visit, as I've discovered in the past, not so much a reminder of ancient times. More a surprise that such places ever survive at all where modern farming meets ancient remains.
I returned to the nature trail, meeting people oblivious to the historic fortification alongside the man made track as they blindly followed the ugly track, and its clue points -whatever they were.
Needless to say I didn't have my 3 clues by now. Or even any idea what the questions were. But I did have a reason for the human activity as I approached Sandy Balls Holiday Camp, even at this time of year a busy spot.
So instead onto the field footpaths, avoiding the camp. Trying to match the marks on the map to the path on the ground whilst factoring in numerous "Keep Out" & "Private" signs garlanding the trees and hedgerow
Seems like the local landowner & the Camp's visitors may have had their disagreements in the past. But the Godshill area, as I'd noted before from previous visits seems plagued with a need to parcel up land with barb wire defences in the name of horse grazing. And parochial demonstrations of ownership. Its an area where trouser ripping is to be expected as one negotiates the miserly footpaths around the village.
Ah the village. Today that meant the Fighting Cocks Pub for a pint and a pie. It was not to be. The deterrent of Sunday crowds queing for food meant instead I settled for two pints & a Kit-Kat. Dog faring slightly better thanks to abundant dog chews available on the bar for a small charitable donation.
We moved on along Godshill Ridge and onto the open forest. Finally I could leave off the detailed map-to-ground route work and was able to return to my normal practice of pick a point on the horizon and find the least muddy way to it. In this case the unmissable treeline of Godshill Enclosure on the rise above.
West then back to the AVP and a familiar descent back to the valley and my starting point.
Along the way Dog and myself exchanged greetings with a Very Large Bull busily munching its fodder.
I've no idea of the breed, but the maleness of the creature was indisputable as I looked at the enormity of his undercarriage.
A short distance covered, barely 6 miles, but a lengthy wander of 4 hours. A leisurely time for the most, when not bent forward map reading.
But out long enough to breathe deep of the coming changes. And, for a time, enjoy a period of solitary peace amongst the greening shoots of Nature.
Now I wonder how many new visitors to this site will arrive via Google search for Cock or Balls? lol
Ah the village. Today that meant the Fighting Cocks Pub for a pint and a pie. It was not to be. The deterrent of Sunday crowds queing for food meant instead I settled for two pints & a Kit-Kat. Dog faring slightly better thanks to abundant dog chews available on the bar for a small charitable donation.
We moved on along Godshill Ridge and onto the open forest. Finally I could leave off the detailed map-to-ground route work and was able to return to my normal practice of pick a point on the horizon and find the least muddy way to it. In this case the unmissable treeline of Godshill Enclosure on the rise above.
West then back to the AVP and a familiar descent back to the valley and my starting point.
Along the way Dog and myself exchanged greetings with a Very Large Bull busily munching its fodder.
I've no idea of the breed, but the maleness of the creature was indisputable as I looked at the enormity of his undercarriage.
A short distance covered, barely 6 miles, but a lengthy wander of 4 hours. A leisurely time for the most, when not bent forward map reading.
But out long enough to breathe deep of the coming changes. And, for a time, enjoy a period of solitary peace amongst the greening shoots of Nature.
Now I wonder how many new visitors to this site will arrive via Google search for Cock or Balls? lol
Labels: nature, New Forest, walks
Remember me this way
Today a cold and icy wander along the paths and hidden tracks that criss-cross Wilverley Enclosure in the New Forest.
Clean transparent ice, freshly thrown across the puddles, despite the 3 deg temperature.
Signs of snow in the undergrowth still clearly visible. Ahead a couple of cheeky deer break cover. Their white rumps flashing, stubby tails held high, as they casually hop along the track before me. No urgency to dash for thicket cover today. A sign that the recent hard weather and reduced human traffic along this way had toned down their usual fight or flight response.
In the weak sunshine a bench beckons. Its siting always a friendly welcome at the junction of four major tracks. A position carefully chosen for sunlight and quiet reflection deep amongst the trees.
Today the bench is crowned with twin wreaths - in remembrance to one who's memorial it represents.
A physical manifestation to match the mental appreciation I often offer up to its unknown benefactor.
A fellow traveller. Similarly in tune with time & place. A special spot.
The path unwinds before me as I start uphill. I leave behind the one for whom a journey has completed. Marked for others to note; To reflect; To share; Despite the absence of their physical presence on this bright and quiet late winter morning.Labels: New Forest, walks
Friday, February 6
Walk with me a while
For those stuck indoors.
Sat gazing through steamed-up windows at snow (or in my case cold rain & slush)?
I offer a walking route description with a subtle difference from the standard fare.
Walking with Oswald, King of Northumbria
Alf Wainwright - eat your heart out.
;-)Labels: walks
Saturday, January 10
Kingston walkabout - Remember the birds
I'm sure there's a streak of masochism somewhere in my personality.
After a week of frozen early morning workday starts and the inevitable car de-icing/warm-up routine, a Saturday lie-in would be a simple and highly attractive pleasure. But not today.
Somehow I'd arranged a very early appointment for my car's MOT. With recent weather & road conditions this required a pre-check that all lights/windows were clear, clean & functional. Plus the small matter of getting the motor properly warmed up prior to the car's CO2 check. Which for a diesel engine, mostly used for the commuter stop-start grind, requires a little high rev driving in an attempt to blow out some of the gunge that tends to build-up in the engine systems.
I woke to a picturesque Xmas card view of heavy frosts garlanding the trees, as if visited by snowfall, but in this case the result of an overnight freezing fog. The heaviest sign of frost so far this season.
Hence early morning sub zero temperatures found me driving up and down the local stretch of dual carriageway getting all things mechanical up to a reasonable operating temperature.
MOT sorted, it meant I was able to clear my normal Saturday chores earlier than usual, leaving time for a few stolen pleasures, during which myself and the collie wandered off to revisit an area near Kingston, along the Avon Valley Footpath south of Ringwood, and east of the River Avon.
Its not a huge area to roam over and doesn't offer any real distance walks, but there is always a rich variety of wildlife along the way with pools, a lake and a river amongst a mix of heathland, hedgerow and mixed woodland. During Xmas I'd spotted a grey heron, various members of the duck/geese/swan families, solitary buzzards, and watched a fisherman landed a small jack pike from near the river ford (just why do pike always look so p*ssed off?)
If you'd come across myself and dog today, you would have found me grinning as I recalled childhood experiences. Carefully making a slip-slide traverse of a wide frozen pool. A wide bare mud dip in the land in summertime. Today transformed into a skating rink of boot depth frozen water. Half remembered skills flooded back as I carefully made my way across, dog ordered 'slow to heel', as he learnt a new skill. Better that than risk a headlong dash with inevitable loss of four pawed traction. His pride couldn't take the ignomy of that; And I didn't fancy the potential vet's bill.
Unsurprisingly the lake was mostly frozen. It provided a near unique opportunity to sneak out onto the thick ice, dog safe on the shore, in an attempt to get a photo of frost on the lake's edge. That was until I heard an ominous sound and looking down saw three lengthening cracks working their way out from my position. Aware of the potential risk, I hadn't strayed far out from lakeside, but it was enough to get wet boot & trousers if things worsened. Discretion required a careful but rapid retreat back to terra firma.
(The Lake photographed from The Lake)
Courtesy of my latest piece of gear I could measure the land temperature at -2°C. Stopping at the river's ford, current strong despite the water's frozen edges, I checked the water reading at a positive balmy 3°C.
(River's edge)
Somehow today I managed to resist the urge to pop in for a warming dip. Instead we retraced our steps. Or breath forming clouds before us as we wandered through the frozen landscape. Birds darting in and out of the hedgerows. Their normal caution discarded with the need find scarce but so essential food to endure this extended cold spell.
Pleasure for man & dog. A dangerous time for wildlife.
We returned home - the dog to his 'well-done' dog biscuit; Myself to a tot of whiskey in a hot coffee.
But firstly I made sure the bird seed hoppers were full & the various bird baths cleared of ice and refilled with fresh water.
A simple action. But a possible life saver for some of our feathered co-travellers.
Saturday, January 3
Dur Hill '08: Better times are coming
Earlier today I came across a half scribbled piece, penned around this time in 2008. With the thermometer barely reaching 3°C during the past week it seemed timely to wake it from a long hibernation as a reminder of the inevitability of better times to come. Eventually.
(Ice - thick and multi layered)
As I turned off the car engine I caught sight of the temperature display .... 9°C .... the warmest it's been for a week or so. Lifting the estate's boot I let the solitary collie jump down to join me for Saturday's New Forest wander. I could feel a slight breeze on my cheek to confirm the wind shift promised by last night's weather report. No longer blowing from the cold east, now a benign south westerly. Herald of rain sometime during the next few days perhaps. For the moment a refreshing change after many outdoor sorties of chin hunkered deep down inside the neck of my fleece, that instinctive seeking of respite from the ever pervasive chilling.
I find it usually takes me 3 days or so to come to terms with very cold weather, probably due to the cocoon offered by centrally heated house and office, my main habitats at this time of year.
But today a weak winter sun brings respite to man and dog alike as we steer clear of the post Xmas chaos, specifically other walkers, for a private amble over familiar ground. Around the Dur Hill enclosure whose western edge can usually be relied on for some solitude at this time of year. Once a widely forested area the last few years have seen certain 'improvements' most noticeably removal of much woodland and scrub leaving large barren areas as a result. Other than this past human activity, such as RAF Sopley's radio transmitter building, have long since disappeared leaving the area with a feeling of remoteness despite its proximity to the nearby Bournemouth conurbation.
But a cosmetic pretence suddenly shattered as overhead a plane drones its throaty descent downwards to Bournemouth International Airport (strange naming for its Christchurch based location)
The lingerings of uninterrupted icy days have left a churned landscape to pick our way over. At times a solid unyielding ground, still glassy and insincere underfoot, as if walking on a concrete ice-rink. The path continues, and with its next twist detouring a clump of impenetrable gorse bush, comes endless pools of thick cloying black mud and water, leading between a tunnel of yet more gorse. Each pool with slick edges, treacherous to negotiate. Unless heavily mud spattered trousers, or worse an unexpected cold dip, is a preference.
No matter. This change in the weather brings with it a general lifting of spirits. Tremblings of warmer days to come. Softer times to savour.
Man & dog trudge onwards. A shared and renewed interest in all around.Labels: New Forest, walks
Sunday, December 14
Seb Green - Home again
Seb Green finished his coastal wandering earlier today.
Wisely he seems to already have plans for his next challenges. To quote the website report posted for today's arrival "You had a dream and you have made your dream reality. You achieved everything you hoped to achieve - and so much more. You went away a boy and came back a man, head held high, knowing who you are"
Once the media kerfuffle has died down I'll be contacting one of my varied local connections, there for his arrival earlier today, for a more reflective chat with Seb if he's interested.
More of a walker/outdoor/kit roundup piece. Looking beyond the charity/publicity junket he's at the centre at present.
Tuesday, December 2
Seb Green - True celebrity
So the weather has got decidedly colder recently. Then there is that edgy wind that's been blowing for the last few days. Suddenly the joy of a long outdoor trek becomes much less attractive. Especially where there is no shelter - something like a cliff-top walk perhaps?
Bear a thought then for a true celebrity, previously mentioned on this blog - Seb Green on his Round Britain walk.
Currently somewhere north of Plymouth he's on the final stretch of his 3,000+ mile walk, and expects to arrive home in Weymouth during the next couple of weeks.
A celebrity? Well in my eyes one truly deserving of that oft misused and abused title.
His fame has come through selfless effort, unabashed contrition for his original mistake, and continual and communal improvements. That's of truer value than those boasters using the C title as a result of a hard working agent or as over excessive use of silicon implants.
Consider the charities benefiting from the £14,000+ raised. Or the people he's encountered along the way, seeing for themselves that something positive can come from an anti-social act. The proof that not all of modern yoof is a feral hooded knife wielder lurking on a street corner.
However I suspect the real gift for Seb will be the self knowledge and personal awareness gained over the months since his February start. A better understanding of self reliance and personal responsibility - an essential part of maturing as a human being.
Something that some people two or three times his age have yet to discover.
Welcome home Seb.
Saturday, November 15
Saturday morning - New Forest Dogging
On a whim today I decided to visit one of my regular circuits deep amongst woodland, south of Wilverley Plain. Luckily a track well known to me, as a mixture of sudden leaf drop & a period of wet and damp conditions, has altered the terrain sufficiently to obscure some of the side-tracks, leading from the main shale surfaced tourist paths - ones tend to keep well clear of wherever possible.
On the entry gate into the enclosure I'd spotted a new information sign advising of one of those New Forest events that appear out of the blue, and are always accompanied by a Caution & Care notice for regular NF users. And any concerned insurer, no doubt.
So no surprise then, on coning to cross one of the shale tracks, to find a couple of competitors busily working their dog teams in the ABSA Sleddog Championship 2008/09.
Unlike previous events I've met this time the teams were using only one dog per sled/musher. But, as usual, the dogs seem to be enjoying themselves tremendously, as the mushers did most of the sled pushing on a nearby uphill section.
If you've not encountered this sport before the sleds are lightweight frames mounted on large bicycle wheels. A sturdy build to take the knocks of travelling at speed over the hard & uneven forest tracks.
Later I moved from the dank woodland into the weak daylight of Wilverley Plain, and recalled my last visit here. That was back in October to cover the Forest Uprising Group's protests against the New Forest National Park's proposals.
Then it hit me.
On one hand the NFPA, talking up the tightening of dog access in the New Forest. The same authority today permitting a competitive dog centred event. One that results in some limitation of access in a popular area for the whole weekend (Not that I've any problem with the event or its organisers BTW)
A timely reminder that FUG presented their formal response on the NFPA's consultation draft yesterday, on the last day for submissions.
With around 9,000 responses to work through the NFPA is going to be rather busy trying to settle down the hornet's nest they've raised, ready for the formal submission to the full National Park Authority in summer 2009.
With further workgroups and public meetings in the pipeline expect sparks to continue to fly for some time yet.
Me, I went back to the sled race. It seemed to me that the dogs were getting the better of the deal today. And long may it stay so into the future.Labels: New Forest, walks
Tuesday, November 11
Numbering the days or Counting the cost
50
My age next year.
For those of you that have had the dubious distinction of meeting me in the flesh that's probably a hard fact to swallow. But a true one nevertheless. This lithe body, is a temple, testament to years of loose living & looser women (I remain ever hopeful - lol) Amazingly still unfettered by any short term leasing arrangement with certain Dark Forces.
Nope - its all my own work, as it were. For luckily I've inherited a simple healthiness with a level of natural fitness that becomes the envy of those tubby-tum middle-aged men I see amongst my age group these days.
360
The number of places available on the 2009 TGO Challenge, 60 up on the usual 300 limit, in recognition of the 30th anniversary of this event.
509
The number of applications received for 2009. With wider publicity of recent years the TGO continues to go from strength to strength as an internationally famous event, despite the physical and mental rigours required of those taking part, and the self reliant nature of the challenge.
149
The number of those initially listed on the short list.
40
Those on the short list who may be lucky enough, so I'm informed by those with experience of past events, to move over to the entrant list as some of the 2009 Challengers find themselves having to withdraw ahead of the event.
90
My short list number.
Well that's me buggered then.
I thought something suitably emphatic was called for in 2009. A symbolic achievement on passing my half century mark. An age that many years ago I wouldn't have seriously expected to reach, such was my lifestyle and its associated high risk activities (Lots of fun along the way though)
So that leaves me with a quandary. What else to do with the 2 week break from work that is already booked?
Too short a time to wildcamp the SW Coastal Footpath, one of my long term ambitions. All too easily 'squandered' on challenging, but potentially unmemorable, wildcamping weeks of my own design. Definitely too disinterested in the usual fall backs such as Coast to Coast, Pennine Way, Offa Dyke etc. All undoubtedly superb end to end journeys in themselves, but not that ....... well ..........different ....... to be honest.
Hmm. I guess that's what I'm looking for. A trip that delivers the chance for my steady movement across this land of ours. A point to point challenge with a recognisable aim, even to a non walker, but with that special something that I can look back at in the years ahead, and grin at having done it.
Any ideas folks?
All comments count. Naturally.Labels: TGO Challenge, walks
Sunday, October 26
A walk on the Algarve - Carveiro
Dawn. The sun's rays, already a reminder of the southerly latitude. An offshore breeze unexpected, but a welcome respite after a week of blue sky and mid 20s temperatures each day.
Waking early I decided to sneak out for a short while, to walk amongst the pitted red cliffs.
Amongst? For below the shadeless cliff top path marking the sudden drop down to the Atlantic I discovered a maze of steps, paths and tunnels leading down to hidden paths on the lower rock ledges edging the shoreline.
(Tunnel)
Rock, red pitted and pock marked. And through it all shards of sea shells clearly visible, deeply embedded in the strata. Surely a landscape more used to lunar exploration?
A solo daybreak walk then; Before the oppressive heat turned the cliff bowl into a cauldron of heat, at least for one more used to an UK climate.
I wandered for some while along traditional fisherman's paths. Some worn away through centuries of habitual usage. Others clearly revealing the local inhabitants' intent to bend this barren land to their human desires with carved steps and chilled dark tunnels popping up without warning as my exploration continued.
Above and behind me the small town, until recent times a quiet fishing village, now a thriving tourist escape, especially those from England and Ireland.
Its inhabitants slowly rising to meet another day of trade and trinket exchange.
But before me for the present the seemingly endless horizon of the Atlantic sea. And in the distance a five master schooner, sails furled, slowly motoring westwards towards its port.
I sit with my back to the wind, the sun now hot on my arms and face, as I watch the ship slip by. Its solitary behaviour matching my own as I carefully continue my exploration of this strange land. Acutely aware that a moment's lack of concentration amongst such rugged landscape could be harshly punished. A slip down to the sea and rocks below. Or worse to be swallowed up by one of the deep and dark sink holes that border the tracks.
Around me signs of night fishing activity. Discarded cigarette packs & bottles amongst abused tackle. A dangerous place then in the daylight. But possibly lethal at night for the unwary. Or drunk.
An alien and wild landscape. So unlike any place I'd encountered before. But, in common with those wilder places where caution is required, a deeply satisfying area to explore.
Finally that increasingly insistent voice of personal safety reminds me the odds had been played enough for so early in the day. Time to head back up the cliff paths.
Back to re-don the tourist disguise and greet an incautiously early cold beer before another day on the beach. Just one more lazily tanning holidaymaker to any casual onlooker. But inside me a quiet satisfaction in lifting aside one of the veils worn by this small Portuguese village. To have tasted a little of its truer identity. However briefly.
To travel; To experience a different culture and climate. And on this occasion a truly different landscape.Labels: walks
Sunday, September 28
Hincheslea Wood - Rebirth
Back in April last year I described a wander around Hincheslea Wood (OL22: GR 275 010) in the New Forest remarking that this burnt out building may have been about to arise from its ashes. Earlier today I came across the replacement building, fast approaching its completion.
Neighbours, approached for their comments on the refurbishment, had no comment to make.
Being more concerned with local childcare facilities.
Labels: New Forest, walks
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
Clean transparent ice, freshly thrown across the puddles, despite the 3 deg temperature.
Signs of snow in the undergrowth still clearly visible. Ahead a couple of cheeky deer break cover. Their white rumps flashing, stubby tails held high, as they casually hop along the track before me. No urgency to dash for thicket cover today. A sign that the recent hard weather and reduced human traffic along this way had toned down their usual fight or flight response.
In the weak sunshine a bench beckons. Its siting always a friendly welcome at the junction of four major tracks. A position carefully chosen for sunlight and quiet reflection deep amongst the trees.
Today the bench is crowned with twin wreaths - in remembrance to one who's memorial it represents.
A physical manifestation to match the mental appreciation I often offer up to its unknown benefactor.
A fellow traveller. Similarly in tune with time & place. A special spot.
The path unwinds before me as I start uphill. I leave behind the one for whom a journey has completed. Marked for others to note; To reflect; To share; Despite the absence of their physical presence on this bright and quiet late winter morning.
Labels: New Forest, walks
Walk with me a while
For those stuck indoors.
Sat gazing through steamed-up windows at snow (or in my case cold rain & slush)?
I offer a walking route description with a subtle difference from the standard fare.
Walking with Oswald, King of Northumbria
Alf Wainwright - eat your heart out.
;-)Labels: walks
Saturday, January 10
Kingston walkabout - Remember the birds
I'm sure there's a streak of masochism somewhere in my personality.
After a week of frozen early morning workday starts and the inevitable car de-icing/warm-up routine, a Saturday lie-in would be a simple and highly attractive pleasure. But not today.
Somehow I'd arranged a very early appointment for my car's MOT. With recent weather & road conditions this required a pre-check that all lights/windows were clear, clean & functional. Plus the small matter of getting the motor properly warmed up prior to the car's CO2 check. Which for a diesel engine, mostly used for the commuter stop-start grind, requires a little high rev driving in an attempt to blow out some of the gunge that tends to build-up in the engine systems.
I woke to a picturesque Xmas card view of heavy frosts garlanding the trees, as if visited by snowfall, but in this case the result of an overnight freezing fog. The heaviest sign of frost so far this season.
Hence early morning sub zero temperatures found me driving up and down the local stretch of dual carriageway getting all things mechanical up to a reasonable operating temperature.
MOT sorted, it meant I was able to clear my normal Saturday chores earlier than usual, leaving time for a few stolen pleasures, during which myself and the collie wandered off to revisit an area near Kingston, along the Avon Valley Footpath south of Ringwood, and east of the River Avon.
Its not a huge area to roam over and doesn't offer any real distance walks, but there is always a rich variety of wildlife along the way with pools, a lake and a river amongst a mix of heathland, hedgerow and mixed woodland. During Xmas I'd spotted a grey heron, various members of the duck/geese/swan families, solitary buzzards, and watched a fisherman landed a small jack pike from near the river ford (just why do pike always look so p*ssed off?)
If you'd come across myself and dog today, you would have found me grinning as I recalled childhood experiences. Carefully making a slip-slide traverse of a wide frozen pool. A wide bare mud dip in the land in summertime. Today transformed into a skating rink of boot depth frozen water. Half remembered skills flooded back as I carefully made my way across, dog ordered 'slow to heel', as he learnt a new skill. Better that than risk a headlong dash with inevitable loss of four pawed traction. His pride couldn't take the ignomy of that; And I didn't fancy the potential vet's bill.
Unsurprisingly the lake was mostly frozen. It provided a near unique opportunity to sneak out onto the thick ice, dog safe on the shore, in an attempt to get a photo of frost on the lake's edge. That was until I heard an ominous sound and looking down saw three lengthening cracks working their way out from my position. Aware of the potential risk, I hadn't strayed far out from lakeside, but it was enough to get wet boot & trousers if things worsened. Discretion required a careful but rapid retreat back to terra firma.
(The Lake photographed from The Lake)
Courtesy of my latest piece of gear I could measure the land temperature at -2°C. Stopping at the river's ford, current strong despite the water's frozen edges, I checked the water reading at a positive balmy 3°C.
(River's edge)
Somehow today I managed to resist the urge to pop in for a warming dip. Instead we retraced our steps. Or breath forming clouds before us as we wandered through the frozen landscape. Birds darting in and out of the hedgerows. Their normal caution discarded with the need find scarce but so essential food to endure this extended cold spell.
Pleasure for man & dog. A dangerous time for wildlife.
We returned home - the dog to his 'well-done' dog biscuit; Myself to a tot of whiskey in a hot coffee.
But firstly I made sure the bird seed hoppers were full & the various bird baths cleared of ice and refilled with fresh water.
A simple action. But a possible life saver for some of our feathered co-travellers.
Saturday, January 3
Dur Hill '08: Better times are coming
Earlier today I came across a half scribbled piece, penned around this time in 2008. With the thermometer barely reaching 3°C during the past week it seemed timely to wake it from a long hibernation as a reminder of the inevitability of better times to come. Eventually.
(Ice - thick and multi layered)
As I turned off the car engine I caught sight of the temperature display .... 9°C .... the warmest it's been for a week or so. Lifting the estate's boot I let the solitary collie jump down to join me for Saturday's New Forest wander. I could feel a slight breeze on my cheek to confirm the wind shift promised by last night's weather report. No longer blowing from the cold east, now a benign south westerly. Herald of rain sometime during the next few days perhaps. For the moment a refreshing change after many outdoor sorties of chin hunkered deep down inside the neck of my fleece, that instinctive seeking of respite from the ever pervasive chilling.
I find it usually takes me 3 days or so to come to terms with very cold weather, probably due to the cocoon offered by centrally heated house and office, my main habitats at this time of year.
But today a weak winter sun brings respite to man and dog alike as we steer clear of the post Xmas chaos, specifically other walkers, for a private amble over familiar ground. Around the Dur Hill enclosure whose western edge can usually be relied on for some solitude at this time of year. Once a widely forested area the last few years have seen certain 'improvements' most noticeably removal of much woodland and scrub leaving large barren areas as a result. Other than this past human activity, such as RAF Sopley's radio transmitter building, have long since disappeared leaving the area with a feeling of remoteness despite its proximity to the nearby Bournemouth conurbation.
But a cosmetic pretence suddenly shattered as overhead a plane drones its throaty descent downwards to Bournemouth International Airport (strange naming for its Christchurch based location)
The lingerings of uninterrupted icy days have left a churned landscape to pick our way over. At times a solid unyielding ground, still glassy and insincere underfoot, as if walking on a concrete ice-rink. The path continues, and with its next twist detouring a clump of impenetrable gorse bush, comes endless pools of thick cloying black mud and water, leading between a tunnel of yet more gorse. Each pool with slick edges, treacherous to negotiate. Unless heavily mud spattered trousers, or worse an unexpected cold dip, is a preference.
No matter. This change in the weather brings with it a general lifting of spirits. Tremblings of warmer days to come. Softer times to savour.
Man & dog trudge onwards. A shared and renewed interest in all around.Labels: New Forest, walks
Sunday, December 14
Seb Green - Home again
Seb Green finished his coastal wandering earlier today.
Wisely he seems to already have plans for his next challenges. To quote the website report posted for today's arrival "You had a dream and you have made your dream reality. You achieved everything you hoped to achieve - and so much more. You went away a boy and came back a man, head held high, knowing who you are"
Once the media kerfuffle has died down I'll be contacting one of my varied local connections, there for his arrival earlier today, for a more reflective chat with Seb if he's interested.
More of a walker/outdoor/kit roundup piece. Looking beyond the charity/publicity junket he's at the centre at present.
Tuesday, December 2
Seb Green - True celebrity
So the weather has got decidedly colder recently. Then there is that edgy wind that's been blowing for the last few days. Suddenly the joy of a long outdoor trek becomes much less attractive. Especially where there is no shelter - something like a cliff-top walk perhaps?
Bear a thought then for a true celebrity, previously mentioned on this blog - Seb Green on his Round Britain walk.
Currently somewhere north of Plymouth he's on the final stretch of his 3,000+ mile walk, and expects to arrive home in Weymouth during the next couple of weeks.
A celebrity? Well in my eyes one truly deserving of that oft misused and abused title.
His fame has come through selfless effort, unabashed contrition for his original mistake, and continual and communal improvements. That's of truer value than those boasters using the C title as a result of a hard working agent or as over excessive use of silicon implants.
Consider the charities benefiting from the £14,000+ raised. Or the people he's encountered along the way, seeing for themselves that something positive can come from an anti-social act. The proof that not all of modern yoof is a feral hooded knife wielder lurking on a street corner.
However I suspect the real gift for Seb will be the self knowledge and personal awareness gained over the months since his February start. A better understanding of self reliance and personal responsibility - an essential part of maturing as a human being.
Something that some people two or three times his age have yet to discover.
Welcome home Seb.
Saturday, November 15
Saturday morning - New Forest Dogging
On a whim today I decided to visit one of my regular circuits deep amongst woodland, south of Wilverley Plain. Luckily a track well known to me, as a mixture of sudden leaf drop & a period of wet and damp conditions, has altered the terrain sufficiently to obscure some of the side-tracks, leading from the main shale surfaced tourist paths - ones tend to keep well clear of wherever possible.
On the entry gate into the enclosure I'd spotted a new information sign advising of one of those New Forest events that appear out of the blue, and are always accompanied by a Caution & Care notice for regular NF users. And any concerned insurer, no doubt.
So no surprise then, on coning to cross one of the shale tracks, to find a couple of competitors busily working their dog teams in the ABSA Sleddog Championship 2008/09.
Unlike previous events I've met this time the teams were using only one dog per sled/musher. But, as usual, the dogs seem to be enjoying themselves tremendously, as the mushers did most of the sled pushing on a nearby uphill section.
If you've not encountered this sport before the sleds are lightweight frames mounted on large bicycle wheels. A sturdy build to take the knocks of travelling at speed over the hard & uneven forest tracks.
Later I moved from the dank woodland into the weak daylight of Wilverley Plain, and recalled my last visit here. That was back in October to cover the Forest Uprising Group's protests against the New Forest National Park's proposals.
Then it hit me.
On one hand the NFPA, talking up the tightening of dog access in the New Forest. The same authority today permitting a competitive dog centred event. One that results in some limitation of access in a popular area for the whole weekend (Not that I've any problem with the event or its organisers BTW)
A timely reminder that FUG presented their formal response on the NFPA's consultation draft yesterday, on the last day for submissions.
With around 9,000 responses to work through the NFPA is going to be rather busy trying to settle down the hornet's nest they've raised, ready for the formal submission to the full National Park Authority in summer 2009.
With further workgroups and public meetings in the pipeline expect sparks to continue to fly for some time yet.
Me, I went back to the sled race. It seemed to me that the dogs were getting the better of the deal today. And long may it stay so into the future.Labels: New Forest, walks
Tuesday, November 11
Numbering the days or Counting the cost
50
My age next year.
For those of you that have had the dubious distinction of meeting me in the flesh that's probably a hard fact to swallow. But a true one nevertheless. This lithe body, is a temple, testament to years of loose living & looser women (I remain ever hopeful - lol) Amazingly still unfettered by any short term leasing arrangement with certain Dark Forces.
Nope - its all my own work, as it were. For luckily I've inherited a simple healthiness with a level of natural fitness that becomes the envy of those tubby-tum middle-aged men I see amongst my age group these days.
360
The number of places available on the 2009 TGO Challenge, 60 up on the usual 300 limit, in recognition of the 30th anniversary of this event.
509
The number of applications received for 2009. With wider publicity of recent years the TGO continues to go from strength to strength as an internationally famous event, despite the physical and mental rigours required of those taking part, and the self reliant nature of the challenge.
149
The number of those initially listed on the short list.
40
Those on the short list who may be lucky enough, so I'm informed by those with experience of past events, to move over to the entrant list as some of the 2009 Challengers find themselves having to withdraw ahead of the event.
90
My short list number.
Well that's me buggered then.
I thought something suitably emphatic was called for in 2009. A symbolic achievement on passing my half century mark. An age that many years ago I wouldn't have seriously expected to reach, such was my lifestyle and its associated high risk activities (Lots of fun along the way though)
So that leaves me with a quandary. What else to do with the 2 week break from work that is already booked?
Too short a time to wildcamp the SW Coastal Footpath, one of my long term ambitions. All too easily 'squandered' on challenging, but potentially unmemorable, wildcamping weeks of my own design. Definitely too disinterested in the usual fall backs such as Coast to Coast, Pennine Way, Offa Dyke etc. All undoubtedly superb end to end journeys in themselves, but not that ....... well ..........different ....... to be honest.
Hmm. I guess that's what I'm looking for. A trip that delivers the chance for my steady movement across this land of ours. A point to point challenge with a recognisable aim, even to a non walker, but with that special something that I can look back at in the years ahead, and grin at having done it.
Any ideas folks?
All comments count. Naturally.Labels: TGO Challenge, walks
Sunday, October 26
A walk on the Algarve - Carveiro
Dawn. The sun's rays, already a reminder of the southerly latitude. An offshore breeze unexpected, but a welcome respite after a week of blue sky and mid 20s temperatures each day.
Waking early I decided to sneak out for a short while, to walk amongst the pitted red cliffs.
Amongst? For below the shadeless cliff top path marking the sudden drop down to the Atlantic I discovered a maze of steps, paths and tunnels leading down to hidden paths on the lower rock ledges edging the shoreline.
(Tunnel)
Rock, red pitted and pock marked. And through it all shards of sea shells clearly visible, deeply embedded in the strata. Surely a landscape more used to lunar exploration?
A solo daybreak walk then; Before the oppressive heat turned the cliff bowl into a cauldron of heat, at least for one more used to an UK climate.
I wandered for some while along traditional fisherman's paths. Some worn away through centuries of habitual usage. Others clearly revealing the local inhabitants' intent to bend this barren land to their human desires with carved steps and chilled dark tunnels popping up without warning as my exploration continued.
Above and behind me the small town, until recent times a quiet fishing village, now a thriving tourist escape, especially those from England and Ireland.
Its inhabitants slowly rising to meet another day of trade and trinket exchange.
But before me for the present the seemingly endless horizon of the Atlantic sea. And in the distance a five master schooner, sails furled, slowly motoring westwards towards its port.
I sit with my back to the wind, the sun now hot on my arms and face, as I watch the ship slip by. Its solitary behaviour matching my own as I carefully continue my exploration of this strange land. Acutely aware that a moment's lack of concentration amongst such rugged landscape could be harshly punished. A slip down to the sea and rocks below. Or worse to be swallowed up by one of the deep and dark sink holes that border the tracks.
Around me signs of night fishing activity. Discarded cigarette packs & bottles amongst abused tackle. A dangerous place then in the daylight. But possibly lethal at night for the unwary. Or drunk.
An alien and wild landscape. So unlike any place I'd encountered before. But, in common with those wilder places where caution is required, a deeply satisfying area to explore.
Finally that increasingly insistent voice of personal safety reminds me the odds had been played enough for so early in the day. Time to head back up the cliff paths.
Back to re-don the tourist disguise and greet an incautiously early cold beer before another day on the beach. Just one more lazily tanning holidaymaker to any casual onlooker. But inside me a quiet satisfaction in lifting aside one of the veils worn by this small Portuguese village. To have tasted a little of its truer identity. However briefly.
To travel; To experience a different culture and climate. And on this occasion a truly different landscape.Labels: walks
Sunday, September 28
Hincheslea Wood - Rebirth
Back in April last year I described a wander around Hincheslea Wood (OL22: GR 275 010) in the New Forest remarking that this burnt out building may have been about to arise from its ashes. Earlier today I came across the replacement building, fast approaching its completion.
Neighbours, approached for their comments on the refurbishment, had no comment to make.
Being more concerned with local childcare facilities.
Labels: New Forest, walks
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
Sat gazing through steamed-up windows at snow (or in my case cold rain & slush)?
I offer a walking route description with a subtle difference from the standard fare.
Walking with Oswald, King of Northumbria
Alf Wainwright - eat your heart out.
;-)
Labels: walks
Kingston walkabout - Remember the birds
I'm sure there's a streak of masochism somewhere in my personality.
After a week of frozen early morning workday starts and the inevitable car de-icing/warm-up routine, a Saturday lie-in would be a simple and highly attractive pleasure. But not today.
Somehow I'd arranged a very early appointment for my car's MOT. With recent weather & road conditions this required a pre-check that all lights/windows were clear, clean & functional. Plus the small matter of getting the motor properly warmed up prior to the car's CO2 check. Which for a diesel engine, mostly used for the commuter stop-start grind, requires a little high rev driving in an attempt to blow out some of the gunge that tends to build-up in the engine systems.
I woke to a picturesque Xmas card view of heavy frosts garlanding the trees, as if visited by snowfall, but in this case the result of an overnight freezing fog. The heaviest sign of frost so far this season.
Hence early morning sub zero temperatures found me driving up and down the local stretch of dual carriageway getting all things mechanical up to a reasonable operating temperature.
MOT sorted, it meant I was able to clear my normal Saturday chores earlier than usual, leaving time for a few stolen pleasures, during which myself and the collie wandered off to revisit an area near Kingston, along the Avon Valley Footpath south of Ringwood, and east of the River Avon.
Its not a huge area to roam over and doesn't offer any real distance walks, but there is always a rich variety of wildlife along the way with pools, a lake and a river amongst a mix of heathland, hedgerow and mixed woodland. During Xmas I'd spotted a grey heron, various members of the duck/geese/swan families, solitary buzzards, and watched a fisherman landed a small jack pike from near the river ford (just why do pike always look so p*ssed off?)
If you'd come across myself and dog today, you would have found me grinning as I recalled childhood experiences. Carefully making a slip-slide traverse of a wide frozen pool. A wide bare mud dip in the land in summertime. Today transformed into a skating rink of boot depth frozen water. Half remembered skills flooded back as I carefully made my way across, dog ordered 'slow to heel', as he learnt a new skill. Better that than risk a headlong dash with inevitable loss of four pawed traction. His pride couldn't take the ignomy of that; And I didn't fancy the potential vet's bill.
Unsurprisingly the lake was mostly frozen. It provided a near unique opportunity to sneak out onto the thick ice, dog safe on the shore, in an attempt to get a photo of frost on the lake's edge. That was until I heard an ominous sound and looking down saw three lengthening cracks working their way out from my position. Aware of the potential risk, I hadn't strayed far out from lakeside, but it was enough to get wet boot & trousers if things worsened. Discretion required a careful but rapid retreat back to terra firma.
(The Lake photographed from The Lake)
Courtesy of my latest piece of gear I could measure the land temperature at -2°C. Stopping at the river's ford, current strong despite the water's frozen edges, I checked the water reading at a positive balmy 3°C.
(River's edge)
Somehow today I managed to resist the urge to pop in for a warming dip. Instead we retraced our steps. Or breath forming clouds before us as we wandered through the frozen landscape. Birds darting in and out of the hedgerows. Their normal caution discarded with the need find scarce but so essential food to endure this extended cold spell.
Pleasure for man & dog. A dangerous time for wildlife.
We returned home - the dog to his 'well-done' dog biscuit; Myself to a tot of whiskey in a hot coffee.
But firstly I made sure the bird seed hoppers were full & the various bird baths cleared of ice and refilled with fresh water.
A simple action. But a possible life saver for some of our feathered co-travellers.
Saturday, January 3
Dur Hill '08: Better times are coming
Earlier today I came across a half scribbled piece, penned around this time in 2008. With the thermometer barely reaching 3°C during the past week it seemed timely to wake it from a long hibernation as a reminder of the inevitability of better times to come. Eventually.
(Ice - thick and multi layered)
As I turned off the car engine I caught sight of the temperature display .... 9°C .... the warmest it's been for a week or so. Lifting the estate's boot I let the solitary collie jump down to join me for Saturday's New Forest wander. I could feel a slight breeze on my cheek to confirm the wind shift promised by last night's weather report. No longer blowing from the cold east, now a benign south westerly. Herald of rain sometime during the next few days perhaps. For the moment a refreshing change after many outdoor sorties of chin hunkered deep down inside the neck of my fleece, that instinctive seeking of respite from the ever pervasive chilling.
I find it usually takes me 3 days or so to come to terms with very cold weather, probably due to the cocoon offered by centrally heated house and office, my main habitats at this time of year.
But today a weak winter sun brings respite to man and dog alike as we steer clear of the post Xmas chaos, specifically other walkers, for a private amble over familiar ground. Around the Dur Hill enclosure whose western edge can usually be relied on for some solitude at this time of year. Once a widely forested area the last few years have seen certain 'improvements' most noticeably removal of much woodland and scrub leaving large barren areas as a result. Other than this past human activity, such as RAF Sopley's radio transmitter building, have long since disappeared leaving the area with a feeling of remoteness despite its proximity to the nearby Bournemouth conurbation.
But a cosmetic pretence suddenly shattered as overhead a plane drones its throaty descent downwards to Bournemouth International Airport (strange naming for its Christchurch based location)
The lingerings of uninterrupted icy days have left a churned landscape to pick our way over. At times a solid unyielding ground, still glassy and insincere underfoot, as if walking on a concrete ice-rink. The path continues, and with its next twist detouring a clump of impenetrable gorse bush, comes endless pools of thick cloying black mud and water, leading between a tunnel of yet more gorse. Each pool with slick edges, treacherous to negotiate. Unless heavily mud spattered trousers, or worse an unexpected cold dip, is a preference.
No matter. This change in the weather brings with it a general lifting of spirits. Tremblings of warmer days to come. Softer times to savour.
Man & dog trudge onwards. A shared and renewed interest in all around.Labels: New Forest, walks
Sunday, December 14
Seb Green - Home again
Seb Green finished his coastal wandering earlier today.
Wisely he seems to already have plans for his next challenges. To quote the website report posted for today's arrival "You had a dream and you have made your dream reality. You achieved everything you hoped to achieve - and so much more. You went away a boy and came back a man, head held high, knowing who you are"
Once the media kerfuffle has died down I'll be contacting one of my varied local connections, there for his arrival earlier today, for a more reflective chat with Seb if he's interested.
More of a walker/outdoor/kit roundup piece. Looking beyond the charity/publicity junket he's at the centre at present.
Tuesday, December 2
Seb Green - True celebrity
So the weather has got decidedly colder recently. Then there is that edgy wind that's been blowing for the last few days. Suddenly the joy of a long outdoor trek becomes much less attractive. Especially where there is no shelter - something like a cliff-top walk perhaps?
Bear a thought then for a true celebrity, previously mentioned on this blog - Seb Green on his Round Britain walk.
Currently somewhere north of Plymouth he's on the final stretch of his 3,000+ mile walk, and expects to arrive home in Weymouth during the next couple of weeks.
A celebrity? Well in my eyes one truly deserving of that oft misused and abused title.
His fame has come through selfless effort, unabashed contrition for his original mistake, and continual and communal improvements. That's of truer value than those boasters using the C title as a result of a hard working agent or as over excessive use of silicon implants.
Consider the charities benefiting from the £14,000+ raised. Or the people he's encountered along the way, seeing for themselves that something positive can come from an anti-social act. The proof that not all of modern yoof is a feral hooded knife wielder lurking on a street corner.
However I suspect the real gift for Seb will be the self knowledge and personal awareness gained over the months since his February start. A better understanding of self reliance and personal responsibility - an essential part of maturing as a human being.
Something that some people two or three times his age have yet to discover.
Welcome home Seb.
Saturday, November 15
Saturday morning - New Forest Dogging
On a whim today I decided to visit one of my regular circuits deep amongst woodland, south of Wilverley Plain. Luckily a track well known to me, as a mixture of sudden leaf drop & a period of wet and damp conditions, has altered the terrain sufficiently to obscure some of the side-tracks, leading from the main shale surfaced tourist paths - ones tend to keep well clear of wherever possible.
On the entry gate into the enclosure I'd spotted a new information sign advising of one of those New Forest events that appear out of the blue, and are always accompanied by a Caution & Care notice for regular NF users. And any concerned insurer, no doubt.
So no surprise then, on coning to cross one of the shale tracks, to find a couple of competitors busily working their dog teams in the ABSA Sleddog Championship 2008/09.
Unlike previous events I've met this time the teams were using only one dog per sled/musher. But, as usual, the dogs seem to be enjoying themselves tremendously, as the mushers did most of the sled pushing on a nearby uphill section.
If you've not encountered this sport before the sleds are lightweight frames mounted on large bicycle wheels. A sturdy build to take the knocks of travelling at speed over the hard & uneven forest tracks.
Later I moved from the dank woodland into the weak daylight of Wilverley Plain, and recalled my last visit here. That was back in October to cover the Forest Uprising Group's protests against the New Forest National Park's proposals.
Then it hit me.
On one hand the NFPA, talking up the tightening of dog access in the New Forest. The same authority today permitting a competitive dog centred event. One that results in some limitation of access in a popular area for the whole weekend (Not that I've any problem with the event or its organisers BTW)
A timely reminder that FUG presented their formal response on the NFPA's consultation draft yesterday, on the last day for submissions.
With around 9,000 responses to work through the NFPA is going to be rather busy trying to settle down the hornet's nest they've raised, ready for the formal submission to the full National Park Authority in summer 2009.
With further workgroups and public meetings in the pipeline expect sparks to continue to fly for some time yet.
Me, I went back to the sled race. It seemed to me that the dogs were getting the better of the deal today. And long may it stay so into the future.Labels: New Forest, walks
Tuesday, November 11
Numbering the days or Counting the cost
50
My age next year.
For those of you that have had the dubious distinction of meeting me in the flesh that's probably a hard fact to swallow. But a true one nevertheless. This lithe body, is a temple, testament to years of loose living & looser women (I remain ever hopeful - lol) Amazingly still unfettered by any short term leasing arrangement with certain Dark Forces.
Nope - its all my own work, as it were. For luckily I've inherited a simple healthiness with a level of natural fitness that becomes the envy of those tubby-tum middle-aged men I see amongst my age group these days.
360
The number of places available on the 2009 TGO Challenge, 60 up on the usual 300 limit, in recognition of the 30th anniversary of this event.
509
The number of applications received for 2009. With wider publicity of recent years the TGO continues to go from strength to strength as an internationally famous event, despite the physical and mental rigours required of those taking part, and the self reliant nature of the challenge.
149
The number of those initially listed on the short list.
40
Those on the short list who may be lucky enough, so I'm informed by those with experience of past events, to move over to the entrant list as some of the 2009 Challengers find themselves having to withdraw ahead of the event.
90
My short list number.
Well that's me buggered then.
I thought something suitably emphatic was called for in 2009. A symbolic achievement on passing my half century mark. An age that many years ago I wouldn't have seriously expected to reach, such was my lifestyle and its associated high risk activities (Lots of fun along the way though)
So that leaves me with a quandary. What else to do with the 2 week break from work that is already booked?
Too short a time to wildcamp the SW Coastal Footpath, one of my long term ambitions. All too easily 'squandered' on challenging, but potentially unmemorable, wildcamping weeks of my own design. Definitely too disinterested in the usual fall backs such as Coast to Coast, Pennine Way, Offa Dyke etc. All undoubtedly superb end to end journeys in themselves, but not that ....... well ..........different ....... to be honest.
Hmm. I guess that's what I'm looking for. A trip that delivers the chance for my steady movement across this land of ours. A point to point challenge with a recognisable aim, even to a non walker, but with that special something that I can look back at in the years ahead, and grin at having done it.
Any ideas folks?
All comments count. Naturally.Labels: TGO Challenge, walks
Sunday, October 26
A walk on the Algarve - Carveiro
Dawn. The sun's rays, already a reminder of the southerly latitude. An offshore breeze unexpected, but a welcome respite after a week of blue sky and mid 20s temperatures each day.
Waking early I decided to sneak out for a short while, to walk amongst the pitted red cliffs.
Amongst? For below the shadeless cliff top path marking the sudden drop down to the Atlantic I discovered a maze of steps, paths and tunnels leading down to hidden paths on the lower rock ledges edging the shoreline.
(Tunnel)
Rock, red pitted and pock marked. And through it all shards of sea shells clearly visible, deeply embedded in the strata. Surely a landscape more used to lunar exploration?
A solo daybreak walk then; Before the oppressive heat turned the cliff bowl into a cauldron of heat, at least for one more used to an UK climate.
I wandered for some while along traditional fisherman's paths. Some worn away through centuries of habitual usage. Others clearly revealing the local inhabitants' intent to bend this barren land to their human desires with carved steps and chilled dark tunnels popping up without warning as my exploration continued.
Above and behind me the small town, until recent times a quiet fishing village, now a thriving tourist escape, especially those from England and Ireland.
Its inhabitants slowly rising to meet another day of trade and trinket exchange.
But before me for the present the seemingly endless horizon of the Atlantic sea. And in the distance a five master schooner, sails furled, slowly motoring westwards towards its port.
I sit with my back to the wind, the sun now hot on my arms and face, as I watch the ship slip by. Its solitary behaviour matching my own as I carefully continue my exploration of this strange land. Acutely aware that a moment's lack of concentration amongst such rugged landscape could be harshly punished. A slip down to the sea and rocks below. Or worse to be swallowed up by one of the deep and dark sink holes that border the tracks.
Around me signs of night fishing activity. Discarded cigarette packs & bottles amongst abused tackle. A dangerous place then in the daylight. But possibly lethal at night for the unwary. Or drunk.
An alien and wild landscape. So unlike any place I'd encountered before. But, in common with those wilder places where caution is required, a deeply satisfying area to explore.
Finally that increasingly insistent voice of personal safety reminds me the odds had been played enough for so early in the day. Time to head back up the cliff paths.
Back to re-don the tourist disguise and greet an incautiously early cold beer before another day on the beach. Just one more lazily tanning holidaymaker to any casual onlooker. But inside me a quiet satisfaction in lifting aside one of the veils worn by this small Portuguese village. To have tasted a little of its truer identity. However briefly.
To travel; To experience a different culture and climate. And on this occasion a truly different landscape.Labels: walks
Sunday, September 28
Hincheslea Wood - Rebirth
Back in April last year I described a wander around Hincheslea Wood (OL22: GR 275 010) in the New Forest remarking that this burnt out building may have been about to arise from its ashes. Earlier today I came across the replacement building, fast approaching its completion.
Neighbours, approached for their comments on the refurbishment, had no comment to make.
Being more concerned with local childcare facilities.
Labels: New Forest, walks
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
After a week of frozen early morning workday starts and the inevitable car de-icing/warm-up routine, a Saturday lie-in would be a simple and highly attractive pleasure. But not today.
Somehow I'd arranged a very early appointment for my car's MOT. With recent weather & road conditions this required a pre-check that all lights/windows were clear, clean & functional. Plus the small matter of getting the motor properly warmed up prior to the car's CO2 check. Which for a diesel engine, mostly used for the commuter stop-start grind, requires a little high rev driving in an attempt to blow out some of the gunge that tends to build-up in the engine systems.
I woke to a picturesque Xmas card view of heavy frosts garlanding the trees, as if visited by snowfall, but in this case the result of an overnight freezing fog. The heaviest sign of frost so far this season.
Hence early morning sub zero temperatures found me driving up and down the local stretch of dual carriageway getting all things mechanical up to a reasonable operating temperature.
MOT sorted, it meant I was able to clear my normal Saturday chores earlier than usual, leaving time for a few stolen pleasures, during which myself and the collie wandered off to revisit an area near Kingston, along the Avon Valley Footpath south of Ringwood, and east of the River Avon.
Its not a huge area to roam over and doesn't offer any real distance walks, but there is always a rich variety of wildlife along the way with pools, a lake and a river amongst a mix of heathland, hedgerow and mixed woodland. During Xmas I'd spotted a grey heron, various members of the duck/geese/swan families, solitary buzzards, and watched a fisherman landed a small jack pike from near the river ford (just why do pike always look so p*ssed off?)
If you'd come across myself and dog today, you would have found me grinning as I recalled childhood experiences. Carefully making a slip-slide traverse of a wide frozen pool. A wide bare mud dip in the land in summertime. Today transformed into a skating rink of boot depth frozen water. Half remembered skills flooded back as I carefully made my way across, dog ordered 'slow to heel', as he learnt a new skill. Better that than risk a headlong dash with inevitable loss of four pawed traction. His pride couldn't take the ignomy of that; And I didn't fancy the potential vet's bill.
Unsurprisingly the lake was mostly frozen. It provided a near unique opportunity to sneak out onto the thick ice, dog safe on the shore, in an attempt to get a photo of frost on the lake's edge. That was until I heard an ominous sound and looking down saw three lengthening cracks working their way out from my position. Aware of the potential risk, I hadn't strayed far out from lakeside, but it was enough to get wet boot & trousers if things worsened. Discretion required a careful but rapid retreat back to terra firma.
(The Lake photographed from The Lake)Courtesy of my latest piece of gear I could measure the land temperature at -2°C. Stopping at the river's ford, current strong despite the water's frozen edges, I checked the water reading at a positive balmy 3°C.
(River's edge)Somehow today I managed to resist the urge to pop in for a warming dip. Instead we retraced our steps. Or breath forming clouds before us as we wandered through the frozen landscape. Birds darting in and out of the hedgerows. Their normal caution discarded with the need find scarce but so essential food to endure this extended cold spell.
Pleasure for man & dog. A dangerous time for wildlife.
We returned home - the dog to his 'well-done' dog biscuit; Myself to a tot of whiskey in a hot coffee.
But firstly I made sure the bird seed hoppers were full & the various bird baths cleared of ice and refilled with fresh water.
A simple action. But a possible life saver for some of our feathered co-travellers.
Dur Hill '08: Better times are coming
Earlier today I came across a half scribbled piece, penned around this time in 2008. With the thermometer barely reaching 3°C during the past week it seemed timely to wake it from a long hibernation as a reminder of the inevitability of better times to come. Eventually.
(Ice - thick and multi layered)
As I turned off the car engine I caught sight of the temperature display .... 9°C .... the warmest it's been for a week or so. Lifting the estate's boot I let the solitary collie jump down to join me for Saturday's New Forest wander. I could feel a slight breeze on my cheek to confirm the wind shift promised by last night's weather report. No longer blowing from the cold east, now a benign south westerly. Herald of rain sometime during the next few days perhaps. For the moment a refreshing change after many outdoor sorties of chin hunkered deep down inside the neck of my fleece, that instinctive seeking of respite from the ever pervasive chilling.
I find it usually takes me 3 days or so to come to terms with very cold weather, probably due to the cocoon offered by centrally heated house and office, my main habitats at this time of year.
But today a weak winter sun brings respite to man and dog alike as we steer clear of the post Xmas chaos, specifically other walkers, for a private amble over familiar ground. Around the Dur Hill enclosure whose western edge can usually be relied on for some solitude at this time of year. Once a widely forested area the last few years have seen certain 'improvements' most noticeably removal of much woodland and scrub leaving large barren areas as a result. Other than this past human activity, such as RAF Sopley's radio transmitter building, have long since disappeared leaving the area with a feeling of remoteness despite its proximity to the nearby Bournemouth conurbation.
But a cosmetic pretence suddenly shattered as overhead a plane drones its throaty descent downwards to Bournemouth International Airport (strange naming for its Christchurch based location)
The lingerings of uninterrupted icy days have left a churned landscape to pick our way over. At times a solid unyielding ground, still glassy and insincere underfoot, as if walking on a concrete ice-rink. The path continues, and with its next twist detouring a clump of impenetrable gorse bush, comes endless pools of thick cloying black mud and water, leading between a tunnel of yet more gorse. Each pool with slick edges, treacherous to negotiate. Unless heavily mud spattered trousers, or worse an unexpected cold dip, is a preference.
No matter. This change in the weather brings with it a general lifting of spirits. Tremblings of warmer days to come. Softer times to savour.
Man & dog trudge onwards. A shared and renewed interest in all around.Labels: New Forest, walks
Sunday, December 14
Seb Green - Home again
Seb Green finished his coastal wandering earlier today.
Wisely he seems to already have plans for his next challenges. To quote the website report posted for today's arrival "You had a dream and you have made your dream reality. You achieved everything you hoped to achieve - and so much more. You went away a boy and came back a man, head held high, knowing who you are"
Once the media kerfuffle has died down I'll be contacting one of my varied local connections, there for his arrival earlier today, for a more reflective chat with Seb if he's interested.
More of a walker/outdoor/kit roundup piece. Looking beyond the charity/publicity junket he's at the centre at present.
Tuesday, December 2
Seb Green - True celebrity
So the weather has got decidedly colder recently. Then there is that edgy wind that's been blowing for the last few days. Suddenly the joy of a long outdoor trek becomes much less attractive. Especially where there is no shelter - something like a cliff-top walk perhaps?
Bear a thought then for a true celebrity, previously mentioned on this blog - Seb Green on his Round Britain walk.
Currently somewhere north of Plymouth he's on the final stretch of his 3,000+ mile walk, and expects to arrive home in Weymouth during the next couple of weeks.
A celebrity? Well in my eyes one truly deserving of that oft misused and abused title.
His fame has come through selfless effort, unabashed contrition for his original mistake, and continual and communal improvements. That's of truer value than those boasters using the C title as a result of a hard working agent or as over excessive use of silicon implants.
Consider the charities benefiting from the £14,000+ raised. Or the people he's encountered along the way, seeing for themselves that something positive can come from an anti-social act. The proof that not all of modern yoof is a feral hooded knife wielder lurking on a street corner.
However I suspect the real gift for Seb will be the self knowledge and personal awareness gained over the months since his February start. A better understanding of self reliance and personal responsibility - an essential part of maturing as a human being.
Something that some people two or three times his age have yet to discover.
Welcome home Seb.
Saturday, November 15
Saturday morning - New Forest Dogging
On a whim today I decided to visit one of my regular circuits deep amongst woodland, south of Wilverley Plain. Luckily a track well known to me, as a mixture of sudden leaf drop & a period of wet and damp conditions, has altered the terrain sufficiently to obscure some of the side-tracks, leading from the main shale surfaced tourist paths - ones tend to keep well clear of wherever possible.
On the entry gate into the enclosure I'd spotted a new information sign advising of one of those New Forest events that appear out of the blue, and are always accompanied by a Caution & Care notice for regular NF users. And any concerned insurer, no doubt.
So no surprise then, on coning to cross one of the shale tracks, to find a couple of competitors busily working their dog teams in the ABSA Sleddog Championship 2008/09.
Unlike previous events I've met this time the teams were using only one dog per sled/musher. But, as usual, the dogs seem to be enjoying themselves tremendously, as the mushers did most of the sled pushing on a nearby uphill section.
If you've not encountered this sport before the sleds are lightweight frames mounted on large bicycle wheels. A sturdy build to take the knocks of travelling at speed over the hard & uneven forest tracks.
Later I moved from the dank woodland into the weak daylight of Wilverley Plain, and recalled my last visit here. That was back in October to cover the Forest Uprising Group's protests against the New Forest National Park's proposals.
Then it hit me.
On one hand the NFPA, talking up the tightening of dog access in the New Forest. The same authority today permitting a competitive dog centred event. One that results in some limitation of access in a popular area for the whole weekend (Not that I've any problem with the event or its organisers BTW)
A timely reminder that FUG presented their formal response on the NFPA's consultation draft yesterday, on the last day for submissions.
With around 9,000 responses to work through the NFPA is going to be rather busy trying to settle down the hornet's nest they've raised, ready for the formal submission to the full National Park Authority in summer 2009.
With further workgroups and public meetings in the pipeline expect sparks to continue to fly for some time yet.
Me, I went back to the sled race. It seemed to me that the dogs were getting the better of the deal today. And long may it stay so into the future.Labels: New Forest, walks
Tuesday, November 11
Numbering the days or Counting the cost
50
My age next year.
For those of you that have had the dubious distinction of meeting me in the flesh that's probably a hard fact to swallow. But a true one nevertheless. This lithe body, is a temple, testament to years of loose living & looser women (I remain ever hopeful - lol) Amazingly still unfettered by any short term leasing arrangement with certain Dark Forces.
Nope - its all my own work, as it were. For luckily I've inherited a simple healthiness with a level of natural fitness that becomes the envy of those tubby-tum middle-aged men I see amongst my age group these days.
360
The number of places available on the 2009 TGO Challenge, 60 up on the usual 300 limit, in recognition of the 30th anniversary of this event.
509
The number of applications received for 2009. With wider publicity of recent years the TGO continues to go from strength to strength as an internationally famous event, despite the physical and mental rigours required of those taking part, and the self reliant nature of the challenge.
149
The number of those initially listed on the short list.
40
Those on the short list who may be lucky enough, so I'm informed by those with experience of past events, to move over to the entrant list as some of the 2009 Challengers find themselves having to withdraw ahead of the event.
90
My short list number.
Well that's me buggered then.
I thought something suitably emphatic was called for in 2009. A symbolic achievement on passing my half century mark. An age that many years ago I wouldn't have seriously expected to reach, such was my lifestyle and its associated high risk activities (Lots of fun along the way though)
So that leaves me with a quandary. What else to do with the 2 week break from work that is already booked?
Too short a time to wildcamp the SW Coastal Footpath, one of my long term ambitions. All too easily 'squandered' on challenging, but potentially unmemorable, wildcamping weeks of my own design. Definitely too disinterested in the usual fall backs such as Coast to Coast, Pennine Way, Offa Dyke etc. All undoubtedly superb end to end journeys in themselves, but not that ....... well ..........different ....... to be honest.
Hmm. I guess that's what I'm looking for. A trip that delivers the chance for my steady movement across this land of ours. A point to point challenge with a recognisable aim, even to a non walker, but with that special something that I can look back at in the years ahead, and grin at having done it.
Any ideas folks?
All comments count. Naturally.Labels: TGO Challenge, walks
Sunday, October 26
A walk on the Algarve - Carveiro
Dawn. The sun's rays, already a reminder of the southerly latitude. An offshore breeze unexpected, but a welcome respite after a week of blue sky and mid 20s temperatures each day.
Waking early I decided to sneak out for a short while, to walk amongst the pitted red cliffs.
Amongst? For below the shadeless cliff top path marking the sudden drop down to the Atlantic I discovered a maze of steps, paths and tunnels leading down to hidden paths on the lower rock ledges edging the shoreline.
(Tunnel)
Rock, red pitted and pock marked. And through it all shards of sea shells clearly visible, deeply embedded in the strata. Surely a landscape more used to lunar exploration?
A solo daybreak walk then; Before the oppressive heat turned the cliff bowl into a cauldron of heat, at least for one more used to an UK climate.
I wandered for some while along traditional fisherman's paths. Some worn away through centuries of habitual usage. Others clearly revealing the local inhabitants' intent to bend this barren land to their human desires with carved steps and chilled dark tunnels popping up without warning as my exploration continued.
Above and behind me the small town, until recent times a quiet fishing village, now a thriving tourist escape, especially those from England and Ireland.
Its inhabitants slowly rising to meet another day of trade and trinket exchange.
But before me for the present the seemingly endless horizon of the Atlantic sea. And in the distance a five master schooner, sails furled, slowly motoring westwards towards its port.
I sit with my back to the wind, the sun now hot on my arms and face, as I watch the ship slip by. Its solitary behaviour matching my own as I carefully continue my exploration of this strange land. Acutely aware that a moment's lack of concentration amongst such rugged landscape could be harshly punished. A slip down to the sea and rocks below. Or worse to be swallowed up by one of the deep and dark sink holes that border the tracks.
Around me signs of night fishing activity. Discarded cigarette packs & bottles amongst abused tackle. A dangerous place then in the daylight. But possibly lethal at night for the unwary. Or drunk.
An alien and wild landscape. So unlike any place I'd encountered before. But, in common with those wilder places where caution is required, a deeply satisfying area to explore.
Finally that increasingly insistent voice of personal safety reminds me the odds had been played enough for so early in the day. Time to head back up the cliff paths.
Back to re-don the tourist disguise and greet an incautiously early cold beer before another day on the beach. Just one more lazily tanning holidaymaker to any casual onlooker. But inside me a quiet satisfaction in lifting aside one of the veils worn by this small Portuguese village. To have tasted a little of its truer identity. However briefly.
To travel; To experience a different culture and climate. And on this occasion a truly different landscape.Labels: walks
Sunday, September 28
Hincheslea Wood - Rebirth
Back in April last year I described a wander around Hincheslea Wood (OL22: GR 275 010) in the New Forest remarking that this burnt out building may have been about to arise from its ashes. Earlier today I came across the replacement building, fast approaching its completion.
Neighbours, approached for their comments on the refurbishment, had no comment to make.
Being more concerned with local childcare facilities.
Labels: New Forest, walks
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
(Ice - thick and multi layered)As I turned off the car engine I caught sight of the temperature display .... 9°C .... the warmest it's been for a week or so. Lifting the estate's boot I let the solitary collie jump down to join me for Saturday's New Forest wander. I could feel a slight breeze on my cheek to confirm the wind shift promised by last night's weather report. No longer blowing from the cold east, now a benign south westerly. Herald of rain sometime during the next few days perhaps. For the moment a refreshing change after many outdoor sorties of chin hunkered deep down inside the neck of my fleece, that instinctive seeking of respite from the ever pervasive chilling.
I find it usually takes me 3 days or so to come to terms with very cold weather, probably due to the cocoon offered by centrally heated house and office, my main habitats at this time of year.
But today a weak winter sun brings respite to man and dog alike as we steer clear of the post Xmas chaos, specifically other walkers, for a private amble over familiar ground. Around the Dur Hill enclosure whose western edge can usually be relied on for some solitude at this time of year. Once a widely forested area the last few years have seen certain 'improvements' most noticeably removal of much woodland and scrub leaving large barren areas as a result. Other than this past human activity, such as RAF Sopley's radio transmitter building, have long since disappeared leaving the area with a feeling of remoteness despite its proximity to the nearby Bournemouth conurbation.
But a cosmetic pretence suddenly shattered as overhead a plane drones its throaty descent downwards to Bournemouth International Airport (strange naming for its Christchurch based location)
The lingerings of uninterrupted icy days have left a churned landscape to pick our way over. At times a solid unyielding ground, still glassy and insincere underfoot, as if walking on a concrete ice-rink. The path continues, and with its next twist detouring a clump of impenetrable gorse bush, comes endless pools of thick cloying black mud and water, leading between a tunnel of yet more gorse. Each pool with slick edges, treacherous to negotiate. Unless heavily mud spattered trousers, or worse an unexpected cold dip, is a preference.
No matter. This change in the weather brings with it a general lifting of spirits. Tremblings of warmer days to come. Softer times to savour.
Man & dog trudge onwards. A shared and renewed interest in all around.
Labels: New Forest, walks
Seb Green - Home again
Seb Green finished his coastal wandering earlier today.
Wisely he seems to already have plans for his next challenges. To quote the website report posted for today's arrival "You had a dream and you have made your dream reality. You achieved everything you hoped to achieve - and so much more. You went away a boy and came back a man, head held high, knowing who you are"
Once the media kerfuffle has died down I'll be contacting one of my varied local connections, there for his arrival earlier today, for a more reflective chat with Seb if he's interested.
More of a walker/outdoor/kit roundup piece. Looking beyond the charity/publicity junket he's at the centre at present.
Tuesday, December 2
Seb Green - True celebrity
So the weather has got decidedly colder recently. Then there is that edgy wind that's been blowing for the last few days. Suddenly the joy of a long outdoor trek becomes much less attractive. Especially where there is no shelter - something like a cliff-top walk perhaps?
Bear a thought then for a true celebrity, previously mentioned on this blog - Seb Green on his Round Britain walk.
Currently somewhere north of Plymouth he's on the final stretch of his 3,000+ mile walk, and expects to arrive home in Weymouth during the next couple of weeks.
A celebrity? Well in my eyes one truly deserving of that oft misused and abused title.
His fame has come through selfless effort, unabashed contrition for his original mistake, and continual and communal improvements. That's of truer value than those boasters using the C title as a result of a hard working agent or as over excessive use of silicon implants.
Consider the charities benefiting from the £14,000+ raised. Or the people he's encountered along the way, seeing for themselves that something positive can come from an anti-social act. The proof that not all of modern yoof is a feral hooded knife wielder lurking on a street corner.
However I suspect the real gift for Seb will be the self knowledge and personal awareness gained over the months since his February start. A better understanding of self reliance and personal responsibility - an essential part of maturing as a human being.
Something that some people two or three times his age have yet to discover.
Welcome home Seb.
Saturday, November 15
Saturday morning - New Forest Dogging
On a whim today I decided to visit one of my regular circuits deep amongst woodland, south of Wilverley Plain. Luckily a track well known to me, as a mixture of sudden leaf drop & a period of wet and damp conditions, has altered the terrain sufficiently to obscure some of the side-tracks, leading from the main shale surfaced tourist paths - ones tend to keep well clear of wherever possible.
On the entry gate into the enclosure I'd spotted a new information sign advising of one of those New Forest events that appear out of the blue, and are always accompanied by a Caution & Care notice for regular NF users. And any concerned insurer, no doubt.
So no surprise then, on coning to cross one of the shale tracks, to find a couple of competitors busily working their dog teams in the ABSA Sleddog Championship 2008/09.
Unlike previous events I've met this time the teams were using only one dog per sled/musher. But, as usual, the dogs seem to be enjoying themselves tremendously, as the mushers did most of the sled pushing on a nearby uphill section.
If you've not encountered this sport before the sleds are lightweight frames mounted on large bicycle wheels. A sturdy build to take the knocks of travelling at speed over the hard & uneven forest tracks.
Later I moved from the dank woodland into the weak daylight of Wilverley Plain, and recalled my last visit here. That was back in October to cover the Forest Uprising Group's protests against the New Forest National Park's proposals.
Then it hit me.
On one hand the NFPA, talking up the tightening of dog access in the New Forest. The same authority today permitting a competitive dog centred event. One that results in some limitation of access in a popular area for the whole weekend (Not that I've any problem with the event or its organisers BTW)
A timely reminder that FUG presented their formal response on the NFPA's consultation draft yesterday, on the last day for submissions.
With around 9,000 responses to work through the NFPA is going to be rather busy trying to settle down the hornet's nest they've raised, ready for the formal submission to the full National Park Authority in summer 2009.
With further workgroups and public meetings in the pipeline expect sparks to continue to fly for some time yet.
Me, I went back to the sled race. It seemed to me that the dogs were getting the better of the deal today. And long may it stay so into the future.Labels: New Forest, walks
Tuesday, November 11
Numbering the days or Counting the cost
50
My age next year.
For those of you that have had the dubious distinction of meeting me in the flesh that's probably a hard fact to swallow. But a true one nevertheless. This lithe body, is a temple, testament to years of loose living & looser women (I remain ever hopeful - lol) Amazingly still unfettered by any short term leasing arrangement with certain Dark Forces.
Nope - its all my own work, as it were. For luckily I've inherited a simple healthiness with a level of natural fitness that becomes the envy of those tubby-tum middle-aged men I see amongst my age group these days.
360
The number of places available on the 2009 TGO Challenge, 60 up on the usual 300 limit, in recognition of the 30th anniversary of this event.
509
The number of applications received for 2009. With wider publicity of recent years the TGO continues to go from strength to strength as an internationally famous event, despite the physical and mental rigours required of those taking part, and the self reliant nature of the challenge.
149
The number of those initially listed on the short list.
40
Those on the short list who may be lucky enough, so I'm informed by those with experience of past events, to move over to the entrant list as some of the 2009 Challengers find themselves having to withdraw ahead of the event.
90
My short list number.
Well that's me buggered then.
I thought something suitably emphatic was called for in 2009. A symbolic achievement on passing my half century mark. An age that many years ago I wouldn't have seriously expected to reach, such was my lifestyle and its associated high risk activities (Lots of fun along the way though)
So that leaves me with a quandary. What else to do with the 2 week break from work that is already booked?
Too short a time to wildcamp the SW Coastal Footpath, one of my long term ambitions. All too easily 'squandered' on challenging, but potentially unmemorable, wildcamping weeks of my own design. Definitely too disinterested in the usual fall backs such as Coast to Coast, Pennine Way, Offa Dyke etc. All undoubtedly superb end to end journeys in themselves, but not that ....... well ..........different ....... to be honest.
Hmm. I guess that's what I'm looking for. A trip that delivers the chance for my steady movement across this land of ours. A point to point challenge with a recognisable aim, even to a non walker, but with that special something that I can look back at in the years ahead, and grin at having done it.
Any ideas folks?
All comments count. Naturally.Labels: TGO Challenge, walks
Sunday, October 26
A walk on the Algarve - Carveiro
Dawn. The sun's rays, already a reminder of the southerly latitude. An offshore breeze unexpected, but a welcome respite after a week of blue sky and mid 20s temperatures each day.
Waking early I decided to sneak out for a short while, to walk amongst the pitted red cliffs.
Amongst? For below the shadeless cliff top path marking the sudden drop down to the Atlantic I discovered a maze of steps, paths and tunnels leading down to hidden paths on the lower rock ledges edging the shoreline.
(Tunnel)
Rock, red pitted and pock marked. And through it all shards of sea shells clearly visible, deeply embedded in the strata. Surely a landscape more used to lunar exploration?
A solo daybreak walk then; Before the oppressive heat turned the cliff bowl into a cauldron of heat, at least for one more used to an UK climate.
I wandered for some while along traditional fisherman's paths. Some worn away through centuries of habitual usage. Others clearly revealing the local inhabitants' intent to bend this barren land to their human desires with carved steps and chilled dark tunnels popping up without warning as my exploration continued.
Above and behind me the small town, until recent times a quiet fishing village, now a thriving tourist escape, especially those from England and Ireland.
Its inhabitants slowly rising to meet another day of trade and trinket exchange.
But before me for the present the seemingly endless horizon of the Atlantic sea. And in the distance a five master schooner, sails furled, slowly motoring westwards towards its port.
I sit with my back to the wind, the sun now hot on my arms and face, as I watch the ship slip by. Its solitary behaviour matching my own as I carefully continue my exploration of this strange land. Acutely aware that a moment's lack of concentration amongst such rugged landscape could be harshly punished. A slip down to the sea and rocks below. Or worse to be swallowed up by one of the deep and dark sink holes that border the tracks.
Around me signs of night fishing activity. Discarded cigarette packs & bottles amongst abused tackle. A dangerous place then in the daylight. But possibly lethal at night for the unwary. Or drunk.
An alien and wild landscape. So unlike any place I'd encountered before. But, in common with those wilder places where caution is required, a deeply satisfying area to explore.
Finally that increasingly insistent voice of personal safety reminds me the odds had been played enough for so early in the day. Time to head back up the cliff paths.
Back to re-don the tourist disguise and greet an incautiously early cold beer before another day on the beach. Just one more lazily tanning holidaymaker to any casual onlooker. But inside me a quiet satisfaction in lifting aside one of the veils worn by this small Portuguese village. To have tasted a little of its truer identity. However briefly.
To travel; To experience a different culture and climate. And on this occasion a truly different landscape.Labels: walks
Sunday, September 28
Hincheslea Wood - Rebirth
Back in April last year I described a wander around Hincheslea Wood (OL22: GR 275 010) in the New Forest remarking that this burnt out building may have been about to arise from its ashes. Earlier today I came across the replacement building, fast approaching its completion.
Neighbours, approached for their comments on the refurbishment, had no comment to make.
Being more concerned with local childcare facilities.
Labels: New Forest, walks
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
Wisely he seems to already have plans for his next challenges. To quote the website report posted for today's arrival "You had a dream and you have made your dream reality. You achieved everything you hoped to achieve - and so much more. You went away a boy and came back a man, head held high, knowing who you are"
Once the media kerfuffle has died down I'll be contacting one of my varied local connections, there for his arrival earlier today, for a more reflective chat with Seb if he's interested.
More of a walker/outdoor/kit roundup piece. Looking beyond the charity/publicity junket he's at the centre at present.
Seb Green - True celebrity
So the weather has got decidedly colder recently. Then there is that edgy wind that's been blowing for the last few days. Suddenly the joy of a long outdoor trek becomes much less attractive. Especially where there is no shelter - something like a cliff-top walk perhaps?
Bear a thought then for a true celebrity, previously mentioned on this blog - Seb Green on his Round Britain walk.
Currently somewhere north of Plymouth he's on the final stretch of his 3,000+ mile walk, and expects to arrive home in Weymouth during the next couple of weeks.
A celebrity? Well in my eyes one truly deserving of that oft misused and abused title.
His fame has come through selfless effort, unabashed contrition for his original mistake, and continual and communal improvements. That's of truer value than those boasters using the C title as a result of a hard working agent or as over excessive use of silicon implants.
Consider the charities benefiting from the £14,000+ raised. Or the people he's encountered along the way, seeing for themselves that something positive can come from an anti-social act. The proof that not all of modern yoof is a feral hooded knife wielder lurking on a street corner.
However I suspect the real gift for Seb will be the self knowledge and personal awareness gained over the months since his February start. A better understanding of self reliance and personal responsibility - an essential part of maturing as a human being.
Something that some people two or three times his age have yet to discover.
Welcome home Seb.
Saturday, November 15
Saturday morning - New Forest Dogging
On a whim today I decided to visit one of my regular circuits deep amongst woodland, south of Wilverley Plain. Luckily a track well known to me, as a mixture of sudden leaf drop & a period of wet and damp conditions, has altered the terrain sufficiently to obscure some of the side-tracks, leading from the main shale surfaced tourist paths - ones tend to keep well clear of wherever possible.
On the entry gate into the enclosure I'd spotted a new information sign advising of one of those New Forest events that appear out of the blue, and are always accompanied by a Caution & Care notice for regular NF users. And any concerned insurer, no doubt.
So no surprise then, on coning to cross one of the shale tracks, to find a couple of competitors busily working their dog teams in the ABSA Sleddog Championship 2008/09.
Unlike previous events I've met this time the teams were using only one dog per sled/musher. But, as usual, the dogs seem to be enjoying themselves tremendously, as the mushers did most of the sled pushing on a nearby uphill section.
If you've not encountered this sport before the sleds are lightweight frames mounted on large bicycle wheels. A sturdy build to take the knocks of travelling at speed over the hard & uneven forest tracks.
Later I moved from the dank woodland into the weak daylight of Wilverley Plain, and recalled my last visit here. That was back in October to cover the Forest Uprising Group's protests against the New Forest National Park's proposals.
Then it hit me.
On one hand the NFPA, talking up the tightening of dog access in the New Forest. The same authority today permitting a competitive dog centred event. One that results in some limitation of access in a popular area for the whole weekend (Not that I've any problem with the event or its organisers BTW)
A timely reminder that FUG presented their formal response on the NFPA's consultation draft yesterday, on the last day for submissions.
With around 9,000 responses to work through the NFPA is going to be rather busy trying to settle down the hornet's nest they've raised, ready for the formal submission to the full National Park Authority in summer 2009.
With further workgroups and public meetings in the pipeline expect sparks to continue to fly for some time yet.
Me, I went back to the sled race. It seemed to me that the dogs were getting the better of the deal today. And long may it stay so into the future.Labels: New Forest, walks
Tuesday, November 11
Numbering the days or Counting the cost
50
My age next year.
For those of you that have had the dubious distinction of meeting me in the flesh that's probably a hard fact to swallow. But a true one nevertheless. This lithe body, is a temple, testament to years of loose living & looser women (I remain ever hopeful - lol) Amazingly still unfettered by any short term leasing arrangement with certain Dark Forces.
Nope - its all my own work, as it were. For luckily I've inherited a simple healthiness with a level of natural fitness that becomes the envy of those tubby-tum middle-aged men I see amongst my age group these days.
360
The number of places available on the 2009 TGO Challenge, 60 up on the usual 300 limit, in recognition of the 30th anniversary of this event.
509
The number of applications received for 2009. With wider publicity of recent years the TGO continues to go from strength to strength as an internationally famous event, despite the physical and mental rigours required of those taking part, and the self reliant nature of the challenge.
149
The number of those initially listed on the short list.
40
Those on the short list who may be lucky enough, so I'm informed by those with experience of past events, to move over to the entrant list as some of the 2009 Challengers find themselves having to withdraw ahead of the event.
90
My short list number.
Well that's me buggered then.
I thought something suitably emphatic was called for in 2009. A symbolic achievement on passing my half century mark. An age that many years ago I wouldn't have seriously expected to reach, such was my lifestyle and its associated high risk activities (Lots of fun along the way though)
So that leaves me with a quandary. What else to do with the 2 week break from work that is already booked?
Too short a time to wildcamp the SW Coastal Footpath, one of my long term ambitions. All too easily 'squandered' on challenging, but potentially unmemorable, wildcamping weeks of my own design. Definitely too disinterested in the usual fall backs such as Coast to Coast, Pennine Way, Offa Dyke etc. All undoubtedly superb end to end journeys in themselves, but not that ....... well ..........different ....... to be honest.
Hmm. I guess that's what I'm looking for. A trip that delivers the chance for my steady movement across this land of ours. A point to point challenge with a recognisable aim, even to a non walker, but with that special something that I can look back at in the years ahead, and grin at having done it.
Any ideas folks?
All comments count. Naturally.Labels: TGO Challenge, walks
Sunday, October 26
A walk on the Algarve - Carveiro
Dawn. The sun's rays, already a reminder of the southerly latitude. An offshore breeze unexpected, but a welcome respite after a week of blue sky and mid 20s temperatures each day.
Waking early I decided to sneak out for a short while, to walk amongst the pitted red cliffs.
Amongst? For below the shadeless cliff top path marking the sudden drop down to the Atlantic I discovered a maze of steps, paths and tunnels leading down to hidden paths on the lower rock ledges edging the shoreline.
(Tunnel)
Rock, red pitted and pock marked. And through it all shards of sea shells clearly visible, deeply embedded in the strata. Surely a landscape more used to lunar exploration?
A solo daybreak walk then; Before the oppressive heat turned the cliff bowl into a cauldron of heat, at least for one more used to an UK climate.
I wandered for some while along traditional fisherman's paths. Some worn away through centuries of habitual usage. Others clearly revealing the local inhabitants' intent to bend this barren land to their human desires with carved steps and chilled dark tunnels popping up without warning as my exploration continued.
Above and behind me the small town, until recent times a quiet fishing village, now a thriving tourist escape, especially those from England and Ireland.
Its inhabitants slowly rising to meet another day of trade and trinket exchange.
But before me for the present the seemingly endless horizon of the Atlantic sea. And in the distance a five master schooner, sails furled, slowly motoring westwards towards its port.
I sit with my back to the wind, the sun now hot on my arms and face, as I watch the ship slip by. Its solitary behaviour matching my own as I carefully continue my exploration of this strange land. Acutely aware that a moment's lack of concentration amongst such rugged landscape could be harshly punished. A slip down to the sea and rocks below. Or worse to be swallowed up by one of the deep and dark sink holes that border the tracks.
Around me signs of night fishing activity. Discarded cigarette packs & bottles amongst abused tackle. A dangerous place then in the daylight. But possibly lethal at night for the unwary. Or drunk.
An alien and wild landscape. So unlike any place I'd encountered before. But, in common with those wilder places where caution is required, a deeply satisfying area to explore.
Finally that increasingly insistent voice of personal safety reminds me the odds had been played enough for so early in the day. Time to head back up the cliff paths.
Back to re-don the tourist disguise and greet an incautiously early cold beer before another day on the beach. Just one more lazily tanning holidaymaker to any casual onlooker. But inside me a quiet satisfaction in lifting aside one of the veils worn by this small Portuguese village. To have tasted a little of its truer identity. However briefly.
To travel; To experience a different culture and climate. And on this occasion a truly different landscape.Labels: walks
Sunday, September 28
Hincheslea Wood - Rebirth
Back in April last year I described a wander around Hincheslea Wood (OL22: GR 275 010) in the New Forest remarking that this burnt out building may have been about to arise from its ashes. Earlier today I came across the replacement building, fast approaching its completion.
Neighbours, approached for their comments on the refurbishment, had no comment to make.
Being more concerned with local childcare facilities.
Labels: New Forest, walks
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
Bear a thought then for a true celebrity, previously mentioned on this blog - Seb Green on his Round Britain walk.
Currently somewhere north of Plymouth he's on the final stretch of his 3,000+ mile walk, and expects to arrive home in Weymouth during the next couple of weeks.
A celebrity? Well in my eyes one truly deserving of that oft misused and abused title.
His fame has come through selfless effort, unabashed contrition for his original mistake, and continual and communal improvements. That's of truer value than those boasters using the C title as a result of a hard working agent or as over excessive use of silicon implants.
Consider the charities benefiting from the £14,000+ raised. Or the people he's encountered along the way, seeing for themselves that something positive can come from an anti-social act. The proof that not all of modern yoof is a feral hooded knife wielder lurking on a street corner.
However I suspect the real gift for Seb will be the self knowledge and personal awareness gained over the months since his February start. A better understanding of self reliance and personal responsibility - an essential part of maturing as a human being.
Something that some people two or three times his age have yet to discover.
Welcome home Seb.
Saturday morning - New Forest Dogging
On a whim today I decided to visit one of my regular circuits deep amongst woodland, south of Wilverley Plain. Luckily a track well known to me, as a mixture of sudden leaf drop & a period of wet and damp conditions, has altered the terrain sufficiently to obscure some of the side-tracks, leading from the main shale surfaced tourist paths - ones tend to keep well clear of wherever possible.
On the entry gate into the enclosure I'd spotted a new information sign advising of one of those New Forest events that appear out of the blue, and are always accompanied by a Caution & Care notice for regular NF users. And any concerned insurer, no doubt.
So no surprise then, on coning to cross one of the shale tracks, to find a couple of competitors busily working their dog teams in the ABSA Sleddog Championship 2008/09.
Unlike previous events I've met this time the teams were using only one dog per sled/musher. But, as usual, the dogs seem to be enjoying themselves tremendously, as the mushers did most of the sled pushing on a nearby uphill section.
If you've not encountered this sport before the sleds are lightweight frames mounted on large bicycle wheels. A sturdy build to take the knocks of travelling at speed over the hard & uneven forest tracks.
Later I moved from the dank woodland into the weak daylight of Wilverley Plain, and recalled my last visit here. That was back in October to cover the Forest Uprising Group's protests against the New Forest National Park's proposals.
Then it hit me.
On one hand the NFPA, talking up the tightening of dog access in the New Forest. The same authority today permitting a competitive dog centred event. One that results in some limitation of access in a popular area for the whole weekend (Not that I've any problem with the event or its organisers BTW)
A timely reminder that FUG presented their formal response on the NFPA's consultation draft yesterday, on the last day for submissions.
With around 9,000 responses to work through the NFPA is going to be rather busy trying to settle down the hornet's nest they've raised, ready for the formal submission to the full National Park Authority in summer 2009.
With further workgroups and public meetings in the pipeline expect sparks to continue to fly for some time yet.
Me, I went back to the sled race. It seemed to me that the dogs were getting the better of the deal today. And long may it stay so into the future.Labels: New Forest, walks
Tuesday, November 11
Numbering the days or Counting the cost
50
My age next year.
For those of you that have had the dubious distinction of meeting me in the flesh that's probably a hard fact to swallow. But a true one nevertheless. This lithe body, is a temple, testament to years of loose living & looser women (I remain ever hopeful - lol) Amazingly still unfettered by any short term leasing arrangement with certain Dark Forces.
Nope - its all my own work, as it were. For luckily I've inherited a simple healthiness with a level of natural fitness that becomes the envy of those tubby-tum middle-aged men I see amongst my age group these days.
360
The number of places available on the 2009 TGO Challenge, 60 up on the usual 300 limit, in recognition of the 30th anniversary of this event.
509
The number of applications received for 2009. With wider publicity of recent years the TGO continues to go from strength to strength as an internationally famous event, despite the physical and mental rigours required of those taking part, and the self reliant nature of the challenge.
149
The number of those initially listed on the short list.
40
Those on the short list who may be lucky enough, so I'm informed by those with experience of past events, to move over to the entrant list as some of the 2009 Challengers find themselves having to withdraw ahead of the event.
90
My short list number.
Well that's me buggered then.
I thought something suitably emphatic was called for in 2009. A symbolic achievement on passing my half century mark. An age that many years ago I wouldn't have seriously expected to reach, such was my lifestyle and its associated high risk activities (Lots of fun along the way though)
So that leaves me with a quandary. What else to do with the 2 week break from work that is already booked?
Too short a time to wildcamp the SW Coastal Footpath, one of my long term ambitions. All too easily 'squandered' on challenging, but potentially unmemorable, wildcamping weeks of my own design. Definitely too disinterested in the usual fall backs such as Coast to Coast, Pennine Way, Offa Dyke etc. All undoubtedly superb end to end journeys in themselves, but not that ....... well ..........different ....... to be honest.
Hmm. I guess that's what I'm looking for. A trip that delivers the chance for my steady movement across this land of ours. A point to point challenge with a recognisable aim, even to a non walker, but with that special something that I can look back at in the years ahead, and grin at having done it.
Any ideas folks?
All comments count. Naturally.Labels: TGO Challenge, walks
Sunday, October 26
A walk on the Algarve - Carveiro
Dawn. The sun's rays, already a reminder of the southerly latitude. An offshore breeze unexpected, but a welcome respite after a week of blue sky and mid 20s temperatures each day.
Waking early I decided to sneak out for a short while, to walk amongst the pitted red cliffs.
Amongst? For below the shadeless cliff top path marking the sudden drop down to the Atlantic I discovered a maze of steps, paths and tunnels leading down to hidden paths on the lower rock ledges edging the shoreline.
(Tunnel)
Rock, red pitted and pock marked. And through it all shards of sea shells clearly visible, deeply embedded in the strata. Surely a landscape more used to lunar exploration?
A solo daybreak walk then; Before the oppressive heat turned the cliff bowl into a cauldron of heat, at least for one more used to an UK climate.
I wandered for some while along traditional fisherman's paths. Some worn away through centuries of habitual usage. Others clearly revealing the local inhabitants' intent to bend this barren land to their human desires with carved steps and chilled dark tunnels popping up without warning as my exploration continued.
Above and behind me the small town, until recent times a quiet fishing village, now a thriving tourist escape, especially those from England and Ireland.
Its inhabitants slowly rising to meet another day of trade and trinket exchange.
But before me for the present the seemingly endless horizon of the Atlantic sea. And in the distance a five master schooner, sails furled, slowly motoring westwards towards its port.
I sit with my back to the wind, the sun now hot on my arms and face, as I watch the ship slip by. Its solitary behaviour matching my own as I carefully continue my exploration of this strange land. Acutely aware that a moment's lack of concentration amongst such rugged landscape could be harshly punished. A slip down to the sea and rocks below. Or worse to be swallowed up by one of the deep and dark sink holes that border the tracks.
Around me signs of night fishing activity. Discarded cigarette packs & bottles amongst abused tackle. A dangerous place then in the daylight. But possibly lethal at night for the unwary. Or drunk.
An alien and wild landscape. So unlike any place I'd encountered before. But, in common with those wilder places where caution is required, a deeply satisfying area to explore.
Finally that increasingly insistent voice of personal safety reminds me the odds had been played enough for so early in the day. Time to head back up the cliff paths.
Back to re-don the tourist disguise and greet an incautiously early cold beer before another day on the beach. Just one more lazily tanning holidaymaker to any casual onlooker. But inside me a quiet satisfaction in lifting aside one of the veils worn by this small Portuguese village. To have tasted a little of its truer identity. However briefly.
To travel; To experience a different culture and climate. And on this occasion a truly different landscape.Labels: walks
Sunday, September 28
Hincheslea Wood - Rebirth
Back in April last year I described a wander around Hincheslea Wood (OL22: GR 275 010) in the New Forest remarking that this burnt out building may have been about to arise from its ashes. Earlier today I came across the replacement building, fast approaching its completion.
Neighbours, approached for their comments on the refurbishment, had no comment to make.
Being more concerned with local childcare facilities.
Labels: New Forest, walks
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
On the entry gate into the enclosure I'd spotted a new information sign advising of one of those New Forest events that appear out of the blue, and are always accompanied by a Caution & Care notice for regular NF users. And any concerned insurer, no doubt.
So no surprise then, on coning to cross one of the shale tracks, to find a couple of competitors busily working their dog teams in the ABSA Sleddog Championship 2008/09.
Unlike previous events I've met this time the teams were using only one dog per sled/musher. But, as usual, the dogs seem to be enjoying themselves tremendously, as the mushers did most of the sled pushing on a nearby uphill section.
If you've not encountered this sport before the sleds are lightweight frames mounted on large bicycle wheels. A sturdy build to take the knocks of travelling at speed over the hard & uneven forest tracks.
Later I moved from the dank woodland into the weak daylight of Wilverley Plain, and recalled my last visit here. That was back in October to cover the Forest Uprising Group's protests against the New Forest National Park's proposals.
Then it hit me.
On one hand the NFPA, talking up the tightening of dog access in the New Forest. The same authority today permitting a competitive dog centred event. One that results in some limitation of access in a popular area for the whole weekend (Not that I've any problem with the event or its organisers BTW)
A timely reminder that FUG presented their formal response on the NFPA's consultation draft yesterday, on the last day for submissions.
With around 9,000 responses to work through the NFPA is going to be rather busy trying to settle down the hornet's nest they've raised, ready for the formal submission to the full National Park Authority in summer 2009.
With further workgroups and public meetings in the pipeline expect sparks to continue to fly for some time yet.
Me, I went back to the sled race. It seemed to me that the dogs were getting the better of the deal today. And long may it stay so into the future.
Labels: New Forest, walks
Numbering the days or Counting the cost
50
My age next year.
For those of you that have had the dubious distinction of meeting me in the flesh that's probably a hard fact to swallow. But a true one nevertheless. This lithe body, is a temple, testament to years of loose living & looser women (I remain ever hopeful - lol) Amazingly still unfettered by any short term leasing arrangement with certain Dark Forces.
Nope - its all my own work, as it were. For luckily I've inherited a simple healthiness with a level of natural fitness that becomes the envy of those tubby-tum middle-aged men I see amongst my age group these days.
360
The number of places available on the 2009 TGO Challenge, 60 up on the usual 300 limit, in recognition of the 30th anniversary of this event.
509
The number of applications received for 2009. With wider publicity of recent years the TGO continues to go from strength to strength as an internationally famous event, despite the physical and mental rigours required of those taking part, and the self reliant nature of the challenge.
149
The number of those initially listed on the short list.
40
Those on the short list who may be lucky enough, so I'm informed by those with experience of past events, to move over to the entrant list as some of the 2009 Challengers find themselves having to withdraw ahead of the event.
90
My short list number.
Well that's me buggered then.
I thought something suitably emphatic was called for in 2009. A symbolic achievement on passing my half century mark. An age that many years ago I wouldn't have seriously expected to reach, such was my lifestyle and its associated high risk activities (Lots of fun along the way though)
So that leaves me with a quandary. What else to do with the 2 week break from work that is already booked?
Too short a time to wildcamp the SW Coastal Footpath, one of my long term ambitions. All too easily 'squandered' on challenging, but potentially unmemorable, wildcamping weeks of my own design. Definitely too disinterested in the usual fall backs such as Coast to Coast, Pennine Way, Offa Dyke etc. All undoubtedly superb end to end journeys in themselves, but not that ....... well ..........different ....... to be honest.
Hmm. I guess that's what I'm looking for. A trip that delivers the chance for my steady movement across this land of ours. A point to point challenge with a recognisable aim, even to a non walker, but with that special something that I can look back at in the years ahead, and grin at having done it.
Any ideas folks?
All comments count. Naturally.Labels: TGO Challenge, walks
Sunday, October 26
A walk on the Algarve - Carveiro
Dawn. The sun's rays, already a reminder of the southerly latitude. An offshore breeze unexpected, but a welcome respite after a week of blue sky and mid 20s temperatures each day.
Waking early I decided to sneak out for a short while, to walk amongst the pitted red cliffs.
Amongst? For below the shadeless cliff top path marking the sudden drop down to the Atlantic I discovered a maze of steps, paths and tunnels leading down to hidden paths on the lower rock ledges edging the shoreline.
(Tunnel)
Rock, red pitted and pock marked. And through it all shards of sea shells clearly visible, deeply embedded in the strata. Surely a landscape more used to lunar exploration?
A solo daybreak walk then; Before the oppressive heat turned the cliff bowl into a cauldron of heat, at least for one more used to an UK climate.
I wandered for some while along traditional fisherman's paths. Some worn away through centuries of habitual usage. Others clearly revealing the local inhabitants' intent to bend this barren land to their human desires with carved steps and chilled dark tunnels popping up without warning as my exploration continued.
Above and behind me the small town, until recent times a quiet fishing village, now a thriving tourist escape, especially those from England and Ireland.
Its inhabitants slowly rising to meet another day of trade and trinket exchange.
But before me for the present the seemingly endless horizon of the Atlantic sea. And in the distance a five master schooner, sails furled, slowly motoring westwards towards its port.
I sit with my back to the wind, the sun now hot on my arms and face, as I watch the ship slip by. Its solitary behaviour matching my own as I carefully continue my exploration of this strange land. Acutely aware that a moment's lack of concentration amongst such rugged landscape could be harshly punished. A slip down to the sea and rocks below. Or worse to be swallowed up by one of the deep and dark sink holes that border the tracks.
Around me signs of night fishing activity. Discarded cigarette packs & bottles amongst abused tackle. A dangerous place then in the daylight. But possibly lethal at night for the unwary. Or drunk.
An alien and wild landscape. So unlike any place I'd encountered before. But, in common with those wilder places where caution is required, a deeply satisfying area to explore.
Finally that increasingly insistent voice of personal safety reminds me the odds had been played enough for so early in the day. Time to head back up the cliff paths.
Back to re-don the tourist disguise and greet an incautiously early cold beer before another day on the beach. Just one more lazily tanning holidaymaker to any casual onlooker. But inside me a quiet satisfaction in lifting aside one of the veils worn by this small Portuguese village. To have tasted a little of its truer identity. However briefly.
To travel; To experience a different culture and climate. And on this occasion a truly different landscape.Labels: walks
Sunday, September 28
Hincheslea Wood - Rebirth
Back in April last year I described a wander around Hincheslea Wood (OL22: GR 275 010) in the New Forest remarking that this burnt out building may have been about to arise from its ashes. Earlier today I came across the replacement building, fast approaching its completion.
Neighbours, approached for their comments on the refurbishment, had no comment to make.
Being more concerned with local childcare facilities.
Labels: New Forest, walks
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
My age next year.
For those of you that have had the dubious distinction of meeting me in the flesh that's probably a hard fact to swallow. But a true one nevertheless. This lithe body, is a temple, testament to years of loose living & looser women (I remain ever hopeful - lol) Amazingly still unfettered by any short term leasing arrangement with certain Dark Forces.
Nope - its all my own work, as it were. For luckily I've inherited a simple healthiness with a level of natural fitness that becomes the envy of those tubby-tum middle-aged men I see amongst my age group these days.
360
The number of places available on the 2009 TGO Challenge, 60 up on the usual 300 limit, in recognition of the 30th anniversary of this event.
509
The number of applications received for 2009. With wider publicity of recent years the TGO continues to go from strength to strength as an internationally famous event, despite the physical and mental rigours required of those taking part, and the self reliant nature of the challenge.
149
The number of those initially listed on the short list.
40
Those on the short list who may be lucky enough, so I'm informed by those with experience of past events, to move over to the entrant list as some of the 2009 Challengers find themselves having to withdraw ahead of the event.
90
My short list number.
Well that's me buggered then.
I thought something suitably emphatic was called for in 2009. A symbolic achievement on passing my half century mark. An age that many years ago I wouldn't have seriously expected to reach, such was my lifestyle and its associated high risk activities (Lots of fun along the way though)
So that leaves me with a quandary. What else to do with the 2 week break from work that is already booked?
Too short a time to wildcamp the SW Coastal Footpath, one of my long term ambitions. All too easily 'squandered' on challenging, but potentially unmemorable, wildcamping weeks of my own design. Definitely too disinterested in the usual fall backs such as Coast to Coast, Pennine Way, Offa Dyke etc. All undoubtedly superb end to end journeys in themselves, but not that ....... well ..........different ....... to be honest.
Hmm. I guess that's what I'm looking for. A trip that delivers the chance for my steady movement across this land of ours. A point to point challenge with a recognisable aim, even to a non walker, but with that special something that I can look back at in the years ahead, and grin at having done it.
Any ideas folks?
All comments count. Naturally.
Labels: TGO Challenge, walks
A walk on the Algarve - Carveiro
Dawn. The sun's rays, already a reminder of the southerly latitude. An offshore breeze unexpected, but a welcome respite after a week of blue sky and mid 20s temperatures each day.
Waking early I decided to sneak out for a short while, to walk amongst the pitted red cliffs.
Amongst? For below the shadeless cliff top path marking the sudden drop down to the Atlantic I discovered a maze of steps, paths and tunnels leading down to hidden paths on the lower rock ledges edging the shoreline.
(Tunnel)
Rock, red pitted and pock marked. And through it all shards of sea shells clearly visible, deeply embedded in the strata. Surely a landscape more used to lunar exploration?
A solo daybreak walk then; Before the oppressive heat turned the cliff bowl into a cauldron of heat, at least for one more used to an UK climate.
I wandered for some while along traditional fisherman's paths. Some worn away through centuries of habitual usage. Others clearly revealing the local inhabitants' intent to bend this barren land to their human desires with carved steps and chilled dark tunnels popping up without warning as my exploration continued.
Above and behind me the small town, until recent times a quiet fishing village, now a thriving tourist escape, especially those from England and Ireland.
Its inhabitants slowly rising to meet another day of trade and trinket exchange.
But before me for the present the seemingly endless horizon of the Atlantic sea. And in the distance a five master schooner, sails furled, slowly motoring westwards towards its port.
I sit with my back to the wind, the sun now hot on my arms and face, as I watch the ship slip by. Its solitary behaviour matching my own as I carefully continue my exploration of this strange land. Acutely aware that a moment's lack of concentration amongst such rugged landscape could be harshly punished. A slip down to the sea and rocks below. Or worse to be swallowed up by one of the deep and dark sink holes that border the tracks.
Around me signs of night fishing activity. Discarded cigarette packs & bottles amongst abused tackle. A dangerous place then in the daylight. But possibly lethal at night for the unwary. Or drunk.
An alien and wild landscape. So unlike any place I'd encountered before. But, in common with those wilder places where caution is required, a deeply satisfying area to explore.
Finally that increasingly insistent voice of personal safety reminds me the odds had been played enough for so early in the day. Time to head back up the cliff paths.
Back to re-don the tourist disguise and greet an incautiously early cold beer before another day on the beach. Just one more lazily tanning holidaymaker to any casual onlooker. But inside me a quiet satisfaction in lifting aside one of the veils worn by this small Portuguese village. To have tasted a little of its truer identity. However briefly.
To travel; To experience a different culture and climate. And on this occasion a truly different landscape.Labels: walks
Sunday, September 28
Hincheslea Wood - Rebirth
Back in April last year I described a wander around Hincheslea Wood (OL22: GR 275 010) in the New Forest remarking that this burnt out building may have been about to arise from its ashes. Earlier today I came across the replacement building, fast approaching its completion.
Neighbours, approached for their comments on the refurbishment, had no comment to make.
Being more concerned with local childcare facilities.
Labels: New Forest, walks
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
Waking early I decided to sneak out for a short while, to walk amongst the pitted red cliffs.
Amongst? For below the shadeless cliff top path marking the sudden drop down to the Atlantic I discovered a maze of steps, paths and tunnels leading down to hidden paths on the lower rock ledges edging the shoreline.
(Tunnel)Rock, red pitted and pock marked. And through it all shards of sea shells clearly visible, deeply embedded in the strata. Surely a landscape more used to lunar exploration?
A solo daybreak walk then; Before the oppressive heat turned the cliff bowl into a cauldron of heat, at least for one more used to an UK climate.
I wandered for some while along traditional fisherman's paths. Some worn away through centuries of habitual usage. Others clearly revealing the local inhabitants' intent to bend this barren land to their human desires with carved steps and chilled dark tunnels popping up without warning as my exploration continued.
Above and behind me the small town, until recent times a quiet fishing village, now a thriving tourist escape, especially those from England and Ireland.
Its inhabitants slowly rising to meet another day of trade and trinket exchange.
But before me for the present the seemingly endless horizon of the Atlantic sea. And in the distance a five master schooner, sails furled, slowly motoring westwards towards its port.
I sit with my back to the wind, the sun now hot on my arms and face, as I watch the ship slip by. Its solitary behaviour matching my own as I carefully continue my exploration of this strange land. Acutely aware that a moment's lack of concentration amongst such rugged landscape could be harshly punished. A slip down to the sea and rocks below. Or worse to be swallowed up by one of the deep and dark sink holes that border the tracks.
Around me signs of night fishing activity. Discarded cigarette packs & bottles amongst abused tackle. A dangerous place then in the daylight. But possibly lethal at night for the unwary. Or drunk.
An alien and wild landscape. So unlike any place I'd encountered before. But, in common with those wilder places where caution is required, a deeply satisfying area to explore.
Finally that increasingly insistent voice of personal safety reminds me the odds had been played enough for so early in the day. Time to head back up the cliff paths.
Back to re-don the tourist disguise and greet an incautiously early cold beer before another day on the beach. Just one more lazily tanning holidaymaker to any casual onlooker. But inside me a quiet satisfaction in lifting aside one of the veils worn by this small Portuguese village. To have tasted a little of its truer identity. However briefly.
To travel; To experience a different culture and climate. And on this occasion a truly different landscape.
Labels: walks
Hincheslea Wood - Rebirth
Back in April last year I described a wander around Hincheslea Wood (OL22: GR 275 010) in the New Forest remarking that this burnt out building may have been about to arise from its ashes. Earlier today I came across the replacement building, fast approaching its completion.
Neighbours, approached for their comments on the refurbishment, had no comment to make.
Being more concerned with local childcare facilities.
Labels: New Forest, walks
Back in April last year I described a wander around Hincheslea Wood (OL22: GR 275 010) in the New Forest remarking that this burnt out building may have been about to arise from its ashes.
Earlier today I came across the replacement building, fast approaching its completion.
Neighbours, approached for their comments on the refurbishment, had no comment to make.
Being more concerned with local childcare facilities.
Labels: New Forest, walks
All site material © John Hee - ask before you snatch
