Ashurst Circular

5th May 2009

This was a blissful walk. All grey and windy over Southampton and many diversions around the 4pm rush hour (? - trust me!); all shiny and warm out in the New Forest. Peace, quiet, birdsong and singing streams.

I parked at Bolton's Bench, just down the road from the Lyndhurst Maserati showrooms. Boots and gaiters on, stick in hand (was I expecting mud?) and compass not far from reach I set off up alongside the drive to the cricket pavilion towards the cemetery where the walk really begins.

The underpass from this White Moor (there are several) to the golf course was muddy and puddly and the entrance full of ponies that looked like they started off knowing what they were doing and forgot half way down the track.

Round to the right of the golf course with much envy of two girls cantering along ahead on their steeds and into Rushpole Wood. Over the footbridge and following the route quite happily. Turn north west - still quite happily. Find the switchback path, heading north east - and still happy - pretty woodlands, lots of green, a bit rutted and muddy, last years fallen leaves turned brown and crunchy ... where's the path?

I found the south east one. I found the north west one. (Didn't look for the south west one, didn't want to go that way - either). Could I find the north east one? I can find north east on my compass but not on the ground. Oh well, the north west one will take me to Plain Green. Then that one dies.

Cast about. Cast about. I'm aiming for north east, so off I go. Sod it! And find the rest of the north west path (where did it go/come from?).

Arrive at Plain Green and to the right is the gate into the Inclosure. Off I go. And pass the exit to the north east path I was looking for.

Anyway ... off I go again. Happily find the footbridge and soon the gate into Busketts. A hoof-pocked track that can be avoided by a narrow path of necessity along the edge of the pine trees up to the cycle track. This wide reprieve doesn't have time to pall too much before I turn right and expect to come across the footbridge somewhere down the way. The path is pleasant, birds singing, a cuckoo calling and so descends one of those moments where you are suddenly aware of the peacefulness of your surroundings.

The river. No footbridge. A ford. And I think I've found the outskirts of Lothlorien (above photo).

The path to the ford has large cobbles in it and the ford itself looks like a broken bit of old road. The crossing is made of slightly submerged stepping stones. There are four corners of high bank all grassy and studded with speedwell, violets and other woodland spring flowers. The water sings over the stones, and here I stopped and sat on the bank to take in water and munch a bakey cakey.

As on Saturday, I discovered an unmarked path that runs alongside the river. It seems to wander away from the river at times, but only because the river is very windy. This was a digression from the route I had plotted, but I never turn down a riverbank ramble.

So out on to a cycle track again, a little way from the bridge and ford I crossed the last time I was in Busketts. I turned away from it this time, however, and along the cycle track for a little way before my way went off to the left. A left fork and to a gate and out on to Woodlands Road. Turn right here and at the end of the road left along Southampton Road over the railway and into Ashurst. Cross at the lights (buy a Mars Bar in the newsagents), turn right to go back over the bridge and soon turn left into Ashurst Caravan site.

Now, I thought kittens were cute, but the prize for cuteness must go to Shetland pony foals. They don't gangle like normal foals; they have little sturdy legs and are just ... CUTE!! There should be a law against that much cuteness.

I'm fine.

Past the Shetland mare and her foal (too cute!!) and on into the woodland alongside the railway. Two trains whizz past. I stop to take a photo of the bridge ahead through the trees - the open-worked wrought iron is painted a pale blue. Ponies were ambling along it, right in front of a cyclist, who was very good and patient; a few moments later he whizzed past me ...

Of course, the ponies took the path I was aiming for and as time was now getting on I didn't really have the option of changing course now. What made it slightly awkward was that two of the mares had very young foals with them. However, it's no problem to walk off the path to give them plenty of space and as they were keeping pace with the youngsters I soon past them. It was very touching to see the chestnut mare stop twice and touch her foal as if to reassure it.

The path goes around the edge of Ashurst Lodge and strikes out across the moor to Longwater Lawn through which bright green oasis in all the heather the Beaulieu River flows with white flowers in the rippling water. By now the light had become deep and rich and the surroundings green-golden.

Off the Lawn and across Foxhill Moor and into trees where the path remained clear ahead and soon out to White Moor again, with the sun gilding the trees and the pale ghost of the moon hanging in blue sky between lace ribbons of cloud.

I met a Springer spaniel which was keen to explain in visual terms why the breed is so called, bouncing after rabbits and bits of branch.

As the evening just got lovelier and lovelier, I came back alongside the stone wall of the cemetery and all the chaps in their whites playing cricket, just in time to see a well-taken wicket. Much polite applause, which clacks pleasantly on the air and sounds so English.

And so back to the car wrapped in a hug of blissfulness, that hasn't yet left me as I sit tapping at my keyboard and recalling the glow of the evening and the pleasure of the walk.