FLETCHER FETCHES FLETCHERSIN THE FOREST
So, Act One saw me making a journey, first of all, to Fletcher Close in Dibden, where I arrived at 13.42 on Thursday 9th July 2009. It was rather a surprise to find this little cul-de-sac nestling in the heart of what are locally known as the 'C' roads, since they all begin with the letter C. I should know, since I lived in Cygnus Gardens - just a few streets away - for two years from 1993 to 1995. There was, then,
something a little nostalgic about this visit, and I took the opportunity to take a look at the old place before making my way to Fletcher Close. It's an odd area because there are so few people around during the day. It's like a dormitory town (and renowned for its wife-swapping!). I was hoping to get someone to photograph me, but had to make do with a rather awkward self-portrait.
something a little nostalgic about this visit, and I took the opportunity to take a look at the old place before making my way to Fletcher Close. It's an odd area because there are so few people around during the day. It's like a dormitory town (and renowned for its wife-swapping!). I was hoping to get someone to photograph me, but had to make do with a rather awkward self-portrait.
Anyway, from here I had to drive to my next destination, pausing briefly in Beaulieu to photograph some classic cars before heading on through Brockenhurst to Ober Corner, where I parked up beside a rather lovely campsite (although it doesn't take tents unless you bring your own chemical toilet!). I changed into walking boots and made my way through the campsite and out into open gorse and heather heathland, searching for Fletcher's Green. Now this was going to prove more difficult to locate than my previous goal, since there were no signs to indicate exactly where I should be looking. Luckily, I had been given a nicely detailed map to guide me, and so could orientate from a dry stream bed and a boggy depression which
, in wetter weather, probably resembles a pond. Interestingly, I had also visited this part of the New Forest before, and had a strong and clear recollection of a raised hide, accessed by a wooden ladder, which I had discovered and climbed perhaps ten years ago. Unfortunately, this hide was nowhere to be seen, so I contented myself with locating the 'Green' in amongst the other scrub at 15.02 and pausing briefly to rest and record the location before moving on.
, in wetter weather, probably resembles a pond. Interestingly, I had also visited this part of the New Forest before, and had a strong and clear recollection of a raised hide, accessed by a wooden ladder, which I had discovered and climbed perhaps ten years ago. Unfortunately, this hide was nowhere to be seen, so I contented myself with locating the 'Green' in amongst the other scrub at 15.02 and pausing briefly to rest and record the location before moving on. My path, then, lay away from the heathland and towards a more wooded area where I was hoping to locate what the map r
eferred to as Fletchers Thorns. This was not too difficult as I shortly found myself beating my way through ferns and thorny stunted trees. Were these blackthorns? I have no idea. Suffice it to say that the prevalence of them led me to believe th
at I was in the right location. I forced myself carefully into the heart of the thicket, arriving at 15.20, and found
eferred to as Fletchers Thorns. This was not too difficult as I shortly found myself beating my way through ferns and thorny stunted trees. Were these blackthorns? I have no idea. Suffice it to say that the prevalence of them led me to believe th
at I was in the right location. I forced myself carefully into the heart of the thicket, arriving at 15.20, and found myself surrounded on all sides by thorns and completely secluded. Furthermore, the sun had decided to appear from behind the clouds and suddenly it was warm and rather lovely. Amongst the trees was a fern-filled clearing where I decided to repose and sun-bathe for a while. I beat the ferns down to make a soft surface and relaxed in the warmth of the sun's rays.
But I couldn't rest for long. I still had two locations to find. So I carefully extricated myself from the thorns and continued my journey, the terrain changing again to tussocked grassland as I searched for and located a thin ribbon of silver called Fletchers Water. This I followed until it opened up a little and presented a more delighful aspect - at 15.58. The stones on the stream's banks were stained with the darkness of the brackish water. No wond
er, then, that this is called Black Water upstream. I decided not to follow my first inclination to bathe my feet in the cooling rill. Instead, I found a ford in which I could stand with my boots still on. The weather by now was glorious and, away from the roads, there was a sense of utter peace and quiet about the scene, the only noise the gentle hum of flies busying themselves over the water. And I was quite alone. I hadn't seen another soul in over an hour - just horses and rabbits!
My final location was a little distance away, along a broad track which led away from the ford and into dark evergreen woodland. The needle-straight trees rose high above me now, and I was gratified to see that the path was inexorably rising towards what the map called Fletchers Hill. I was hoping for some clear and well defined hilltop at the end of this walk, but what I actually reached, at 16.22, just before the first road I had seen since I parked my van, wa
s a subtle levelling out beside what looked like a denser clump of pines. This, I calculated, was the top of the hill, and here I paused once more, pleased to have completed Act One of my performance, and musing upon who this Fletcher might have been to put his or her name to such a large swathe of this New Forest landscape. Perhaps they had something to do with Rhinefield House, which lay so close by that I could hear them playing tennis in the grounds.
er, then, that this is called Black Water upstream. I decided not to follow my first inclination to bathe my feet in the cooling rill. Instead, I found a ford in which I could stand with my boots still on. The weather by now was glorious and, away from the roads, there was a sense of utter peace and quiet about the scene, the only noise the gentle hum of flies busying themselves over the water. And I was quite alone. I hadn't seen another soul in over an hour - just horses and rabbits!
My final location was a little distance away, along a broad track which led away from the ford and into dark evergreen woodland. The needle-straight trees rose high above me now, and I was gratified to see that the path was inexorably rising towards what the map called Fletchers Hill. I was hoping for some clear and well defined hilltop at the end of this walk, but what I actually reached, at 16.22, just before the first road I had seen since I parked my van, wa
s a subtle levelling out beside what looked like a denser clump of pines. This, I calculated, was the top of the hill, and here I paused once more, pleased to have completed Act One of my performance, and musing upon who this Fletcher might have been to put his or her name to such a large swathe of this New Forest landscape. Perhaps they had something to do with Rhinefield House, which lay so close by that I could hear them playing tennis in the grounds.
As a postscript, I should just mention that, as I made my way back across Ober Heath towards my van, what should I come across but the hide that I had sought earlier in my journey. To be honest, I am not convinced that it was the same one that I had climbed all those years ago, but that did not stop me ignoring the "For Official Use Only" signs and ascending for a fine view over this beautiful Fletcher territory. What an excellent way to conclude Act One!
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