Adventure Camping
It’s a Friday evening in mid-May and I catch the last ferry from Poole Quay to Brownsea Island. I only live up the hill from Poole but have never before taken this ferry to explore the small Island of rugged wildlife that sits in the middle of Poole Harbour, just a 20 minute boat ride away. I climb aboard the boat after the last of the day-trippers disembark and have the short crossing all to myself. From the top deck I watch the Island draw closer, an incongruous cluster of trees that almost appear to be floating on the Harbour water. I only left my flat less than half an hour ago yet approaching the Island, my face into the sea breeze, I already feel the thrum of an adventure.
Disembarking on Brownsea Island, I heave my backpack over my shoulder and am warmly greeted by Anna, a member of the National Trust team and one of the Island's 40 residents. Brownsea Island is already a world away from the busy, industrial Poole Quay I just left; a small but thriving natural habit of woodland, heathland, saltmarsh and lagoon, home to a variety of wildlife; from sika deer to the protected water vole to the vast array of birds and the rare red squirrels it is particularly known for (with a healthy population of over 200). The Island is only 500 acres (2.4 by 1.2 kilometres), yet every inch is a Site of Special Scientific Interest, a Special Protection Area, an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty or a wetland site of international importance. On the journey to the camping ground I see my first red squirrel spiralling around the trunk of an oak tree, a deer leaps across the path, and I spot one of the Island’s two peacocks.
The National Trust campsite on the south side hugs the Studland views and is a good 20 minute walk from the boat landing. Anna tells me the capacity is 140 campers, but they prefer to operate below that number. She explains how people come here to be in nature, away from the crowds and that is why Brownsea isn’t like other campsites, where in peak season you might find yourself in a town of tents, jostling for the best pitch or queuing for amenities. On Brownsea, you have space. Whether camping alone or with your family, the experience here is a wild one.
As well as pitches for those bringing their own tents, there are a few unique sleeping options. There are bell tents - a more luxurious set up with a hard floor, elevated off the ground, with tall ceilings and low beds complete with bed linen - or tree tents, simple canvas structures suspended between the trees. For this trip, I am lucky to experience a bell tent, and a particularly lovely one; secluded a little away from the main camping area with views directly over the surrounding ferns onto open sea and across to Studland. It's remote and stunning, without being too far from the cooking area and hot showers. I have everything I need in this patch of nature, with the exception of electricity and reliable internet but it is welcoming to not need those things for a weekend. Although my everyday life is only across the Harbour, I can already feel myself surrendering into the calm pace of the campground, letting go of my usual stresses and responsibilities with every rustle of the trees and each bird passing overhead.
I take an evening stroll, exploring the narrow shorelines that trim the Island - sandy beach on the south side, rocks and clay on the northern point - and wander through the woods in the low, golden-hour sun. You could almost mistake parts of Brownsea for the New Forest, where I grew up. The crunchy gravel tracks winding through trees of oak, pine and holly, with the forest floor scattered in pine cones and covered in a blanket of ferns. It feels so familiar to me and yet, when I look to one side, there are blue glimpses of sea between the tree trunks rather than forest thicket. There are boats and paddle boarders passing on the water, and beyond are the lights and hum of the Quay. Even though the mainland is visible, it feels distant, as though the Island is in its own remote space and time.
Brownsea Island certainly invites an adventurous spirit. I can see why it inspired Enid Blyton’s Famous Five’s adventures on Whispering Island and became the birthplace of the Scout movement; in 1907, Lord (then plain Major) Baden-Powell brought a group of 20 boys here to take part in an experimental camp, living close to nature and practising practical skills he had learned in the army during the Boer War. It launched a global movement, and now groups from 75 countries visit the island each year.
Back in my tent, spacious enough to stand in the middle, I have a crate with all the equipment needed to cook on the basic two-stove set up of the communal gas cooker. I have a cool box, complete with the ice packs I collected on check-in where the food I have brought for the weekend is stored. I even have a set of chairs and a small table. There is a proper mattress fully made up with bedding and a lantern for when it gets dark. I enjoy a simple camp supper of noodles and a beer, sitting on the steps at the opening of my tent facing out to sea, slurping it all in. A peacock joins me, announcing himself with a loud series of squawks that crack through the otherwise tranquil evening. The sky morphs into lilac and coral colours, reflecting off the water. It is a clear night and getting cold alone in the tent, so I wrap up and tuck down in the low, cosy bed and fall asleep to the surrounding bird sounds with only canvas between me and the moonlight.
The rest of the weekend is spent taking morning swims off the shore, cooking simple meals and exploring each trail of the Island, looking out for wildlife. I try ‘forest bathing’ (the Japanese practice of mindful immersion in nature, known as Shinrin Yoku) through the ‘Calming Cambridge Woods’ on the Island’s northwest, I also visit the Dorset Wildlife Trust area on the east side, where the lagoon and bird look-outs are loud with a rich diversity of birds from avocets to oystercatchers. This is the best site in Britain to spot common and Sandwich Terns nesting, having migrated from Africa. The Island is teeming with history and knowledge and I slowly make my way through the information sites, learning about the fauna and wildlife, the Island’s history of owners, and its role as a decoy during the war.
At night I am sung to sleep by the babble of birds and lapping of boats on water, and at daybreak I wake to a peacock alarm. Only three miles from my own home, I feel a world away in this wilderness retreat. As I take the boat home on Sunday, I feel like I’ve been far away and for a longer time than just a weekend. The slower pace of the Island allowed me to enjoy the Purbeck views over my coffee, to chat to the knowledgeable rangers about which species they have spied each day and to get lost in the small but dense nature of the Island. Here, in the middle of the Harbour, is somewhere to reconnect with nature, to escape in plain sight, and a reminder that we don’t always need to go away to get away. @ntbrownsea
Website → nationaltrust.org.uk/visit/dorset/brownsea-island
Instagram → @ntbrownsea
