England's forests: Volunteering in your local woodlands

Volunteers and local communities are the life blood of our forests. Some of the remarkable projects initiated at Forestry Commission sites in the past few years – from the reopening of the 16-mile Blue Man Walk through the forests of Dalby, Broxa and Langdale, to the inspiring Cannock Chase Route To Health – have been the direct outcome of partnerships between the commission, the local?authority and members of the?public.

Following in the footsteps of medieval rabbit keepers? "Greening" walls? Designing and building your own forest benches? Getting involved in the forest can take many shapes and forms.

Most volunteering programmes are directed at local communities: "It's important to us that local people feel it's their forest, here for them," says the Forestry Commission's Frances Evershed at Thetford Forest in Norfolk. "They can contribute so much, and?the more they are involved, the?healthier the forest itself."

Local support might take the form of a "friends of" group, such as the Friends of Dalby Forest, which raises money and has regular volunteer days. At Dalby, volunteers have repainted bird hides and installed willow tunnels. In May they spent a day cutting back vegetation as part of a project to restore the Blue Man Walk across the North Yorkshire moors between Reasty Bank and Allerston.

The areas where volunteers can get involved range from archaeology through mountain-bike trail-building to conservation. In Thetford there is a long-running project to recover as much as possible of the medieval warren lodges; these were the homes in which so-called warreners lived as they carried out their daily work of protecting nearby rabbit warrens.

"You've got to imagine in those?days, with no supermarket up?the?road, rabbits would have been such a valuable product," Frances explains.

There are plenty of projects that would be delighted to welcome another pair of hands on their volunteer days. If mountain biking is your thing and you fancy having a go at helping to build a course, then you might want to contact the?Hamsterley Trailblazers in County Durham. This local group was formed with the purpose of making Hamsterley "a magnet for MTB riders of all abilities"; members meet at least once a month to improve old trails and plan new ones.

If you're more interested in conservation, then the Woodland Workout in Lincolnshire may be for you. It involves activities such as restoring heathland, burning brash – cuttings left over from wood management – digging ditches, path widening, coppicing, scrub clearance, fence removal and pond maintenance. Volunteers meet in Osgodby Wood near Market Rasen and at Great West Wood near Wragby a few times a month.

Other volunteer-focused projects?have explored the link between the forests and our mental wellbeing. To develop the Route To Health at Cannock Chase, the Forestry Commission collaborated with the local district council and primary care trust. Participants included members of a local youth group which was targeted at children excluded from school, residents from an adult mental-health rehab centre, and a young offenders group.

They designed and built their own artworks along a one-mile community arts trail. Several groups were asked to design benches so that the trail could be accessible for as many people as possible. The hard work put in by these volunteers has resulted in a tenfold increase in visitors to the area since the project began.

Get people into the forest, and it?will begin to work its magic. That's the philosophy.

View the original article here

England's forests: you're never too young for orienteering

Whinlatter, England’s only true mountain forest, opened a group of family-friendly trails a few years ago to introduce children to basic navigational skills. Photograph: Sam Atkins

M y two little girls read about forests in their storybooks. We go walking and play at Goldilocks. But we're not exactly living off-grid in urban Chester and, while we enjoy days out in the forest, we know little about the woodland ecosystem. Let's just say that Bear Grylls is not exactly watching his back yet for the Atkinson clan.

That's why, with school holidays kicking in, Maya (seven), Olivia (three) and I have come to Whinlatter Forest in the Lake District, which has healthy communities of red squirrels, roe deer and nesting ospreys, for a back-to-nature weekend of forest trails, Lakeland views and heaps of fresh air.

Whinlatter, England's only true mountain forest, opened a group of family-friendly trails a few years ago to introduce children to basic navigational skills, giving them an opportunity to learn about the forest and the animals that live in it. By looking for clues or collecting answers along the trails, even very young children can interact with their environment and find their own way from one interpretation panel to another.

On a sunny day in July, we opt for the Squirrel Scurry trail, a moderate, one-mile hike around eight interpretation points. The girls have to read the panels and answer questions along the way, writing their answers on the trail map to win a squirrel badge. The route is suitable for easily tired toddler legs, as well as being accessible by buggy.

Adrian Jones, the Forestry Commission's recreation manager at Whinlatter, meets us at the visitor centre for a crash course in map-reading and compass points. "I feel free in the forest," he says, leading us towards a trailhead marker showing a carved red squirrel. "I?started going to the woods with my father and grandfather – that's how I became hooked."

As we delve into the deep, dark coniferous forest, Olivia decides we're going on a bear hunt. After all, we are walking through a shaded woodland glade straight out of a story by Anthony Browne or Michael Rosen. "We can't go?over it. We can't go under it," she sings. "We've got to go through it."

Maya, meanwhile, is taking charge of directions, folding out the map and scouring the?horizon for waymarking posts as we head north. "This way," she says. "Follow me."

The woodland copse feels deliciously cool, away from the glare of the mid-afternoon sun. We savour this sensory forest feast, with pine cones crunching under foot, birdlife in the trees and wafts of wildflowers drifting by tantalisingly on the summer breeze. As we climb towards panel three, a viewpoint known as the Comb, the full panorama opens out before us. From our vantage point some 300m above sea level, we gaze out across Keswick and Derwentwater below us, and Helvellyn to the south.

Maya locates the panel and makes light work of the questions while Olivia busies herself collecting daisies and buttercups from beside the scrunchy, gravelly trail. By the time we move on, we've all learned that grey squirrels were brought to England from America in the 1870s and that baby squirrels are called kittens.

We head towards an intersection of walking and mountain-biking trails, where Tarbarrell Moss, one of the more remote sections of Whinlatter, leads deeper into the forest. Maya decides we need to turn left, dropping down through western red cedars, to duck under a squirrel rope bridge between the treetops.

She confidently leads the way, map in hand, along the final stretch. Even Olivia is finding her bearings as I carry her for a higher-level view of forest life, attempting to point out species of trees along the way and revealing my decidedly patchy knowledge in the process. Memo to self: download the Forestry Commission's ForestXplorer app before the next trip.

By this point I'm ready for a slap-up dinner?and a pint of Jennings Cocker Hoop, but?the girls have other ideas. After a round of?ice-creams at Siskins cafe next to the visitor?centre, we head back to the WildPlay trail,?Olivia making a beeline for the Fairy Kingdom section.

We finish the afternoon leaping between toadstools, opening concealed doors in the tree stumps, and playing in a tree house, Olivia having set up an alfresco cafe to sell Maya's foraged ferns, leaves and berries.

Bear Grylls shouldn't start sweating just yet. But, after a weekend of squirrel trails and fairy dust at Whinlatter, we've come to appreciate the fragile beauty of the forest and the time we?spend together exploring it.

Whinlatter Forest offers a plethora of attractions, including miles of walking trails with stunning views across Bassenthwaite Lake, Derwent-water and Keswick, plus the longest purpose-built mountain-bike trails in the Lake District.

David Atkinson and family stayed at Packhorse Cottage in Low Lorton, three miles from Whinlatter; bookings via neighbouring Winder Hall. Formerly an inn for pack-horse drivers crossing Whinlatter Pass, it is now converted into self-catering accomm-odation and sleeps five.

golakes.co.uk

View the original article here

England's forests: Messing about on the water

Two people rowing paddle boards in water at dusk. Photograph: Hans Berggren/plainpicture

Perhaps the most unusual of the numerous watery sports you can do in or next to an English forest is to be found on Coniston Water, beside Grizedale Forest in the Lake District. Coniston is, of course, the setting for Swallows and Amazons (you can hire a canoe from Coniston Boating Centre and paddle to the book's Wild Cat Island), but we're not sure what Arthur Ransome would have made of its?latest craze: paddleboarding.

Armed with a long oar and something resembling a windsurfing board (but no sail), you must row while standing upright – and if that sounds easy, it's not. Keeping your balance is the main challenge for a beginner. Yet paddleboarding is a great way to explore a big lake like Coniston.

"I tried it in Australia two years ago and suggested giving it a go here," says Jack Holmes from the boating centre, which hires out paddleboards at ￡15 for a taster session of two hours. "We introduced paddleboards last season and they're getting more popular all the time. People are keen to try it because it's something different."

There isn't any tuition provided, but the boards are very user-friendly and you'll be kitted out with a buoyancy aid to keep you afloat when you fall in. You can bring your own paddleboard if you want; the experience of being out alone on a quiet lake in the early morning is extra special.

If you are seeking a more remote setting, Ennerdale Water, the most westerly lake in the Lake District, offers the chance to try canoeing against rugged mountainous backdrops, with ancient oak woodland climbing the valley. The?lake can be reached from car parks at Bowness Knott or Bleach Green.

Much further south, take a spectacular ride in a Canadian canoe from Symonds Yat through the Forest of Dean along the beautiful river Wye (look out for the resident peregrines of Symonds Yat rock). Canoes can be rented from the Canoe Hire Company. More experienced canoeists can attempt the grade-two rapids at Symonds Yat, or test their skills on the sheltered water of Mallards Pike Lake, with raft building on offer at Way2Go Adventures.

For a less frenzied time on the water, try coarse fishing in the New Forest, or fish for trout in Kielder Water, Northumberland. You can also fish at Dalby Forest in Yorkshire and in the Forest of Dean, but note that fishing permits, and in some cases rod licences, will be required at all sites.

Climbing and abseiling
There are sites for experienced climbers on Forestry Commission land, but what about the total novice? As well as its luxurious cabins in the?Forest of Dean, Forest Holidays offers the chance to climb the mighty limestone Symonds Yat crag, then abseil back down to earth again – with instructors controlling a backup safety line. Ages eight-plus, see bit.ly/16ysLVX.

Dog racing
Did you know that sled dog racing – otherwise known as "mushing" – has taken place in England for 40 years, mainly on Forestry Commission sites such as Thetford and Haldon forests? Siberian huskies pull three-wheeled sleds along the forest trails. There's also the newer sport of canicross, in which runners are attached to a faithful friend! Children aged 10+ and dogs over a year old can compete.

Archery
Once the supreme British military tactic, archery is still enjoyed in many English forests with?tuition for budding William Tells. Try, for example, Look Out Archery's "complete archery experience for beginners and intermediate archers" in Thetford Forest. Alternatively, what more appropriate place?to?learn to fire a bow is there than Sherwood?(Pines) Forest?

Orienteering
The first public orienteering competition was held in Sweden in 1910; now the sport has spread around the world and there is pressure to include it in the Olympic Games. Train up a future champion on one of the regular ranger-led days at forests such as Alice Holt, Chopwell and Guisborough, or the permanent courses at Sherwood Pines and Whinlatter.

View the original article here

England's forests: the Yan visitor centre, Grizedale

The Yan in Grizedale Forest is made from oak, cedar and Douglas fir. Photograph: Isobel Cameron

How do you persuade people to come deep into the heart of the forest, to make the forest part of their daily lives? You build a beautiful centre that will reflect the woods themselves, both inside and out. And then you offer it up for?community use.

That was the concept behind the building of the Yan ("The One" in Cumbrian dialect), the new visitor centre in Grizedale in the southern part of the Lake District. After many years with very little local investment here, the Forestry Commission was keen to begin a project that would benefit both the local community and visitors. This part of south Cumbria extends across the area between Windermere and Coniston Water, from Hawkshead in the north to the A590 in the south. It's historically associated with the coppiced woodlands that provided charcoal for the iron industry.

Intended as a celebration of wood, the Yan uses a number of different timbers: oak for the interior finishes where its beautiful grain can be seen; cedar?for the external cladding because of its strength and durability; and?Douglas fir for the main structure.

Over the next few years, the Yan should become a community centre which local schools, groups promoting mental and physical wellbeing, those working with people from disadvantaged local communities, and local businesses will all regard?as their own. They will be?able to use it for meetings, for outings – or simply as a space in?the?heart of the forest.

View the original article here

England's forests: Stage your own woodland games

When you're in a forest, you don't need to spend ￡11bn, build a velodrome or have creative disputes with Danny Boyle to host your own Woodland Games. Just lay in supplies, draw up a schedule of events, and scrabble around for a few items on the forest floor. It?is, however, probably best to warn the children in advance that?the Queen is unlikely to be?available to parachute in for your opening bash.

List of supplies

‧ Performance-enhancing treats, obviously, and some fizzy drinks to spray over the victors.

‧ The stopwatch app on your phone (if you can find it).

‧ Paper and pen to keep track of results.

‧ Medals and prizes for everyone. Make medals the night before: tin foil and gold pens for the Very Good Parents out there, cut-out cardboard for the rest of us. It goes without saying that the prizes have to be for everyone because It's The Taking Part That?Matters …

‧ Finally, add a few plasters for scraped knees and elbows, sunscreen, some kind of painkiller (not alcoholic), children, and you're off. Let the games begin!

Olympic athletes spent the run-up to the London Games on strict diets and in rigorous training, supported by a team of psychologists using sophisticated techniques to help them achieve their personal best. But we believe the same effect can be attained by distributing Penguin bars and demanding the children build their own obstacle course, while shouting orders and getting increasingly irritable as they regularly stop to fight/eat/moan.

Possible obstacles

Stick slalom: poke a long line of?sticks into the ground for competitors to weave around.

Picnic rug tunnel: selflessly hand over your rug for the little terrors – sorry, brave athletes – to crawl under, just like those netting things they use in the Territorial?Army.

Hardwood hurdles: balance a thin stick across two logs to create a hurdle to jump over, or to crawl or limbo under.

Monkey bar swing: locate a tree with a strong, low branch from which competitors can hang for a count of five, or as?long as their little arms can manage.

How to play

Youngest sets off first; gaps between start times should vary according to age and behaviour. Older ones cannot just walk over the slalom. Or the picnic rug. Or?the younger children.

By now the obstacle course may have been destroyed, after competitor no 3 (no names, please) used part of the stick slalom to beat up competitor no 2. Both continue to deny accusing the other of having farty breath. Did Mo Farah have to deal with this kind of thing? Let's move swiftly on to the pine cone shot put.

How to play

Everyone helps collect a stack of pine cones (this may prove tricky if you are in a deciduous forest – try tiny logs instead). Now draw a large circle on the ground with a stick. Each competitor gets three pine cones: the aim is to throw the cones inside the circle from a distance of the judge's choosing.

Note: Any pine cones aimed at another competitor will result in instant disqualification and loss of computer time for the next week. In the case of a tie, it's perhaps best not to suggest a sudden-death shoot-out.

Pine cones redistributed? Everyone still in one piece? It's time for a spot of gymnastics, with points for artistic impression awarded at your discretion, so you can even the scores up and keep everyone happy.

How to play

Find a fallen tree trunk that can be safely walked along (with a helping hand if needed). How far can our brave athletes go without touching the woodland floor? Extra points for arms held out straight. Or little jumps. Or a?sweet song.

Note: Stilts and piggy-backs are banned. Unless piggy-backs are offered in a co-operative spirit, in which case well done for working so nicely together, kiddywinks!?

This eternal classic pre-dates agriculture as a human occupation – probably. What child can't be distracted for half an hour by the?competitive joys of racing sticks down a handy forest stream? Just make sure you're in a position to?ensure they don't throw?themselves into the?stream, too.

How to play

Do we really have to explain? The classic version should take place on a bridge, but if none is handy, ask a kindly passerby to act as judge and jury?downstream of where the sticks are being launched. You could also take the concept a step further by encouraging the kids to make their own sailing boats ...

How to build a bark boat

Find a dead log with its bark peeling off, and carefully break off?a piece. Use a splodge of mud to attach a light stick as a mast, then use another splodge to attach a leaf, feather or thinner piece of bark as a sail.

Now all you need is a small stream or large puddle to float the?boats in: if it's not windy, you?may have to blow ... If a boat?sinks, try moving the mast?and sail around on the bark; if it still won't float, you have created a bark?submarine!

Never mind the kids; by now you must be cream-crackered, with interest in the finer points of the?competition waning just a little. The perfect time for a?long, long jump ...

How to play

Summon all your remaining energy reserves to make a gigantic leaf pile. The bigger it is, the more time you'll get to sit and rest while your kids jump into it and throw handfuls of leaves over each other, before (touch wood) descending into fits of giggles while agreeing that it doesn't really matter who wins these games, anyway.

Note: Should the time of year, or type of forest, mean that there are not enough leaves for the long jump, there's always mud ... But?only if the person responsible for laundry is first guaranteed a?large drink/breakfast in bed as?compensation.

Always the most eagerly anticipated event in any Woodland Games. With tempers frayed and sugar levels low, there's just time to let competitors know that the overall gold medal will go to the child who runs/walks/skips back to the car fastest. Anything to get them back quickly, especially as it's starting to rain ...

Ideas based on the Forestry Commission and Woodland Trust's Nature Detectives adventure booklets.

View the original article here

England's forests: Geocaching

A hand-held GPS unit being used in geocaching. Photograph: Alamy

Supposing someone asked you to find a container the size of a thimble in one of England's largest forests – you'd think they were mad. But that's what the country's growing army of geocachers do every day.

Described as "a game of hi-tech hide and seek", the sport of geocaching takes on a different dimension within acres of woodland, as participants try to unearth a hidden cache using GPS. With hollow trunks, exposed roots, twisted limbs and curling branches, trees make perfect hiding places for treasure. Among dense foliage, it takes a keen eye to discover the spot harbouring a robust container, inside which are quirky items left by previous visitors.

For young adventurers, a treasure hunt in a forest fires the imagination. You could be Robin?Hood or Snow White. What price the sight of a child feeling around in a knot hole, the look on their face one of wonder tinged with terror as they imagine what might be waiting to meet their probing fingers?

To minimise interference in the natural world, some forests set a maximum number of caches – 200, for example, across the New Forest. Others, like Dalby in North Yorkshire, offer virtual caches, which is about discovering a location rather than a container. The requirements for recording your "visit" may involve taking a photograph or completing a set task.

Rules for placing caches in forests vary. In most cases, you can't simply tramp in and stick one in a tree stump. Forests must be respected as sensitive ecosystems. If you want to place a cache in Forestry Commission woodland, you'll?need to agree the location in advance: see bit.ly/18vXpkX for more details.

"Geocaching is an activity that all the family can enjoy, so the Forestry Commission welcomes responsible geocachers," says Paddy Harrop, the commission's recreation and public affairs manager. "Our foresters know the areas to avoid, so we ask that people contact their local Forestry Commission office before placing a cache. If done without permission, the cache may have to be removed."

As well as being respectful of wildlife and plants, geocachers must not interrupt other recreational or working activities, and caches must be in a safe place for hunters to search. Those looking for caches must respect the forest byelaws, but these are pretty much common sense.

For many locations, detailed descriptions of cache sites can be found online. Caches vary in size but, whether large or small, finding them is always fun – and quite a feat among thousands of trees.

View the original article here

England's forests: the joy of climbing trees

We humans may have come down from the trees to walk upright across the savannah, but we've been aching to get back up into them ever since. It's so deep-rooted in our DNA that it's useless to fight it. I know this from my own experience.

At the age of 15 months, I was abandoned under a damson tree (by accident, so my mother contends). When rescued some while later, I was apparently the soul of contentment, gazing up into the branches with a wistful look on my face. I was clearly thinking, "Now, if I put my left foot in that little crook there, and my right foot on that branch there, I could pull myself up and get right up there! A pity my arms are all podgy and I have no real upper-body strength to speak of. I?must work on that."

So began a childhood of summertime tree climbing – in parks, woods, forests, the back gardens of friends' houses, if there was a tree I?was up it. And not just me – there can hardly be?an adult in England today who hasn't had a go?at some time or other.

Trees are, after all, nature's ladders into the sky. Climb one and you enter not only a whole new world, where bark and branches and leaves are suddenly in your face, but also an excitingly alien environment to which you must quickly adapt. There's no walking or swimming here, so you must learn to move differently, to plan your route up (and, perhaps more importantly, down) – and to remember to stop occasionally, to revel in the completely different perspective on the world that being in a tree gives you.

There's also an element of danger, of course, but getting the adrenaline fizzing around is all part of the fun. When he was 11, my brother came a cropper while on a family outing and, as he tells it, "hurtled directly earthwards, pausing only to lacerate myself as best I could on the sharpest bits of the tree through which I?plummeted".

But he lived to tell the tale and, in our risk-averse society, it's nonetheless refreshing to go out on a limb occasionally. What better way to do that than by literally going out on a limb?

Now that I'm a boring old grown-up, I've become a little less daring than in my agile, devil-may-care youth. I'm rather more prone to test branches first to see if they're rotten or liable to snap beneath my weight. I'm also more content to sit quietly in a lower branch with a good book, particularly if there's a splashing stream underneath and some sunshine to dapple my skin.

But then, that's another great thing about tree climbing: it's not a competition, it's just you and the tree. And if Earth can supply a greater joy than that of catching the shocked look in a squirrel's eyes when he sees you up in the branches, I've yet to discover it.

When in deciduous woods, seek out oaks, sycamores and, while we still have them, ashes. These are all sturdy trees when mature, and have branches at close enough intervals to allow safe passage up them. Avoid poplars, horse chestnuts and willows.

As a rule of thumb, fast-growing trees produce weaker branches. As for evergreens, some – like the monkey puzzle tree – positively scream out, "Don't climb me!" Conifers with weedy branches and sharp needles make for short-lived sport too. However, cedars of Lebanon, with their thick-spreading boughs, can often be good for horizontal as well as vertical climbing.

The Forest of Dean in Gloucestershire is England's largest oak forest, while down south, the New Forest boasts some of the most famous old oaks in the country. Woodland in the north of England is often dominated by conifers, but North Yorkshire's Dalby Forest also prides itself on its plentiful ashes and oaks.

You could do worse than check out the grounds of stately homes for cedars of Lebanon, whereas you'll find sycamore trees pretty much anywhere (so much so, in fact, that some regard them as "weeds" that need to be removed). All I know is, if you spot their helicopter-like seeds, you should be in for some good climbing.

Have fun – and remember: it's almost always easier to climb up than to climb down. Ask any cat.

View the original article here

England's forests: Riding in the woods on a pony called Magic

Horse riding alone through the forest. Photograph: Alex Telfer / Gallery Stock

W hen I was a boy, Bedgebury Forest was nothing less than the wild, wild west of Jesse James, Doc Holliday and Colonel Custer. It was also home to King Arthur's Knights of the Round Table, Robin Hood and his Merry Men, and the dashing D'Artagnan, friend of the Three Musketeers.

In truth, Bedgebury is a 1,000-hectare forest sprawling along the borders of Kent and East Sussex, known as one of the "seven wonders of the Weald". I grew up barely a mile away in the early 1970s, and it was a rare day during the holidays that I didn't find myself trotting up Delmonden Lane on my grey Connemara pony, Winter Magic, anxious for adventure in the ancient woodland.

Living deep in the country, and as an only child who went away to boarding school, I had few local friends and so often relied on our rescue dog, Lucy, and (before he disgraced himself) our knackered, flatulent old donkey, Ned Kelly, for company. We were a motley crew: me – only just 12 – on Magic, with Ned behind on a leading rein and Lucy in front, barely under control. Occasionally Mabel the tortoiseshell cat would join us, although she rarely made it to the forest, peeling off to chase mice or chat to the tom at the top of the lane. And just in case we fell among the Cheyenne or the Sheriff of Nottingham's men, I would be tooled up with my air pistol ("If you shoot your mother, I'll take it away from you," warned my father) and trusty catapult.

Only the A268 Flimwell-Hawkhurst road stood between the end of the lane and the start of the forest, but it was a serious challenge getting us all across. On one ghastly occasion, Lucy scampered over safely and Magic and I almost made it when Ned decided to have a bit of a lie down. He drew in three enormous breaths, paused, then let out three loud and noxious farts before collapsing in a heap, slap bang in the middle of the road.

I had to dismount, catch Lucy, tether Magic and abase myself in front of motorists before beseeching Ned to shift his scabby arse. It was a full 20 minutes before the wretched animal decided he'd had enough, whereupon he got up and ambled to the verge as if nothing had happened. I never took him with me again.

Magic, Lucy and I, however, continued our daily visits. The forest belonged to us, and I never tired of trotting and cantering (strictly forbidden) along its many paths and bridleways. We hardly ever saw anyone else except the occasional dog walker, and were left completely alone to re-enact the Charge of the Light Brigade or Custer's Last Stand.

Sometimes I simply enjoyed being in the forest. There were bluebells to admire in spring and mushrooms to pick in autumn; there were pheasants and woodpeckers to spot and (utterly, utterly forbidden) gates to be jumped. For a 12-year-old boy temporarily free of parental rule, it was sheer bliss.

You can still ride in Bedgebury today, albeit?under slightly stricter control and with a Trot permit, available from the Toll Rides (Off-Road) Trust. Nor is there any shortage of other Forestry Commission sites in which to saddle up and move on out. The West Country is particularly blessed, with Cookworthy Forest near Bude, Haldon Forest Park near Exeter and Great Wood in the Quantock Hills. No permits are needed for any of these. In Cheshire, Delamere Forest Park boasts a fine 22-mile route, while Hamsterley Forest in County Durham is also well worth exploring on horseback.

I'm a true townie now and my equestrian skills are somewhat rusty, but without Magic and Bedgebury I would not have ridden with gauchos in Patagonia, cowboys in Missouri, shepherds in New Zealand and – most bizarrely – Rastafarians in St Lucia. For real, not just in my forest-induced imagination.

View the original article here

England's forests: Go Ape! at Bedgebury

Go Ape at Begdebury Forest, Kent. Photograph: Henry Browne

We're in Kent's Bedgebury Forest on what is the hottest day of the year so far. Fifty miles away in London SW19, Andy Murray is battling the heat of Centre Court as he endeavours to become Britain's first Wimbledon men's champion in 77 years. I, on the other hand, am dangling 40 feet up in the trees, trussed up in a harness and looking anything but heroic. It's on days like this that you realise why Tarzan wore a loincloth and little else.

Of course, Tarzan would never be allowed to do Go Ape's Tree Top Adventure in his work clothes. Health & Safety just wouldn't allow it; might invalidate the public liability insurance policy too. Still, I've brought along two of my kids, Betsy (11) and Frank (10), to try an experience that's designed to "bring out your inner ape" – not that my kids really need any assistance in that area.

Tristram and Rebecca Mayhew launched Go?Ape's first site in Thetford Forest, Suffolk, a?little over a decade ago, and others have been springing up all over the country ever since, from Dalby Forest in the North York Moors national park down to Haldon in Devon. Last summer, Go Ape welcomed its three-millionth visitor up into the trees. Participants have to be a minimum of 1.4m tall and at least 10 years old, and if you weigh more than 130kg, you'll have to stay on terra firma too. (Smaller explorers can enjoy the Tree Top Junior adventure at selected venues.)

The first thing you learn at Go Ape – actually, the first of many terrifying things – is that you're going to be left to your own devices. That is to say, there is nobody up there among the branches to lend support or expertise along the way. Mercifully, the safety briefings and practical demonstrations help to take the fear away – well, some of it.

On arrival, for example, you're given a safety sheet to read through to familiarise yourself with what you're about to endure. Once you get past the bit that says "one in 1,000 people need first aid", you're asked to sign a disclaimer (never a good sign) before heading into a small teaching pen, where you're fitted with your harness and given the first of two demonstrations with the aim of saving you from coming a cropper.

"This," says Joe, our Go Ape instructor, "is a high-risk activity." His face is expressionless, his voice worryingly stern. "It's vital that you listen to the safety instructions so you can remain safe on the course."

He has a point. After all, some of these treetop challenges are as high as a house and, as a parent, the idea that you can relax and enjoy the experience while your children are just a small step away from serious injury or worse is, initially at least, difficult to get over. For once, though, the kids have listened intently and they take to it like proper primates. Fearless, free and blessed with nimble limbs and youthful agility, they tackle each stage head-on, before taking turns to berate me for my age and/or cowardice.

Sometimes you just have to be a dutiful dad and get stuck in, even if Go Ape takes you out of what X-Factor mentors call your "comfort zone". The height of some of the challenges is worrying enough (especially to someone who has put off clearing out the gutters for months because it involves climbing a ladder), but it's my first attempt at the "Tarzan jumps" – when you step off a platform into thin air – that has me contemplating making my excuses and easing myself back down the rope ladder. Truly, it's a leap of faith.

Once you've learned to trust the harness, however – and discovered you didn't end up in a crumpled mess on the forest floor – the trepidation gives way to some fantastic fun. The temptation not to launch into a full-on Johnny Weissmuller yell as you swing through the air is hard to resist.

At times you find yourself legs akimbo, wondering how on earth you're going to make it to the relative safety of the next platform, and what might happen if you don't. One slip, one misjudged step, and you can be left dangling helplessly in the air like some PR stunt involving Boris Johnson as, beneath you, other visitors to the forest look up and laugh. At other times, as you attempt to negotiate rickety bridges and awkward rope nets, it's more like a task on I'm a Celebrity …Get Me Out of Here!, only without any of the unsavoury eating contests.

The best fun, of course, is to be had on the epic zip wires that complete each of the five sections; the longest here is a mighty 170m. It's?fantastically liberating to step off the platform, sit back and let the wire do the work, as a welcome breeze licks your face.

Before we'd set off on our adventure, instructor Joe had told us that the best way to land at the end of the zip wire was to hit the ground running – something I managed to achieve not once on my five rides, preferring instead to land in a mangled mess, covered in dust and with wood chip sticking to my suntan lotion. On one touchdown, I even got to my feet with my shorts around my thighs.

It may have been the heat (it was definitely the heat), but the Tree Top Adventure is surprisingly physical, and after three hours of climbing and clambering, of slipping, sliding and swinging, the last zip wire comes as something of a relief. Frank goes first, then Betsy, both touching down with impeccable timing and lightfootedness. I follow, landing like a rhino whose parachute has failed.

A short and ultimately fruitless search for my dignity ensues before we return to the base-camp cabin, where Joe is waiting, counting us in to make sure none of us has perished along the way.

"How was it?" he inquires.

A bead of sweat rolls down my cheek. "Amazing," I reply, picking a lump of wood chip out of my ear.

Acrophobics among you – or perhaps just the downright sensible – may prefer to explore the nation's forests at ground level, rather than high up amid the bark and the branches.

Eleven Go Ape centres now offer the Forest Segway Experience where, for ￡30, riders get to enjoy an hour's safari around some of England's most beautiful forests – on a self-balancing, all-terrain electric Segway. These may look a trifle odd at first, but soon enough you'll be whizzing around, wondering why you've never tried one before.

You have to be over 45kg (7 stone) and under 125kg (19.5 stone) to ride a Forest Segway, and you will, of course, get a driving lesson and comprehensive safety briefing before you're let loose. After that, it's nothing but fantastic, free-wheeling fun. And if you're really bitten by the bug, Go Ape offers night-time Segway safaris in Thetford Forest, East Anglia. Two words: satisfyingly spooky.

View the original article here