Exploring the New Forest with Children by Solange Hando
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Chewton Glen
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‘Where are the trees?’ asked my grandson, ‘will we get lost in the woods?’
It’s not easy to explain that despite its name, the New Forest is neither new nor a forest but a place unlike any other in England, created long ago for a king’s pleasure.
When William the Conqueror chose his new hunting ground in 1079, a ‘forest’ simply meant a piece of land where boundaries and fences were promptly removed so nothing would impair the royal sport. Deer sheltering in pockets of woodlands could be pursued across vast tracks of open heath, pastures and grazing commons which have survived on a smaller scale to this day. Framed by the river Avon to the west and Southampton Water to the east, much of the New Forest became a National Park in 2005, the smallest of its kind, but encompassing coast and country and some of the prettiest villages in the land.
Heath and Woodlands
Russet bracken, bright yellow gorse or purple heather, the heath is a blaze of colour whether the sun shines or a storm is brewing. There are glistening ‘mires’, bogs to most of us, little streams, wild orchids, insect eating plants, rare gladioli and here and there a lonely Scots pine silhouetted against the sky. Walk, cycle or ride and you share the moors with stone chats and warblers and semi-wild ponies grazing unconcerned. It’s nature at its best, fresh air and fabulous vistas stretching as far as you can see. The wildest areas rise in the north, close to the Rufus stone where William II met his death in a hunting accident.
In later years, trees were planted and felled for shipbuilding, making way for fast-growing conifers though current plans are to replace them by broad leaf, kinder to wildlife, within 100 years. But for us, the real magic lay in the ancient woodlands, their majestic oak and beech, their silvery brooks tumbling down through leafy glades and their grassy ‘rides’ lined with violets and honeysuckle. Badgers are common but shy, deer hide in the undergrowth but we spotted lots of grey squirrels and heard a woodpecker or two. When branches creak now and then, you almost expect a highwayman to jump out of the shadows.
Hollyhocks and Roses
Hale, Breamore, Woodgreen, Rockbourne, every village waits to be photographed, draped in flowers and thatch. Eling has a tidal mill, Brockenhurst a watersplash and a 1000 year old yew tree in front of the church, Fordingbridge a lovely seven-arched bridge spanning the river Avon. You come across tales of snake catchers and white witches, country inns festooned in hanging baskets and ponies and donkeys roaming through the streets. Among the prettiest spots is Swan Green where thatched cottages look out on a cricket pitch cropped to perfection by the ponies.
Then you have the Gardens, Furzey, proud of its Chilean fire trees and heather displays, Spinners, its lower slopes blooming with royal ferns, primula and irises, and Exbury, the fairest of them all, renowned beyond the borders for its Rothschild collection of azalea, camellia and rhododendron. There’s even a steam railway to take you around while every season brings new highlights, daffodils, flowering shrubs, roses or autumn colours mirrored in the ponds.
In Lyndhurst, the ancient capital, we popped into the New Forest Museum which covers every aspect of local life in child-friendly displays. Most of all we loved the New Forest Embroidery, designed for the 900th anniversary, depicting the Forest’s flora, fauna and historical landmarks. Out on the sunny High Street, tea-rooms and gift shops buzzed with visitors but we took our picnic up to Bolton’s Bench to enjoy the view.
Far below was the Victorian Parish Church, famous for its fresco of the ‘Wise and Foolish Virgins’ and the tomb of Alice Liddell, the inspiration for Alice in Wonderland, and the Queen’s House, former residence of the Lord Warden. A Verderers’ Court has been held on these premises ever since Norman times to discuss outstanding matters in forest management.
Wildlife Watching
With woods and open spaces covering three quarters of the area, the New Forest is a haven for wild life, from lizards and snakes to small mammals, insects and birds. Five species of deer share the land, most common the fallow deer whose dark winter coat turns chestnut with white spots in summer. We were not always quiet on our rambles, often catching little more than a shadow vanishing through the trees, but we had a chance to meet the animals in the conservation centres scattered around the Park.
At Liberty’s near Ringwood, we gazed at all sorts of creepy crawlies and birds of prey, which anyone could learn to handle, while the next day the Otter, Owl and Wildlife Park tempted us to its own animal world set in 25 acres of woodlands. We hardly noticed the summer rain as we watched otters playing in pens and pools, owls sleeping in their twilight barn, and wandered along the circular nature trail, marvelling at boar and deer just feet away. Nearby was Longdown Activity farm, a treat for everyone and a chance to bottle feed goat kids or calves and get close to rabbits and pigs, and some of the 100 Fresian cows milked on the spot.
Nowadays the ‘wild ’ponies belong to commoners but apart from the annual ‘drift’ when they are rounded up and checked, they wander as free as the breeze.
Beaulieu Bound
You can’t miss this stunning New Forest estate, home to the National Motor Museum. From early family cars to World Land Speed Record Breakers and motorcycles, the 250 strong collection, initiated by Lord Montagu, is so dazzling you have to blink. Star vehicles include Mr Bean’s lime green Mini and the three-wheeler van from Only Fools and Horses but the strange giant orange on wheels calls for many ‘wow, look at that’, alongside the magnificent Bluebird which reached over 400mph in 1964.
Set aside a full day for Beaulieu for when you finally leave the museum, there is still plenty to do. Be ‘shaken but not stirred’ by the James Bond Experience, discover the Secret Army, tour the estate on the monorail or the open top London bus and visit the Abbey and Palace House where you may be guided upstairs and downstairs by Victorian characters. There are kitchen and flower gardens, a wilderness area, a Monks’ Mill Pond and delightful walks along the meandering Beaulieu River.
Ships Ahoy
Barely three miles down river on the same estate is Buckler’s Hard, a beautifully preserved 18th century village with a maritime history to outshine many others. A sugar port at first, the village soon found its true vocation as a shipyard, making good use of the New Forest oak to build Nelson’s fleet, including his favourite HMS Agamemnon, and ensure victory at Trafalgar. The Museum speaks of local life, the illustrious Master Shipbuilder Henry Adams and some of the 80 vessels or so launched on the Beaulieu River.
Today, myriad yachts tie up at Buckler’s Hard, close to the Solent, inspired perhaps by memories of Sir Francis Chichester who returned to his favourite mooring after his record-breaking solo trip around the world. ‘It’s the most beautiful and attractive river I know,’ he said and we could only agree as we sailed past salt marsh and water meadows rich in bird and plant life. In the distance, the redbrick cottages of Buckler’s Hard glowed coppery gold and the last visitors peeped into St Mary’s chapel, in the front room of nº 82.
Coastal Delights
East of the river mouth, you reach the Lepe Country Park with a sand and shingle beach and welcome breeze for windsurfers. Pools and mudflats around this area attract all manner of birds, redshanks, herons, oystercatchers and more so binoculars are a bonus.
To the west, beyond the Lymington River, you find another Nature Reserve and sprinkling of beaches but most exciting was our afternoon trip to Hurst Castle, rising out into the Solent at the end of a long pebble spit. The tiny ferry from Keyhaven bobbed like a gull on the water but as the breeze ruffled our hair, we felt like sailors heading for a desert island. We marvelled at the mighty defences built by Henry VIII, the memories of Charles I jailed on his way to the Tower, the guns, the World War II Theatre but best of all, we enjoyed the climb to the top of the Tudor keep and the superb panorama along the coast and across the Solent to the Isle of Wight.
We lingered a long time in this forlorn and eerie place but having planned a cream tea in Lymington, we headed back to this neat Georgian town which once flourished on the salt trade, at the mouth of the river bearing its name. It’s a lovely little spot, all white, lilac and blue, with cobbled lanes and antique shops, a bustling Saturday market and myriad boats lining the Old Town Quay. Riggings tinkled in the wind and around the coast, on the edge of the Forest, the sea glistened all red and gold in the setting sun.