Here we are- much, much sooner than we ever expected, out in our van. Not far, of course- only a stone’s throw from home, in the New Forest, one of the UK’s historic, iconic national parks. Here there are all manner of wonderful treasures: huge, ancient, English oaks plus all our other native trees, heaths with purple heather, ponds and lakes, many species of birds, lizards, insects and other creatures, wild, roaming ponies, cows, donkeys and pigs. There are picturesque villages and small towns, like Lyndhurst, historic centres like Bucklers Hard, wildlife sanctuaries, open farms. And of course- campsites.

This site, at Ashurst, is next to both a pub and a railway station, which is beyond handy! Husband has brought his bike, since the forest trails and wonderful, but my bike must, for now, remain in our garage. I’m not allowed to cycle…yet. But I am, now, able to walk, and this I intend to do.

We’re experiencing our fifth heatwave this summer here in the south of the UK and have been officially in drought for weeks. When we arrive to site, we search for a shady spot, selecting a place under the shade of a large oak. Next to us, a group of families with tents and caravans sets up, Tents, I feel, will be very hot indeed. The assorted children ride their bikes round in little convoys in time-honoured fashion. Later there’s a small gang of them sitting under the oak tree enjoying the shade and the tree itself.

The shade works well for us. In the evening we sit outside to eat and as we do, an ominous, billowing cloud begins to appear- brownish purple in colour and with shreds of blackened vegetation landing on the table. This is not a rain cloud.

In the forest, not too close to us but present, a fire is taking hold. It’s not a worry for us because we can move very quickly and we know we’ll be warned if necessary.

Next morning we realise there’s a snag with parking in this shady spot. There’s no electric hook-up at Ashurst site and we need all the sunlight we can get for our solar panel to charge the leisure batteries and keep our fridge, lights etc going. We opt to move into the open. It’s hot, yes, but not unbearable under the awning. I set off to walk around the site, which, after several open areas, plunges back into dense woodland and it’s lovely, deep shade. Far at the back, beyond a small footbridge which would have spanned a stream, there’s a boggy area which may have been a pond as it’s green and muddy.

I keep going- along the back of the site, up and round, There are one or two solitary walkers like me and a couple of cyclists. There is much evidence of fallen trees although, on the whole the trees, bracken and vegetation seem to be surviving. Even the brambles are offering up some acceptable blackberries in places.

Around a bend I join a tarmac road, the site and residents sharing it for a distance. But it’s less shady and I turn right across the woods to return to site, pleased to have walked a mile and a half- my longest distance since major surgery on my hip. Hooray!

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com