A couple of weekends ago I arose with the birdsong (coming from the direction of my semi-detatched neighbour’s residence) and – lacking any other plans for the day – I crawled downstairs to attack the coffee grinder.

The fun started at 0710h when, whilst shuffling the items on the kitchen table in search of a clear space to park my coffee, by some rare chance I glanced at my phone that I’d left charging to see it displaying 3 New Messages Received, a quite unexpected and mysterious occurance.

It transpired that the messages were from Fred, and ran approximately:

Was talking to Jane last night and she reminded me you were interested in looking for fungi. If you’re free, we’re setting off from the picnic area at Postern Hill in Savernake Forest, 1mi SE of Marlborough. at 1000

Jane had told me that Fred runs courses in these matters, and I’d subsequently met him at Rollright Stones and he seemed both pleasant and sound. I considered this over a bowl of muesli, fed the details into Google and Streetmap to crosscheck the location, worked out that it was about 1hr drive and decided to go for it.

Hastily scribbling down an equipment list – alas although well-prepared as a birdwatcher, I should have thought to have taken a knife and a basket – I managed to get my chores done and be out of the house at 0830. I had no idea how long I might be out in the woods – I guesstimated 3 (in the end it was about 7) – plus I had reason to be glad of my wax jacket, boots, and fleece.

I pelted over to Marlborough and made good time, providing half an hour’s grace to explore the woods, find a few unmolested fungi, and stumble across the extramarital couple merrily shagging in a car in a quiet corner of the picnic area. Fred and perhaps half a dozen others arrived just after the hour, we kitted up, and set-off into the woods.

Fred briefed us all on the proper way to handle mushrooms, explained what the different parts of a mushroom are named, told us when to be especially cautious of handling them, how to remove them from the ground retaining enough of the root to aid identification, and how to identify a couple of key families from which we were wisest to stay well-away.

One thing he said we would not be doing was the unenvironmentally-conscious – and downright dangerous – practice of sending everyone out into the woods to bring stuff back so that he could identify it like some schoolteacher – aside from the risk of our decimating some rarities there was also the risk of picking up something hazardous and not knowing about it until it was on our hands – which would be a bad thing.

As if to illustrate his point, a minibus full of schoolchildren and clucking grannies pulled-up, dispersed in all directions rooting everything out of the trees and leaf-mould that they could, and ran racing back to the car park with their laden and mostly inedible baskets as-if on some sort of sprint-relay. Ummmmm…

Fred walked around with us, collecting nothing for himself (we were the paying students, after all) and spent agreat del of time walking us through the fine points of identifying wood blewit, honey fungus, ink caps, puffballs, russulas, red cracked boletus, jews-ear, stinkhorn and dog stinkhorn, shaggy parasol and a variety of other species; where knowledge failed there were always books, and some of the others on the course had been there three of four times previously so were also pretty knowledgable.

Underprepared, I didn’t collect very much – content instead to learn – but some of the other participants made quite a haul of the day – all edible, since that was the goal, even the purple ones which were rather nice. We even broke the day for a late and rainy lunch, and fried some of the catch in olive oil over a small burner.

What I could have done better?

Well I was well-kitted for wet woodland walking – boots, walking pole (essential for some overwooded Wiltshire shell-holes) – hat, barbour, jeans, fleece, multi-layers, and a shoulder bag; what I was missing was a basket (you rapidly discover why a real wicker basket is the thing to take mushrooming, preferably lined, and with a lid) – and a longish gardening-knife of some sort (nothing you mind plunging into the ground), and – most of all – flasks of tea and an adequate amount of lunch.

Aside from my mild ill-preparedness, it was a superb day.

Fred is making a venture out of running such courses, and has set up a Yahoo!Group to inform people of upcoming events: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/earthconnector/

This group is the information hub for Earthconnector – a programme of outdoor activities in the South West of England that promote re-connection to the Earth on all levels from the physical to the spiritual.

Earthconnector activities are often very practical, such as foraging for foods in the wilderness, bushcraft techniques and learning traditional and useful crafts, because Earthconnector was born out of a realisation that people need to have a living, working, immediate relationship with the earth, and the natural world of which we are all a part.

Members receive updates of Earthconnector events, and there will be a host of interesting links, information, photographs and guides for you to view as the hub develops.

…and the (possibly) last for 2004 fungi forage should be coming up soon – possibly this weekend? I seem to remember he also has coracle building, and rough fishing lined up for next year.

Afterwards, he, his girlfriend, I and two others absconded to the Red Lion in Avebury – in the heart of the stone circle – and enjoyed a very nice pub dinner in the fading twilight, swapping gossip about mutual friends, discussing tibetan lamas who might or might not be able to put themselves into 20-year trances, and plans for the remainder of the year.

Marvellous.