Sometimes, I set off on a walk with a clear objective in mind, other times I just wander and see where the trails take me. One Sunday in early April 2013, I started out on the former and ended up on the latter. It may not have ended where I’d wanted, and more than two years on, I’ve still not managed to get there, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t interesting.
7 April 2013
Commando decided to go for another New Forest run this morning and, yet again, I tagged along to walk while he ran. These impromptu meanders in the forest are becoming a regular event, not that I’m complaining, I love them even if they end far too quickly for my liking. There was no real plan as such, just a vague idea to drive out towards Beaulieu and take it from there.
Beaulieu (pronounced Bewley), for those who don’t know it, is a tiny village on the banks of the Beaulieu river, hardly more than one street of quaint little houses a few shops and a pub, The Montague Arms. Even so, it attracts masses of visitors being home of the famous National Motor Museum, Palace House and Beaulieu Abbey. Large swathes of Beaulieu are owned by the eccentric Lord Montague, Palace House is his home and the Motor Museum houses his massive collection of cars and motorbikes.
Lord Montague inherited his love of all things with engines from his father, John Douglas Scott Montague, second Barron Montague of Beaulieu, who commissioned the original ‘Spirit of Ecstacy’ mascot for his Rolls Royce. The family have owned the Beaulieu Estate, including Palace House, Beaulieu Abbey and nine thousand acres of New Forest since the sixteenth century. The Village and Bucklers Hard, further along the river are also owned by Lord Montague. Imagine owning all that! Luckily he is very generous with his property and there’s plenty of chance to roam at will, you can even visit Palace House although you do have to pay for that and the Motor Museum.
Today we parked up in the Motor Museum car park, which is free, and planned to go off towards Bucklers Hard, a little village preserved as a living museum. I’ve been there before, when I was a child, and I was hoping my walk today would take me that far but I only had an hour because that was how long Commando was going to run. I left Commando putting on his running gear by the car and set off, knowing he was going to whiz past me at some point.
The first thing I noticed as I left the car park was a huge sign telling me there was an Easter Eggstravaganza going on. I came close to turning around and going to find out what it was all about, I mean, there had to be chocolate involved right? Then I came to my senses and decided lots of chocolate was not the best of plans so I carried on towards the road. Just before I came to the cattle grid at the entrance I crossed a bridge over Beaulieu river and stopped to admire all the reeds growing along the water’s edge and the trees dipping their branches into the river. Then it was on, through the little wooden gate next to the cattle grid and out onto the nicely marked footpath.
The first part of the footpath ran along the roadside verge but it was well worn and gravelled with plenty of room to keep away from the traffic. If more country roads were like that walking in the Forest would be so much easier. A beautiful thatched cottage caught my eye. Whitewashed with black beams and some kind of vine twisting up above the lower windows it looked just the kind of place I’d love to live. Imagine opening the front door and having the forest right there to walk through.
Fairly quickly the path left the road and turned through a wooded area. I crunched through the leaves, twigs and gravel feeling happy to be somewhere so nice on a Sunday morning and looking at snatches of blue sky above me. The path wound through trees and brambles and I dawdled, looking at everything, breathing in the smells, listening to birds singing. Crossing a tiny wooden bridge over a tributary of the river, I stopped again as the trees to my left thinned out and the river came into sight. The opposite bank was a mass of reeds with the forest rising up behind it.
Just after that Commando came running past.
“I thought I’d go past you at some point,” he said and sped off into the distance. By the time I’d raised my phone to take a photo all I could see was a speck disappearing into the trees. It must be nice to be able to run but I wonder if he sees as much as I do? I’m pretty sure he didn’t notice all the primroses growing at the side of the path or the fat pink buds on the rhododendrons. When those flower in a month or so the path will be bright with showy pink blooms.
The woods opened out onto the road again all too soon, marked by a tree stump with some rather dried out shelf fungus growing on it, their bright colours faded. Any disappointment was soon washed away by the sight of the river. At this point it widens out and becomes almost lake like. There were gulls and ducks swimming and, on the bank, a white goose who seemed to be shepherding two Canada geese for some reason. He gave me a bit of a look as I passed and seemed to start towards me which was a worry, geese can be quite vicious. Then, when he realised I was walking past, he went back to ordering the poor Canaada geese about.
Shortly after the goose incident the path left the road again briefly and passed a cream painted thatched cottage right beside the river. Maybe the geese belong to the cottager? I was almost at Beaulieu village at this point and unsure where to go from there. Walking past the high street I was tempted to linger and have a look at the shops but first I thought I’d take a photo of The Montague Arms a little further along. I am so glad I did because, right next to the pub there was another part of the footpath with a sign telling me it went to Bucklers Hard. The village could wait.
At first the footpath went past the pub car park and turned right past another car park, then I was walking through fields where horses grazed. The river came into view again at this point, with yet more horses on the opposite bank and some houses in the trees. One field had a pheasant in it but too far away to see properly. Everywhere I looked there were horses and I began to wonder if there were actually more horses than people round these parts. One, right up at the fence, looked at me expectantly probably hoping I had something for him to eat.
Once I’d passed all the fields I was back amongst trees again and, on a narrow tributary of the river, I spotted a woman standing in a canoe. She said hello and smiled for my camera.
“Crikey, I almost fell in then,” she laughed, trying to steer her canoe back onto the main part of the river.
“Rather you than me,” I said, “that looks a bit difficult from where I’m standing.”
“It’s not if you don’t fall in,” she laughed, “a bit cold for a swim today.”
There were other canoeists behind her and I watched for a while as she slowly turned her canoe around.
In the wood there were streams and rills all round and the sound of water trickling over stones. I imagine this could be a bit muddy when there’s been rain. The gravel path emerged from the wood shortly after my encounter with the canoeists. Now I was walking with a line of trees to my left and a field that seemed to be filled with scrubby red willow stems alive with fat catkins.
On the other side of the field was a cottage with a hawthorn hedge. The leaves had begun to open and the old adage, ‘don’t cast a clout until May is out’ sprang to mind. The hawthorn is also called May and the proverb means, don’t believe it’s spring until the hawthorn flowers. As the flowers bloom shortly after the leaves open there is definite hope for the warmth of spring in the sight of the hawthorn leaves.
Then I found myself amongst the trees again. There were different paths everywhere, all but one private. One was for the activity centre and I wondered if the canoeists had come from there, another was to some houses deep in the woods. I followed the third. Not long after I passed the path to the houses it forked again, the main route swung around to the right and the other, narrower one, to the left. The left path led to Bucklers Hard but it looked to be at least another mile and a half and I was rapidly approaching the half hour mark where I needed to turn back. Instead I took a track into the woods in front of me. Later I discovered this was Keeping Copse.
At first I kept to the track but soon I wandered off to look at this and that. This is probably not the best of plans in normal circumstances, it’s very easy to get lost, but I had WalkJogRun, a wonderful invention for people like me with no sense of direction, so I knew I could easily retrace my steps. Sadly there were no bluebells, or any interesting plants but I did find a network of rabbit holes, at least I think they were rabbit holes, I didn’t see any rabbits.
The wood was like Swiss cheese, everywhere there were holes and I began to imagine a whole colony of rabbits beneath my feet. I did see the odd fern here and there with the swollen rhizomes covered in the brown hair of new leaves getting ready to uncurl. In one spot I thought I was looking at a pile of toasted almond slices until I looked closer, it was actually the remains of a pine cone, nibbled by squirrels or possibly even the rabbits. As I saw neither rabbits or squirrels I will never know for sure.
Turning back I accidentally started off along the private path towards the houses. Things always look different when you go back the other way and its easy to go wrong, at least it is for me. When I saw the first house I was confused. There were eight houses in all, right among the trees and very curious looking dwellings too. They seemed to be half tree house, made of dark wood, single story but up on stilts with wooden steps leading to a balcony running the length of the building. They really were quite wonderful and I wondered who lived in them.
It was an easy matter to turn back and get on the right path and soon I was on familiar territory. Past the cottage with the hawthorn hedge and the field of willow, through the little wood where I’d seen the canoeists. There was a bright dandelion along the path and, further along, a pheasant came running across the field towards the hedge chasing something, goodness knows what. At least it was close enough to know for sure it was a pheasant this time and it reminded me of the one I saw dead beside the road on Twyford Down a while ago.
The horse that had been looking at me over the fence was laying down in the field with another horse, all wrapped up in their warm horse coats. I didn’t even know horses did lay down, I’ve never seen one do it before. When I got to the car park behind the Montague Arms I took another wrong turn but this one actually turned out to be a short cut, leading across the centre of the high street and back out to the river. It took a while to cross the road. There was a surprising amount of traffic.
On the other side there were also a surprising amount of ponies, goodness knows where they all came from. They weren’t there on my outbound journey. Close encounters with New Forest ponies scare me, I’m always expecting them to bite me or run at me. There’s no real reason for this, although I know they can be a bit too friendly, looking for food and I know it is illegal to feed them, not that that stops people. I had no choice but to walk right past them, within touching distance and with extreme caution. In fact I was so nervous I almost jumped out of my skin when a terrific splashing noise came from my right.
Spinning round to see what it was I was just in time to see two ducks scooting towards the bank at great speed. One had an egg impaled on its beak, obviously stolen from a nest in the reeds. They scooted up onto the bank and began to peck at the egg but, before they could get very far, a pair of gulls swooped down towards them and the ducks turned tail and headed back to the water. I swear they were trying to look nonchalant as if they had nothing to do with the egg left abandoned on the bank. The gulls landed and, for a moment, I thought there was going to be a scuffle. In the end the ducks swam off. The poor gulls, who I’m guessing the egg belonged to, stood looking at it forlornly, probably wondering what to do next.
I left the gulls to their puzzle and turned back to face the hoards of ponies. Luckily I managed to get past without incident. They took no notice of me whatsoever. It didn’t take long to get back to the woods where I’d started off. There were some pretty little lesser celandine I hadn’t noticed before. Then I was back out on the road with the Motor Museum entrance in sight. There on the corner I could see a figure waiting and, as I got closer, I saw it was Commando, back from his run, changed into his track suit and waiting for me.
