The New Forest exists much as it is thanks to William the Conqueror as I understand it. Apparently he decided the area would make a good spot for hunting, cleared out several villages and settlements and off he went. I do hope this isn’t the sort of streamlined planning process that Boris Johnson has in mind for making building in the green belt easier. I’ve no idea how good the Forest was for hunting (although I know William’s son and successor, William Rufus, was killed by a stray arrow during a hunt there), but I can confirm that it is a lovely place to go for a run/jog/walk, because it was the venue for this week’s run.
The Forest these days is dotted with bumpy, gravelly car parks so as I pulled up I got a cheap, but very slow theme park style rollercoaster sensation to liven me up for the run/jog/walk. As I went through my token stretches and warm-ups, the first thing I noticed was the air quality. I don’t have an air meter or anything like that, but there was a definite sweeter, crisper, clearer cut to the stuff I was breathing in compared to the usual city fare. The second thing I noticed, if we can discount the usual grinding of gristle as I performed one of my stretches, was that this particular part of the Forest was immensely popular with dogs.
I don’t think there is any other animal that wears its heart on its sleeve in quite the way dogs seem to, especially if they are in the back of a car and realise that they are about to be let out to run about in circles. I have heard anecdotally of a dog that was so lively that when it bounced its snout against the rear window of a car, the entire window popped out, intact-ish, onto the street. Looking at the dogs barking, yapping and frothing with saliva as their owners’ cars pulled up, I wondered if I might witness this phenomenon myself. I also wondered if I might get chased and/or bitten while I was running/jogging/walking. I believe such an event would not be unprecedented, and it made me a little nervous.
Unnecessarily as it turned out. First of all, my running pace probably wasn’t quick enough to attract the attention of any of the dogs in the vicinity, which meant I had wounded pride rather than wounded ankles. Secondly, when they bounded out of their cars, the dogs were so deranged with happiness at the millions of different scents that they could trail after, that they charged off in all directions, ignoring me, with their owners jauntily striding in their wake holding those swingy gadgets that can hurl tennis balls several hundred yards.
Safe from disagreeable canine interaction, off I set at a gentle pace. It was a beautiful early autumn morning (the sort that used to be ruined by having to go to school), the type of morning when you feel most things are possible – even when you are 57 not 17. Actually, when I was 17 I would not have been up at this time to witness nature at its finest, so this is a win for the older Steve.
No dogs were to bother me, but the next creatures on the list that I was a little concerned by were the famous New Forest ponies. I have no idea if William the Conqueror gets any credit for these characters. They are an absolute feature of the Forest and very entertaining in a lot of ways, mainly by making the most of the priority they have on roads. I have spent many a time in mini traffic jams caused by ponies standing idly on public highways and showing very little inclination to move. The ones I saw this morning were similarly static; in fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a New Forest pony trot, let alone gallop. I don’t think they are the best-tempered of Britain’s wildlife, so I made sure I didn’t get too close to the few that I saw. To be fair, they were doing their usual standing still poses and probably wondering why I was running or jogging when I didn’t absolutely have to.
Easy place to get lost though. I stayed on the almost sand-like pathways, but followed the example of the dogs I had seen and kept taking random turns. Eventually (OK, after 15 minutes), I realised that I wasn’t too sure where I had got to, so I navigated my way back using the sun. Which is to say that I started going in the opposite direction to the sun, having been running towards it at the beginning. This native cunning delivered me more or less back to the car park, a bit out of breath, but feeling glad to be alive and completely free of dog dribble. I have no idea what distance I ran/jogged/walked, but that didn’t seem to matter a bit. I haven’t enjoyed an early morning like that for ages.
SteveTLooksBack 