a walk through the New Forest

18 November 2014

Now I’d visited Alice in Wonderland’s grave and quenched my thirst in the Mad Hatter’s Tea Rooms it was time to go back to the real world. What I’d really have liked to do was walk up to Bolton’s Bench and over White Moor to Matley Wood and then through the forest to Deerleap. This is a boggy walk at the best of times though and with all the rain we’ve had it wasn’t one I dared attempt.

The alternative is the long, straightish road through Ashurst and Totton, pretty enough but boring. Still better than getting lost or stuck in mud I suppose. I do have a little bit of a track record of getting lost in Matley woods after all. Of course, I couldn’t leave Lyndhurst without stopping by Bolton’s Bench. In actual fact this is not a bench but a small hill topped by a circle of yew trees. There is a bench running in a circle around the trees but the name refers to the hill itself. The Duke of Bolton, was an eighteenth century Lord Warden of the New Forest, Master Keeper of Burley Bailiwick and the hill is named after him. No one really seems to know why.

The views from the hill are astounding. Unfortunately, due to the extremely boggy nature of the grass I didn’t get to climb the hill this time though. Had I tried I’m pretty sure there would have been more sliding down on my face than actual ascent. What I did do was stand at the bottom looking wistfully upwards. Then I wandered up through the car park, past the grazing ponies, who were thankfully more interested in grass than me, and the war memorial, stacked with poppy wreaths.

Optimistically, I squelched across the flat grass for a little way to see if I could walk along the road on the inside of the fence. In theory this should be possible as far as the New Forest Hotel at Ashurst. In practice I didn’t get very far before ditches that had turned into impromptu streams cut me off. As it was my boots were sinking alarmingly into the mud, making sucking noises when I lifted my feet. Defeated I went through a gate and onto the road.

Unlike many of the roads in the forest this one does have a footpath of sorts. When I say footpath I mean hard packed gravel track in the middle of the grass verge and only on one side of the road at that. Still it’s a footpath with a wonderful view. It is called Southampton Road.

Walking along a long, straight road, even surrounded by the beauty of the New Forest can become quite tedious after a while, especially with cars zooming past. Despite all the loose ponies wandering about the speed limit on these fenced roads is mostly sixty miles an hour. Even the unfenced roads are forty miles an hour. Unsurprisingly, a lot of ponies, cows and deer get hit by cars.

At least I didn’t have to watch where I was putting my feet and I spent a lot of time looking over the wire fence. Here and there trails running under the road took me back to other, more challenging, walks. In other places bridges crossed burbling streams. Glimpses of flooded, boggy ground reminded me why I was walking along the road much as I’d liked to have been down on the trails.

All around the bright colours of autumn painted the trees and little showers of leaves fell as I passed. The cars carried on whizzing past, the drivers oblivious to what they were missing. Encased in metal and glass they wouldn’t smell the damp earth or see the little mushrooms growing amongst the fallen leaves. The forest must be teaming with fungi right now and some have even escaped onto the verges. My progress was slowed by stopping to take photos of them.

When I reached Ashurst I knew the open forest was behind me. Now my walk took me past cottages, gardens and little shops. Occasionally there was a trail leading off behind a gate and autumn leaves to tempt me. When I crossed Deepleap Lane the city was closing in, the road wider and busier. On I went through Hounsdown where there were huge roundabouts to navigate.

The signs for Totton told me I was almost home. At another time of year I might have turned left and taken the boardwalk across the mashes. They’d likely be underwater now though so I crossed the River Test on the Redbridge Causway with the noise of traffic ringing in my ears. A string of giant pylons marched across the river above the railway line and a mass of gulls were just white specks in the distance. On the opposite bank the metal cranes of Southampton Docks reflected in the water like huge metal animals told me I was almost home.

From Redbridge to the City Centre is four miles of busy road bordered mostly by industrial estates, broken up only by huge roundabouts and the odd interesting church. Taking a more scenic route through the city would have meant a long detour through a maze of streets I don’t know to the common. Notwithstanding getting lost, which was bound to happen, my early morning bus disaster mean I was running out of time. To my shame I caught the bus.