A beautiful walk around the Bolderwood Deer Sanctuary

We recently had a few days away in the beautiful New Forest, which has become a favourite place of ours in the last few years.  I love the pace of the forest, which I find to be a capsule of peace and tranquillity in amongst the hubbub of fast-paced modernity.  Here, it feels like things change slowly, if at all, and when I'm in the forest, I get the sense that I'm living the same experience that people have enjoyed for hundreds of years.  There are many walks throughout the forest, of which we've done a few in previous visits.  On this occasion, following a brief stop in Ringwood, we took the slow lanes to the Bolderwood Deer Sanctuary where, on a drizzly day, the forest is exhibiting its first displays of Autumn.

Our walk begins with the Canadian Memorial, a wooden roadside cross set up to remember the Canadian forces who were present in the New Forest on the lead-up to D-Day. The site was chosen because it marks the spot where Canadians frequently gathered for church services.  It's a lonely place, and the juxtaposition of the peaceful forest and the recollection of the Normandy beaches is stark and reflective.  It feels a world away from the horror of war, and yet many Canadians who enjoyed the simple quietude of the forest in 1944, would very shortly lose their lives in the defence of liberty.  It's worth a moment to pause and consider this.

A gravel trackway takes us away from the memorial, across heathland and down into the depths of the treescape.  Sensing the downturn in the weather, the local ponies begin taking shelter in the bracken, and we pass a number of them nestled in the ferns.  Further down the track, signs indicate that we're entering the deer sanctuary, and it isn't long before we spot a couple in the nearby field.  As far as I can work out, the deer here are wild, but the herd is fed daily by the local New Forest keeper between April and September, meaning that they tend to remain fairly local at this time of year. The type of deer here are wild fallow deer, evidenced by their typical spotted coat, and were of course a joy to see.

Beyond the deer sanctuary, we have a good walk in the trees, eventually making our way to an enormous yew tree, which I just have to take a look at.  I'm fascinated by yew trees, mostly because their ancientness makes me marvel at what they have witnessed in the passage of time.  It's amazing to think that the tree I'm looking at could well have been standing when William the Conqueror evicted the peasants to create this forest, nearly 1,000 years ago.  In fact, it could be even older than that - I once read of a yew tree in the grounds of the churchyard at the Hampshire village of Lockerley, which was growing at the time of Christ.  I just love that thought.

Not too far from this tree lies the Radnor Stone, an ornately carved stone dedicated to the late Earl of Radnor, Forestry Commissioner from 1942-63, and Verderer of the New Forest from 1964-66.  One may instantly draw comparisons to the Rufus Stone, and I wonder whether that was the inspiration for this modern memorial.  I suppose if I was a Verderer and a life-long forest man, the location would be perfect for my memorial - untouched by the modern world, sitting quietly amongst the trees, no doubt visited more frequently by deer and ponies than by any human, a lovely place in which to be remembered.

Our walk from here takes us past the north side of the deer sanctuary, and back to the car.  The weather has further deteriorated, but it's been a lovely walk, punctuated by Schnitzel meeting a similar-sized sausage dog in the car park.  William is full of fresh air and fast asleep, so for us it's a slow and scenic drive back through the reaches of the forest to our hotel, where a comfy and cosy bar awaits.

Seen around the New Forest

Wonderful Winchester

There's something I like about Winchester, and I instantly know what it is - the city is just so historic.  Is there anywhere in England with more of a claim on English history than the Hampshire county town?  I don't think so - the surrounding countryside is home to at least three Iron Age hillforts, including the very near St Catherine's Hill, from whence the Belgae tribe eventually left the slopes and formed the first town-like settlement here, likely known as Wenta, which the Romans adapted to Venta Belgarum ("Venta of the Belgae".)  There's not much Roman remains still visible in the city, for the sheer reason that after the Roman withdrawal, Winchester continued to serve as an urban centre (albeit on a reduced scale) thus developing the city ever forwards.  Winchester famously became the Capital of Wessex under Alfred The Great in the 800s, who obliterated what remained of the Roman street system as he reorganised the city to counter the Viking threat.  From here, it just stayed, a permanent English fixture, important and influential.  After the Norman Conquest, the Bishop of Winchester (one Walkelin) began work on a new cathedral to replace the Old Minster that had served as cathedral since 642, eventually creating one of the largest cathedrals in Europe.  At its consecration in 1093, the Annals of Winchester tell us that "in the presence of almost all the bishops and abbots of England, the monks came with the highest exultation and glory from the old minster to the new one; on the Feast of St Swithun they went in procession from the new minster to the old one and brought thence St Swithun's shrine and placed it with honour in the new buildings, and on the following day Walkelin's men first begun to pull the old minster."  Much of Walkelin's work survives, nearly a thousand years later.  It just doesn't get more historic than this.

Now for my sins, having family connections to this area and having visited Winchester so many times in my life, I've never actually been into the cathedral before.  Until now.  The cathedral will probably feature on my blog series "The Archaeology Files" at some point, so I'm not going to delve too deeply on this today - suffice to say, it's another stunning and quite moving place to be, and whilst the tourists gather like sheep around Jane Austen's tomb, I'm delighted to have found the memorial to Devonian General Sir Henry Redvers Buller (although his final resting place is Crediton Church), even if he gets a bad rap nowadays for daring to have Victorian ideas during the Victorian period (gasps!)  Elsewhere in Winchester Cathedral is the aforementioned shrine to St Swithun, Anglo-Saxon Bishop of Winchester and the world's most famous weather forecaster.  I love to see an old shrine in an English cathedral, and St Swithun's is certainly rather charming.

With apologies to Lizzie, our trip to Winchester descends into a proper history tour, as we follow the high street towards the Great Hall, to take in the famous Round Table.  The Great Hall dates back to the 13th century, and was once part of a bigger castle complex, the majority of which has now been sadly removed.  The Great Hall itself was built by Henry III, and has an interesting history of justice - Sir Walter Raleigh went on trial for treason here, conducting his own defence in the process; the Bloody Assizes started here, and amongst others saw the trial of Lady Alice Lisle, shockingly sentenced to death on a false charge of harbouring fugitives (Westcountry folk are all too familiar with Judge Jeffreys, the "Hanging Judge", whose shocking version of justice puts him firmly in the seventh circle of hell); and in more recent times, the Great Hall played host to an IRA trial after one person died, and 200 were injured, when two car bombs were set off outside the Old Bailey and Scotland Yard.  That November day in 1973 saw a heavy security presence, with all doors to the Hall bolted, and 15 police officers surrounding the accused.  I prefer it on our visit - calm, peaceful and basking in its own glory.

Of course, dominating the beautiful space is the Round Table itself, thought to have been commissioned by Edward I, who was said to be an Arthurian enthusiast.  The table is a brilliant piece of English history, and is one of my favourites (I bought a fridge magnet and a coaster), but what struck me most was learning how Henry VIII used it for propaganda.  Henry visited Winchester for the first time in 1516, and within days had issued a writ ordering "the repair of the Great Hall at Winchester and the Round table there."  He clearly saw an opportunity - on having it restored and repainted, Henry saw fit to add an enormous Tudor rose into the centre of the table, and had the image of King Arthur painted very much in his own likeness.  When it was finished, Henry brought Charles V, the Holy Roman Emperor, to Winchester to take a look - it is said that the table reminded Charles of Henry's claim to Arthur's inheritance, and his true links to the ancient British throne.  It's a brilliant example of how English history was written by the victors.

Our day in Winchester comes to an end with a walk through Wolvsey Castle grounds and a stroll along the Itchen.  Even the water here is historic - the Vikings famously sailed up here in 860 to besiege the town in what became known as the Battle of Winchester.  Considering I haven't been here in 13 years, I'm amazed at how well I remembered how to navigate us around, but I suppose its easy in a city like this, where everything is ancient, and little has changed in the course of my lifetime, if not for at least 500 years.  It's a timelessness that's so rare in general, and yet so abundant here, and it makes Winchester a real jewel in the crown of English history. 

The enduring nature of the New Forest

A much-needed week off for the both of us saw us pack up the car and head east, through lovely Dorset and into the wilds of the New Forest.  I've always loved the New Forest - the peace, the ponies, the important opportunity to reconnect with nature.  And nature is all around, as we found when we took a walk around the Hawkhill Inclosure, between Brockenhurst and Beaulieu.  The walk is a classic bit of New Forest, with strolls along pony paths cut through bracken, areas of dense forest, and sunlit clearings along the way.  An old Irish gent, an ex-military man and his dog Magoo started us on our way, by pointing out that it's hard to get lost - "just listen for the trains" he said, speaking of the nearby railway, " and you'll always be able to work out where you are."  Mr Magoo honed his skills on the northern slopes of Dartmoor, where the mist can descend at an alarming pace, but since retirement as walked the many thousand acres of the New Forest, even drawing up his own maps.

There's a fascinating history to the forest, beyond its creation as a hunting ground for William the Conqueror.  At one point on this first walk, we happened upon a long, straight stretch of asphalt.  This is RAF Beaulieu, a former RAF station.  The Royal Flying Corps used an aerodrome here in the First World War, but we were walking along the Second World War section, built on the opposite side of the main road, and used by both the British and American airforce, as both a bomber and fighter airfield.  The aerodrome closed in the 1950s, and the associated buildings demolished, but the airstrip lives on, fittingly used by flying aircraft model enthusiasts.

Of course, the New Forest's chief historic concern lies in its royal connection, and one of my favourite historic sites of all is the Rufus Stone.  Now, as a monument it's nothing remarkable, but as a sense of place it cannot be underestimated.  Here on 2 August 1100, King William II was killed when a hunting arrow, shot by Sir Walter Tirel / Tyrrell, when it entered his lung.  What has followed has been one of English history's most enduring mysteries - not so much a whodunnit, but more a question of tragic accident, or murder?  Some Chroniclers point out that Walter Tirel was a crack shot with a bow, and most unlikely to make such a fatal error.  Others, however, quickly surmised that the incident was an act of God, one which brought a swift end to a wicked king.  Walter Tirel fled to France after that incident, whilst William's brother Henry, who was in the hunting party that day, rode off to Winchester where he had a row over whether he should succeed the throne (for the older brother, Robert Curthose, was abroad on a Crusade) and eventually occupied Winchester Castle, seizing the royal treasury.  A hastily-arranged coronation followed.  Well, I think I know what I think.

I feel that in a way, the New Forest never really shook off this episode, and as we travelled around the forest, you could almost feel the ghost of Tyrrell lurking in the trees.  It's also got an interesting parallel in my own family history, as reported previously.  Perhaps it's because the forest feels so little changed from all those centuries ago - it's so easy to look out on a silent view and see William's hunting party galloping over the heath.  I felt it throughout our stay here, most notably at Kingston Great Common Nature Reserve, where after a short walk from the roadside we appeared to escape every form of human life and effectively step back in history.  This unchanging character is what I love most about the forest - I know it'll be this way next year, or in ten years, or in another fifty, and in our ever-changing, fast-paced world, this is a source of comfort to me.