Hurst Castle, Take 1 & Mini Urban Hike

Posted on May 18, 2014 by thecurvyhiker

1st January 2014

It was not my intention to blog so sporadically this year, but I feel like I’ve been chasing my tail for the last few of months working hard, hiking occasionally, and blogging rarely. We have got a few cheeky hikes in, but I’ve simply not found to the time to sit down and blog about them. In fact I still haven’t caught up with the lovely days out we had in the New Forest back in January, so I’m trying my hardest, on a rare quiet weekend, to rectify that.

We were meant to be camping on New Years Eve, with my mother’s local VW club, but due to the bad weather forecast, the organisers cancelled the event a few days beforehand. The campsite would have been near Keyhaven, and I had always planned to walk off any hangover with a stroll along the spit to visit Hurst Castle on New Years Day.

Hurst Castle Spit, Hampshire (Photo credit: Niquinho)

The weather at Mum’s didn’t seem too bad that morning, so we decided to take a drive out to Keyhaven and stick to our original plan of visiting Hurst Castle and walking the spit. However, the closer we got, the worse the weather became. Driving on flooded roads as we drove through Brockenhurst should have given us a clue, but we kept going regardless.

Upon arriving at the car park in Keyhaven I struggled to get my driver’s door open, and my campervan was rocking in the wind. As we discussed what we were going to do next a parking warden drove in, but I think he was too surprised to see us out in that filthy weather to bother checking to see if we had paid & displayed (we hadn’t, but we definitely weren’t staying for long!). A most remarkable home-build campervan drove in, sporting German number plates, and we were fascinated to see that it was essentially a shed strapped onto the back of a large crewcab pickup. Quite ingenious really. If it had been better weather I would have definitely plucked up the courage to ask for a look inside, but the family, huddled in their crewcab, didn’t look like they wanted to get out and enjoy the bracing weather anymore than we did!

Keyhaven car park

Mad German campervan

We decided to take a short spin up to Milford-on-Sea, I’m not sure why we thought it might be better up there – it wasn’t, it was worse! I think we hoped to be able to see the spit and assess the walking conditions; but there was no spit, just a huge wall of furious sea spray and flying foam, heavy rain and very strong winds. It would have been complete madness to try to walk along the spit in that weather, and as none of us are quite ready to gain our Darwin Awards just yet, instead we retired to a forest pub on the way home for some grub and a re-think.

(that’s not my hand shaking – it’s the wind shaking the campervan!)

Obviously any walking near the coast was going to be unpleasant at best, and dangerous at worst in these conditions, so the decision was made to go on a mini urban hike, and explore some of historic Romsey. Whilst the rain fell persistently through out our exploration, the wind was significantly calmer.

We enjoyed a soggy stroll around Romsey’s War Memorial Park. The grass areas were very flooded, and once I’d stepped into a puddle almost up to my knees I gave up completely on trying to step over the wet areas in a vain attempt to keep my legs and socks dry, and just got on with wading through the flooded areas. I was fascinated to see the Japanese Field Gun, presented to the townspeople of Romsey by Lord Mountbatten in 1946. The last time I wandered around this park I really must have had my eyes closed! The River Test was very high, and it must have been a very stressful time for those living so close to the banks.

Romsey War Memorial Park – Field Gun Plaque

Romsey War Memorial Park – Flooded River Test

Romsey War Memorial Park – Japanese Field Gun

Romsey War Memorial Park – War Memorial & Band Stand

Exiting the park at the far side, away from the town we crossed the bridge by Sadler’s Mill, a 16th Century water-mill. A public footpath goes right around the mill, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the flooded Test would have been a help or a hindrance in the days when it was a working water-mill?

Sadler’s Mill – Romsey

The Causeway – Romsey

We continued along the track towards the main road, noting with sadness some evidence of flood damage to a couple of fine old houses. Finally we wound our way back through the town, towards our start point, looking forward to fluffy towels, dry clothes and hot drinks.

Well I did say it was a ‘mini’ hike! 🙂

Lepe Beach stroll

Posted on March 21, 2014 by thecurvyhiker

31st December 2013 – New Year’s Eve

Cast your mind back, if you will, to that awful weather in the run up to Christmas, all over Christmas, through New Year, and on into…oh, yes, it’s nearly the end of March and we’re only just now really coming out the other side of it (…and I sincerely hope I haven’t jinxed the rest of Spring with that comment!)

But if you can remember the weather back then, it was windy, it was wet, and ferry cancellations on the Irish Sea were becoming the norm, rather than the exception. You didn’t call the ferry-check line to see if your boat was cancelled, instead you checked to see if they were going to try to run them at all that day. We normally head to the UK just before Christmas, but this year we had decided to go over for New Year and for my birthday (early in January) instead…and we were SO lucky with our ferry bookings this time around, in that both our booked boats sailed, on almost the only 2 days in a three-week period where any ferries ran at all.

In the run up to our trip I spent every waking hour, prior to our departure, calling the ferry-check line, checking the ferry company’s website, whilst refreshing their app on my mobile phone, even when we were on the boat, just in case! Once on the boat, we spent the crossing sitting on uncomfortable chairs at a small table, with an elderly couple who clearly wanted the table all to themselves, due to finding the Stena Lounge packed to the rafters (the downside of all the boat cancellations, is a ferry that is jam-packed with passengers from the cancelled boats), combined with the fact that the girl at Check-In forgot our ‘Priority Boarding’ tag, which meant we were literally the very last vehicle to load on. After driving through some pretty awful weather on the A40, the M4, the A34, the M3 and the M27 we finally landed outside my mother’s house at around 5am…my dear mother was up and raring to go, ready to cook us a Full ~~Irish~~ English breakfast, but after hugs & greetings we sent her back to bed, and collapsed in our own bed to catch some much-needed ZZZs.

We decided the perfect antidote to the long journey, and the stress in the run up to the journey, was a short trip to a nearby beach, to blow out some cobwebs, and Lepe Beach fitted the bill perfectly.

Lepe Beach, on the edge of the New Forest, is a short but fascinating, and historically significant, stretch of beach on the south coast of England. It a place I love, and we could often be found there previously, along with hundreds of others, on a summer’s evening, enjoying the world-famous fireworks display at the end of Cowes Week on the Isle of Wight.

We decided to take both campervans (Mum has a VW campervan too) – any excuse for a mini VW convoy, and nothing beats freshly brewed tea at the end of a walk 🙂

The first section of beach at the end of the car park was closed, due to erosion, so we initially set off out of the car park, up a path on to the cliff top area. A section of track diverts you around the eroded area and takes you out towards the beach, passing a lovely anchor monument, commemorating the 65th anniversary of the D-Day landings. I’d forgotten that this was a great spot for watching the enormous freighters that sail out of Southampton Docks, and also good viewing for the large cruise ships that like to visit too!

Anchor monument

Anchor plaque

Fully-laden freighter heading out to sea

Once you emerge on to the beach, it’s not long before remnants of the D-Day preparations make themselves known. We never worked out what this square structure was for, and the map on the info board didn’t show it at all, but the ramp structure nearby was fairly obvious. The structures out in the sea are Dolphins, and they formed part of the pier-head used to load ships departing for Normandy. It was hard not to dwell on the fact that perhaps that ramp was the last bit of the UK that some of those brave troops would touch.

Random square platform

Loading ramp

Dolphins – parts of the pier-head

Further along the beach and the concrete structures become a little more ordered. Fortunately info boards have a very handy map, showing you what you’re looking at, and giving you a brush up on your history while they’re at it! Lots of plaques can be found, dotted around, and make for interesting reading. A few small wreaths could be seen here and there, we guessed that they may have been there from Remembrance Sunday back in November. The Trigger Release Gear Site was used to house the trigger release gear which held the caissons in position until they were ready to be launched. The Winching Gear Bases were used to winch the caissons for launching

Wreath – unclear whether it was placed here, or was blown here from nearby.

Winching gear bases

Trigger Release Gear Site

Royal Dragoon Guards Plaque

Transport Trust Plaque

We soon came to what we later learned were the rolling track walls. These ran either side of the concrete construction platforms, and carried the timber rails used to move the caissons. Each caisson was carried on eighteen 2m carriages that rolled along the rails on 75mm steel balls. The completed caissons were winched along the walls to the launching area. You could clearly see the concrete slipways, running from the rolling track walls down to the sea. These were used to launch the caissons at high tide. The Bouthwater bricks have survived remarkably well! I’m not sure how clearly they came out in the photograph, but imprints of footprints set in the concrete sent a little shiver up my spine, and I thought about all who had walked there, and how important it all was in the history of Europe, and wondered at who may have left those footprints, before the concrete set firm.

The concrete slipways, with the dolphin platforms in the background

The Rolling Track Walls

A close-up of the Rolling Track walls

The Bouthwater bricks

Footprints set in the concrete platform

The husband couldn’t resist a bit of beach combing, and came up with two cracking oyster shells, no pearls sadly, and lots of large rough-cut timber planks. If you were wanting build a large, rustic shed, then Lepe Beach could almost have provided all the wood you’d need! No good for surfing though…

Beachcombing

Oysters

Beach-find or beech-find?

Surf’s up

Just before we reached the end of the public beach we found Gavin’s bench. A really lovely and moving memorial to a loved one. Whoever you were Gavin, your bench has a fabulous view!

Gavin’s Bench

Gavin’s Plaque

Gavin’s view

Not far past Gavin’s bench is a sign advising that the next section of beach is privately owned, and so we turned and made out way back to the campervans, to get the kettle on for a well-earned cuppa! Judging by the big black cloud coming our way, we finished our walk just in time!

Approaching storm – that’s the western end of the Isle of Wight to the left of the storm cloud.

A day out at the beach, just the thing for blowing the cobwebs away, with a bit of WWII history thrown in for good measure! Lepe Beach may not be a big beach, but it had played a hugely important part in World War Two.

Here are the rest of the pics…

Eroded path

Loading ramp

More Bouthwater Bricks

Rolling track walls

Mum’s scampering dog

Beacon plaque

A quick history lesson on the historical significance of Lepe Beach – an abridged version of the info boards located on the beach:
Lepe isn’t just about unhindered views of the spectacular Cowes fireworks! During World War II Lepe and the surrounding area played an important role, especially in the preparations for D-Day and the Normandy Landings of 1944. ‘Mulberry Harbours‘ were giant temporary structures, developed to offload cargo on to the beaches to support the invasion of Normandy. They were made up of floating piers, sunken ships, and giant concrete ‘caissons‘ – watertight structures which blocked the wind and waves. Starnsore Point at Lepe was used for the construction of 6 ‘caissons’, which were then floated across the channel for use during the invasion.
Lepe was also a link in the ‘pipeline under the ocean’, codenamed PLUTO. A pumphouse situated at Lepe pumped oil to the Isle of Wight, and onwards, via further pumps, to the French coast where it was needed to fuel the war effort.
Lepe was a vital embarkation point for troops, vehicles and supplies; around 6,000 men left from Lepe to take part in the Normandy invasion, a key turning point in the war in North West Europe. The beach was specifically set up for loading heavy equipment, notably the specially adapted tanks known as ‘Hobart’s Funnies’ such as the ‘swimming’ Duplex Drive Sherman tanks.
Today on Lepe Beach you can still see plenty of evidence of wartime activity such as the remains of extensive concrete and brick structures. Thy were used for the construction and launching of the caissons used in the Mulberry Harbours, and for embarkation of troops and supplies.
For more information on Lepe Beach please do visit: http://www.hants.gov.uk/lepe

A little deja vu in the Silvermines.

Posted on June 14, 2013 by thecurvyhiker

I recognised the car park as soon as we pulled into it. I’d been there before. I think we parked in almost the exact same spot too!

The last time that both my parents had to come over to stay with us I had taken them on a scenic drive around the Silvermines and Keeper Hill. We’d stopped off in Toomevara, and purchased the makings of a picnic, and then we’d headed up into the hills. Driving of course, not walking! We’d stopped at this same car park, facing the majestic Keeper Hill, and we’d scoffed our picnic lunch whilst plotting on the road map the places we’d like to visit next.
Back then, if you’d suggested to me to get out and go walking for a couple of hours…well, after I’d finished chewing my mouthful of sandwich (good manners cost nothing!) I’d have either laughed at you, or sworn at you, or quite possibly both (good manners out the window at such a preposterous suggestion!)…but this time I was itching to get out, to get my rucksack on and to get going. Still, I did take a small moment to cherish the memory of a happy day spent here driving around these hills with my late father.

We set off down a gentle slope out of the car park and hesitated briefly at the first junction until we spotted the arrow marker we were meant to be following. We continued heading downhill, past an area of trees apparently planted by the Irish American Cultural Institute, and memories of the never-ending ‘uphills’ kept trying to crowd to the forefront of my mind. The stunning views of Keeper Hill, opening up in front of me, tried their hardest to distract, but I knew that at some point all this ‘downhill’ would inevitably lead to the trail heading uphill. At a Y junction, continuing downhill did look tempting, but that trail would have taken us in completely the wrong direction and so we turned uphill.

Monty & Keeper Hill

We did stop fairly shortly after starting the ascent, but only (truly!) because I’m trying to get into the supposedly good habit of drinking water every mile. I find if I don’t make a point of telling myself to drink water, I don’t drink any at all. And then when my head starts banging, well its too late really. That dehydration headache has set in, and it’s just not going to shift itself.

The first half of the ascent didn’t seem too bad. I still stopped for breaks more than I wanted to, struggled with not being able to ‘keep going’. However the views across to Keeper Hill were fabulous, and spotting a couple of ponies ‘fly grazing’ in the bushes on the slopes below us, meant that when we stopped I could pretend I was stopping to admire the view. The husband isn’t gullible, but he humours me. At one point, we came across a big puddle full of frog spawn and tadpoles. Alas, we couldn’t investigate further as a couple with an unruly labrador came down the hill towards is. Their labrador and Monty very quickly decided they didn’t want to be friends. So it was easier to just pick Monty up, hold him out of reach and to carry on up the hill away from them.

Ponies ‘Fly Grazing’ on the mountain

We stopped for snacks at the end of the forest track, and contemplated the steep section of muddy path ahead of us. Once again I found myself looking up at the summit of Keeper Hill and being more and more determined to get fit enough to get up there soon! We also looked across from where we were to the Silvermine’s West Top & Far West Top. I knew realistically that I wouldn’t be up to getting there today, but I did think a diversion up to the West Top looked tempting and that I’d give it some more thought whilst we did the next trail section…so perhaps all the struggling I’m doing on ascents isn’t messing with my head so much after all, for me to even contemplate something like that as an option?

Keeper Hill (Sliabh Coimeálta)

However, after pushing on up a short but steep section of mud, out onto a good, hardpacked trail…I looked towards our return path home and realised that if we diverted up West Top I would never have the legs to also go up East Top on the return leg, and thus we’d never get home! I don’t think even the mountain goat husband expected the home-bound route to be as steep as the next section was! Two walkers were just coming down off East Top and heading off up to West Top, and they paused to ask how we’re getting on. Between breaths I said all was good but I was struggling, to which he replied that if I’d got this far, up the trail we’d just walked, then I couldn’t be doing too badly! I sincerely doubt he has a clue how much that comment perked me up! It certainly helped me pick up and walk in the direction of what looked like a vertical path, knowing I would get up there, even if I did find I was stopping almost every 20 strides to whisper sweet nothings to my extremely angry Achilles tendons!

Far West Top

The photo really doesn’t do it justice, it was steep enough, that standing upright at some points I could reach forward (without leaning forward) and almost touch the path in front of me! But I took it in short sections, stopped for leg breaks when I needed them, and I got up there…I was gasping for breath and swearing loudly, and internally I was fist pumping too. My celebrations were a little curbed by two other walkers having a picnic in the heather just off the trail. We swiftly walked on.

Path up to West Top
(the first two ‘roller coaster’ bits are just teasers, ‘warm-ups’ if you like!)

View from West Top across to Far West Top

The easy way back to the car park would be to have followed the forestry track around to the left, but our trail markers pointed straight on…into a bog…and so, straight on, into the bog we went! It had been fairly dry recently, I wouldn’t want to attempt this section of the trail after any significant rain. Not only would it be highly unpleasant (hey, I grew up on the New Forest and I cut my walking and riding teeth on bogs, but this was just deep, wet, gloop!) but the amount of additional damage you’d do to the ground trying to pick the driest route through it would hardly make it worth the effort.

We came out of the bog and onto a slightly overgrown firebreak. It was a steep enough descent in sections, and the path got a bit rough in parts. However, alternative routes through the undergrowth had been made by previous walkers, and a few wheel marks showed that mountain bikers must have been this way recently too. I slipped at one point, and once again landed on my arse in a patch of wet mud (thank DoG for dry clothes back at the car!). I’ve finally bought myself a pair of boots, but I’m still at the ‘wear them at home on carpets’ stage, until I decide that they do fit well and are comfy, even when my strange feet swell in their odd ways. But trails like this are just beyond the limitations for my walking shoes, I need better grip on the slippy stuff, and my feet and ankles need better support on the rough stuff!

Firebreak

The firebreak eventually deposited us back on to the trail section, less than 300 metres from the car park. Thankful to be back on level, firm track we picked up the pace back to the car. I was smiling to myself inside, because when we set out on this loop walk, I was mildly horrified that the last section back to the car would be uphill, and I remember thinking that was really unkind and would be hard work on tired legs. But now, after the few steep sections we had just tackled, it barely felt like a slope at all…pah, call that a hill!

Dry trousers, dry socks, comfy crocs, and a cup of tea! The perfect end to a great walk in a beautiful spot.

View to Keeper Hill (Sliabh Coimeálta)

Spot the Pony!

Tountinna & Lough Derg

Any idea what this is from?

Tired but happy

Possibly not one for the Irish Castle Tours itinerary

Posted on May 20, 2013 by thecurvyhiker

It might disappoint those looking to explore an ancient Irish castle..but a visit to Glinsk Castle is a great little walk nonetheless!

The forecast was for low cloud and drizzle, but so far it was staying dry. I dearly wanted to go and check out the bluebells in Knockbarron Woods, but I didn’t want to walk in Knockbarron Woods having been there so recently.
After a small detour to check out the aforementioned bluebells (which were magnificent and well worth a visit!)…

Bluebells in Knockbarron Woods – May 2013

…we headed off the find the nearby Kinnitty Forest trailhead, so we could check out the Glinsk Castle Loop Walk. A forest loop walk sounded ideal for the weather that had been forecasted. It is listed as 8km in length and graded as Moderate.

Loop Walk Map Board

Kinnitty Forest trailhead

The first section brings you gently down hill, through beautiful mixed woodland. Ancient oaks, mature beech trees. I jokingly remarked to the husband that all this ‘downhilling’ could only mean that somewhere ahead of us was a fair dose of ‘uphilling’…how right I was! We didn’t take the detour to Kinnitty Castle, instead we turned right at the junction, and went through a deer gate to begin a gentle ascent. I was managing to get into a good rhythm with both my strides and my breathing, and started to feel I could keep this up forever. Perhaps I’d cracked this ‘walking uphill’ issue I seemed to have. Even the husband remarked that I would never have come up that section as well as that as little as a month ago. But then the puff ran out, so we stopped to ‘look at the scenery’, and have a slug of water while we were at it. Breath caught, legs rested and whistle wetted we continued on uphill.

Just before another deer gate we turned left, off the forestry track, and took a small path along a fence line, through some more gorgeous ancient woodland. The ground was a little uneven here, my walking shoes slipping a little. I kept a keen eye out for exposed roots and any other slip hazards, whilst I looked at my surroundings. I grew up on the New Forest, and this section of the walk in particular was reminding me of home! I could clear my head and completely convince myself that I was wandering through any number of favourite shady forest areas from my youth. That old saying of “you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone” is so true, and growing up on the New Forest – well I just completely took it for granted! Youth is wasted on the young, that is another true saying in my opinion!

We came out on to another forestry road, and carried on moving uphill. Not too steep, but starting to feel relentless. We stopped for a breather at a junction and convinced ourselves that the track had to level out and give us a bit of a break at some point. I say ‘we’, but I am of course mostly just referring to ‘me’ as himself is just one of those naturally fit, mountain goat types, who barely breaks a sweat on these walks…even when he’s telling me that he’s working hard, or that a section of hill is steep/long, etc. At one point I was sending him on ahead, around corners, to see if there was an end in sight to this long uphill…but he’s a terrible liar, so I knew I just had to dig in and get on with it.

Looking back, as I type this over a week after the walk, the ascent really wasn’t that steep or difficult. The trail was good. It just felt like the hill went on forever, and I just seem to really struggle to keep going uphill for any decent length of time. I am definitely stopping less, but I am still finding I have to stop. However, the odd thing is that I’m not necessarily out of breath. My leg muscles aren’t necessarily screaming for mercy. More often than not its as if I’ve simply run out of petrol…I can’t explain it any better than that. Often, when I find I’ve ground to a halt on a hill, even I can’t work out why I’ve stopped. My legs don’t hurt and I’m not breathing hard…I just seem to have come to a stop. In a way its more like everything is suddenly fatigued, and just needs to stop for a few seconds to regroup. Anyone any ideas or suggestions?

Finally the marker arrow we were following directed us off the forest track and up through some thick heather, and I knew from checking the route map that whatever was ahead of us, we were very close to the summit. Even if only a psychological effect, that seemed to perk me up no end! After a very short path section I spied some rock piles off to the left, and we took a minor detour to visit Glinsk Castle…but it wasn’t quite what I expected!

Glinsk Castle, in all its glory!

Apparently the stones are only a ‘representation’ of the castle, and have not ever been part of the castle. Glinsk was believed to have been a timber castle, built by the Normans as a lookout, but no traces remain of the original castle.

The promised low cloud and drizzle had moved in at this point, so we didn’t explore too much of the castle. I didn’t waste my time visiting the souvenir shop on the way out either. Instead we carried on, heading downhill through a delightfully dark tunnel of trees. The path dropped us down onto another forestry track, and then took us rather steeply down across an open section of slope. The persistent drizzle was getting heavier so we didn’t dawdle to look at the scenery, across a glorious valley. Instead I hustled as quickly as my walking shoes would allow, with every slip making me more determined to start earnestly saving up for a decent pair of boots, that would give me better grip and better support for my poor ankles! Shortly we were back under tree cover, and more able take time to admire the swathes of bluebells on the forested slopes below us. All too soon, and we were dropping down a final downhill section, back to the trailhead…to our car, a flask of hot tea, and a change of dry clothes, bliss!

Runkeeper tracked the walk at just under 4½ miles, and in spite of all my stopping on the relentless and never-ending uphill section, we’d done it in just over 2hrs 20 minutes. This was also the first time I’d carried a full day sack all the way around (up until now the husband had played “pack pony”), so all in all I don’t think that was too shabby!

Whilst Glinsk Castle will definitely not feature on any coach tours soon, both Kinnity Castle and Leap Castle are nearby and well worth a visit! All joking aside though, it was a really lovely walk, and one that I really want to come back to, on a day with better weather. The views across the valleys, through the mist and low cloud, promise to be stunning on a clear day!