Mud and flood

Flooded New Forest track

New Forest camp

Having new toys to play with and suffering from a dose of itchy feet I headed off to the New Forest for a couple of days. My plan was to travel down on the Monday morning and return Wednesday afternoon. After some time spent rootling around the net I found that I could travel down by train for around five pounds more than if I went by coach. It meant a single ticket each way. No problem. A coach run would have meant changing at Southampton and travelling on by local transport. The train would take me direct to Brockenhurst. An added bonus was that I would gain some three hours of time. Monday morning was stressful. A problem on the tube meant that the buses where all full. Standing at the bus stop watching bus after bus go past totally full meant my stress levels where hitting the red line. A normal bus journey of fifteen minutes maximum took an hour. A frantic dash on to the platform just as the train was about to leave. Fortunately the conductor saw me and I piled in through his door just as the train got under way. Close, too close for comfort. Was in Brockenhurst by late morning. Originally I had been planning on nipping down through the village and having a cup of coffee on the way. Instead I headed straight out. From the station I made my way down Mill Lane. Ominously it was flooded in places. A couple of times I had to scramble up the bank as traffic inched their way through pushing bow waves of water before them. A van driver apologised as water lapped over my boots. Crossing the road I found the wood partially flooded. The path I was following was muddy, very. Coming around by Perrywood Ivy enclosure it was a matter of keeping to the main gravelled tracks leading through New Copse and Frame Heath enclosures and on to Rowbarrow. Halfpenny Green was practically impassible. A chap on a mountain bike tried it and went in deep. Poor chap, he almost fell off his bike. As it was he had to get off and with water swirling around his knees he pushed his bike back to slightly less flooded ground. That decided me. A quick check of the map and I headed over to Woodfidley. Once again I hit floods and had to do some tricky manoeuvring to get through them. Time was getting on and I stopped in Denny Lodge enclosure. This time around I was trying out a new system. For many long years I have been a ground dweller. Suddenly I had the mad idea of trying out tree dwelling. Thanks to some generous help from one of the bushcraft community, (P. I am most grateful.) I had acquired a hammock and after a bit of financial juggling also managed a tarp. It takes time to pick up on new skills and setting up camp on the Monday evening was quite an experience. The tarp is some nine foot square and just getting that up, faffing around with lengths of cord and so on was an experience on its own. The hammock was to prove a little more difficult. By the time I finished it was almost totally dark. Quickly I got the stove burning. Damp wood meant a tad smoky fire to start with but it was soon blazing away. There had been a few showers during the day but nothing much. Supper over, it was time to experiment with the hammock. When I had first, gingerly sat on it, I was unceremoniously pitched on to the ground. After that I was more careful on how I sat down. For insulation I slipped my coat, waterproof trousers and sit mat in to the sleeve provided in the base of the hammock. Getting in to the hammock was not that difficult. Initially it swayed a bit and I reached out with one hand pressing down on the rucksack to steady things up. The problems occurred when I attempted to shimmy in to the sleeping bag. The hammock quivered like an over excited jelly. A short, rapid sort of swinging movement. Something I had never considered was motion sickness. However, I felt very nauseous, queasy, quite a nasty experience. Having to get up during the night for the loo was a repeat performance. Thinking it over my solution would be to get a sleeping bag with a full length zip. The up side of things was that once I had settled down it was comfortable and cozy. A dog fox barked close by, owls hooted back and forward, the forest night shift coming on duty. The only discordant note was the train horn sounding on the railway close by.Tuesday morning I headed back down and over the railway by railway cottages and then over to Rans wood and Furzey Lodge. From there down to Beaulieu. Fortunately there was a few footpaths that where not marked on the map. It saved a bit of road walking. Treated myself to a coffee and baked potato and studied the map. It would have been nice to continue on down to Bucklers Hard. However, to head back from there would have involved to much road walking and also it probably would have meant a long day. In the end I headed up to Hill Top and by dint of some muddy tracks and careful map reading I came around by Hartford House and then through the woods to North Gate. A bit of road walking brought me down to Wood Lane, a track. A four four was coming out of the gate and the driver waved me through and climbed out of his vehicle and locked the gate after me. Thinking no more of it I ambled on my way. Part way up the lane though I found there had been recent logging operations. Oh my, mud! The track was churned in to a quagmire. Thick, glutinous, cloying, clinging clay. It was a total morass. Briefly I tried walking through the wood, more mud, and water logged. It was truly a land of mud and flood. Yikes, by the time I got through to Furzey Lodge I was slathered well and truly in muck. It was as I was coming through the gate at the lodge that I saw a notice on the gate. Briefly it stated that the lane was private and there was no public access. Ah well, no harm done. Briefly I followed the track I had come down in the morning. At Moon Hill though I headed on through Frame wood and down to Rowbarrow where I set up camp for the night. Setting up camp was easier the second time around. This time I also cut a stick and rammed it in to the ground so that I could grab it and use it as a stabilizer if the motion got too much. Settling down for the night, I was just dozing off, when a high pitched cry momentarily startled me. Trying a slightly different configuration with the tarp I had strung it with the back down fairly low and the front raised. another cry, a sharp high pitched whistling bark is maybe the best way to describe it, almost a scream. A muntjac deer and very close as well. Suddenly I realised, he was actually standing at the front edge of the tarp staring at me. Oh my, for such a tiny deer, much the same size as a large dog, he was extremely vocal. Unusual for a muntjac, they are normally shy retiring and solitary creatures. Mind, they can be very territorial. Maybe he was uncertain as to what I was, or was just establishing his territorial rights but he barked at me again and stamped his foot. Hardly breathing, I lay still, watching him, his small frame clearly silhouetted against the clear night sky. Finally he moved away giving a few more of those high pitched cries. It is easy to see how stories of haunted woods can come about. It is moments like that that makes things worth while. A privilege. By morning there had been a light frost, everything calm and still. With time in hand, it was only about four miles directly back to Brockenhurst and my train was not until 14 45, I took a more circuitous route. Firstly back through Frame Heath enclosure and then up to Stubby Copse enclosure. Fine moderate walking. Forestry work in Parkhill enclosure saw me having to deviate a few times. If nothing else it was handy to help brush up on map reading skills. Ramnor and Pignal Inclosures came and went. The buzz of a chain saw echoing through the trees. Unfortunately there was little in the way of wild life to be seen. The only signs I had seen where a few fresh deer tracks and their droppings. Finally I exited the forest at Standing Hat and headed over to Brockenhurst. My first priority was to nip in the public loo and change out of my mud covered trousers and boots. People had already given me few second glances as I entered the village. Being so self conscious and knowing that I probably looked as wild and disheveled as I felt meant that I was eager to get out of my filthy gear. Mind, my rucksack also had its share of mud on it too. A cup of coffee and a leisurely stroll up through the village and around to the railway station. Overall a pleasant couple of days out. Checking out a few ideas on the net in regard to sleeping bags. One had been to upgrade my summer bag by having a baffle fitted and a full length zip. The quotes I got where for well over a hundred pounds. Quilts where something else that crossed my mind. Some people, rather than use sleeping bags use specially adapted quilts. This struck me as a viable option until I started looking at prices. Two to three hundred pounds plus. Army surplus sleeping bags? Big, bulky, heavy and only with short zips. Finally I returned to looking at sleeping bags. Bearing in mind that I was considering more in the way of winter usage. There is one bag that really fits the bill. An Alpkit. Their price is good at a hundred pounds. The problem now is, how on earth do I raise that sort of cash? At present I have a 60 ltr Osprey rucksack up for sale at twenty pounds. No interest as of yet. Does anyone out there want any odd jobs done? My proposed Scottish trip next week is on hold until February. These will be lean times.

Wales

New years eve saw me heading across country to North Wales. Once again it was a meet up with a small group of people. This time I had even managed a lift. The idea was for a few of us to meet at the Minnffordd car park and head up the path to see the new year in by Llyn Cau. Five of us met at the car park at around seven in the evening. It was cold and little time was wasted in shouldering rucksacks and putting on head torches. The initial start up the path up to the Llyn was steep and then settled down to a steady plod. As we cleared the tree line the headlights of cars stabbed the darkness in the valley bottom far below. Pausing for breath I briefly wondered if anyone saw the beam of our head torches as we contoured the hillside. It would have been fun to walk in darkness, however, care was needed, water ice lay thick on parts of the path. The sky was clear with myriads of stars shining brightly. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when we finally arrived. Tents went up swiftly on an area of fairly flat ground right next to the llyn. With the ground frozen tent pegs where a tad difficult to place. Down jackets where the order of the evening. Also, I had been requested to bring one of the wood burning stoves. There is something magical about sitting under a clear star lit moonlit sky, warmed by the flame of a real fire. At midnight Auld lang syne was duly sung, voices echoing around the rocky cym. Shortly after folk headed for bed. It was bliss to snuggle deep in to the warm cocoon of my sleeping bag. Thursday morning was a chilly start with a digital temperature read out of minus twelve. The Llyn had a layer of ice on its surface. Later there was mention of the temperature dropping even further. The plan was to leave the tents where they where and head up to Cadair Idris and then collect them on the way back. The morning was still and calm and as we progressed up through a break in the rocky crags to the ridge above the Llyn We broke out of the drifting mist and cloud cover to a wonderful cloud inversion. The scenery was awesome. Unfortunately my camera refused to work due to the cold conditions. We had a brief break on Craig Cym Amarch. Despite my water bottle being in the rucksack the water had semi frozen. Several groups of people all had the same idea of heading up to the summit of Cadair Idris. The views were spectacular. However, time was pressing. We had to return to Llyn Cau to pick up the tents and time was pressing. Heading down I began to develop a severe headache, something I am prone to. probably a combination of the flue I had the previous week and a touch of dehydration. All of us had problems with water freezing. Back at the tents I managed to thaw a little water and took some medication. Taking the tents down was interesting, they where well frozen. However, as we headed down towards the car park, I began to feel progressively worse.. Several times I had to stop and have a break. Possibly at one point I passed out. The others came back to see where I was and found me weaving slowly towards the car park. My original intention had been to get dropped off on the way across to Llanberis where the others where heading for. There was little option though but to join them at the climbing hut. Despite managing to down fluids I was still violently sick on the way. A couple mugs of tea and a seat by a hot coal fire saw me partially recovered. On the Friday I decided to rest and just potter, taking a walk from the climbers hut at Deiniolen. headed across toward Dinorwig and around to Llanberis. Picked up a few supplies I had been asked to get, had a mug of tea and a bite to eat in Pete's Eats. Deciding the seven miles or so that I had walked was enough, I opted for the lazy option of catching a local bus back toward the village. On the Saturday a few people had decided to go for the north ridge of Tryfan. a classified rock scramble and quite a strenuous one too. Feeling better, I thought I would give it a go. A good breakfast and copious amounts of tea seemed to be the order of the day. From the A5 by Llyn Ogwen The north face of Tryfan looks intimidating. There is no easy, warm up start. From the road it a case of heading straight up. The cold had us moving swiftly up the flight of large steps that lead to the first section of ascent. Breath rasping in the cold air, lungs heaving, limbs protesting at this assault. There is no one direct route up the ridge. It is a case of picking the best line and following it. often it was a case of directissimo.. Hands and feet working in unison. The route is a classified grade one scramble, in places though it is rated as grade two, depending on which way one goes. In all probability we did some of the grade two bits. An hour passes, two, three, time is of no concern at the moment. Arms reach high, hands searching for holds, bare fingers curl over a lovely jug handle of rock, knee raises high, toe of boot placed delicately on a nobble of rock, a heave and a pull, other foot searches for a purchase, pause, eyes searching for the next hold and the movement is repeated. A slow but steady rhythm leads ever on upwards. Picking a way up a steep rock chimney, glancing back down and wishing I had not. There is no actual ground, just a void. The exposure can be daunting. As we gain height so the rocks become even colder. My fingers grow cold but I am reluctant to put on my gloves, preferring to actually feel the rock beneath bare fingers. In that way I can feel the hand holds. The others where somewhere ahead of me but I was content to pick my own way up. A last steep piece up a narrow rock chimney and I was on North top. Some delicate shuffling over ice covered boulders to Far South top. A low, pale wintry sun in my eyes made things a little tricky. We had started late and now time was pressing, we wanted to be down before dark. After a short break we descended easy slopes to the Heather Terrace. A broad curving ledge that descends the side of the hill. Care had to be taken, in places the path was covered in thick layers of water ice. Crampons would have been no good, it would necessitate putting them on, cross the ice, stop remove them and continue to the next patch and repeat the process. Instead it just meant some delicate maneuvering to shuffle around them. Finally the valley floor was reached just as darkness fell. A weary walk back to the cars in the cold evening air and back to the hut for a welcome hot shower, a meal and loads of fluids. The others where indulging in mulled wine and and various other such beverages, being teetotal I stayed on soft drinks. Sunday morning and temperatures where still way down. Unfortunately we where heading back. It was tempting to fore go my lift and stay for another few days. Conditions where excellent, cold and clear, rivers and lakes totally frozen. The landscape white and pristine in the grip of the winter freeze. However, the sheer cost of coming back on public transport was far too expensive. it was a pity to have to leave.
Kit wise, I was using my heaviest rucksack, a macpac and in the event of things I was glad I did. It stands up to abuse well. Stove was an msr simmerlite, lighter than the whisperlite, a half litre fuel bottle. it proved beneficial, a few folk where struggling with gas and I brewed for them as well.My heavier valandre sleeping bag and boseman light cover. prolite three quarter sleeping mat. it is not best suited for cold conditions and I used newspaper underneath it. A Montane down jacket, a Patagonia thermal vest, Mountain equipment soft shell and a Montane waterproof. Paramo cascada trousers, also carried a berghaus soft shell pullover. Two pairs of gloves, two wooly hats, spare socks and one change of clothing, wash kit, first aid kit etc. Camp crampons, Black diamond raven ice axe. Also carried up to the Lnyn a wood burning stove as was requested, plus fire lighting equipment. Dried food for three days, packet soups, porridge, nibbles, snacks etc, camera and spare batteries. Petzle myo head torch and an e light as back up. Maps, compass, whistle etc. Pocket knife, opinel. Tent was a Golite shangri la 2 with a shangri la 1 floor, trek mate carbon trek poles also where used to support tent.

descending heather terrace ,

Tryfan

From top of Tryfan

View from Tryfan. The Llyn below is frozen

Paddling in the Lakes

Heading up toCrinkle Crags, Lakes

Last Friday saw me heading north once more. This time it was a trip to the Lake district. Unusually for me, I was actually meeting up with a few folk. The coach journey up was not good. There is a direct service up to the lakes from London. it is a long run though. As we boarded in London the driver announced that we would have to divert due to a serious accident on the M6 which had led to it being closed near Birmingham. After much switching back and forth across country with the driver trying to keep up to date with traffic reports and radio contact with control, we approached Birmingham, which was reported as grid locked. By means of going around the back doubles we finally made Birmingham. A ten minute loo break and we where off again. Unfortunately it took almost and hour to leave the city. In contact with his control once more, the driver was given permission to close part of his journey. Those points where he had no one to drop off or pick up. In this manner we arrived in Windermere only an hour late. Some nine hours of travel. The weather was foul when we arrived. Someone was picking me up from the station but he had also run in to trouble on black ice. Some nifty juggling saw me doing a quick change in the bus shelter out of travel clothes in to my hill clothes and foul weather gear. Shortly after my lift arrived and we headed up to Langdale. The road was flooding in many places. The wind was fairly strong and it was chucking it down with a mix of wet snow, sleet and rain. Arriving at the campsite, it quickly became obvious that many parts of it where either water logged or actually flooded. After a some casting about I found a raised bank at the top end of the campsite that had just about enough room to pitch a few small tents among the trees. The others arrived as we began setting up camp. Everyone nipped over to the nearby pub for a quick drink. Coming back the water level on the road was over a foot deep. The top car park had a river flowing through it. The water level was almost lapping at the car doors. The tents remained above the flood waters, just.

Saturday morning saw the flood levels dropping rapidly but it remained wet with low cloud level. Thus an amble around Ambleside. This was followed by a walk up Loughrigg fell. By then it was just damp with drizzle.

Sunday dawned dry, although low cloud still covered the fells. One or two folk where suffering with sore heads after a little? imbibing the evening before. It was a day for the hill though. Ice axes where strapped to rucksacks, crampons packed and we where away. A steepish ascent up to Red tarn and suddenly we where above any cloud and in clear air. An added bonus was that we now had reached the snow line. Lovely, hard packed snow that made for good walking. The views got better and better as we made our way over Long top and Crinkle crags. There was ice under the snow in places which, although we did not use them, made us glad we had taken ice axes and crampons. Time was getting on and any ideas of doing Bowfell where discarded. Coming down by three tarns conditions where a little slippy and care had to be taken. The light was fading fast as we descended The Band and by the time we made it down as far as Stool End it was dark. The others where heading back but I had until Tuesday. The only day I had managed to get a very cheap train ticket for. Monday saw me going for a stroll and a bit of scrambling up Hell gill. Busy watching where I was going, I did not realise how high I had gone until I paused and saw how steeply the ground fell away below me. Certainly hands where needed as well as careful positioning of the feet. Sleet and rain again on Monday night saw the campsite becoming soggy once more. By the time I packed up to catch the bus down to Ambleside, rain was come down the valley in great sweeping curtains and water was once again flowing over the road.

Red tarn, lakes, partially frozen




Langdale

Langdale

Sleeping with ponies

Cabin fever had been setting in. Having barely stepped out of the flat for over a week, I was restless. Finances being tight the New Forest was the cheapest option. Also, it gave me a chance to spend a couple of days to work on my bush craft skills. Once more I headed down to Ringwood on the Friday. John H. kindly took time off from a very busy work schedule to meet me at the bus stop, get me a cup of coffee and then drop me off at a convenient starting point just outside Burley. Many thanks John, appreciated. Headed up the main track by Burley Outer Rails. The day was quite pleasant with a low, winter sun. Crossing the Bolderwood ornamental drive, I left the main tracks and made my on rather obscure footpaths. John had warned me conditions underfoot where wet. How right he was. Some places where total bog. At times, just following my nose, I headed up to Bolderwood cottage. Deer where quite numerous but with the density of the trees, I was unable to photo them. At the cottage I took to the drive up to the car park and picnic area. From there, aware that there was not too much daylight left, I made my way up to the Canadian memorial and then picked up the track. Headed across by Fritham cross and around to the underpass. Something else John had warned me about, the horrendous noise of traffic on the A31. It was a ghastly din that battered ones senses. Easing my way past a group of large red cattle with equally large horns that had no intention of moving off the track, I headed over to Cadman's pool. Here I was faced with a bit of a quandary, light was fading fast, I wanted to stay up on the ridge but somehow be far enough away from the car park that still had people driving in even though it was dusk. Managed it in the end, although I could hear cars arriving and departing at different times during the night. This time around I was using another wood burning stove, the Kunzi Magic Flame. In design it is simplistic. Basically it is hinged in such a way that it folds flats, like a large postcard. Open it up and drop the inside base plate and one has a fire box. my initial findings where that it burns hot. Water boiled incredibly quickly. The only down side possibly is the weight. It is the heaviest wood stove I have used. However, it is an ideal bush craft tool. My bivi was set up between a large fallen branch and an old rotten, tumbled down holly tree. Even in death though, there was life. A new holly tree was growing up through the hollowed out centre of the old one. Young holly trees where sprouting up nearby. The chain of life continuing. Read for a short time by the light of a guttering candle until the cold caused me to burrow deep in to my sleeping bag. A clear night sky and bright moonlight promised a cold night. As is my want I woke during the night for a loo break. As I wriggled out of the bivi bag I noticed dark forms all around me. A group of ponies had bedded down very close by. Heads turned in my direction but they where totally unfazed by me. Just before first light they began to stir, rising to their feet and wandering off. Something I had decided to experiment with was a tin of green heat. Supposedly the green alternative to meths. The idea was to use it for a quick breakfast brew instead of firing up the stove. After ten minutes of waiting for a pint of water to boil I decided enough was enough. Getting the stove lit was a lot easier and quicker. Breakfast was a mug of tea and a roll. it was shared with a friendly robin who made short work of the bits of bread offered to him. There had been a frost during the night and the morning was crisp and clear. There was a frost on the ground as I started off. The air was clear and still. the leaf litter underfoot gave off a deep, heady, fecund scent as it was disturbed. Following a defined footpath, I could see it was not going in the direction I wanted. However, across the other side of a boggy hollow I could see a gate that would lead me in to Holly hatch enclosure and a track through the wood. It was pleasant walking through the woods. Deer flitted through the trees. At one point a stag with a magnificent set of antlers ambled out on to the track. He was camera shy though and legged it as soon as I got the camera out. A bird caught my attention and I froze, trying to make out what is was. A spotted wood pecker. Once past Holly Hatch cottage the track got busier. At first a few serious looking walkers, big boots and trekking poles. Nearer to Fritham and the car park a series of dog walkers. Barbour jackets and hunter wellie boots. Most replied when I said good morning to them. Upper class accents to the fore. One or two looked askance at my scruffy appearance and swiftly hurried on. Well, I refuse to curtsy to them. At least their dogs where friendly. One chap looked a tad surprised when I commented on his Labrador. It was one of the older breed, deep chocolate brown and much larger and stockier than today's normal lab. The guy thawed a little and told me he was working on a breeding programme to bring up the numbers of these dogs. There was a track marked around the outer perimeter of Fritham. However. it was signed up as private and a man standing there was rather indignant that I had been considering heading down it. Took to a very muddy footpath instead. Out on to Salisbury Trench and then back across Longcross plain. Picked up the track that led across to Irons Well and back to Fritham. From there made my across Amberwood enclosure, Alderwood enclosure to Hasley hill. Saw a couple of woodpeckers and more deer. In one of the photos taken on the Hasley Hill ridge deer can just about be made out. Double click for a clearer view. Set up a bivi on the ridge. It was still quite early but I had the beginnings of a migraine. Took a migraine tablet and just curled up in the sleeping bag for a few hours. It was fairly late when I surfaced and I still felt non too good. However, I decided that it was essential to get some form of food down. Got the stove going. The warmth it threw out was most welcome. Made a mug of soup and managed most of it. Lay back against an old log as the stove died down. The sky was bejeweled with a star studded arena. A dark shape silently drifted across the night sky. An owl landed high on a tree beside me. In the distance another owl hooted. The owl in the tree replied. A dialogue ensued between the two until eventually on wide spread wings it drifted away effortlessly from its perch, hooting as it went. In the early hours of the morning a stag barked very close to me. Deer where quietly passing by, walking within a foot or so of my bivi bag. A dark shape paused, checking me over, deciding I was no threat it continued on its way. There had been a heavy frost during the night and by morning my water bottle was partially frozen. A cup of tea and I was soon packed up and on my way. Making my around to pick up a track that would lead me over to Ogdens. Two horse riders where heading for the gate that I was going through. To save them dismounting I swung it open to let them pass. One of the horses baulked though. The rider sighed in resignation, explaining to me that for some reason this was one gate the horse did not like. The horse seemed amiable enough and made no protest when I took the bridal and gently led him through the gate. Equine logic is sometimes a little difficult to fathom out! Over at Ogdens, dog walkers where struggling to get their cars down to the car park. Black ice made the going tricky. It was a succession of footpaths from there and eventually followed the Avon path back to Ringwood. Saw another spotted woodpecker as well as a couple of green ones. A quick nip in to the less than salubrious ladies loo, to change out of very muddy footwear and equally muddy trousers. That is why I carry a spare set of clothing. A final remark in my defence. There are a few folk who will read this and roll their eyes in horror at the though of me being tentless. However, apart from the fact that wild camping in the New Forest is illegal. Where I stopped overnight where in areas not suitable for a tent. Certainly it was not done from a lightweight aspect. My bivi bag is an old ex military surplus goretex bag. It is not light, but it is robust. A poncho overhead is there to keep any rain off. Mind, I would love a dd hammock and tarp. At present I am looking for a second hand one, money being tight.

Stealth camp New Forest

Having recieved Bob and Rose's new design Honey Stove from BackPacking Light for trialling, it was a case of getting out there and actually putting it to use. After a bit of pondering I decided to take it down to the New Forest for anover night stealth camp. The area is close to London and is fairly cheap on the bus. A quick shout to John H, who lives in the areas, time and day set up, gear packed and I was away. John met me off the bus and over a cup of coffee in a rather posh coffee shop, we perused maps and discussed best options for a walk and overnight bivi. John suggested a few ideas and drove me out to a starting place. It had been mizzling and damp all morning but the afternoon cleared and we saw a spot of sunshine. John walked with me up to Hasley Hill where we sat and had a five minute natter. On the way up we saw four stags and a small group of deer. Surprisingly they where not that concerned about us. Thanks John for the coffee, lift and reccomendations, appreciated. Parting company with John, I ambled over towards Sloden enclosure and on to Amberwood Enclosure. Coming back up the track by Ashley Cross a forest ranger, driving the other way slowed down to look me over. Trying to look the picture of innocence (?) I smiled and waved. He raised his hand in acknowledgment and drove on. By now the light was starting to fade and I swung off to set up a bivi in woodland by Gaze Hill. From what John had told me, several days of rain had left everything fairly wet. Certainly underfoot conditions where boggy in places. This was going to be an interesting test of the Honey Stove. All the kindling and small bits of wood I gathered where at least damp. Fortunately I had my knife which allowed me to make feather sticks and split wood, allowing me access to dryer material. John must have wondered what I was up to when I took my belt out of my rucksack and hung my knife and camera on it. Wearing the belt loose, it does not interfere with the rucksack hip belt. to On these occasions I carry a fire starting pouch anyway and this allows me to actually start a fire without any hassle. Once started, although a tad smokey, the Honey Stove proved itself as an efficient stove. In comparison to the bushbuddy, this stove holds more wood. In turn it requires less stoking. Although recommendations suggest finger thick wood, I deliberately added stuff that was around the thickness of a thumb once the fire had got going well. The stove coped fine with it. This stove draws well once going, it burns hot and due to its larger capacity its embers remain lit for longer. A pint of water brewed in under ten minutes. It was pleasant sitting in the gloom of early twilight with a hot drink and a small, glowing fire for warmth. The fire burnt to fine ash and with foil underneath the bottom ring there was no environmental impact whatever. The cold ash was scattered in the forest litter, leaving no trace. A fairly pleasant night, a clear sky with brilliant starlight and a half moon. Owls called back and forward through the woods. Night creatures scurried through the undergrowth and deer grazed quietly close by. Rather than light a fire early in the morning I used esbit type fuel tablets. Dropping the top ring down to the middle, it was simply a case of lighting the fuel tablets and within minutes I had a brew. The stove initially warped a bit but soon flattened again. First impressions where that it was a bit fiddly to assemble. However, setting it and getting it lit proved fairly straight forward. My suggestion would be to have a little hand cleaning gel in ones kit. As with any form of fire lighting, hands can get sooty. An added bonus is the if an alcohol hand gel is used it is also inflammable. Poly bags are a must. The morning was clear with sunshine. There had been a heavy dew overnight but I had been comfortable. Coming around the track by Hampton Ridge I managed to walk fairly close to two stags. This is the advantage of having the camera to hand.The photo has almost managed to capture them in detail. If the photo is enlarged by clicking the mouse they can be seen fairly well. Came around by Abbots Well, getting a few glances from a covey of dog walkers. A couple of ladies with very polished accents wished me 'good morning' with a quizzical raised eyebrow at my rather shabby appearance and rucksack. Returning their greetings, making a fuss of their muddy red setters, who where clearly enjoying themselves, I strolled on. Came around by Ogdens, ambling up the lane with a group of ponies heading in the same direction. Headed over Ibsley Common, wet and muddy underfoot and then dropped down to to pick up the Avon Valley path back to Ringwood. An interesting overnight stop. The Honey stove worked well despite damp tinder. A pleasant walk and a welcome break. The one downside was that I was in Ringwood by early afternoon and had a few hours to wait for my bus. A cup of coffee and a insipid pasty, a wander around town, after which I twiddled thumbs for a couple of hours.

The honey has landed

Well, Rose and Bob over at Backpacking Light.Com have done it again. The postman has delivered me a package. It is the new Honey stove designed by Bob and Rose . They have chosen me as one of the lucky ones to try it out, give it a trial and present my verdict. On first impressions, it appears a little fiddly to first assemble. It is constructed out of light steel. As yet I have not weighed it. My first impression is that this is a stove for the outdoor person but possibly not for the minimalist. Where this one differs from any other wood burning stove out there is the adaptability it offers. Careful thought has been applied and by use of a central tray a trangia meths burner can be used. A trangia gas conversion is also a viable option. The central fitting has been designed so that these burners drop straight in to a central ring. Meths stoves are also a viable option. Ditto esbit solid fuel blocks. The stove is designed in a diamond shape to allow for a variety of pans to be used. The whole unit folds flat for easy storage. Differing trays and a front fuel door can be used or left out as required. Now I need to get out and use it and then will do a proper write up of it.

woodlife