Across the Forest and on to Nomansland

No man is an island. Thanks John. 

A cripplingly cold night without too much sleep in my tent. I didn’t bring my gloves (despite our old lass’s entreaties), my scarf, long trousers or my waterproof coat. My waterproof jacket failed the trades descriptions act. My undergarments are soaked. Prick of the month!!!! Well, soaking wet prick of the month. As well as the two mates dangling next to……. OK OK OK. No need for smut. Apologies my dearest friends.  

I’d remembered to buy a tin of beans so I had cold beans and water for breakfast. Luvley. Today was a bit on roads but mostly on tracks and footpaths for 14 miles across the Forest north northeast from Burley to Nomansland, which is a village close to Canada, another village. Strange area!

En route the forest started as heath, then became forest and then became forest and heath. Oh such change, I think I need a rest. And first views of the free roaming horses of the New Forest. There’s thousands of them. Good as gold as well. Don’t mess you about like bulls can. 

Cloudy and a bit showery but sunny spells as well. Not too bad to begin with. There are some posh houses coming out of Burley, and one with a Morris Minor convertible. My first car was a Moggy. Tank we called it, XNU362. Born in 1955. What a star. 

The spring is not ahead of the North. Leaves and flowers are at the same stage, with the exception of some bluebells being out down here.

And a rose bush. How beautiful is that? 

I found the track I needed to head north off the main road and ploughed on through the forest. I’ve got used to my rucksack now, which is about 14 kilos, and I don’t notice it. I feel physically very good, I got discharged last week by the consultant over my calf muscle tear that I picked up in Nepal and my chest is fine now I’m trekking. Oh happy day, ooh happy day, oh happy day, when David walked etc….

There are a few birds singing but apart from the horses I haven’t seen any other wildlife. This forest is a couple of hundred square miles at least and it feels strangely devoid of rabbits, squirrels, badgers or deer. People only pass me every hour or so and they’re on bikes. It feels unusual. 

My track crossed a road and there was a memorial to Canadian soldiers who had been based near here in the run up to D Day. I know I’ll disappoint my sister, but the messages placed there from grandchildren and children of those who didn’t make it back made me cry. And yes Maggie I am taking my Citalopram, so that’s not to blame. They were just young lads. Poor little buggers thrown into a horrific situation. Sleep well dear boys. 

From here I cut across country without any clear paths. It’s called getting lost. With thick cloud blotting out the sun, and no compass, it’s easy to get lost in a forest.

But I broke on through to the other side. Thanks Jim. 

Nomansland is a small village with no shops and a pub that opens at 6pm. I pitched my tent, had an hour’s sleep and went up to the pub for a pint and ham, egg and chips. Heavenly.

And then back to my snowy tent. Another cold one I fear.

Night night.