Tales from the River Bank

8th May 2009

This entry is verbatim what I wrote on the riverbank at Busketts Lawn. By the way, it didn't rain.

I started this walk feeling that sick-sensation that I think I must attribute to anxiety. About what? I couldn't say.

I am now sat on the bank of Bartley Water and I can see my "photograph" to my right. I have just walked along it.

I can't stop for long as it's taken me about an hour to get here. Despite the wind, I'm just wearing my base-layer top and sitting on my fleece which will need a wash!

The first cycle-track was pleasant and I met a very sweet-natured golden labrador who required head stroking and sat down beside me with a sweet expression. Apparently she can be quite growly and barky with nervous dogs.

The side track to Gutter Heath was pleasant enough, a bit hoof-pocked, but a narrow path ran alongside it. A gate and a footbridge, muddy stuff and then the heath with a boggy bit. I did the Forest-thing and put down bits of branch and twig to make a crossing. I used my compass to keep on track through the trees where there isn't a path and found Plain Green where there is a broad ride which is good going and makes a nice walk along the Green. I managed to confuse myself at one point when I wasn't paying attention, thinking I was heading west when I was actually heading N/E (which was what my compass was telling me!) - the way I wanted to go.

I followed the ride round to the right, negotiated the stream which later becomes the river, and passed through the gate into the Inclosure on bridleways that are easy to walk - for bridleways - not too much mud or pocks. Where the river comes down almost to the bridleway, I left the bridleway and hopped across the ditch on to the footpath beside the water. I followed the winding way to here, with the wind rushing through the treetops, the water nattering over the stones of the ford, and occasionally a snatch of birdsong. All green with glimpses of sun and no one about.

Ah well, it's half past 3 and I must make tracks back to the car. I wanted to be heading home at 4. Maybe half past, then. Hope the traffic's not too - oh damn! it's Friday.

What I didn't write because I was walking again by then, is that coming back to the gate at Yewtree Hill I noted that I was calm, relaxed, unanxious, unworried and had a general sense of well-being. I was chilled. I knew I'd be a little later back to the car and I'd curtailed the intended path along the river to the next footbridge, but time was bothering me on an any level I was aware of. I think I might take my journal with me on all my walks. Hm, I may need to unearth my rucksack again.

The best laid cliches and positivity

7th May 2009

Mice sleep, men (and women) stare glumly out of the window, and I spend hours poring over maps until the hours dawn on me and I cast the maps away.

Yes, it's a dull day that doesn't even have any rain to make it interesting. It's a bit breezy but nothing to really make the sea pound. It's one of those dull days that makes you thankful it's spring and there's a bit of bright green to alleviate the dullness. It isn't even gloomy or brooding; nor is there a touch of brightness, except something like a weak smile of sunlight that's swiftly gone. It's like the day is sulking.

However! I have at last put away my maps and waiting for the better rain tomorrow which will make the woodlands come alive with water. I've just acquired a new Tilley hat ...

... and Peter Storm trousers (they've been in their own pocket hence the fashionable crinkled effect) ...

so I'm looking forward to trying them out!

I've also aquired a photoprinter and have come to realise the difference between what makes a picture and what qualifies as a snapshot.

I have an idea for scrapbooking my walking life using my photos, plagiarising my own blog and getting a footprint stamp so I can stamp little ramlbing footprints all through the scrapbook.

So much for Experiment Thursday, trying out new walks and expanding my comfort zone. This is not an expandable day. It's just dull. Roll on the rain tomorrow!

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.

Highland Water Wander

2nd May 2009

One of my favourite walks with a little difference.

Many are the routes within routes (or even outside them) that can be plotted along the New Forest network of pathways. And it becomes even better when you discover a path that isn't shown on the map.

I can't actually take credit for finding this unmarked path that wanders along the river banks of Highland Water. I only discovered it after spotting a man and his dog walking among the trees close to the river on a previous walk. So today I went exploring and found this treasure that takes you off the main trails. No sound except the water trickling over stones and fallen branches, and birdsong.

Being unofficial and unmanaged, however - probably a pony or forest ranger track - the path is subject to the vagueries of the Forest and the Inclosures. About half way along the course the path becomes lost in deep ruts and channels and the scattered ruins of "forest operations". It may be passable but I prefer to be able to look about me when I'm walking along, and not staring at my feet and the ground.

At a suitable junction I turned left away from the river and up a grass slope to a pleasant path that I hadn't trodden before and, to be honest, only realised was on the map when I checked to see where I was going from this point.

The walk proceeds along a cycle track for a little way before, at a sharp left hand bend in the cycle track, going straight ahead along another grass track up to a gate and out into the dip below Mogshade Hill where there is a ford and wooden footbridge across the Water. From here up to Stonnard Wood and then into the trees again.

I stopped at the bench at Hart Hill for some water and jaffa cakes before descending on to the path and began to wend my way back along hoof-pocked grassways, through gates and over footbridges (across Bagshot Gutter this time), eventually coming back to the banks of Highland Water, studded with violets, celandine and bluebells and with a cuckoo calling in the distance.

And so to the car park and home.

Storms around Keyhaven

28th April 2009

Thursday is Experiment Day! Every Thursday I shall be trying out a new walk in Hampshire (or elsewhere) that is not in the New Forest. Should the "experiment" turn out to be unfavourable, there will be a consolation walk i.e. one I have done before and enjoyed. Given the vagueries of my work roster, Thursday may be titled "Third Day" instead; but it's the same thing

Unless you have a dental appointment that gets in the way, of course. And so this experiment took place on Tuesday instead of Thursday. Hopefully things will get back to normal soon.

This is another AA Walk and chosen because the weather forecast was so uncertain. Fine with showers, possibly heavy.

And this turned out to be another peach, with added cream, later washed down with buckets of water.

The environment itself is beautiful, marshland and mudflats with extensive views of the rolling Isle of Wight landscape ending in the great Tennyson Down and the Needles with their lighthouse. Sea and shingle beaches, a little marina and a Tudor Castle with World War II additions. And then the drama of the weather.

There are two free parking areas, as well as a pay and display near the waterfront. One of the free parking areas is quite small alongside the sea wall heading towards a dead end where the Solent Way starts off out on to a raised bank of gravel and grass around the marshes.

The other car park is at the landward end of the great shingle spit that supports Hurst Castle and a white lighthouse at it further end. The spit itself is still growing in length and is lined with poles that are measured from time to time to see how far the spit has shifted. The spit is also protected on the seaward side by defences constructed to resemble great boulders. I think they work; others may disagree.

Toffee crunch ice cream (with a flake) in hand, the walk along the spit to the Castle is about a mile and a half. With the waves of the Solent foaming on one side and the calm lagoon on the other, and the Isle of Wight rising up ahead, there is plenty to look at and admire and photograph.

Hurst Castle is run by English Heritage and costs £3.50 entry. To the east is Henry VIII's fortress, partially restored in the Victorian age and added to and patched with concrete during WWII. Charles I was also imprisoned here for a while. There is a display about Tudor fortresses in the Keep; the basement under the Keep is well worth a visit for sheer spookiness. The floor is black and barely visible.

If you fancy a different method of returning to the mainland, there is a little Ferry that shuttles back and forth between Hurst Castle (or the lighthouse when the tide is out) and Keyhaven every 20 minutes. The fare is £3 which you pay to the Ferryman. It is a very pleasant little journey between the mudflats and the yachts and the walk proper starts from the jetty.

Follow the seawall all the way around to a kissing gate on to the bank of the Solent Way and simply keep along it until just past the Dock Sluice at Oxey Marsh when the walk turns inland along a lane past Woodside Farm which peters out at a gate on to a byway/cycle path back to Kayhaven. As I was being closed in on by stormclouds from the east, I chose to curtail the walk by turning inland along a straight path leading directly away from an old jetty, just before Pennington Marshes. This path comes out at the gate to the byway/cycle path mentioned above. I had already chosen the lower inland path of the Solent Way as the dramatic skies, the forking lightning and thunderous rumbles from the east actually became too much for me. I think it was an irrational feeling of exposure on the higher ground with flatness stretching all around across marsh, mud and water and murderous black skies closing in.

I shall do better next time.

There are great views from the byway/cycle path across Keyhaven Marshes to Hurst Castle and the Isle of Wight. It was getting darker and darker as the clouds came ever closer overhead and all around, and the scene was changing spectacularly. For a while, hedges ran along both sides of the path bringing within their enclosure occasional clouds of midges.

At the end of the path is a gate and the end of the little road that contains the seawall-side parking area.

I still had to pass around the marina and out on to the Solent Way, another bank of shingle and grass, to get back to where I had parked my car. Just as I stepped out on to the bank, the black clouds parted and dumped water all over me, driven into my back by a sharp wind that was now blowing down from the north-east.

The scenery was no longer the warm, welcoming brightness of the sunny afternoon. It was becoming a grey, brooding early evening with the eastern reaches of the Island lost in thick mist and Tennyson Down now scowling over the Solent.

Eventually, with the novelty of the rainstorm beginning to wear off, I got back to my car and got out of wet weather jacket and boots. Wet weather trousers? Um, well, I hadn't taken the "possibly heavy" aspect of the showers as seriously as I should have and hadn't brought any. So although, yes, I got thoroughly soaked, it wasn't until I got out of the car back at home that the clamminess became all too apparent.

Next time, take wet weather trousers ...