Care For A Walk? Totton to Lyndhurst

21 March 2015

This Saturday morning I got a lie in until six thirty, more than an hour after I’d normally be prising myself out of my bed. After such a hectic week it was a bonus and even better because I didn’t have the office ahead of me. The day of the annual Care For A Walk New Forest hike had arrived.  This is one of the highlights of spring for me because I get to wander through the forest with no fear of getting lost, guided by Pete and Mike, who know the trails like the back of their hands. It’s also satisfying to know I’m raising money for MacMillan Cancer Support, a bunch of wonderful nurses who make life a little more bearable for those suffering with this terrible illness.

We turned up at the New Inn in Totton, still blurry eyed, at about seven thirty or so and I was surprised at the size of the group. In past years it’s been standing room only in the pub, for the pre walk breakfast, this time we were heavily outnumbered by the bacon rolls kindly provided by the long suffering New Inn Staff. The sensible people were waiting for the five mile walk, starting at mid day and led this year by Mike who has a foot injury so couldn’t manage the fifteen he normally does. My support crew, Commando, was a willing helper with the bacon roll mountain and a few were packed in doggie bags for anyone with hunger pangs later in the day.

After a group photo for prosterity, which also doubled as a head count in case we lost anyone along the way, we set off into the cold and misty morning. It was cold enough for me to be glad of my hat and gloves as we marched along the main road towards Hunters Hill. Usually we leave the road at Deerleap Lane but this year Pete had other plans and, just after the roundabout, we turned off down a narrow lane. There were a few murmurs of “I didn’t even know this was here,” as we walked but ahead the sun was making the dew sparkle and turning the beech leaves to shining bronze.

Before long Pete was leading us through a gate onto a woodland trail. Retrospective map examination tells me this was Wildcolbury Wood. This, Pete told me, was once a Canadian marshalling camp for D-Day troops. The sun was slowly burning off the mist and clouds and, as we climbed the muddy trail, I dispensed with my hat and gloves and shoved them in my rucksack. It had the makings of a beautiful day.

We emerged from the wood onto the gravel path of  Christ Church Colbury. The lovely old flint and Corsham stone church could certainly stand further exploration. Frederick Ibbotson, a businessman from Halifax, Yorkshire, donated the land and paid for the cost of building after his wife, Marianne, inherited the three thousand acre Barker Mill estate, which includes parts of Hounsdown, Eling, Marchwood, Colbury, Ashurst and Longdown.

The church, built for the estate workers, was designed by Benjamin Ferrey and built in 1869. There was just time to snap a quick photo or two before we streamed through the pretty lych gate onto Deerleap Lane. The gate was built as a memorial to villagers who lost their lives in World War I and funded by the villagers. Marianne Vaudery-Barker-Mill, Frederick Ibbotson’s daughter, made a substantial contribution and her son, William Claude, was one of the lost soldiers honoured. There are five war graves in the cemetery and many colourful graves belonging to travellers who lived in nearby Longdown Camp until 1960. Had I been alone I’d probably have wandered around the graveyard for a while but that will have to wait for another, solitary, visit.

Pretty soon we were back on more familiar territory, walking through Deerleap Inclosure. The New Forest has one hundred inclosures, land used for timber production and fenced off to keep commoning animals from damaging the young trees. The timber is harvested during the winter months, when high stacks of cut trees can be seen along the paths. Areas are thinned to promote tree growth or cleared for replanting on a five year cycle, with over fifty thousand tonnes of timber produced each year. The money is used for conservation work throughout the forest.

The paths are wide and gravelly with a few stacks of logs remaining and many stumps as evidence that the Lumberjacks have been this way. Pete feels they cut too many trees. He remembers a time when the woods were dense, dark and full of deer. These days, he says, the deer feel more vulnerable in the open environment and it’s true I have never seen a deer here in all my visits but maybe I’m just too noisy crashing about. Seeing red paint markers on the trees told me their days were numbered and made me feel sad for them. I had a fleeting thought of washing them off and saving the trees. As the gate came in sight we walked through an area of young trees, planted, according to Pete, about five years ago. Now we could see the sky again it was bright blue and filled with fluffy white clouds, the perfect walking weather.

On the other side of the gate we entered open heathland, blinking in the bright sun, but we were soon back amongst the trees, heading for the railway bridge. On the other side the trail got a little muddy as we crossed Fulford Bog. In past years this has been heavy going with thick mud sucking at our boots as we pick our way across. Thankfully, this year it was fairly dry, at least on the path, and we saw our first ponies grazing in the distance.

Briefly we were joined by a playful golden Labrador, out on a walk with his owner but, when we crossed the Beaulieu River, he  decided swimming was more fun than walking and left us with a splash. Out on the open heathland it was cooler, despite the sun and blue sky, and I was glad I hadn’t stopped to take my jumper off and put it in my bag.

It was a relief  to reach Matley Wood and shelter, if only for a short while. With Pete leading the way there was  none of the walking in circles that usually characterises my walks in these woods. When I’m alone the trail seems unclear and confusing. The mud I’d had to skirt round on my last visit had largely disappeared too which was handy and I even spotted my favourite pair of trees, the two that are twined together like lovers. The wood seems much smaller when you’re not lost in it.

Safely on the other side and on Beaulieu Road, There was no need for our usual stop to let stragglers catch up. Instead we crossed and saw our second ponies of the day grazing on the open ground to the east of our trail. One of them looked suspiciously like the mischievous white one I saw on white moor a couple of weeks ago. She certainly had an impish glint in her eye.

As we returned to the trees at Holmhill Passage things got a little on the boggy side for a while and we followed in Pete’s footsteps to cross. Thankfully the boggy ground didn’t last long and we began to make a wide circle through Denny Inclosure.    Back amongst the trees I was beginning to get warm again and a little fatigued entering the sixth mile of the walk so I opened the first of the chocolate milks from my rucksack and sipped as we went.

By now we’d been walking for two hours and, apart from the dog walker at Fulford Bog, hadn’t seen another soul. It felt as if it was just us eleven and the ancient trees in the whole forest. Beside the trail I spotted tepees like the ones I saw last year in Matley Woods and wondered about. Pete solved the mystery for me.
“The scouts come out here,” he explained. “Practicing survival skills. I think they build them.”

On firmer ground now we made good progress and pretty soon we were passing houses. We had come full circle and Beaulieu Road was in front of us. Usually we cross at this point and have a break on the moor not far from Bolton’s Bench but it tends to be a little on the wild and windy side so, instead, we stopped in the trees. A fallen silver birch made a handy bench and sandwiches and left over bacon rolls from the pub came out of bags. My snack of choice was a granola bar and another small bottle of chocolate milk, somehow cold bacon rolls didn’t appeal. Each to their own.

As places to stop for a snack go the little clearing in the trees with ponies grazing in the distance was pretty much perfect even though the sky had clouded over again and there was a chill in the air that spoke of rain. The next part of our walk was across the open moor so the darkening sky didn’t bode well…