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- Oct 28, 2017
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To Epping Forest, an historic bit of ancient woodland, surrounded on all sides by conurbation, but deep enough to get lost for a bit.
I took my two younger children, along with my daughter’s friend, on a 5 mile walk. We made hot drinks using a hobo stove, and the kids tested out the Vic Forresters that they got for Christmas. (Blades engraved with their initials, including their older brother who is at University = no arguments over ownership!)
We regularly stop at this hollow to have lunch:
Getting a brew on. Despite the wet winter, the kids know how to get dry sticks:
My daughter, whittling with a Vic Forrester. She’s been camping out in the woods since before she could walk, literally:
Epping Forest is truly historic. Part of our walk took in Loughton Camp, a Bronze Age enclosure, and allegedly a hide out of Dick Turpin, the famous highwayman. (Not very likely!)
The forest comprises mixed indigenous species of the south of England, which historically was part of the arboreal northern latitudes, as was all of Britain & Ireland. We chopped it all down, or most of it, centuries ago. A lot of it went into wooden ships. Ho hum.
Oak, Beech, Ash, Birch, Elm, Larch, a few connifers. Not all in this picture, but I do love the woods in winter:
Given that is a mere nine miles from my central location in London, it is a vital outlet between trips that take me further afield.
We came across a guy who was camping in a very secluded spot. He’d rigged it frameless, with the roof suspended loosely from an overhead branch. You aren’t meant to camp there, although people do a lot of debris shelter building. I suspect he was homeless. More power to him, if I was in that situation I’d choose the forest, too.
We tiptoed past, as he was sound asleep.
I took my two younger children, along with my daughter’s friend, on a 5 mile walk. We made hot drinks using a hobo stove, and the kids tested out the Vic Forresters that they got for Christmas. (Blades engraved with their initials, including their older brother who is at University = no arguments over ownership!)
We regularly stop at this hollow to have lunch:
Getting a brew on. Despite the wet winter, the kids know how to get dry sticks:
My daughter, whittling with a Vic Forrester. She’s been camping out in the woods since before she could walk, literally:
Epping Forest is truly historic. Part of our walk took in Loughton Camp, a Bronze Age enclosure, and allegedly a hide out of Dick Turpin, the famous highwayman. (Not very likely!)
The forest comprises mixed indigenous species of the south of England, which historically was part of the arboreal northern latitudes, as was all of Britain & Ireland. We chopped it all down, or most of it, centuries ago. A lot of it went into wooden ships. Ho hum.
Oak, Beech, Ash, Birch, Elm, Larch, a few connifers. Not all in this picture, but I do love the woods in winter:
Given that is a mere nine miles from my central location in London, it is a vital outlet between trips that take me further afield.
We came across a guy who was camping in a very secluded spot. He’d rigged it frameless, with the roof suspended loosely from an overhead branch. You aren’t meant to camp there, although people do a lot of debris shelter building. I suspect he was homeless. More power to him, if I was in that situation I’d choose the forest, too.
We tiptoed past, as he was sound asleep.
