Holmsley to Burley (New Forest) – 9.2 miles

  Once again, we find ourselves outside of our usual stomping ground for another adventure on tour, this time in the peace and comfort of one of my very favourite places in the world – The New Forest.  I have been visiting these trees for as long as I can remember, and it is a very special place to me.  On this occasion, Beth and I had gone away for a week’s camping, and on day three we set out for a familiar walk to both of us, and one that I had been treading for almost as long as I could walk.

  Before we had even left our tent, we were treated to a visit from a small herd of deer in the woods right behind our pitch, after which we set off from our campsite into the warm morning.  We walked out of the gates, down the old runway and off across a stretch of the plains where free-roaming ponies and cattle are almost always grazing, and the location where a few days later we would find ourselves being charged by a foal (whether in play of defence, we are unsure, but either way he backed out and skipped off a few feet before impact).  We then entered a patch of familiar woodland where countless deer hide amongst the oceans of yummy-smelling bracken and made our way downhill along one of the ever-present golden gravelly rides common throughout the New Forest.  This then emerges onto the day’s only section of road walking, however it is a small, quiet and pretty road surrounded by trees and ferns, and crossed by two small fords before it ascends gently upward.

  Emerging from the trees a short distance further on, we found ourselves at the top of a wide stretch of heathland, full of gorse and, of course, ponies, which we then had to cross.  The paths become sandy here, most noticeably as you cross the remains of a bridge over the old railway line – a direction we would be exploring later in the day.  After continuing through the gorse lands on the other side, we passed a pair of gentlemen walking in the other direction, one of which stopped and asked me if I knew about the Orchids.   He was surprised when I said that I didn’t, and went on to say that I looked like the kind of intelligent chap who would know about such things.  This, naturally, made my day, and after he showed me the Orchid in question, we carried on our way, and I (the intellectual countryman) suddenly felt about six inches taller.  Crossing the low point of the open land, we made our way past a small pool of water where the horses like to refresh themselves, and back up the other side, where the path glowed white in the sunshine as it led us sharply uphill, seeing only blue sky above.  Once at the top we turned for a good view over the heathland, before turning back to the remainder of the gorse bushes, through which we walked.

  Emerging from these prickly plants, we found ourselves on the outskirts of Burley, the day’s first stopping point.  We walked through the trees and down into the centre of this pretty little village – ‘the heart of the New Forest’.  Burley is a magical place, not least for its historic connection with witches, which is evident throughout.  After a mooch about, we stopped in at the Queen’s Head pub for a pint or three (hey, no one was driving anywhere!) in the sunny beer garden, where we were joined by an inquisitive robin.

  After an hour or so, we made our way back out of the village the same way we had entered and retraced our steps through the heathland.  We passed the pool once more where some ponies and a foal were grazing, before arriving back on the sandy crossroads of the old railway.  At this point, we turned left, to walk along where the tracks themselves had once led.  This way soon leads you past a funky-looking house where I fully intend to stay one day and onward until you eventually find the remains of what was once a station.  Just across the road from this is the aptly named ‘Old Station Tea Rooms’; or, as my family had always called it ‘The Fat Controllers’.  We stopped here for lunch, which we rounded off by sharing a very yummy jam and cream scone, before turning around to retrace our steps once more.  We soon found ourselves back at the crossroads, but not before coming across a very forward pony who gave me a good sniff.  From here, it was a simple case of retracing our steps, and soon enough we found ourselves emerging from the trees once more, out onto the plain in front of the campsite.  We wandered from one end to the other in search of wild beasties, before returning to the tent.

  It is a simple walk, and certainly a lot more linear than our usual walks.  Yet, it still manages to pack a nice amount of variation (which we like) and some excellent stops; never mind it is set amongst one of the most magical backdrops you could think of.  It also ended up being further than I expected when we measured, clocking in at 9.2 miles – go little me!

  As for the rest of our camping holiday – it was perfect.  We met lots of wildlife, including a hedgehog who came to visit the tent, as well as Daniel the seagull, who diligently turned up to see what we were having for dinner almost every evening.  We also invented stickball (this may turn out to actually be tennis), and we both celebrated victory when we managed to get a rally between us of three hits after a very long time trying – we were so happy!