Uphill, December 2021

Tags

Bleadon Levels, Brean Down, Brownie 127, electricity pylon, Flat Holm, Limekiln, Powder house, saltmarsh, Severn, Steep Holm, T-pylon, teal, tidal gate, Uphill, Uphill Hill, Walborough, Weston-super-Mare

First Friday of the month, so it was time for my next walk with Zoe, and her turn to organise. She chose the nature reserves and environs of Uphill, which is just south along the coast from Weston-super-Mare. For uninteresting reasons my camera was hors de combat for most of the time, so these photos were taken on my phone, with one exception. Despite apparently threatening skies, the weather was kind to us, not too cold, not too windy, and the sun even came out for a short while.

From where we had parked our cars, we set off across a not very interesting golf course, and arrived at the beach. Despite my September holiday in Cornwall, I couldn’t actually remember the last time I had been on one, (though in fact I had crossed one at Marazion, as I walked back from St Michael’s Mount). We looked north to Weston.

We looked out to see the sea. Which we couldn’t, but saw Brean Down, Steep Holm, (owned by the Kenneth Allsop Memorial Trust) and, faintly in the mist, Flat Holm (which I’ve just learned is part of Wales, and managed by Cardiff Council).

The sign says DANGER, SINKING MUD. Many a life has been imperilled along this coast by those ignoring the warning.

And we looked, and then walked, south.

At about the level of Brean Down we left the beach but continued parallel to the sea.

You’d think that the mound ahead gave the area its name, but “The manor is recorded in Domesday Book as Opopille which derives from the Old English Uppan Pylle meaning “above the creek”.^[13] The Pill is a tidal creek which joins the River Axe near where the river flows into Weston Bay to the north of Brean Down. The Pill is connected to the Great Uphill Rhyne which drains the moors to the east of the village.” (Wikipedia)

Whatever it is called, there is somewhat less of the hill left now. The sun came out as we reached the old quarry…

… and the old limekiln. The panel explains that this was a particularly fine example of the species, which were mainly built between 1780 and 1850, and that at the time lime was used for liming acid soils, as a basis of mortar, and for whitewash.

The nineteenth century powder house was considerably further on. Its explanatory panel told us that explosive stores were usually situated well away from quarries, in case of explosions caused by sparks or other sources of flame there.

At one point I looked back over my right shoulder to see Brean Down, now well behind us.

Ahead the sun was low and bright, almost too much for the eyes, as it reflected off the briefly tarmac-ed path. I mused on the fact that you would never have taken a photo straight into the sun at the time of my grandmother’s Brownie 127.

In the course of our relatively short walk we found ourselves on at least three different nature reserves: Uphill Hill, Walborough and Bleadon Levels. At this last, we turned right in the direction of the sea, for a hundred yards – or metres – or so. Had we continued south at that point we would have taken this path.

It would have been foolhardy to attempt to cross the saltmarsh to get nearer the sea.

We started northward again toward Brean Down.

Taking great care to avoid puddles – specially as I had forgotten to put my wellies in the car – it was nevertheless possible to raise one’s eyes to look inland from time to time, and to see Uphill Hill, the quarry, the Old Church of St Nicholas, and a beacon lit for various national celebrations. It is what remains of an old windmill, and probably 18th century, says Wikipedia.

Ahead lay the dock area which we had passed on the way out.

I obliged my camera into action to zoom in on these very small ducks which flew into our view. They are teal.

Beside us in due course appeared the creek (right to left) used, when the tide is in, by boats wishing to leave the dock. That silty mud, swept down the River Severn from the Welsh mountains, is why walking on some parts of the beaches in the area is so dangerous.

This sliding wall of concrete beyond the dock is explained …

… by its label.

We stopped at a café by the docks for a coffee, and in my case a custard tart as well.

It was a 15-minute walk back to our cars through the village, during which this pretty bridge from road to a private garden caught my eye.

On my drive home across the Somerset Moors (Levels), trying in vain to avoid a long detour caused by a road closure, I noticed first an enormous erect pillar, with further bits bits lying on the ground by it, which I assumed was to end up as a new wind turbine – nice and blowy I thought in that vast open space. I couldn’t stop to take a photo, but as I went along I saw more of them, more elaborated, and it became clear that, while they were indeed to do with the generation of electricity, they were not some new design for producing power by centrifuge, (I’ll patent that I think), but a new model of electricity pylon.

In due course I was able to stop for a photo.

More information, by the National Grid, about these new T-shaped pylons can be found here, including a two-minute video of one being erected. It shows how monstrous they are in size – though they are apparently a third less tall than the traditionally lattice shaped pylons. They will carry electricity produced at Hinkley Point C Nuclear Power Station.

Yeo Valley and Chew Valley

Tags

Black-headed gull, Bristol Water, Chelsea Flower Show, CHew Valley, CHew Valley LAke, mallard, moorhen, Salt and Malt, shoveler, Yeo Valley, Yeo Valley Organic Garden

Anyone following the Chelsea Flower Show this autumn (it’s normally held in spring) will be familiar with the name, Yeo Valley, makers of organic dairy products. Their organic garden won the People’s Choice Award for large show garden this year, not bad for first-time participants.

I had visited their garden, with my friend, Zoe, previously – it is situated roughly halfway between the homes of each of us – but the weather had been miserable on that occasion, and we didn’t get as much from the outing as we might have done. Our birthdays fall close to each other, and, for our October birthday ‘first Friday’ monthly walk, we decided to visit the garden, and make a day of it, visiting other places in the area afterwards. We went on the second Saturday, as in October the garden only opens to the public on Saturdays, and this was forecast to have better weather than the first.

In fact the weather was gorgeous. The autumn mist above us allowed the hazy sun to bless us early in the morning, and had disappeared entirely by lunchtime. My camera clicked away – I couldn’t restrain it. In the order I took them:

At the entrance – some of the plants returned from the Chelsea Flower Show, awaiting the reconstruction of the Show Garden

Sarah Mead, head gardener, resident for 25 years and original developer of the garden

On 23rd November, I shall be ‘going to’ this talk by Sarah Mead and designer Tom Massey, on how the Show Garden came about.

One of several metal sculptures in the garden

We are approaching the café where we will stop for coffee

View from the café’s terrace

The egg is that featured in the show garden, though I imagine this may only be a temporary placement

Blagdon Lake in the distance

A small woodland area

Closer inspection of the egg when occasion offered

Zoe told me that this building has some connection with the planning in BBC2’s ‘Your Garden Made Perfect’.

A small boy and a big girl play with the mirrors

Given that it was getting on for mid-October, there was an amazing amount of colour.

At midday our allotted time was up, and we had seen just about everything there was to be seen. Zoe knew of a great fish and chips place, Salt and Malt, by the side of Chew Valley Lake, just a short distance away. Alas, I took photos of neither the view nor the fish and chips, but both were very good.

We drove round the Lake to the next car park, intending to do the short ‘Grebe Walk’, which would take us firstly through some woodland, and then along the lake to see, theoretically, grebes among other birds.

But on the return leg we saw nothing but reeds in the lake at that end. Whether this was deliberate cultivation for wildlife reasons, or because of Covid-related (or other) neglect we could not tell.

We walked on beyond the car park to see what we could see. We couldn’t get closer to the lake than this.

Zooming my camera showed me that the boats were colourful.

And, looking back, gave me the chance to see some unidentifiable birds.

We had no desire to find ourselves back at the fish and chip place, so turned back to where our car was parked, with a view to winding down from our day’s outing. The drive back to Zoe’s, where my car was, took us along a quite busy road, which serves as a dam of the lake, and which is actually a reservoir owned by Bristol Water, the fifth-largest artificial lake in England. The lake is also a nature reserve and an SSSI.

There were many people leaning on the rail, but the birds were unfazed.

Mr and Mrs Mallard

Black-headed gull in winter plumage keeping watch while his friends take a nap

Shoveller duck – eclipse plumage – and ?young moorhens

Moorhen

Zoe and I had not quite finished putting the world to rights, so before I got into my car, we had a cup of tea in her garden, and I admired the mini-woodland she and her husband are creating there.

Cornwall 3- 12. The Eden Project

Tags

Cornwall, Eden Project, Infinity Blue, Madagascar, Mediterranean Biome, old coffee machine, Rainforest Biome, Vanilla

I was homeward bound on Saturday, 11th September, but could not let pass the opportunity to visit on the way this world-renowned project. I had a booking for 11.00. My satnav the evening before told me that I would need 90 minutes to get there, which surprised me somewhat, but I allowed two hours. As I left my BnB at 9.00 it was saying I would need 65 minutes – the difference between Friday evening and Saturday morning traffic I suppose. But thank goodness I had all that leeway. There were huge hold-ups on the A30, due I think to road closures elsewhere, with traffic being funnelled on to this road. In the event I arrived just 10 minutes before my ticket’s time.

It was quite a walk between my car park down to the entrance – but not so far that I qualified for the shuttle bus. Just one more car park up and …

I find I have 108 photos, and have found it incredibly difficult to make a selection. I have only managed to cut them down to 58 – sorry – and they give only a glimpse into what was to be seen.

Here’s the plan from my pre-ordered guide. I should like to have been able to sit down and study it in greater depth before going round, but things were well-labelled.

Basically, I wandered around the Outdoor Gardens and then the Crops, which I think is how it is intended you should, then visited first the Rainforest Biome, followed by the Mediterranean one (only about a third the area, but with a few more species), then went along the Avenue to the Core. I seem to have missed the Zigzag through Time, and I don’t think I did justice to the Invisible Worlds.

My photos are largely without commentary.

I think this next picture is my very favourite of the day.

This queue (note one person peeling off left)…

… was for this. Good fun!

There was a link corridor, with shops and café, to the …

About 15 minutes into the Rainforest Biome, there was a notice warning people who were finding it too hot to turn back, as it was another 30 minutes to the exit. (A one-way system was in operation with little byways roped off, presumably because of Covid.) The Mediterranean Biome was also hot, in a lovely dry Mediterranean way, but I was very pleased to find this almost unpatronised drinks bar near its exit. Time for a chilled elderflower cordial.

Frim time to time there was a swooshing sound from above. I had just days ago watched Chris Packham and Megan McCubbin on television on a zipline, and thought, ‘How I would love to do that!’. And here would have been my opportunity! If I had known in advance about the possibility here, I would definitely have looked into it. As it was, I picked up a leaflet when I left.

‘Infinity Blue’ and, to a lesser extent, ‘Seed’ were the two main attractions in the Core.

Perfect smoke (or rather vapour) rings every time. They represent Oxygen.

‘Seed’ was about twice my height.

‘Infinity Blue’ from an upper floor. In about a decade it may be lowered into the sea as a reef habitat for marine life. (It’s not crooked, my camera was.)

Up a lift, across a bridge, and it was back to the entrance/visitor centre/exit…

… for a coffee before setting off on the rest of my journey home. I was amused to see this old coffee making machine on display, sadly not in use.

How to reflect on eight such days? I was absolutely shattered for a while after my return, but so happy to have spent my time so fully. Cornwall is a such a beautiful place, with so much to explore and experience. I tried, and I think I succeeded, not to let an underlying fear of Covid spoil my enjoyment, though it was unnerving to see so many people, freed of legal obligation, appearing to believe that if they did not wear masks indoors the risk was only to themselves, not to others. But it was heartening also to see how many did wear masks, especially those serving, in whatever setting.

I have to go back. I have to make that helicopter trip. I have to use more those various guides to archology, geology, walks, built places to visit. My Eden Project ticket is valid for a year! (I could – perhaps – go on that zipline…) I’m already thinking that I may take another holiday in the county next June, perhaps based at Hayle this time.

Cornwall 3 – 10. Godolphin and Porthleven

Tags

Bal maiden, Bickford-Smith Institute, Common Hawker, Godolphin, Godolphin House, Mary Lanyon, Mary Schofield, Porthleven, Robert Organ, South-west Coast path

Thursday, 9th September was to be the high point – literally and figuratively – of my time in Cornwall, fulfilling a lifetime ambition. Two months previously I had booked a helicopter flight to the island of St Mary’s, on the Scillies. As I checked over its arrangements on the Wednesday evening, I had had a shock, which I should have anticipated, given the weather. All helicopter flights that day had been cancelled, because of fog both at Penzance and on the Scilly Isles. I was also beginning to worry seriously about what I would do there once arrived, given the forecast of about 80% rain on St Mary’s for much of Thursday.

However, having also checked my right to a full refund, when I woke up on the day I found myself really hoping the company would cancel, given that weather forecast. It was also very misty in Penzance.

Dead-on 9.00 the company called me. They weren’t yet cancelling but were running huge delays, so [since I was booked on a day trip, not going over to stay] they were offering me the choice of rebooking, free of penalty, or receiving a full refund. I accepted the latter, obviously, and felt hugely relieved, my disappointment having already been overcome the evening before. I would have to fly in a helicopter for the first (and probably only) time in my life on some other occasion.

What to do instead? I could have occupied myself in my room, knitting, reading, listening to the radio, but they didn’t seem like ideal holiday pass-times. I decided to take a risk with the weather (not forecast to be quite so bad on the mainland) and to go to Godolphin (National Trust), to spend time indoors in the large house there. It didn’t need pre-booking.

The surface of the sea in the harbour was like a mirror as I passed, but sadly it was not possible to stop to take a photo.

It turned out to me much less house than I thought, so it was as well that the weather also turned out to be much better than forecast. At the exit of the car park was a notice board suggested various walks in the wider estate, so I decided to start out on the orange walk before making for the house and its grounds.

But I turned back when it started to drizzle, not least because I wasn’t really properly shod or dressed for a damp, muddy walk. (The drizzle soon stopped, fortunately.)

Checking in to the charging part of the property, I was given a ticket for the house for 1 o’clock, an hour off. Coffee (studying the plan – yes, I like plans and maps),

and a wander round the more formal grounds filled in the time nicely.

The door behind the colonnade I would take at the start of the tour

(If only I knew enough to photoshop out that turquoise coat.)

Notice by one of the shippons (cowsheds)

I knew I had been to Godolphin House in 1973, (though I could remember almost nothing of the visit), with some of my non-participant helper colleagues on the International Musicians Seminar, so I was somewhat surprised to learn from the welcoming guide that the Trust only took the house over in 2000. I checked out with her – yes, the previous owner, painter Mary Schofield, née Lanyon, did show people round sometimes. My memory also told me that the house was bigger when I visited – the Wikipedia article says that it was once much larger, but does not say when it was reduced.

The guide explained that the house was only open for visits like this when it was not let out as a holiday ‘cottage’, details here. Going round the house I was reminded by its style how some of us had rented my local NT ‘cottage’ Lytes Cary, for music-making holidays in 2013 and 2014.

Linenfold panels

A kitchen fit for a 21st century letting

When I came to this final room, called the King’s Room I believe, I thought how wonderful it would be for music-making with friends. It displayed large paintings by West Country painter, Robert Organ, a friend of John Schofield, (Mary’s son presumably).

30 minutes and the house was thoroughly ‘done’. The exit from the one-way system was into the King’s Garden, where I sat for a few minutes, just enjoying the quiet, and contemplating what to do next.

I returned to my car, and asked my satnav what attractions there were in the vicinity. ‘Helston Railway ‘ it replied. Super! Take me there, James, I commanded. After a few minutes it led me to a firmly closed gateway to what appeared to be a private property. I could not get an internet signal to find out more about the attraction. OK, thought I, I’ll go to Helston itself (car and I were several miles away) and find out more.

With a signal in the Lidl customer car park on the outskirts of the town, I found out that Thursday was one of the three days each week the volunteer-run railway was, um, running, and that I had in fact been very near to it at those gates.

But they were miles back, through narrow country lanes, and time was rolling on, so no way was I returning. I decided instead to go to the coast, to Porthleven just 2 miles away. It was heaving with people, but fortunately I found somewhere to park right by the harbour, allowed just 30 minutes. Given the crowds, I reckoned that was all I’d want.

These photos reveal neither the great crowds of people nor the touristy souvenir and other shops trying to tempt them, apparently successfully. I walked firstly along the left hand quay.

The inner harbour

And the outer. I don’t think the paddle boarders are in any danger. Not from the cannon anyway.

Returning along that quay, I waited a while to clear this view, over my right shoulder, of as many people as possible.

‘Bal Maidens’ were those women and girls who broke up the metal ores, after their menfolk had mined them.

When I walked along the right-hand quay I was not tempted to take pictures, as the crowds were really heavily gathered there, around the many tourist shops and cafés. The road rose sharply, and I took this looking back.

Past the last houses there was path off to the left, and I found myself once more on the South-West Coast Path. Indeed, technically, I had been on it all the time.

Perhaps it was as well that there was nowhere to sit, because it was time to turn back and recover my car from its 30 minutes’ permitted time.

Female Common hawker, I think

My final picture was a zoom in on this building, which I have since discovered is the Bickford-Smith Institute, which opened in 1884 as a gift from a former MP.

I confess to having been 10 minutes late back to my car, but that is how long it took to be served with an ice cream. As can be seen from the photos, the sun was out when I arrived, but it had gone by then, and as I drove back to Penzance, there was sea mist rolling inland.

So many possibilities for Friday, my final full day: including a walk in the Lizard area; further exploration of the Tin (= north Penwith) Coast; the Penlee Art Gallery; or a drive well north to Lanhydrock (to follow up Captain Thomas Agar-Robartes MP, of the memorial hall in Luxulyan).

Travelling again – 10. Lindisfarne

Tags

Berwick-on-Tweed, Covid, fritillary, goosander, kestrel, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne Castle, Meadow pipit, Northern Marsh Orchid, pirri-pirri bur, poppy, scaup, small heath butterfly, stoat, swan, viper's bugloss

After a good night’s sleep, I looked out of the window of my Berwick-on-Tweed B’n’B’ bedroom, to see this.

My destination today, Thursday 17th June, was Shipley, in West Yorkshire, where I was to spend two nights with an old school friend (another Hazel) and her husband. My planned stop-off en route was just a few miles away, Holy Island, Lindisfarne. According to published information, the causeway to it would not be safe until 10.40, so I had plenty of time to kill. Having checked out after a good breakfast, I walked over to look at the sea.

Where there were literally hundreds of swans. No one picture could capture them all, and many were sailing (?) round to the other side of the harbour wall. I wondered whether this was in reaction to the tide falling.

I arrived at the Lindisfarne causeway around 10.30, expecting to have to wait, but that was not the case, and it was clear from the numbers in the car park that others knew that the published timings were set to cover only the extremes of safety.

But I stopped in a layby to take photos of the causeway first. I had never driven across a floodable causeway before, and was curious.

Once parked – quite a palaver in order to pay – I followed the crowds into the ‘village’ so that I could pick up the anti-clockwise circular path I intended to take. I’ll admit now that I did not have the plan with me and relied on just a brief look at this board. As a result I walked much further than I intended. But it was a lovely warm day – the only one in the whole of my time away – and a lovely setting, so apart from worries about time, that didn’t matter at all.

At the harbour, the ruined priory was to my right. Time did not allow further investigation.

The castle had been in view for most of the time, and indeed could be seen from all nearly over the island.

Not only did time mean I could not visit this National Trust property, but I should have had to book in advance because of Covid restrictions.

Some way further on, a kestrel was hovering overhead, and I followed its subsequent flight with my camera. I confess to being quite pleased with this picture.

I took a backward look at the castle.

Coming near to the shore, I wondered what these curious bumps were. A zoom on my camera revealed all.

A trio of goosanders

A spent a few minutes in the hide by this lake, but just before I got to it, …

I was thrilled not only to notice, but to get a photo of this stoat, as it stopped its scuttling for a second or two. (It could of course be a weasel; I did not see its definitive characteristic, the colour of the tip of its tail.)

Cygnets just a few days old

Scaup, I think, but I’m not sure

At this point I turned inland, but I went further than I intended, missing somehow where I should have turned south.

I should not have gone into these dunes.

Viper’s bugloss

I’m getting to recognise Northern Marsh Orchid – or am I?

Small heath

Starting to worry about time, I was feeling rather hot and beginning to feel hungry, and the castle and the priory seemed a long way off, but at least they were landmarks. I was definitely going south now.

I enjoyed, nevertheless, the lovely heathland flowers.

Presumably these are variety of tiny thyme, but they look more like a mass of seething mauve ants.

A fritillary of some sort

I saw so many meadow pipits

As I eventually emerged onto the road I saw both these lovely poppies and two people. “Is it far to the car park?” I asked, not really sure where I was. “Not very far at all’ they said – and I was very pleased that in fact it was barely 100 yards further on.

I can remember very little of the long drive to West Yorkshire. I just recall that I was very pleased to refresh myself before joining my hosts for an evening meal.

Travelling again – 7. Strathdearn and Insh Marshes

Tags

birch polypore fungus, butterwort, common rock rose, curlew, David Parkin, dung beetle, Findhorn Bridge, Findhorn Valley, Germander Speedwell, Grant Arms Hotel, greylag goose, heath spotted orchid, Insh Marshes, Nigel Marven, red deer, roe deer, RSPB, Ruthven Barracks, small heath butterfly, Strathdearn

I had been to Strathdearn on my visit to the area two years previous. I had been on my own and had had the good fortune to encounter there a couple of practised birders. On Monday 14th June, the location was one of the options on the programme, so I was able to benefit from the expertise of Richard, one of the Grant Arms Hotel‘s list of local guides. The meeting point was a car park ten miles along the Strathdearn/Findhorn Valley, where I took the obligatory photos looking ahead,

and behind.

We were some ten people from the hotel. Almost as soon as we were gathered, a herd of at least 20 red deer arrived. I was a little careless as I took the photo. They were at a considerable distance, but I should have held stiller. I include this merely for the record.

We also got a brief glimpse of an osprey, but not good enough for a photo.

It was blowing an absolute gale, a really cold one at that, and at times it was raining. Like several others I am afraid I just sat in my car for much of the time, and emerged only when I saw a brave few huddled over the roadside verge. They were examining two plants,

a heath spotted orchid, and this pretty, innocent looking thing, a butterwort.

Not so innocent. It is insectivorous, as a closer look at these sticky leaves shows.

After an hour or so alternately shivering outside and warming up inside my car, I gave up. I imagine the others were continuing with Richard to Burghead in the afternoon, but I had booked on to a different outing. I made my way back along the Findhorn Valley, admiring the views once more, and occasionally stopping to take photos when it was safe to stop in the passing places along the single-track road.

The art deco Findhorn Bridge at the beginning of the valley is interesting.

The inscription explains, ‘This bridge was built in 1926 to replace the bridge built by Thomas Telford in 1833’.

I had plenty of time before I was due at the meeting spot for the afternoon’s outing, so I stopped off at a hotel in the village of Carr Bridge for a coffee. I had to sign up for the Cairngorms own Track and Trace system and not to forget to sign out as I left.

Continuing on my way, I tried to capture the beauty of the distant mountains, some with occasional snow.

I was heading for the Insh Marshes RSPB reserve, and passed of over Loch Insh. It seems to be best known for its water sports activities, but I saw none of those, I’m pleased to say, and had the road bridge to myself when I took these, with not an activity in sight in either direction.

There’s a bit of a breeze, but it wasn’t cold here.

I was very early at the meeting place, ate my banana and wandered around a just a little.

I didn’t want to leave the beaten track, but just enjoyed the wildflowers on the verges, the sheep and the views. Not to mention the smidgeon of sun.

As I’ve said before, I do like a clump of flowering grasses.

It turned out that I was the only customer for this afternoon’s outing, so we were just three, Nigel Marven, Sue W of the hotel, and me. We went to a lookout. I was pleased to have expert company. I would have spotted nothing in these marshes without them.

But with their eyes, I was able to see at a great distance, (my camera is on maximum zoom here) a greylag goose and goslings (and more geese),

a curlew

and a roe deer.

We also saw a redshank, but my photo of that is so poor it does not even merit being included for the record. We came down from the viewpoint and started making our way to a ground level hide. Nigel went on ahead, and came back with…

… a dung beetle. No, until a few days earlier I did not know that the UK had dung beetles. Though ours do not gather and roll along those balls of faeces you see on the nature documentaries about Africa, and indeed which I have seen there, most recently in Morocco.

On the way, we saw, among other things, a small heath butterfly,

germander speedwell,

common rock roses, and

and birch polypore fungus.

Once installed in the hide, we were delighted to see very close a family of curlews. A parent,

a chick,

two parents,

and a parent and a chick.

In fact there were two very attentive parents and three growing chicks, but it was not possible to capture all five together. Sue was very pleased to see that there were indeed still three chicks, the same as the last time she had been there a couple of weeks back, and they were very adventurous now.

Over in the distance was a buck roe deer.

As I drove back to the hotel I was taken aback to see this. Only on my return did I learn that it was a significant historical monument, the Ruthven Barracks, built by George II after the 1715 Jacobite Rising. Had I known, I would have parked up and looked around.

After another delicious dinner at the hotel (here is the menu for that evening, which also included a choice of four tempting sweets),

visiting speaker David Parkin gave a very interesting talk, more so than might be suggested by the title, called ‘Birds and Climate Change’.

This was the end of the official ‘celebrity week’, but I had a further full day to explore the area.

Travelling again – 6. Mountain and Lochans

Tags

Cairn Gorm, chickweed-wintergreen, Grant Arms Hotel, Meadow pipit, mountain avens, pill box, ring ouzel, Uath Lochans, willow warbler, WWII defences

Settings for morning and afternoon outings on Sunday 13th June could not have been more different, and it will become clear which I preferred.

I had been dubious about taking on the morning trip on Cairn Gorm with Nigel, and Sue W (the overall co-ordinator of programmes at the Grant Arms Hotel), as the programme mentioned walking up the mountain for a while. I am just not good on steady rises, but I decided to see how the land lay, as it were.

I stopped at the Cairn Gorm Ski centre’s lower car park to take advantage of the ‘viewpoint’, but as viewpoints go, I was a little disappointed. No doubt much better covered in snow.

While the lower car park had been nearly empty, the upper one, with the main ski centre, had plenty of vehicles there, despite it not being the skiing season. I took this photo to show that there was still snow in one very sheltered spot.

We met up, about a dozen of us, and I enquired how strenuous the walk was going to be. About half a mile of gentle walking I was informed, so decided of course to join in.

Sadly, much evidence of skiing paraphernalia was in evidence, and this was the least beautiful of the wildlife outings I did the entire stay.

The venue had been chosen in the hope of seeing a Ring ouzel or two, and, I think, a wheatear – I can’t remember. The first was achieved within a couple of minutes of our setting off, and very close, to the astonishment of those who knew about these things. A Ring ouzel, a.k.a. ‘mountain blackbird’, like the blackbird is a member of the thrush family. It has a white crescent bib.

We watched it bob about, getting to closer to us, for some time. It can just be seen at 10 o’clock on the edge of the upper large rock below.

More chickweed-wintergreen, actually a member of the primrose family:

There was a wildlife flower garden right by, in which we spent some time, and I could have taken a few more pictures of labelled plants (to be honest, the garden needed some tending) but I chose just this one, mountain avens.

People were also very pleased to see and hear a Willow warbler.

We started our trek uphill, which was not at all strenuous of course at the pace we went.

It was impossible to avoid man-made mountain furniture.

Though by focussing, once we got to our highest spot, on a very distant Ring ouzel, I could pretend it wasn’t there.

A very distant Meadow pipit took advantage.

I was pretty well in the vanguard of those turning round in due course, the thought of a coffee in the centre being rather attractive.

But we waited for the others, even so.

And were rewarded with another Willow warbler. Or perhaps it was the same one, having moved tree.

The afternoon was another kettle of fish, the Uath Lochans, which I see from this information is pronounced ‘wah lochans’ and means the hawthorn small lochs. A very pleasant afternoon was spent on a short trail, even though we did not see the Crested tit hoped for by many.

We met a mother and two children who visited regularly with one purpose in mind:

I have no idea what kind of mushroom this is.

Within seconds of observing this:

we observed this:

There was a bit of a breeze all afternoon, but it was not cold. Well, by comparison with other days that is. A heatwave was going on elsewhere in the UK.

Because we were only six in total, including the two guides, Sue W asked if she might bring her dog, Loki, along. She was very well-behaved and had fun.

This is bog cotton, I think.

Thus ended a gentle afternoon’s entertainment, and the day was rounded off with a yet another good dinner.

Postscript. In two earlier posts, I featured WWII pillboxes. I have since discovered this BBC article from 2015 about the defences along the Moray Firth, and this longer booklet by the Forestry Commission Scotland which explains that they were built because of fears of a German invasion from Norway, which of course never came.

Travelling again – 5. River Spey estuary

Tags

common tern, Giant Hogweed, grey heron, house martin, Kingston, Maori holly, Moray Firth, olearia ilicifolia, osprey, pheasant, pillbox, Scottish Wildlife Trust, Spey Bay, Speyside Way

Saturday, 13th June was spent at the coast of the Moray Firth again, about fifteen miles to the east of where we had been the previous day. The hope was to see dolphins, especially in the afternoon. Spoiler alert – we did not. It was cold and windy for most of the morning but it warmed up and calmed down in the afternoon. Sue S, one of the Grant Arms Hotel’s local guides, was the leader of the people I was with for the day.

It took about an hour to get to Spey Bay, and I arrived a few minutes in advance of the meeting time, to find almost no-one else from the hotel there. It was at least 20 minutes before most people arrived – apparently there had been an accident on the road, causing a holdup, not long after I had passed through.

Just looking at this photo reminds me of how cold it was.

Waiting for others to arrive, I perused this board and thought how nice it would be to walk the Speyside Way – not that I can see myself ever doing it.

More evidence of how windy it was.

Looking landward, once we got going walking inland, with the river to our right:

On the water side, there was this growth on a distant islet. Our leader did not know what it was. It looks very exotic to me, and perhaps rather invasive. I could be quite wrong. Using my app, on this photo, suggests that it may be the first year of the biennial, Giant hogweed – if so it definitely is invasive, and very damaging to human health.

We were pleased to see an osprey, and I took rather a lot of photos, of which these are a fraction.

Not deliberately taken, but I was pleased to capture this including a Common tern.

It needed maximum zoom to see these swans

The osprey came back,

and I was just able to catch it in full dive for a fish in the sea. Earlier we had seen it successful, but I don’t know whether it was this time.

Further away there were dozens of terns.

And nearer, a grey heron.

Walking inland to get back to our cars eventually, we spotted a distant pheasant

and I hung around to catch this House martin leave its next (to which it had only just returned) to forage for its young. (‘Forage’ when it’s catching insects in the air?)

This was near the café. I have no idea what it is. A sundial of some sort? The sun was no-where to be seen to try it out.

Very, very distant gulls.

After a coffee to warm us up, we got in our cars to go to the other side of the estuary, at Kingston, and ate our picnic lunches, in my case just a banana, because with a full breakfast and three course dinner, that was all that was needed.

We were still in the Spey Bay reserve of the Scottish Wildlife Trust, here looking back to where we had been in the morning, the Moray Firth now to our left.

A pleasant spot to eat, and it’s warming up.

We wandered eastwards along the shore, looking out for dolphins, which had been seen there recently, but sadly there were none for us, nor anything else of particular wildlife interest. But it was warmer now, with just a light breeze, so it was pleasant just being there.

Another tumbling WWII pillbox.

People started peeling off, and in the end it was just Sue and I left to walk slowly back via heathland…

… to the car park, where we saw this cultivated bush, which our different apps identified as Maori holly, olearia ilicifolia

Travelling again – 4. Roseisle, Burghead and Lochindorb

Tags

Burghead, chickweed-wintergreen, David Lindo, dog whelk, fulmar, Grant Arms Hotel, Grantown-on-Spey, grey seal, house martin, lex ferenda, Lochindorb, Moray Firth, Nigel Marven, oystercatcher, ribwort plantain, Roseisle, sandpiper, yellowhammer

This stay at the Grant Arms Hotel in Grantown-on-Spey, and the visits either side of it, had been deferred from almost exactly the same dates in 2020, because, of course, of Covid-19. I had been intending to use the hotel’s full information resources, in the form of both human advice and enormous amounts of written material, to plan each day’s activity. But this time, the wildlife hotel had a ‘celebrity week’ on for four of my five full days based there, which was a real bonus, especially since these are usually a good deal more expensive, but this one was free. David Lindo, the ‘Urban Birder’ of BBC 1’s The One Show, was meant to be there, but he was stuck in Spain because of quarantine problems, so Nigel Marven, wildlife producer and presenter, who had already been ‘the celebrity’ a few weeks earlier, was asked to step in and replace David.

Each morning and afternoon, there was a choice of outings with Nigel or with other local experts, for which one booked in advance, numbers being limited on each. On a normal celebrity week, the group would be transported in a mini van, but at this period we had to make our own way to the meeting point, no sharing with anyone with whom one was not in a ‘bubble’ or household. On this, my first full day, Friday 11th June, I opted for Roseisle in the morning and Burghead in the afternoon, each with Nigel. The former is in Burghead Bay, on the southern side of the Moray Firth, about a hour from Grantown, and Burghead itself is on a point at the eastern end of its eponymous bay, about 35 miles to the east and a bit north of Inverness.

About twelve of us gathered here,

and walked a few yards to here.

(See the WW2 detritus)

We saw nothing of wildlife interest, and started walking gently along the coastline, alternating between forest and beach.

Three oystercatchers, five rocks, a beach and the sea

A House martin

Sometimes – often – I take pictures just because the image pleases me.

Nigel found a dog whelk egg case

This yellowhammer was a very long way off, and just wouldn’t move for us a to get better view.

Chickweed-wintergreen, though it is neither chickweed nor wintergreen. It is also known as Arctic starflower.

Ribwort plantain

We moved on to Burghead.

This was my first impression.

And this my second. It was not a particularly warm afternoon, and I felt cold just looking at these women.

Clearly still an active fishing village.

I was fascinated by this clearly Latin name. I’ve since found that it means ‘Law [yet] to be made [and should be]’. The boat carrying it was obviously not a new one, and I wondered what message the name was meant to be sending. Were the boat more recent, I would link its name with the Brexit deal.

A grey seal appeared.

Its surroundings reflecting a red van back up on the quayside.

We leant looking out to the other side of the Moray Firth for a while but saw nothing of interest. I was just enjoying myself being outdoors in clean air.

A short walk brought us to the other side of the point,

where a Fulmar was the only thing of wildlife interest that we saw. Not bad though.

Our leaders gave up, and added the bonus of a visit to Lochindorb, only a little way off the route back to the hotel. (Indeed, I had been here two years ago on my previous visit to Grantown. It rained then.) The waves show how windy it was. And it was very cold!

This sandpiper was hanging around.

And after about 20 minutes freezing in the cold, we realised why. Just a few feet in front of us was this chick. A quick photo, and off we scuttled.

It had been a strange day for me socially. After fifteen months of almost solitary confinement – I exaggerate a little but I’ve certainly not been used to doing things in largish groups – I was still very wary, and the whole experience seemed very weird. But a bizarre reminder of ‘normality’ at the same time.

After another excellent dinner – food at the Grant Arms Hotel is really good – I had a quiet evening in front of the telly in my room and looking at my photos. My more comforting, current, normal, normality.

Travelling again – 3. A long drive further north

Tags

Bridge of Cally, Forth Rail Bridge, Forth Road Bridge, Glen Shee, Grant Arms Hotel, Grantown-on-Spey, Langholm, Queensferry Bridge, Rock and Roll Politics, Steve Richards, Visit Scotland

The idea was that I would join Tom and Ally for a relaxed coffee before setting off for Grantown-on-Spey, Highland, but, especially since I had decided not to take the quickest route, I realised that I would only have time before my departure for a quick visit to their house, in order to have a good tour of Ally’s wonderful garden, and that earlier than planned.

Tom’s daily blog always includes pictures of the wonderful results of his wife’s efforts, so here are just a few impressions I took away on that day.

I set off from their house in Langholm at about 10.00 and arrived at the Grant Arms around 5.00. My aim was to minimise mileage, which as I looked at the map meant not taking the M74 but crossing the Southern Uplands pretty well due northwards, skirting round Edinburgh rather than Glasgow, then not taking the A9 round the Cairngorms westwards, but going almost straight through them south to north on the A93. So I programmed my satnav to do just that. When I told Tom that I was going (I see now, unnecessarily) via a place called Ettrick, he warned me that that meant lots of potholes. What I hadn’t realised is that the first part would mean several miles of single carriageway over fabulously beautiful moors.

It was a lovely drive, and I met scarcely a soul. Tom was right about the potholes, but fortunately nearly all of them had been filled in!

As I lost altitude, the mist cleared. At 11.14 a partial eclipse of the sun was at its peak, but honestly I wouldn’t have known.

And in due course, I could see that I would have to join a major road. View ahead not too bad though.

Once on such a road, it was much more difficult to stop to take photos, which was perhaps as well, or else I would have made slow progress.

It was tedious going round the various motorways to the west of Edinburgh. At one point I found myself alarmingly on one signposted for Glasgow, but trusty satnav knew wat it was doing, and to my enormous pleasure I found myself swept over the beautiful Queensferry Bridge, with the famous Forth Road and Rail Bridges to my right. The traffic went slowly enough for me to glance over to them from time to time. I would have loved to have taken pictures of and from the new bridge, but it was absolutely impossible to stop, for no doubt very good safety reasons. But here is a beautiful picture of all three, taken from the north side, courtesy of Visit Scotland.

Around lunchtime I stopped at the Kinross Services, then set off north again. I really had to stop myself from stopping too often. I had had neither talk nor musical distraction up to then, as I had just wanted to enjoy the scenery, but for the next 50 minutes or so, I did plug my favourite podcast into my ears, Steve Richards‘s latest ‘Rock and Roll Politics‘. That took me through Perth, and somewhat beyond, and I continued onwards undistracted through places which until then had been just names to me: Blairgowrie, Bridge of Cally, Spittal of Glenshee (not that I had ever heard of these last two before), Braemar, and eventually to Grantown-on-Spey.

The Bridge is the flat road curving right. It’s over the River Ardle.

The next three photos are of beautiful Glen Shee.

The road to myself, as it was most of the way!

Through the Grampians

I could not get a better view of this very steep bridge, as the wire fence was in the way. Protecting me from these Greylag geese!

These last three were all taken from the same spot, just a few miles from Grantown.

And after a good dinner in the restaurant, I went to a talk on the wildlife of Guatemala by the hotel’s celebrity speaker, about whom more next time.