Permitted walk 3

Tags

Brue, Buzzard, Clyce Hole, Clyse Hole, Environment Agency, Glastonbury, Glastonbury Abbey, Glastonbury Tor, Hungerford, Joseph of Arimathea, Kennet and Avon Canal, peacock butterfly, Polden Hills, Pomparles Bridge, Prunella Scales, rhyne, Roger Norrington, Street, Street Church, Strode Theatre, Timothy West, Wearyall Hill

My Sunday was nice.

First thing, the Microsoft system reminded me of a photo I had taken 15 years previously, to the day. I posted it on Facebook, with the following text.

“The Kennet and Avon Canal about a mile from Hungerford, where I had left my car. Living in France at the time, I was there to visit a bench I had sponsored in memory of my parents who had loved the canal, and had, little by little, walked it end to end. What I didn’t know as I took this photo was that the couple in the left hand boat were Timothy West and Prunella Scales, and that the former had just jiggered his ankle slipping down a damp grassy bank. Five minutes later I was steering the right hand boat, the owners of which were helping the Wests run their own boat.

“Once we had all arrived at Hungerford, the couple, Prunella having secured the boat, transferred to my car, and I drove them to the Royal Berkshire Hospital in Reading. They were much more interested in talking about me than themselves, and it emerged that the night before they had dined with the Norringtons. Roger had been a major influence on me musically decades earlier.” And here’s the photo:

I went out for a much longer walk than previously in the afternoon. I had realised that a busy road near me, which could get me to the River Brue, should not be so busy in the present circumstances. I often forget to put a watch on, but didn’t this time – and found that it was still showing Greenwich Mean Time, three weeks on from the clocks going forward.

I live on a modern estate on the edge of the Somerset Levels. Looking right as I walked out of it, along a cul-de-sac Wearyall Hill is to be seen. Traditionally Joseph of Arimathea planted his staff here.

The River Brue used to run where the road serving the estate now runs. But over the centuries, the watercourse has been much modified, through drainage of marshy ground and pragmatic straightening. Near me, the river is almost entirely canalised, work done in the thirteenth century by the monks of Glastonbury Abbey. Here I have crossed the road, and into a field, and looking back I don’t think I had ever previously noticed just how splendid some of the trees now lining the road are.

I’m shortly at the ‘busy’ road which will take me down to the Brue, and yet again I’m envious of those living in houses up on Wearyall Hill for the lovely view they have across the Moors.

I turn left, and see what they can see, the Polden Hills in the distance.

The busy road dips to begin with, and sometimes in winter it is flooded, so closed. It is only at about 7 metres above sea level here, although some 20 miles or so inland, and if rainwater cannot drain towards the sea, because the land is so waterlogged and the many water courses too full, it just stays here. (By the way, while I had thought the road would be empty of traffic, and indeed it is empty in his photo, it was in fact quite busy, though not to the extent that I felt unsafe.)

These, to my left, on a field which is frequently flooded, reminded me of the 17th century (or earlier) song, ‘The Three Ravens’, though these are crows.

Ahead, the embankment which contains the canalised Brue,

and the road has to rise steeply at Cow Bridge.

I go over Cow Bridge and turn right, off the road. Others had had the same idea, but it was just about possible to keep the appropriate distances.

To my left a rhyne (pronounced ‘reen’), with the which the landscape is riddled for miles around. Landowners are obliged to keep them maintained so that water may flow freely.

Cows to my right,

and sheep to my left.

I arrive at Clyce Hole measuring station,

or is it Clyse Hole? The Environment Agency doesn’t seem to know, though the OS map and the EA flood warning website seem to favour the latter. The water level is low, so the weir is impressive.

It is a popular wild swimming spot, and there were several families there, swimming, paddling, sunbathing…

After this point, I met no-one else on this side of the river, though there were people – and dogs! – out for their walks on the other side, (though not in this picture).

Peacock butterfly

Ah. I hadn’t thought about stiles, and touching them. Hm. Should have brought my surgical spirit spray, (I have no hand gel) especially as I keep lifting my camera to my face. Oh well, next time. But it’s nice to have such easy stiles! There were several of them from now on. And from now on the river seems to be following its original contours.

A most unprepossessing bridge, apart for its name, Pomparles (pronounced PompArlez) Bridge. Until pretty recently it was called Pons Perilis, the dangerous bridge. It carries the main road, causeway, from Glastonbury to Street, and indeed the bridge and the river mark the boundary between the two.

And frankly, that road seemed to me to be almost as busy as ever. Fortunately, I was able to remain down in the field instead of walking along its wide pavement,

until I came to a rhyne.

There was escape to my right, and I had to walk along that pavement for 100 metres or so.

From there, on the outskirts of the urban part of Street, I saw its parish church across the field.

Having turned left,

it would have been very unsociable of me not to call a bridge friend on the phone and invite him to come to the window and wave. But I found I hadn’t got his number on me, so I did something I had never done before in my life – I rang a doorbell and ran away! But only ten yards. B. emerged from his back garden and we chatted for a few minutes. I left with his permission to publish his photo and a request to pass on to other bridge contacts to keep safe.

I diverted from the logical route for a couple of minutes to take photos of the 14th century church,

and the much missed Strode Theatre. It is a fully equipped theatre, (I went on a back-stage tour last year and was very impressed) which must be unique. With the Clark (shoes) family behind it, it was constructed in 1963 to serve not only as a theatre, but as as the local school hall and a not-for-profit cinema. It has been much developed since. (I say ‘much missed’ only because I had three ticket for films for 26th March to 30th April which have fallen the way of all gatherings in recent weeks. Like everyone, I look forward enormously to such places re-opening.)

The joint car park. I’ve never seen it not only empty but shut before.

Housing now, I’m hoping a later edit will state the purpose of this clearly once industrial building. Later: It was the Avalon Leatherboard Company in Street. The company, which was associated with Clarks, made board for use in insoles. Stephen Clark, having made his way up the company, became its manager in 1941 and turned it fortunes around to profitability. (Thanks for info to Liz Leyshon, longtime, now ‘retired’, manager of Strode Theatre.)

I wondered what that grey rock thing was.

It ruined out to be a bull. It moved!

I could have crossed another field and returned back along the Brue, but I chose to take a road which, in normal times I drive along, there and back, about three times a week, but which I had never walked. This for two reasons: to enjoy the avenue of trees, which remind me of similar in France, and on the outside chance I might see a pair of swans.

Later: According to the obituary his sister wrote in 2011, the previously mentioned Stephen Clark ‘said his proudest achievement was planting an avenue of poplars along the road leading from the mill to Glastonbury.’

Buzzard

Bluebells (Spanish of that ilk)

Not swans but better than nothing

The road had been nicely empty, with just the occasional cyclist or two, but I was beginning to think that I was not going to see any swans, when:

Two metres from the road, on what appeared to be a nest. I quickly moved to the other side of the road. She clearly is not fazed by traffic – and at times it can go very fast along here – but she showed just a slight alarm at me. Not for long though, as she settled down again.

Just how beautiful is that?

Looking back. Later: someone has recently seen the pair together at the nest. I had looked around for the mate, but could not see him.

Left again on to Cow Bridge Road, and the sight of Glastonbury Tor accompanies me home. My house is somewhere in there.

I found it striking that there there had been so much foliage on the trees compared with those in my first picture 15 years ago, taken at the same latitude, on the same day of the year.

When I got in, I baked a cake. What’s so strange about that? It’s just that I never bake, the flour was ‘best before’ June 2017, the bicarbonate of soda ‘best before’ 1998 (I bought in it the UK before I moved to France in 1995, and brought it back from there in 2011), and the vanilla essence didn’t even have a B B date on it, as it was older than that system! The cake was/is delicious.

Permitted walk 2

Tags

ash, Balckthorn, Carrion crow, chaffinch, ivy, Lamium, Millfield Prep, Somerset

The next time I did my permitted walk, using the same route as previously, I was challenged by Susanpoozan’s comment on my last post to look for other views. Not difficult in fact – I just had to look to my left on the homeward walk, rather than to the right! Nothing spectacular like Glastonbury Tor to see, but some very agreeable sights, nevertheless.

First, a look along the busy road marking the turn-round point, in the other direction.

The footbridge is a private one between the main grounds (right) and some of the residential accommodation (left) of:

That is one open day that will not be happening.

On my way back, the first thing of note that I saw on my left were these splendid gates, the main vehicle entrance to the school.

They were firmly shut, as sadly were these:

As I passed, I turned my camera right, to see what those ‘lonely’ horses were up to. I could only see three of them.

Opposite, to my left was the way in to the equestrian centre. I must see if I can explore it one of these days…

This time though, I went straight on:

Chaffinch. I can be sure that’s what it is as I saw its back as it flew to this point.

In the distance, the Polden Hills, the lowest of the five elevations in Somerset

A tangle of ivy and ash

I could claim to have worked hard to include a fly in this picture of the identifying ash twigs, but it wouldn’t be true.

Lamium (maculatum?)

A hedge hacked in the winter starts to sprout and become handsome again.

Carrion crow

This is Somerset, so we have rather a lot of apple orchards.

Lesser celandine – of which I have thousands in my garden as well.

This stile, leading to a path between a private property and a field, could offer a variant on my walk, but it’s complicated – see two pictures on.

I turned my eyes and camera rightwards again, to see how the sheep were doing.

This lane, to my left as I walk home, goes down to a small river (in fact a canal, cut in the 13th century). It would make variant on the walk, and I have done it in the past, but the caravans, both near and over to the far left (directly beside the river), are lived in by ‘travellers’, and I am a little nervous of going along there on my own.

Not everyone likes dandelions, but I do.

White dead-nettle – lamium album

And five minutes from home, a splendid blackthorn tree

Detail, as the painting people say.

Morocco 7 (finale)

Tags

Atlas Kasbah, Barbary Ground Squirrel, Barbary nut, Black Wheatear, Blue rock thrush, Blue-eyed Pincertailail, Cascades of Imouzzer, Common Bulbul, Coronavirus, Covid-19, High Atlas, Moorish Terrapin, Moroccan Day Gecko, Morocco, Paradise Valley, Polygala balensae, Red-veined darter, White Hoop Petticoat Daffodil

Having visited the ancient Anti-Atlas on Thursday, on Friday 13th March, our last complete day, we were off to the High Atlas mountains. These were much younger – formed by uplift over only the last 60 to 10 million years! We only went into the ‘foothills’, but they seemed pretty high to me, and they were certainly beautiful.

But first we stood in the garden of our temporary home, as some had heard the Black-crowned Tchagra. Sadly, we didn’t manage to see it at this time, but I took a picture of a Common Bulbul, (they’re everywhere), possibly the one which sang outside our windows every morning.

Some of the food serves at the Atlas Kasbah is grown in its garden.

Our first stop revealed some extraordinary folding, caused, as for the Anti-Atlas, by the crashing of the African plate into the Eurasian one. (That is still going on – the Alps are still getting higher. My 2007 OU geology course taught me that the Mediterranean will in due course disappear!)

Another dried-up river bed to the left

The next stop involved a short upward stroll.

The next, a longer stroll along a nearly dried-up river bed, in Paradise Valley. First a few steps downstream.

Moorish Terrapins

Red-veined Darter

Blue-eyed Pincertail

And then upstream, the flow having transferred to the other side of the road by going under it, and then apparently either diverting under the geological feature or just drying up, the rest of our walk being alongside a dry river bed.

Anticline

Blue Rock Thrush (Collins Bird Guide: ‘blue colour difficult to make out at long range, mostly looks all dark.’ Indeed!)

A Barbary Ground Squirrel, a long way from the ground, on the wall opposite

Black Wheatear

A geological fault

Black Wheatear

Mohamed waiting for us

There followed a long, climbing, drive to our lunch place.

We ate our packed lunch in the Café Restaurant Le Miel. (Again they were happy for us just to buy drinks.) We were meant to wonder at the Cascades of Imouzzer. But they have not had the slight trickle of water for at least two years. (Here is a 3-minute video I found on YouTube about the Imouzzer region, made in 2015 when there were still trickles of water over the Cascades.)

Having eaten, we were driven up to much nearer them, for botanical reasons, but it gave a chance to look at the rocks more closely. From this angle, to me they look like a bearded old man, sitting with his wide sleeves dangling, his hands resting on his knees.

Looking down at the village where we had eaten

Two flowers were particularly sought.

Narcissus cantabricus, the White Hoop Petticoat Daffodil. It’s tiny. I loved the way the sun was shining through its petals.

Polygala balensae, a milkwort – very pretty flowers and very fierce thorns

We moved on to this rather unprepossessing spot, at 1300 metres altitude, (whose whereabouts we were told never to reveal, even were we able, because hordes of twitchers would drive away the bird we had come to see).

Which we did, at a great distance:

Tristram’s Warbler, normally only found at higher altitudes

Finally we moved to perhaps the most beautiful spot of the whole week (though that’s a difficult pick), high, high, high, at 1550 metres, in the (still only) foothills of the High Atlas. First our attention was drawn to several examples of the Moroccan Day Gecko.

And in due course to this dwarf iris, the Barbary nut (the tubers used to be eaten).

How’s this for a rockery garden? All natural of course.

And for the rest of the time, at this our last stop, we just enjoyed the views, and a slight, cooling breeze.

On the next day, Saturday, 14th March, we did not need to leave the Atlas Kasbah for Agadir Airport until late afternoon. Half the group had a cooking lesson in the kitchens, and the others went out with Philip and James, to review the first morning’s sightings, and to see some more. (They saw a Black-crowned Tchagra at last.) I did neither. I had not yet managed even to read the hotel’s own information folder, and really wished to do so, nor had I had a chance to wet the new swimsuit I had bought a few days before coming away. So, having achieved the former, I was then obliged to spend time here.

With its views outwards

and inwards.

For a long while I had the whole pool to myself. (In the event the water was too cold for me actually to wet the swimsuit.)

We ate the tagine our colleagues had prepared in the morning at lunchtime, and the afternoon whiled itself away. In due course we said a reluctant goodbye to those who had been looking after us so well, the more so for knowing what we were going back to.

I had a window seat again on the plane.

I feel so blessed that I was able to take that holiday, for which I had been longing for months, before the clampdown enforced on us by this horrible virus, Covid-19. As I said in the first post in this series, Morocco had already banned flights to and from 25 countries the day before we left. (We ten travellers knew about France, but not about how many countries the ban extended to. Our leaders did. Philip was looking at his screen constantly for news.) Two days after our return they added the UK and others to the list.

Now the Atlas Kasbah is shut down, like pretty well the whole world. Here on my own, thankfully with the company of my felines, I’m grateful for the telephone, and all the media, which allow me to be in touch with friends and family and the wider world. I have this extraordinary sensation of fellow-suffering, not just with those I know, in the UK, family on both coasts of the US, friends in France, the company both employed and holidaying which I so enjoyed in Morocco, but also with every single one of the world’s 7,800,000,000 people. Every single one of us is having to contend with the same fears and concerns and ignorance about the future, most of our fellows without even the resources that we have in the first world. I’m going to avoid a cliché, but this is something we do all, every single one of us, face together.

Morocco 6

Tags

Agadir, Ait Baha, Anti-Atlas, Appalachians, Atlas Kasbah, Barbary Ground Squirrel, European bee-eater, Laatik, Linaria ventricosa, Morocco, Spur-thighed Tortoise

It was a gentler day on Thursday 12th March. ‘Oh good’, thought I as I started this post, ‘Fewer photos to share.’ Fail!

It was back in the minibus today, as we headed off, making several stops as ever, to the Anti-Atlas mountains. An odd name, given by a couple of British geologists in the 19th century. The rock formation is extremely old, dating back 300 million years, linked with the Appalachian Mountains, but coming to the surface only some 80 million years ago as a result of the collisions of the African and European plates, and heavily weathered since.

Throughout the week, we saw far more than I was able to capture on ‘film’, but this time at our first stop I took:

two European Bee-eaters,

a Margarita’s Fringe-toed Lizard,

and a tortoise in a (prickly) pear hedge!

Our next stop was for a drink at Ait Baha. ‘Ait’ means ‘tribe’ or ‘family’ in Berber, and appears in many town names. This one is best-known for shoe-making, and we wondered round a co-operative, some people buying. There was no aggressive hard-selling. I think this actually made one all the more likely to buy. The guilt I felt for not doing so would have been absent had I been pestered. (I would have bought if any of these lovely slippers and shoes had had supportive insteps.)

Moving on we saw, among other things:

a Bibron’s Agama, flattened to take full advantage of the sun’s rays.

another one, which has apparently lost its tail and regrown a stump – the vertebrae do not regrow –

and yet another, assuming a proper, dignified position.

A Spur-thighed tortoise, in full view this time.

Linaria ventricosa (a toadflax), manly confined to the Anti-Atlas

Sad-looking donkey

A shy Barbary Ground Squirrel

A bolder one, not easy to see against its background

I just enjoyed the gnarled roots and trunk of this tree, difficult to see where one ends and the other begins.

We were heading for the hilltop village of Laatik, and its agadir. An agadir was originally a defensive grain store, but expanded its purpose to the storage of anything precious owned by villagers. Each family had one large cupboard/room in the agadir. This building was at least 600 years old, but there was apparently a more famous and larger one elsewhere dating back some 900 years. We were greeted by its guardian, though Mohamed gave most of the explanations.

This agadir was two storeys high, but some were higher.

The front entrance

Looking out at the modern village from the outer yard

Although not intended to be residential, at times of inter-tribal warfare and siege people would shelter inside the agadir. This was the kitchen

Inner door, leading to a corridor,

with seating and artefacts,

including one of those beehives

The guardian showed us…

… the workings of a well, which captured water off the mountains, for use in emergency.

A ‘street’ of storerooms, looking one way,

and the other. The protruding stones are steps to those in the upper storey.

A glimpse into one of the storerooms

The lookout tower still has internal steps, as proved recently by some small boys who made it to the top

It was intended that we should eat our packed lunch in that corridor, but in the event we had to beat a hasty retreat. Locals objected to our presence, for fear that we were bringing the coronavirus with us. At that point (I was keeping a very close eye on the national and international situation) only 2 cases had been declared in Morocco, each of those Moroccan residents in northern Italy, who had returned to Morocco for a visit. I don’t blame those local people in the least for wanting to be rid of us.

Our leaders found a lovely spot a few kilometres away on the way down for us to eat, including even a natural bench for those of us who couldn’t crouch on the ground. I was happy to be in the open air and not in that corridor.

This was directly ahead of me as I ate, and I was struck by the contrasting textures of rocks, trunk, green plant, and exposed roots.

The view if I swivelled slightly right.

We were then allowed 30 minutes to wander around at our will. I concentrated mainly on (those cactuses that weren’t cactuses, but) euphorbias. Hélène had told us the previous day that their local name was ‘Mother-in-law’s seat’. Some ‘humour’ is universal.

There were some beautiful trees as well.

Once we had moved on in the minibus, at last I managed to get a decent picture of a Barbary Ground Squirrel.

The sky had started clouding over as we had left the agadir, and we actually caught a glimpse of a shower in the distance at one point in the afternoon. This was the only hint of precipitation we saw all week.

More goats in trees. These are just a few of tte large herd which went by us, with goatherd.

Back to Ait Baha for afternoon refreshment. The kestrel was still there, but now on the windowsill.

The traditional method of building houses in Morocco is to plan for a next storey, should it prove desirable and affordable. So these houses are only unfinished in the sense that they may or may not grow in the future. Meanwhile, the floor of that next storey, with window spaces all ready, serves as a roof terrace.

These very modern apartment blocks on the outskirts of ever-expanding Agadir make no such provision.

Once we were back on the main dual carriageway towards Agadir, I was thrilled to see a woman in colourful dress driving a large colourful tractor, coming in the opposite direction. Unfortunately I had no time to capture the image.

Always good when our temporary hilltop home comes into sight.

Entertainment during dinner at the Atlas Kasbah

Morocco 5

Tags

Addax, Atlas Kasbah, black-winged stilt, Dorcas Gazelle, Golden Fringe-toed Lizard, Great Cormorant, greater flamingo, hoopoe, linnet, Little egret, Moroccan Magpie, Morocco, North African Ostrich, osprey, Red-necked Ostrich, Ruddy Shelduck, Sanderling, Scimitar oryx, Souss Massa National Park, White stork, Woodchat Shrike

Wednesday 11th March was mammals day. For that we visited the Souss Massa National Park, and learnt something of its conservation work. We went in four 4x4s, so that each of us had a window. They put me in the front seat of the vehicle driven by Mohammed in case I needed to communicate urgently with the driver. (I didn’t.)

The Park was set up in 1991 in recognition of the area’s importance as a breeding ground for certain birds, including the Northern Bald Ibis. To quote Wikipedia, “Souss-Massa also holds captive-breeding programmes for four threatened North African ungulates: scimitar oryx, addax, dama gazelle [not on our target list] and dorcas gazelle, … The reintroduction of the North African ostrich – which is extinct north of the Sahara – is also underway.” With the exception of the Dama Gazelle, we saw all of these. The Rokein Special Reserve, where goats are kept out and as a result the vegetation is more lush, is where the conservation work is done and where we saw the mammals (and the ostriches).

Addax

These Addax females were being kept apart, for breeding reasons I think.

The North African, also know as Red-necked, Ostriches gather together here as they are fed supplementary rations at this spot. This sub-species is the largest living bird.

Isn’t there something about ostriches burying their heads in the sand?

Black-winged Stilt

A load of linnets

Dorcas Gazelle

Woodchat Shrike

(Through the windscreen) Oh! Ahead of us on our road (we were the first of the four vehicles). How sweet is that?

They moved out of our way, in a very leisurely fashion.

Ostrich photo overload? I think not. How often do you see a mummy and a daddy ostrich, with 14 babies?! Wow!

There’s the head of a hoopoe in there – ginger splash, middle slightly left.

Scimitar-horned Oryx. Thanks to conservation work, it has been possible for this recently to be upgraded from Critically Endangered to ‘merely’ Endangered.

Dorcas Gazelle

Cream-coloured Coursers, about the size of a pigeon

(Through the Windscreen.) Bonelli’s Eagle, wingspan around 5 feet, 150 cm, which flew off…

… into a tree…

… to be mobbed by …

… a kestrel.

Golden Fringe-toed Lizard

We had our packed lunch standing in a shelter, and among other things, watched a sea mist…

… rolling in.

but, although we drove through a little mist as we left, it came to nothing. The drought continues.

A final sighting of Dorcas Gazelle as we drove towards the exit.

And a decent viewing of a Hoopoe

After a stop at a local pottery and café, where I had a much-craved ice-cream, we were driven to the mouth of the Oued (River) Souss, and stood on a bridge to see what we could see, hoping for flamingos.

Lots of gulls. We saw that day Black-headed, Mediterranean, Yellow-Legged and Lesser Black-backed. Two days earlier we had seen Slender-billed.

White Storks

Great Cormorants stay put.

And here are some Greater Flamingos

Ruddy Shelduck

For our final stop, we were driven over the bridge, and further downstream to a rather unprepossessing spot, where we could see a two-poled pylon in the far distance.

This had a smudge at the left hand end of the bar at the top.

Which we were reliably informed was an osprey.

Immediately to our left was a telegraph pole.

With two Moroccan magpies, their blue flashes visible.

When one flew off, the other obligingly turned profile for us.

A final look round revealed a Little Egret …

and some Sanderlings. Or so Mohammed said, and he was very good at his wildlife.

Before dinner, it was Hélène’s turn to invite us into the salon of the Atlas Kasbah. She opened her big wooden box, which like all Moroccan brides (she is French) she received on her wedding day. It was full of traditional health and beauty items, and she explained the purpose of every one. A question at the end (from me) about covering her hair at the school where she teaches (she doesn’t, though the fact that it is a French school may have something to do with it?) led to an immense amount of information about the role of women in Morocco – considerably more liberated than in many other Moslem countries.

Morocco 4

Tags

Argana Tiout, Berber Toad, Moorish Terrapin, Morocco, North African Water Frog, Oasis of Tioute, Ocellated Skink, Palais Salam, souk, Spur-thighed Tortoise, Taroudant, Tiout, White stork

Today was to be half urban, with a morning visit to ‘mini Marrakech’, a town full of character called Taroudant. We were briefed that its souk was a serious market for local people, where tourists just got in the way, and we should not try to haggle. The stated price was the price to be paid.

But I wasn’t sure I should be joining the party. I, who never have tummy upsets, spent half the night…. well, let’s just say I didn’t get much sleep. (I think I had just eaten far more than my system was used to processing the day before.) Five minutes before we were due to leave, having dared have, and feeling like having, no breakfast, I decided to take the risk, with fingers very crossed. I just about got away with it…

On our way to Taroudant, we passed many polytunnels, growing oranges, bananas and salad. Once there, it was our driver and sometime guide, Mohamed, who showed us round the first attraction, the ‘Hotel of Peace’, once the palace of the local rulers, but now a hotel, which has clearly seen better days.

Don was by far the fittest among us, but clearly felt the need of a rest!

The salon, which we now knew was where guests were received. Ours seemed more comfortable and welcoming!

Spot the terrapin.

A Moorish Terrapin

A view of the palace/hotel from the outside

Philip encouraging us to follow him along the boulevard to go through the arch and up on to the walls.

Which we did, and I took this photo of White Storks some way away. But I felt distinctly uneasy. The walls were about 2 metres wide, with no protective railing on the interior edge! I was pleased that we did not walk along them, but came down quite shortly.

Mohammed then drove and led us to and through the souk, where we had strict instructions to be able to see one of our three leaders at all times. A wonderful array of foodstuffs. Some bought, I didn’t.

At one point I felt faint, I hadn’t slept much, I hadn’t eaten anything, and it was very, very, hot. I slid down to sit on a very low step, cushioned by some items that looked like boiler covers, but turned out to be donkey saddles for sale!

We left Taroudant, and arrived for a late packed lunch at a restaurant (where they were happy that we just bought drinks) at the Oasis of Tioute. They certainly know how to do cool in the midday sun.

Pinioned White Stork

Berber Toad

We went for a short walk, (well, they tell me it was short) meeting Mohamed and the minibus at the other end.

Ocellated Skink, its limbs, especially the front ones, evolved to near uselessness.

North African Water Frog

Spur-thighed Tortoise

The stunning but disused kasbah of Touite

Dramatic geology

More goats in trees. And in the distance to the right, a donkey ‘wearing’ one of those donkey saddles.

We made a short stop to have a guided tour round the Argana Tiout (I can find no website) women’s co-operative, where they made and sold argan oil products. I stayed in the minibus, and just popped into the shop to buy some of their oil – cooking, not cosmetic version, which I was told would substitute nicely for the olive oil I put into my (breadmaker) bread. We shall see!

I skipped dinner.

Morocco 3

Tags

Agadir, Atlas Kasbah, Cap Rhir, Common Bulbul, dung beetle, Euphorbia, grey heron, Little egret, Marsh Harrier, Moorish Gecko, Moroccan Lizard-toed Gecko, Moroccan tea, Morocco, Northern Bald Ibis, Oued Tamri, Raven, Tamri, Thekla Lark, Yellow Scorpion

On the Monday (9th March), we took our first trip out in the minibus, with several stops along the Atlantic coast, to the north of Agadir. The first stop was at Cap Rhir, mainly to look at vegetation, though we saw fauna of interest too…

Yellow Scorpion. It’s only 2 inches, excluding tail, but it has a nasty venom.

Two Moorish Geckos taking advantage of the pipe’s warmth

I do so love dung beetles

Margarita’s Fringe-toed lizard, about six inches long, including tail

I got the giggles at this. Philip, Don and Alison take photos of the lizard, a young shepherd boy on his donkey looks on in puzzlement, and his sheep follow.

And the ovines catch us up.

Believe it or not, these two plants are both from the euphorbia family. The cactusy-looking one is not a cactus!

Euphoria officinorum and E. regis-jubae

Solanum intricatum?

Thekla Lark

Common Bulbul

This is a Moroccan Lizard-toed Gecko, or three-quarters of one. Philip had picked it up, but it escaped, leaving its tail behind to wriggle and distract the predator.

Philip was mortified, saying that this had never happened to him before.

We moved further north to Oued (River) Tamri, in search of the endangered Northern Bald Ibis. The total world population (in the wild) is only about 800, and near here was a known breeding site. When we stopped in the car park, alongside the vehicles of some surfers, we knew we would see some of the birds, as one of our number had spotted some high on a cliff to our right.

They flew around a bit.

A Marsh Harrier came to join the party. Well, not really, but it was good to see it.

After eating a very copious packed lunch provided by the lodge, we walked further along the dunes to the mouth of the oued.

The ibis had got there first

Very far away, a raven and – not one of those beehives.

Even further away, a Grey Heron and a Little Egret, plus one of the seven feral dogs who had tried to share our lunches with us

Excellent surfing waves, Audouins’ Gulls, and picture irretrievably distorted by me – it wasn’t that dark!

?Frankia thymifolia?

Limonium

We enjoyed walking along the sand, with its fresh breeze and wonderful surfing waves, and were reluctant to leave, but our next stop was explicitly for us to enjoy even more some sea action.

Someone took a photo of me in rapt contemplation

Our route back to the hotel took us into Agadir, and we climbed and climbed, to our puzzlement. It turned out we were being taken to the Kasbah (fort), which was very severely damaged in the 1960 earthquake, especially inside.

The camels and ponies were for tourist rides

The views explained the setting.

Before our evening meal, we were invited into the salon of the Atlas Kasbah, which in a Moroccan home is a room near the entrance used only for entertaining guests. According to Moroccan tradition these can (and do) turn up completely unannounced, have the right to stay for up to three days, and it would be the height of bad manners to ask how long they were intending to stay. They sleep in the salon.

We stayed for about an hour, to be introduced by Hassan to the very elaborate traditional tea making ceremony. Ibrahim – or Hussein, I never did manage to tell them apart, as both were so charmingly smiley – assisted.

Hassan dressed up for us. Normally he was in western dress.

Morocco 2

Tags

Agadir, Atlas Kasbah, Black Wheatear, Castor oil plant, ecolodge, greenfinch, Little Owl, Moroccan Magpie, Morocco, North African Chaffinch, Oleander, Peruvian cactus, Sardinian warbler

With some time to spare before lunch on the Sunday, I wandered round the award-winning Atlas Kasbah ecolodge. This was the brainchild and baby of Hassan and Hélène, our lovely hosts, and was opened in 2009. Here is a little more of its story.

From my door

Looking down into the internal courtyard

My room, called ‘Tigrite’, ‘Little star’ in Berber.

View from my room

One storey up was the roof terrace. Three of my companion couples had rooms in the corner towers.

Going down to the ground floor I took a peek unto the salon (French is the alternative language to Berber in Morocco), where if you enter you must remove your shoes.

Wandering outside, I found this lady, who had multiple roles in the establishment, making bread – heavenly to eat – in the traditional oven.

She turned it over and around every few seconds with her stick. It took a couple of minutes to cook one flat bread.

My last discovery was another roof terrace, this time covered, where I was told we would be having lunch shortly. Food for the week was Moroccan, copious and, I suspect, a little westernised. For instance, every time we came back from an excursion, we were greeted with a small glass of herb tea, only slightly sweetened, whereas the locals would have taken five times the amount of sugar.

After lunch we were to go for another walk, and I took this photo from the terrace in our intended direction, towards and into the older parts of the local village.

We set off. I just could not stop taking photos of our so photogenic home.

North African Chaffinch

Approaching the village, Tighanimine el Baz

Moussier’s Redstart (male)

Sardinian Warbler (male), photobombed by some other flying creature

Moroccan magpie. Note flash of blue behind its eye. It’s actually bare blue skin.

Black Wheatear

Little Owl

Dried-up river bed, of which we saw more during the week than those running with water.

Why these ants are moving larvae around on the oleander, I have no idea.

Dried and drying prickly pears, mainly

A cactus from Peru, not native to Morocco, Austrocylindropuntia subulata.

Turning back, impossible not to notice and take a photo of the lodge in the distance.

Castor oil plant and oleander

Castor oil plant flowers, and visitor

Sadly, there was a lot of rubbish around. Someone remarked that we used to live like that a couple of centuries ago. A couple of centuries ago we didn’t have plastic.

As I said to Philip, as we sat on a low wall waiting for the others to catch us up at one point, I felt it was good to start our week getting our local bearings, and not being isolated from the realities of Moroccan rural poverty. (I also felt it was good to get it over at the beginning of the week.)

Greenfinch. I snapped it because I never see them in my garden these days. They used to be so common.

Morocco 1

Tags

Agadir, Amata Mogadorensis, Argan oil, Atlas Kasbah, BBC Wildlife, Berber, James Lowen, Morocco, Philip Precey, Thekla Lark, Volutaria Lippi, Western Sahara, Wildlife Travel, Woodchat Shrike

Until a few weeks ago, ‘Agadir’ meant to me ‘just’ that awful 1960 earthquake which killed some 12,000 to 15,000 people. Other than that it was on the coast somewhere in North Africa, I couldn’t have told you its location. Now I know it is to the southern end of the UN-recognised part of Morocco, which itself is on the left-hand – as you’re looking at it – ‘shoulder’ of the continent. (I mention the UN because Morocco itself lays claim to the next country south, known to the rest of the world as Western Sahara.)

The improvement in my geography has come about because three days ago I returned from a very enjoyable week’s holiday in that Maghreb country, organised by Wildlife Travel for BBC Wildlife readers, and we stayed in a beautiful ecolodge half an hour’s drive from Agadir airport. We got back just in time. Last night, Monday 16th March, at midnight, the Moroccan government banned travel to and from the UK, having done the same to 25 other countries the day before we left.

It was a nearly four-hour afternoon flight from Gatwick to Agadir. With a window seat I had splendid views of:

the Spanish Pyrenees (I presume),

the High Atlas (I presume) in Morocco,

polytunnels (growing our tomatoes?) as we were descending,

and general landscape as we came in to land. Almost certainly these are argan trees, (more of those later)

It was late by the time we arrived at our ecolodge, but a welcoming meal awaited us.

Breakfast was always at 8.00, and we were out at 9.00. Here we are on the Sunday morning, 8th March, at our introductory briefing from Philip Precey, from Wildlife Travel, as big James Lowen, BBC Wildlife contributor, looks on reflectfully. Apart from these two leaders, there were ten of us, plus Mohamed, our excellent driver and sometimes guide.

(To help my future memory, the others here are Jill, Nick, Prue, David and Helen. Alison, Don, Pat and Keith not visible.)

Outside, Philip introduced us to the Argan tree, a staple of Moroccan life, and providing employment for women in co-operatives, as they make argan oil, and products for cooking and beauty from it.

We get our first proper view of the ecolodge where we are staying, the Atlas Kasbah.

Here are the inner gates, with the name of the ecolodge written in Arabic:

and Berber, the language and tribe most widespread in Morocco.

We started walking down to the main gates.

Part of the water purification system

James was our moth expert/fanatic. This is an Amata Mogadorensis

Argan tree

We set off for a local walk, looking back at our kasbah.

Woodchat Shrike

Another (or the same)

Thekla Lark, blending beautifully with its surroundings

Drought meant that there were not the proliferations of spring flowers that I had hoped for, but botany expert (and fanatic) Philip knew the name of everything we saw, and there was much to please those who were happy to identify the many varieties of plants there were, many not in flower. I failed to get the name of this one, but later was to find out that it is Linaria bipartita.

Catananche arenaria.

A stock of traditional beehives.

Volutaria lippi (sunflower family)

We approached the sound of many sheep and goats, anticipating a delightful rural scene. We were very disappointed.

They were on and eating rubbish!

The fact that many of them were eating rotting oranges changed little.

A promise of some very dramatic geology to be seen later in the week.

Donkeys were the main agricultural support animal, difficult viewing at times.

A view from the outer gates.

Up the path

And a North African Water Frog

RSPB West Sedgemoor

Tags

Common crane, great egret, Pynsent, RSPB, Somerset Levels, Somerset |Moors and Levels, Stoke St Gregory, Storm Ciara, West Sedgemoor

The day before storm Ciara was beautiful, just right for joining a group privileged to visit an RSPB hide not normally open to the public, (for complicated reasons). West Sedgemoor is just about the southernmost extent of the Somerset Moors and Levels, and much of it is an RSPB reserve, acquisition of which has been built up over the decades. This means the RSPB is now able to control the water levels, to the advantage of wildlife of course, by the management of sluices, these days remotely.

We were given this information en route to the hide, having stopped here to overlook part of the moor.

And before we reached the hide we saw, looking right,

A Great egret

A swan family, a species often seen on the Levels; sometimes dozens of them in one field

A field full of lapwings. I heard that there are 35,000 here some winters.

‘Common’ cranes. Not so common here though. There has been a very successful reintroduction scheme on Sedgemoor in recent years, and these were the first I had seen of them.

Also seen en route, looking left:

Burton Pynsent Monument. Pynsent was a successful 18th century cider businessman. To the great displeasure of his family, he left his estate to Pitt the Elder, in gratitude for the latter’s approach to cider tax laws! The monument was erected by the statesman, presumably to show his own gratitude.

The hide

The view directly ahead of me from my spot in the hide. Thank goodness for binoculars, and a zoom on my camera!

We stayed for about 90 minutes. Here are some of the dozens and dozens of photos I took. It should be said that nearly all of them were taken with my camera on its maximum zoom. The other caveat I would make is that there were too many people to make it easy to ask our expert leader for identifications, so some of them given here are tentative. I hope a knowledgeable reader may offer suggestions and corrections.

Just a few lapwings

Wigeon (?)

Greylag geese (?)

The glossy green flashes on the wing identify these as teal.

Great egrets, Canada geese

There are pintail ducks here

Not starlings, but lapwings…

… spooked by this, a marsh harrier,

Someone said that there were 35,000 lapwings wintering on the moor.

Two Marsh harriers, a raven(?), lapwings, and the village of Stoke St Gregory

There was said to be a Peregrine putting the birds up as well, but I think these (see also the flat one at 4 o’clock to the main one) are Marsh harriers.

(?)

Way over to my left, hundreds and hundreds of ducks of various kinds, impossible for me to identify at the distance, and blurred even more by the requirement of the blog host for a very reduced number of pixels

A final look at some Little egrets, and it was time to leave