The folks in the dragonfly community are generally a friendly bunch. One of my contacts on UK Dragonflies, Paul, lives in this area and, since we’d met on a Club-tailed Dragonfly hunt along the River Thames a couple of years ago, I had contacted him before we came down to see if a reunion/beer might be on the cards. Paul runs his own Hampshire Dragonflies website.

After almost a week of grey skies, low temperatures and rain, today was forecast to be sunny. Quite startling, really, considering that it’s a Bank Holiday weekend when British weather is traditionally at its worst. Sunny it may be but it was still only supposed to reach about 12°C/64°F. Paul was hopeful, though, and offered to show us one of his local patches, one where he’d recently notched up five species. Since home turf (when we left, anyway) had still not recorded anything but good ol’ Large Red Damselflies (Pyrrhosoma nymphula), I was most definitely interested. We arranged to meet in Waitrose car park in Lymington. [A true mark of civilization.]

We managed to follow Paul’s car through the heavy Lymington market day traffic and arrived at his site. We’d only just clambered over the gate and we’d spotted three species: Large Red Damselfly (Pyrrhosoma nymphula), Azure Damselfly (Coenagrion puella) and Beautiful Demoiselle (Calopteryx virgo). A little further on we added Red-eyed Damselfly (Erythromma najas) to our list, along with a Blue-tailed Damselfly (Ischura elegans).

Continuing round the pond and along beside the river, which also flows through the site, we just kept seeing more of the same species until I spotted a Hairy Hawker (Brachytron pratense) zoom past me and settle in the vegetation. I tried to get round for a photo but, as is their habit, it made off and soon disappeared across a sizeable field. Rats! Nonetheless, six species on only the 3rd May is bonkers, or it is where we live.

We weren’t finished yet, though. We arranged to meet another Odo enthusiast with his own website, New Forest Dragonflies, a chap called Doug Overton. We headed for Hatchet (Small) Pond, being a little south of the big touristy Hatchet Pond proper, to meet. Doug and Paul were after a particular prize here, a Downy Emerald (Cordulia aenea). I’m lucky enough to live near a colony of these beauties at home but they’re always a thrill to see so I was quite happy tag along.

Here, we soon bumped into our 7th species of the day, Common Blue Damselflies (Enallagma cyathigerum). Then one of our party spotted the main quarry zoom across the track, only to disappear from view on the other side. Our pursuit did, though, scare up a couple of newly emerged Broad-bodied Chasers (Libellula depressa), the two making our 8th and 9th species of the day.

Towards the end of our circuit, another Downy Emerald was seen and cooperatively landed in the grass; cooperatively for Francine, that is – by the time I got there, it had flown. I was not disappointed, though, ‘cos one of us snagged it. [It’s a female, BTW.]

Nine species on May 3rd. Yikes! What a great day’s hunting.

We stretched our legs again with a ride into Brockenhurst for a few necessary chores, then cycled back the long way staying on the roads. Francine’s bike’s front forks have decided to play up – the suspension keeps bottoming even with her light weight aboard. I’ve tried tightening the damper adjustment which does seem to help but them it doesn’t provide very much shock-absorption. If new front forks are necessary, it may be as well to get a whole new bike. Yikes!

The day was dry but solid grey and darned cold, struggling up to a mere 11-12C. We drove off to Puttles Bridge which could provide some potentially picturesque forest stream scenery for Francine but also has a flush Odo habitat for me. Given the temperature, I honestly didn’t expect to see anything and nothing was exactly what I did see. Another good reason for seeing nothing might be that the flush-loving species aren’t out yet. 😀

I went to change lenses and join Francine trying different line-ups on tree roots and the forest stream. Though the place is a tourist hotspot and looks pleasant enough, we were both having trouble finding any setup that we really liked. We did both grab a few, though. As expected, Francine’s proved more interesting:

Just for amusement, I tried a few sets of bracketed exposures to try smashing together an HDR [spit, spit]. Canon’s DPP software will combine three such shots automatically. frankly, I preferred this single shot, one of the set of three, to the HDR result. To be fair, though, it must be said that I don’t really know what I’m doing. 😉

In almost 25 years of caravanning, we have never travelled with a TV, even though Guillaume is fully equipped for TV, complete with built-in aerial. Perhaps this is because we haven’t often camped out of season, when the evenings are longer. The nearest we’ve come to weakening is to pack a few DVDs to amuse ourselves with some favourite movies. By stark contrast, the first piece of equipment normally unpacked and installed by the typical modern Dutchman travelling in France is his tripod-mounted satellite dish. We look for an appealing pitch that provides some midday shade and gets evening sun, preferably as far from other campers as possible; the Dutchman looks for a pitch with a satellite signal unobstructed by trees. Fair enough.

We do have entertainment here, though, and today we needed it. After yesterday afternoon’s most enjoyable sun, today the rain was back with us and back for the majority of the day. With our bird feeder hung about six feet away from Guillaume’s off-side window, we can sit in Guillaume’s lounge and watch in comfort. Because the window looks a bit like a TV screen, we’ve dubbed our entertainment channel “Bird TV”. (I was going to go for “Sky TV” but Francine suggested that handle had been taken. Well, it keeps us amused on a dreary day.)

A new programme has been being screened on Bird TV recently: the Woody Woodpecker show. It’s on almost as much as The Simpsons. We think there may be two pairs of Great Spotted Woodpeckers in our vicinity. We’ve certainly seen male and female birds but we also witnessed a spat between a male and a female, perhaps implying that those two were not a pair. [Ed: Oh, I don’t know, though. 😀 ]

Over on the other side (i.e. out of Guillaume’s near-side window), another new programme held our attention: Jay Walking – in this case walking all over our pitch-included picnic table. We don’t mind it trampling on the table because the temperature is such that we’re hardly likely to be sitting out there using the table ourselves, so a little Jay guano would be no problem.

Our whitebait lunch date at the Hare and Hounds in Sway had proved so popular that we decided to go for another lunch date. This time I had a hankering for one of the pub’s burgers, homemade supposedly from local sides of beef that they butcher themselves. It lived up to my expectations. Francine went for the whitebait again, though a smaller portion this time.

A brief afternoon respite from rain, complete with a bright spell, allowed us to get some air and avoid getting too stir crazy. It was brief, though. Another threatening black cloud was approaching and we repaired to Guillaume for shelter and the odd bottle of wine.

We didn’t bother with our normal roof load of bicycles on our recent trip to the English Lake District. There were two main reasons for this decision. Firstly, the Lake District looks too darned hilly. Secondly, we expected some rain and our bikes would risk just sitting outside rusting. Bikes were strangely popular up around Keswick, though – we are clearly wusses – almost as popular as rain, the amount of which exceeded even my northern-knocking expectations.

In the New Forest, though, there are some some half-way decent cycle tracks. I say half-way decent advisedly because they are, IMHO, only half decent. We have a long way to go to rival those in some of our favourite areas of France. The infuriating feature here is that one track goes from A to B, then there’s a gap before you can pick up the next track which goes from C to D. It would be so much more useful if A, B, C and D were all linked up. Wakey, wakey, England! Anyway, before leaving home, we had paid a nice man to service our bikes chez nous, then brought them with us. I even invested in a 2.5m x 3.5m ground sheet to act as a garage/cover to keep the bikes sheltered from the inevitable rain.

Sadly, thus far, our expectations of rain quantity have once again fallen some way short of reality. The forest is so wet, I can’t believe it has been the result of one or two rain storms. It looks more like the result of one or two weeks of rain storms, following what was a disastrously wet winter for some, from which the ground has not yet recovered. The rain, however, hasn’t been constant and we were keen to get out on two wheels – two each, that is – but where? Having gone just 10 metres, we’d both have muddy, wet stripes up our backs from wheel spray.

This morning, we called in to a local Brockenhurst bike shop for some trendy off-road mudguards. At lunchtime, in between bites of a cheese scone and swigs of tea, and after a little initial head-scratching over the front mudguard, I got them fitted. Once fitted, the front mudguards are quite clever: being in two halves forward and rearward of the front forks, they clip on and off a permanently fitted bracket so as to be removable for summer riding, should a summer ever turn up. There’d be no sheltering the bikes from the drenched forest floor but maybe the mudguards would make our clothing last two weeks.

We enjoyed an un-forecast sunny afternoon, perfect for trying out our new, trendy mudguards. We picked our way round/through a series of muddy-water-filled potholes that currently make up the tracks in the campsite and got to gravelled cycle track one, a former railway track, which runs from A to B. We then joined the main-ish road running form B to C in order to pick up cycle track 2, another former railway, running from C to D (where it stops dead up against another road. [Wakey, wakey, England!]

Point D was our intended target. More accurately, our intended target was Pony Poo Pond. Actually, I think it’s called Burbush Pond but to us, it’s Pony Poo Pond, ever since Francine once threw a lump of pony poo into some reeds in an attempt to encourage a perched but hidden female Southern Hawker dragonfly to find another perch. We locked our bikes and set off for the pond à pied.

This was just a scouting trip; we had no cameras ‘cos we didn’t want the weight on our backs for the first ride of the season, albeit short. After a few steps, A Large Red Damsel fluttered over Francine’s helmeted head. We disturbed four more around the perimeter of the pond itself. More surprisingly and certainly more frustratingly, we spotted two unidentified dragonflies, a.k.a. big boys, both of whom promptly performed a disappearing trick. They will remain unidentified.

We retraced our wheel revolutions from D to C on a cycle track, then from C to B on the main-ish road. [Wakey, wakey, England!] The road between C and B goes over a cattle grid. Such things tend to vibrate bicycles horribly. The front half of Francine’s removable front mudguard auto-removed itself as she cycled across the cattle grid. 😯

I clipped Francine’s half-mudguard back on and we continued from B to A and a well deserved cold beer in some very welcome sunshine.

Normally when on a trip with Guillaume, our first breakfast is a good old fry up of eggs, bacon (smoked, of course), mushrooms and toast. Somehow, though, with the rain still pattering on Guillaume’s roof, this morning just didn’t seem like the right time. I settled for toast and marmite. On the brighter side, Guillaume was joined for breakfast by a couple of the more endearing New Forest inhabitants: ponies. One was nibbling fresh, young leaves from a nearby tree while another was helping itself to a small patch of (very wet) grass beside Guillaume’s pitch.

It’s comforting seeing New Forest ponies sauntering about in the campsite. Apparently, the keeping of them is not as popular as it once was because there’s less of a market for them these days. There is a round-up every year to sell them. It would be a tragedy if they were to become a sight of the past and such rich traditions were to fall by the wayside. I must say, though, that there appears to be no shortage of ponies in and around Setthorns at the moment.

First job after petit déjeuner was a spin into Brockenhurst for some essential supplies. Brockenhurst still sports plenty of traditional small local shops, as well as the almost inevitable Tesco Express. We prefer to support the smaller local traders where possible. I missed a trick, though, looking for a tin of coconut milk to make a Thai curry. Tesco didn’t appear to have any so I breathed a sigh of relief when I found one over the road in a Nisa. It was expensive but needs must, so I bought it. On to the local greengrocer for some veggie content to go with out Thai chicken. Lo and behold, amongst all the veggies, a tin of coconut milk, and considerably cheaper, too. I’d never have dreamt of getting coconut milk in a small, local greengrocer.

With clouds being the order of the day, at 1:30 PM we set off to walk to Roydon Woods in search of bluebells. Rain started at 2:00 PM. At 2:15 the rain increased in ferocity to a serious thrash so we deployed the waterproof cover on Francine’s camera rucksack and did an about turn. My attempts at trudging back through the downpour zoned out, in a zombie-like daze pretending the rain didn’t exist, were destroyed by an unexpected and very loud crack of thunder at 2:30 PM. The subsequent rumbling lasted for about 30 seconds. I cannot ever remember hearing a peal of thunder last quite as long in my life. We had spotted a few bluebells but not in the masses required for a vista – they look more impressive at home.

We have excellent Paramo waterproof jackets. The trouble with a good waterproof jacket is that all the water runs off it onto your legs beneath. Unless you’re also wearing good waterproof trousers, it’s a bit pointless. We were not. We got back to the car drenched from the thighs down; apart from our feet which were inside wellies, that is – at least we’d had the sense to don wellies, given the saturated nature of the forest floor.

The coast, about four miles distant, looked brighter so we headed that way, to Keyhaven to be precise. We had to pay to park but we were prepared to do anything to get some meteorological respite. We found what was clearly a working harbour with no airs and graces. A local pedestrian ferry plodded back and forth between here and Hurst Castle. The clearer skies produced by the coastal effect made a very refreshing change.

Birdlife provided my main distraction. I’d never managed to get very close to an Oystercatcher before but one was posing whilst listening for tasty snacks in the seaweed. Neither had I ever managed anything like a close approach to a Whitethroat – indeed, I’ve only seen one once before – but, as we wandered back along the dyke, one alighted just in front of me and sat just long enough for a snap.

The sides of a dyke were lined with Alexanders, many of which were being used as perches by St. Mark’s-flies. A few pairs were using them to good effect – doing what comes naturally. When the sun eventually appeared – remember that, sun? – the flies took to the air and swarmed.

The sun was coastal only; it did not reach inland, Inland remained dark and foreboding. The forecast for the remaining week does not look much different. Not good.

On a previous trip to the New Forest in 2010 (?), we bought Guillaume his first porch awning.  As the man tasked with their erection, I disagree with awnings on caravans, period. For me, one of the main advantages of a caravan is to avoid the heartache (heart attack?) caused by tent pegs. Pegs are particularly difficult on Guillaume’s favourite site in the New Forest, Setthorns, where only 9”/23cm rock pegs stand a chance, and then only if you have an industrial pile driver to pound them in. Francine, however, wants an awning “for storage and to help keep the wet mud out”. [My solution to mud would be to live in a dry climate.]

That first dirt-stopping porch awning was dirt cheap (~£90). Aside from the pile driver and countless rock pegs, it was pretty easy to put up with just three bendy fibreglass poles, two cross-over support poles and a hoopy job to hold them out and up. The lightweight material wasn’t totally waterproof – a fine mist could be felt in heavy rain – but it served Guillaume well. Until recently, that is. When the wind gusted up towards 30mph on our recent wet trip to The Lakes, the hoopy fibreglass pole kept tap-tap-tapping on Guillaume’s side panel as the whole contraption shook and flexed in the wind. Guillaume sustained several dents. A small patch of Guillaume’s paint was also worn off. Merde alors! The damaging cheap awning has been consigned to the bin.

In readiness for Guillaume’s return to La Forêt Nouvelle, we purchased for him a better porch awning; one of those half tunnel jobs. That is, we hope it turns out to be better. It’s certainly more expensive at £219. It’s also much heavier and looks considerably more involved to erect. This seems like a popular design these days, though.

This morning, with the car groaning under all the weight, we hit the road at 10:15 AM. “At least we’re heading in the right direction,” i.e. south, “this time”, I remarked. Shortly afterwards, half way down our third of four motorways, we drove into heavy rain. Wonderful! Seriously, I am beginning to wonder why we ever bothered crawling out of the oceans. We’d be better served by gills than by lungs.

Guillaume pulled in to Setthorns at 1:00 PM after a painless though wet journey. The forest is utterly saturated. Mr. Reception told us that it thrashed down all last night. We set about installing Guillaume, trying to find a pitch with few overhanging trees – constant drips can drive one insane. Fortunately, we had a huge choice of pitches ‘cos there are strangely few people here. Maybe the others had read the weather forecast. Worrying thought.

Despite meteorology, we enjoyed a few bright spells later in the afternoon so set about the amusing task of erecting a new awning for the very first time. This awning has more poles. There are still the familiar three bendy fibreglass jobs, though they are used very differently, but there are also four aluminium jobs. Is there a diagram to help one position the poles? No. Apparently the Dutch (it’s a Doréma) think that diagrams are superfluous. It must be as obvious as the idea of carving shoes from wood. Actually, since none of these poles fix in ways with which we’ve become familiar, even as users of a full sized awning, it’s far from obvious. Being experienced, however, we had studied it beforehand, developed our suspicions and confirmed them over the phone with the helpful supplier (Anglia Awnings, who also thought that a diagram would be a useful adjunct and would save him hours on the phone). We got the poles in where we thought they were supposed to go. I extracted my 9”/23cm rock pegs and portable pile driver, and set about pegging Guillaume’s new awning in place.

This awning is more expensive partly ‘cos it’s more complex. It’s also made of better materials, of course. The doors even have separately zipped fly screens, as if les mouches aren’t just going to fly in around the gaps in the base sod cloths. Ludicrous! [I can see the fly screens getting cut off to save weight and complexity.] Over-engineered it may be but it’s certainly a more useable space so let’s hope Guillaume likes it.

It’s raining again.

Correction: it’s thrashing again.

I haven’t detected any fine mist inside Guillaume’s new awning.