Rewind a coupla weeks or so, I was having a blast in the New Forest with Tony Davis and Dave Gibbs seeing all manner of weird and wonderful plants and inverts. We went to a carpark named Goatpen. I'd never been there before, a couple of hours later and I wished I'd never been there at all. We were on a wild goose chase for a plant called Bayberry (essentially America's chunky version of our Bog Myrtle). Dave Gibbs had gen (duff gen as it turned out) that a clump of the stuff was growing down in the valley mire below us. All we knew was that it was a big version of Bog Myrtle and about four feet tall. Unless the Rangers had been at it and hacked it back? We figured we'd give it a crack anyway. 

We set off towards the deceptively peaceful looking valley and were confident of finding our target within a short while. The day had been so productive thus far, we simply couldn't dip out now. The track bellied-out at the bottom of the valley and was clearly deeply flooded, our only options were to turn back and quit or tackle the mire and find a way across to the other side where the Bayberry grew. Obviously we tackled the mire! Within moments of leaving the path we began to sink. Not just slightly, but well over ankle depth. The tussocks quaked at every footstep, yet we carried on. I slipped and went into a hole, wet mucky gloop covered my right leg to above knee height. Bollox! I was strongly reminded of the poor Hobbits crossing Midgewater Marsh, I didn't take any pics of our little band cautiously splodging our way to where we hoped to find Bayberry, but if I had then this is pretty much how we would have looked

And, just like Frodo and his companions, we too failed to find Bayberry. Not a sniff. Nothing. Bugger. Eventually we admitted defeat and turned to face The Swamp of Despair once more *sigh*

ANYWAY - this time I was better prepared. I had wellies on for starters and I was armed with a very important update from Tony: the Bayberry was up a slope beyond the area we'd searched for it. Aah, that helps! He described whereabouts it lay, I fixed the image in my mind and set off. Cresting the brow of the hill I gazed out at the flat expanse of Death Marsh once more. Beyond it lay several small slopes. I raised my binoculars and immediately saw a patch of green amongst the dead bracken. "I bet that's it" I muttered to myself. Hoisting my rucksack high on my back, I set off once more into The Swamp of Doom.

This time I stuck to the main track across the mire. The water levels had dropped just a tad and by walking on tip-toe I managed to safely cross the flooded path, the water coming to just below the tops of my wellies. Hah, brilliant! Not even damp, I gleefully traipsed towards the slopes and that intriguing green patch. Before too long I had arrived. Was this it, had I finally found myself face to face with Bayberry? Hell yes it was!!!! Looking more like a small Azalea than Bog Myrtle, I was finally standing in front of a whole big patch of Bayberry (Myrica pensylvanica)! I whipped out Stace (steady...) and started checking off the various ID characters. Here's a pic of the clump (note my abandoned rucksack in the corner)

And a close-up of the leaves, much large than Bog Myrtle! And held in a much more upright fashion too.

And a close view of the hairy twigs, Bog Myrtle is only sparsely pubescent. The catkins are also quite different, being small and rounded as opposed to Bog Myrtle's larger pointed ones.

Flushed with success I made my way back down to The Swamp of Foulness and skipped all the way back to the car with a smile on my face. Well, kinda. Next time I come here it's gonna be during dry season!