Being somewhere slightly odd is not the same as being in danger. Go long or go home. And apply the Strider Test.


Being somewhere slightly odd is not the same as being in danger. Go long or go home. And apply the Strider Test.

22 January 2026

Welcome to issue 22 of Tales from the Chase, a weekly newsletter for Cranborne Chase. Local events. Odd tales. Mildly strange goings-on. All delivered by email, free, and occasionally unhinged (in a charming way). Was this email forwarded to you? You can sign up for free by clicking below!

welcome, strange companions

This week in the Chase

Hubert shares his thoughts on last week’s Lore of the Chase feature, takes a trip to Chicklade and has yet another curious encounter, and we’ve got a peek at a withdrawn field guide for new members of the Forgotten Footpath Society. Dive in below!

Brace yourselves: Hubert has found something else to be offended by. Last week’s Lore of the Chase feature, apparently, included “embellishment”. As usual, he spares no detail in his grumbles, but at least he seems happy that he’s found yet another reason to pontificate expansively. Here we go...

Dear Rob,

Again I am compelled to write regarding your newsletter content.

So the deer with the candle and a talent for guidance has apparently acquired an expanded portfolio: not just guiding the lost, but standing guard against something called the Shadows of the Unseen, and a supporting cast of hollow-backed men, a fox with an unfeasible eyeball, and a grab-bag of largely haberdashery-based countermeasures.

I should make one thing clear before I’m accused of being “closed-minded” (a phrase generally deployed by people who have never been chased by anything genuinely unnatural). I am not a sceptic because I’m ignorant or lack imagination. I’m a sceptic through learned experience.

I have seen lights in the Chase that were not lanterns. I have heard my own name spoken in my own voice from somewhere I was not standing. And then there’s the ‘goddess issue’, of which I need say no more.

So yes, there are things out there. Unpleasant things. Clever things. Things that would dearly like you to lie down and stop being complicated. You are vanishingly unlikely to encounter them, despite the alarming tales.

But what tries my patience is the embellishment.

According to Isla Cobb (who I admit is very good company over a drink), we are now to believe that the Chase is thick with “Cold Hunger”, and hollowed-out men armed with predatory illusions, a soul siphon, and existential despair. Protection, we are told, comes in the form of turning your coat inside out, accessorising with twigs, salt, iron, and red thread, and, if all else fails, waiting hopefully for a shining deer or a fox with a glass eye to intervene.

All of which suggests that ancient, soul-eating horrors are routinely outwitted by people who can't dress themselves rummaging in their pockets for the right “charm” and hoping for the best. Or that people only come back safe from a walk in the Chase because they took their sewing kit and some seasoning.

What does ring true, are these:

Don’t answer voices that want you alone.
Don’t lie down when the cold and exhaustion tells you to.
And generally don’t go barging around the place like a fool.

And if carrying a nail in your pocket helps you remember you’re solid and alive, fine. If you meet a glowing deer who knows exactly where you need to go, follow him if you like.

But remember, the Chase, like the great outdoors generally, is potentially dangerous because it is indifferent, and very good at letting you make your own bad decisions. You don’t need Hollow Men or the Cold Hunger for that. Ordinary ignorance, incompetence and panic will usually do the job.

Grumpily yours,

A Walker’s Guide to Forgotten Paths

I found this booklet in the FFS archive. It was once given to new FFS members, though it is no longer issued. Experience showed that following it alone could result in mild chaos, unwelcome wandering, and some 'difficult' encounters in the countryside. Today, the FFS recommends that forgotten paths should be explored only under the guidance of trained leaders, ensuring both safety and a measure of decorum.

The content below is reproduced for academic and historical interest only. Do not attempt to follow it on your own. If you wish to experience the wonder of forgotten paths, please contact the FFS to join a guided walk or expedition.

A Walker's Guide to Forgotten Paths

Forgotten paths in this context are not just those that have merely been abandoned through lack of use. They are those that are more hidden than lost. Paths which don’t just connect one place to another, but pass to and through this world to another. Perhaps several others.

This guide helps new members of the Society to spot the signs, and advises on what to take and what to expect.

Always remember; being somewhere slightly odd is not necessarily the same as being in danger. But it might be.

So use this guide carefully. Follow it, and any path you may find, at your peril. And if it goes missing, assume it has work to do elsewhere.

How to find a forgotten path

Try walking alone, and try to stay curious, light of thought; although walking with a heavy heart has also been an effective way to find them. Melancholy can work well.

Walk without a map. You won't find these paths on maps. Maps imply rationality and order and these paths respect neither. At best they are a distraction.

Whistling or humming a tune you haven’t thought about since childhood can be a way to find the right mood. If you can remember any.

Being just lost enough to no longer care is perfect. Indifference is your friend.

Walk at dawn or dusk, when thin spots are at their thinnest, and sometimes something leaks through. Which sounds a bit messy, but it's often just weird.

Signs you’re near

The signs are rarely dramatic. They are subtle enough to miss if you are trying too hard.

You may notice the wind change direction suddenly, as though someone has opened a window.

Birds gather and then vanish.

Thistles or other wildflowers appear along a path in groups of three, spaced with what seems like deliberate care.

Sound behaves strangely. Voices echo slightly. You may hear running water but there's no stream, or the sound of bells.

Sometimes, you will notice small things out of place, or perfectly placed. For example: a single apple lying at the base of a tree, or by a gap in a hedge. Don't pick it up or eat it. It's not for you.

Apples, or other out of place items, mark thresholds. Things like a single glove, a key, a coin; mushrooms in a ring, or feathers arranged in a pattern; an upside down cup.

Pay attention to temperature. If the air suddenly feels warmer or colder than the surrounding day, stop. You have found the edge of something.

Whatever the signs, they are invitations to notice, to pause, and to choose the right way.

Stand still and look around carefully. Notice what seems slightly misplaced: a stone worn smooth where no one walks, grass pressed flat, bark marked by old cuts, objects that feel arranged rather than fallen.

Such places are best understood as convergences or folds: points where different versions of the land overlap. The signs suggest that something passed through repeatedly.

Often, these marks indicate junctions with unseen, forgotten paths. The path in this world continues as the visible trail beneath your feet, others run alongside then turn away into other histories, other places. We call it the Elsewhere.

Rarely, a pub appears with a name you’ve never heard before, yet it feels oddly familiar, like a place you once waited out a storm in a dream. If it is open, you may enter. If it is closed, do not knock.

Exceptions

Do not assume every temperature shift invites passage. Sometimes it just wants to be noticed. In some cases, temperature change marks a place, not a path. Heat may linger where people once gathered, cold where things were left unfinished, unnamed, or deliberately forgotten. These are not hauntings, but residues of attention.

Time hesitates here. You may feel watched.

On tools, technology, and recording what you find

Modern technology may fail without warning. Even more so on a forgotten path.

Phones will lose signal, freeze, die.

Watches will stop or run backwards.

Cameras, if they work at all, often capture only blur, glare, or blackness. What is seen cannot be held in electronic pixels.

GPS devices fail.

Magnetic compasses are unreliable.

Instead, sketch and note what you see. Write it down while it is still fresh in your mind.

Draw without concern for your level of talent, and label generously.

If you attempt to record sound, expect silence on playback, or a noise you do not recall hearing. Rarely, you might get a scary voice saying something creepy. If so delete it and try not to worry about how it knows your name.

What to carry with you

Bring a pencil, not a pen. What you write may wish to be erased later. And pencils can be sharpened on stone.

Bring a sketchbook and a notebook, small enough to carry in your pocket. Use them/it. Record what you see and capture impressions exactly as they strike you.

Carry thread, preferably red. Use it to mark your path. It also offers some protection and connection. Tie it lightly to twigs, branches, posts, tall grasses, as you pass. Remove it when you return.

You might wish to carry a small pouch of salt. Scatter a pinch at a threshold or crossroads. Do not overdo it. This is acknowledgement, not seasoning.

Bring iron, in some form, keys often suffice, old nails are traditional. Steel will do. It will discourage unwelcome attention. Keep it on you. Keep it hidden. Its power is subtle and protective.

Apples are useful. They can be eaten, shared, or left somewhere meaningful. Do not substitute with citrus. Or bananas.

Apples are not merely fruit. They are small tokens of exchange between worlds. Leave one beneath a tree, and it may remember your presence. Offer one to a stranger or an animal you encounter, and gratitude may reward you later when you most need it. They are not just a snack, but in a pinch might serve as emergency rations.

Things not to bring

Loud voices. Forgotten paths do not respond to shouting or instructions. Do not sing unless invited to.

Dogs or other pets. Animal companions can stir the attention of things better left unseen. Also, they might chew something important.

Iron weapons. Iron itself is protective when carried subtly, but knives (beyond small practical tools) should be left at home.

Expectations. This is perhaps the hardest rule. If you arrive expecting marvels, you may see nothing at all. But disappointment is still a form of exercise.

If you meet others along the way

You may encounter people. They will be polite. They may ask questions.

Apply the Strider Test. Some may feel fair but look foul. Others may look fair but feel foul. Or, they may just look how they feel (or feel how they look). Take care to respect your feelings as well as your eyes.

Do not give your real name. Names are difficult to retrieve once offered. Do take a nickname (such as He Who Forgets the Way, or the Little Cool Guy), so you have something to offer.

Do not accept food or drink, no matter how delicious looking or kindly presented. If pressed, say you have already eaten, or that you are nearly home.

Do not ask how long they have lived here. Do not tell them where you are from (other than a vague generality like 'the Chase'). Do not correct them if they misname something you recognise.

If you are invited to sit, you may sit briefly, but keep your feet pointed toward the path. If you are invited to stay, decline gently and without explanation.

If you realise you have been walking together for some time without deciding to, stop. Let them continue first. Consider heading back.

Glossary

  • Thin spot A place where the world feels insubstantial, like you could push through to the Elsewhere
  • Fold Any physical or atmospheric “crease” in the world
  • The Elsewhere A catch-all term for the Other World or other places one might walk into
  • Drift time When a walk seems longer or shorter than it should be
  • Unroute A path that cannot be followed twice the same way
  • Portal or Threshold A defined gateway to the Elsewhere (more substantial than a thin spot)

A parish by parish tour of the Chase

Chicklade

Chicklade is a small parish that straddles the A303 as it crosses the West Wiltshire Downs in the north of the Chase. It extends up onto Cratt Hill to the edge of the Great Ridge woodland.

Only about 75 people live there, most in the village of Chicklade itself down by the roar of the A303, and a few in the outlying hamlet of High Pertwood.

The name Chicklade has evolved from Cytlid, a name found in records from around 912. It likely means "wood hill” or “hill wood”, perhaps reflecting its proximity to the ancient woodland at Great Ridge.

For more information, see Hubert's guide to Chicklade below. All views expressed are Hubert's own, and are not necessarily shared by Tales from the Chase.

CHICKLADE

Ah, Chicklade. Blink and you'll miss it whilst driving the A303, the old London to Exeter road, the highway to the sun. Keep on going because there's not much to trouble you here. Seems like it was always thus.

Notable for:

Very little, it has to be said. But perhaps mainly notable for a fire, and a war memorial.

In 1833, half the village burned down. This was inconvenient, but perhaps not surprising given the terrifying proximity of thatch, timber, bare flames and ale and cider that was characteristic of much rural settlement before the advent of electricity. Reconstruction happened and Chicklade lives on. Although sometimes its hard to tell.

Chicklade lost four men in World War I, yet didn't erect a war memorial for decades. When it finally did, in 2018, it included four ceramic poppies from the Tower of London in a box/frame made from local oak. It's in All Saints Church, apparently. All locked up when I visited, but I'm sure it makes thrilling viewing.

Also notable:

Some ancient things. Although this is maybe not so notable, given that almost every parish in the Chase is liberally endowed with ancient things. In such circumstances, they become not so much notable as inevitable. So Chicklade; a few barrows doesn't make you special. Not round here.

Mind you, one of Chicklade's resident barrows is a Neolithic oval barrow. Oval barrows are very rare nationally, apparently. Fewer than fifty like it remain in England. So Chicklade, maybe you're a little bit special after all. Cling to that if you must.

There’s also a long barrow in the same field, which feels like the Neolithic people were just experimenting with shapes:

"This oval one's fine. But what if we made the next one longer?".

"But the oval one feels good".

"Exactly. We make it a limited edition. One-off. Then we go long, stick with that".

"All right. Next one’s long. Over there?"

"Let's do it. Go long or go home".

An encounter. I was at All Saints’ Church trying to get in when I noticed I was no longer alone.

A man stood by the gate.

He may have been elderly, his face shaded by a battered hat with a wide brim. His coat looked as though it had been retrieved from the ashes of the Great Fire of Chicklade (1833).

“Lost?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “Just disappointed.”

He nodded.

“They chose this place,” he said.

“Who?”

He didn't answer. I turned at the sound of a crow, which sat on a tombstone looking at me. When I turned back, he was gone, as if Chicklade had swallowed him.

I did not look for him. I am not a fool.

NEXT WEEK: CHILMARK

Prepare to be utterly underwhelmed.

We've travelled from Hubert’s curmudgeonly complaints to the strange corners of Chicklade, via the pages of a long-withdrawn FFS field guide. A warning again not to follow the guide lightly; chaos has been known to ensue. It was withdrawn fora reason. Next week maybe we'll meet a new beast of the Chase. Until then, stay strange. You know you want to.

And finally, good things are meant to be shared. So if you’ve enjoyed reading, why not share? If you've got friends, co-workers, neighbours, a nemesis, or an emotionally distant cousin who might appreciate this glorious creation…tell them all about it and get them to sign up too!

Just forward this email to your inner circle (and the outer one, too). Tell them it’s cool. They'll believe you. Tell them It's easy. Tell them to click the button below and the world of Tales from the Chase will be theirs. With thanks.

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