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.

A walk under lightening clouds

Tags

Glastonbury, Glastonbury Tor, Millfield Prep, Ponters Ball, River Brue, sheep, Somerset Levels, Somerset Moors and Levels, swan

Yesterday was the second of my resumed monthly walks with my friend Zoe, though sadly the pub lunch at the end will not resume until next month – hopefully. We started from my house, and followed a route I had done once before, many years ago, but which I had not felt able to do more recently as I didn’t want to venture alone along that part of the route which lines the River Brue. It is now populated with somewhat scruffy residential caravans, past which I would not wish to go alone. There were many more caravans than shown here.

The walk was a little longer than planned, as what we did for a time clearly did not fit with what was on the OS map. I had had no problem with this when I had previously done the walk. Perhaps we were just chatting too much. I think I know now what went wrong, and am tempted to go and check it out sometime, but…

The walk was on a very local patch of the Somerset Moors, a.k.a. the Somerset Levels, though technically those are off to the west, bounded roughly by the M5 motorway. Over the centuries from Roman times they have been progressively drained, turning from marshes into pastureland. (The Draining of the Somerset Levels, by Michael Williams is fascinating on the subject.) They abound in ditches and rhynes (pronounced ‘reens’) and if you can help it you don’t set off across a field unless you know for sure that you will not be cut off at the other side by a water course too wide to leap across. (Moors, levels, rhynes explained here.)

The River Brue, canalised in mediaeval times. Note the patched road. We saw many fresh patches like this along the way.

A much enlarged clip from the above picture will show how the local authority is meeting the obligation placed on it by the government to provide sanitation for the caravan dwellers during the pandemic, as part of its campaign to get the homeless off the streets. This is to end after 17th May.

Glastonbury Tor accompanied us throughout.

Having passed this caravan I turned round to take a photo of the mattress lying among the branches of the tree, and the solar panel.

No wonder the road patches had seemed fresh!

Difficult not to stop and watch little lambkins. West Pennard Hill in the background.

When we caught sight of this swan it was way off, but when it caught sight of us it swam purposefully in our direction.

And swam purposefully away from us once it saw we had nothing to give it.

It was around here that we started to suspect we weren’t quite sure that we were where we thought we were. Still, it’s a nice bridge, of sorts.

We stood looking at this flock for quite a long time. After all, we had to make sure that each of the four lambs dispersing from playing together managed to find its right mother.

It this point I thought we were on Ponters Ball, a local earthwork of unknown age and purpose. Glastonbury is, in effect a peninsula, surround by Moors, formerly marshes. This earthwork marks the fourth, non watery, side of the peninsula. The earthwork did not particularly impress Zoe, who had not heard of it before I drew it to her attention as we made our arrangements.

In any case, I was wrong. This was Ponters Ball, reached ten minutes later. Looking southwards,

and here northwards. Zoe was a little more impressed. And from here on we knew exactly where we were.

Some furry creature has come to a sad end, at the hands – or more probably claws of a feathery creature

We were well and truly on the homeward stretch now, here entering the grounds of Millfield Preparatory School.

Tennis practice. And we also saw equestrian practice, but were too close for comfortable photography … and the battery of my phone – I had not bothered with my camera as I didn’t expect to take any photos – was running out.

Just enough juice to take one last picture of the Tor.

A week of partial release, part 2

Tags

Daffodils, Dear Leap, Ebbor Gorge, latency, Mendips, Midney Gardens, National Gardens Scheme, South West Early Music Forum

On Tuesday evening I had an online bridge session with my club, with a typically low score, but who cares? In the Tuesday session we can actually see and chat with people, as at an in-person (that’s the jargon term these days, isn’t it?) club session. Good to keep up with, and in many cases to get to know better, other members.

The weather on Wednesday was not as warm as it had been the previous two days. Indeed, it was quite a chilly early start for me, as I had to pick up my Click and Collect groceries from Sainsbury’s before three friends, Chris, Jill and Tony, arrived for a four-part sing in my garden. (Thus the new chairs.) We hadn’t met since early November. Although we had arranged to meet on December 22nd, to sing carols outside a local care home, this was cancelled at the last minute as the home had just had its first case of Covid-19, and plans to move residents into others’ bedrooms to be near the windows had to be abandoned. Pre-pandemic I used to go to this home once a month to sing to the residents, old (mainly pre-1960) pop songs, with karaoke-style recorded accompaniment. Whenever it may that that resumes, sadly there will be several missing faces.

Our four-part sing was really very enjoyable, though I was a bit croaky, not having sung for all those months, and after one particularly high piece my throat was rather sore, but it was so good to be in real company again. In the afternoon, a friend, Kathryn, came for a natter, at a late enough hour to justify taking a glass of wine together. Where we had definitely not seen the sun in the morning, at least it accompanied our wine in a wan fashion late afternoon.

Thursday afternoon saw another bridge session, via a different ‘platform’ (is that the word?) which does not include video and live chat, just what they call ‘live chat’ – which is really typed! It therefore requires less bandwidth and enables less well internet-served people, including my regular club partner, Daphne, to join in.

The next morning, Friday, it was out to met a friend, Zoe, for a resumed monthly walk. We had not met since June. She arranged for us to meet in a car park at Dear Leap, in the Mendip Hills, and our walk was along Ebbor Gorge. Sharp intake of breath as I pulled in to park! This met my eyes. I had never been there before. Zoe said the view was even better when there was no mist.

The weather promised to be cold, and so it was, but we walked (scrambled for part of the way) in glorious sunshine for much of the time. I ached in the afternoon, so it was as well that I had nothing planned for then. Here’s a selection of photos I took as we walked and talked.

As we passed these stones, Zoe explained that the area was known as Deer Leap because ‘once upon a time’ a deer had leapt the distance between them – about 10 metres I would say.

Glastonbury Tor between the stones, in the far distance.

We met only one of these animals during our walk.

Our path went downwards.

The bottom of the gorge.

And what/who goes down must go up. Scrambling in this case.

It was sunny at the top.

Down there was where we had been.

I thought these two looked charming.

That was a tiring but very satisfying walk, both from the energy aspect and aesthetically.

On Saturday, I joined a Zoom meeting with members of the South West Early Music Forum. As befitted the season, our Chair, Clare, played through all the chorales from J S Bach’s Matthew Passion on her home organ, and everyone else played, sang or just listened along as they wished.

Instruments I could see on the Zoom call were two bass recorders, a violin (viola?), a cello – and a concertina! Perhaps it was as well that we could not hear each other, and I could certainly see the effect of internet ‘latency’ as I watched others singing – they were all either behind or ahead of me, as I sang to what I heard from Clare.

And to round off the week, in the afternoon I visited a National Gardens Scheme garden, just 20 minutes away from where I live. Midney Gardens was a nursery, tea shop and gardens until Covid. Sadly, the business has now had to close for good, but they are still opening ten times a year for the NGS, raising loads of money for various charities.

I was told as I arrived that there were about 140 different varieties of daffodil in the garden, though some had by now gone over.

To say the garden displayed a few quirky objects would be a serious understatement. But of course a garden has beds, doesn’t it? I wonder what will be planted in this one later on in the season.

They’re not called cauliFLOWERs for nothing.

The Gin Garden. How long did it take the owners to accumulate all those bottles?

Their kingcups are well ahead of mine, which are in full shade.

Snowbells

I thought these were my favourite of all the daffodils I saw…

… until I saw these.

“This seat is for lichens only now. Do not use”

Midney is so near to my home, and will be offering cream teas later in the year as it opens for the NGS – I shall return!

When I got home, I noticed this in my garden. I’d not seen it in previous years – is it a mutant, a variant?

It was a busy week. This looks to be much quieter. Boiler service, two bridge sessions, hopefully a meet-up or two with friends, and some podcasts to catch up on, with some knitting to finish as I listen.

A walk from and then into town

Tags

Bristol Water, Chalice Hill, Covid-19, Frome Bus, Glastonbury, Glastonbury Abbey, Glastonbury churches, Glastonbury Community Fridge, Glastonbury Information Centre, Glastonbury Mural Trail, Glastonbury Tor, MG, Morrison's, Poldens, Squirrel

Yes, that way round. Yesterday morning I had to take my car to the garage for its MoT. I was not looking forward to the walk back. Only 15 minutes, but at 8.15 it was cold and damp, with that chill that gets into your bones, as they say. So I took my camera with me, which made the walk pass more pleasantly, even though it also made it last 5 minutes longer.

They called me at lunchtime to say the car was ready, and I decided to take my camera with me again as I walked back to the garage, in case I regretted not doing so. I would have done.

The garage has a very small showroom for second-hand cars. This MG reminded me of the Midget I used to drive in the mid-1970s.

I looked up towards St Benedict’s.

But didn’t go that way, turning off right into a cul-de sac. ‘That reminds me – I must put my recycling out when I get home.’ The houses in the distance are on Wearyall Hill.

The panel says ‘Keep out. This area is liable to flood’. The squirrel was unconcerned.

Across Morrisons’ car park next.

Sign of the times 1

From the car park I could see the top of the RC St Mary’s church, and its hall, which I know now has a lift and, it appears, perhaps a new roof as well.

Faced with the first of many inclines where I live. That feature was something I considered hard when deciding whether or not to move here ten years ago.

Many businesses round here use the word ‘Avalon’ or ‘Tor’ in their trade names.

A pretty corner on a very busy and noisy road.

The next incline, and the Globe Inn next to the park on the right.

I haven’t walked alongside the park for a very long time. I’m sure this wasn’t here before. But perhaps the whole tree was.

When I drove to the garage at 8.15, I noticed how little traffic there was. 20 minutes later certainly not the case. A misty Chalice Hill in the background.

At the top of these steps is…

… a small green space.

But I’m walking downhill now.

Fortunately I don’t need to turn left.

Sign of the times 2

Instead I’m going to walk up a path between the houses.

Another reminder that it’s recycling day.

A once-in-two-hours chance to see the little bus which goes along the principal road through the estate.

As I walk through it, I have had various glimpses of the very misty moors, the Polden Hills beyond having totally disappeared.

Chalice Hill can be made out.

But much of Glastonbury Tor, including its tower at the top, cannot.

Because I have my camera in my hand, I take three photos in my garden.

The frog spawn is nicely turning from dots into commas.

And these ridiculous primroses have been flowering, though not this floriferously, since October.

As I set off to collect the car in the early afternoon, I was pleased to find that the chill damp had gone, (though it was still very cold), and that the tower had returned to the top of the Tor.

The Bristol Water people were still hard at work. I should try to join a gang like this to find out why it is that ‘work’ so often consists of just standing around.

What goes up must go down if you’re walking in the opposite direction.

The swings in the park were in use.

And the bird had not budged as I took a closer look. Ah, so it’s made of wood, not metal.

I took a more interesting route for the last part back to the garage, and had glimpses of the Abbey.

Seeing this mural on the side of the Globe Inn …

… and its signature, gave me an idea for a possible future blog or two. I found later that there are 26 murals on the trail.

I believe this water flows from Chalice Hill.

And that it used to be the source for the Pump Room on the other side of the road in its short life as such.

Now I could see the Abbey’s octagonal kitchen.

The citation on this plaque – the lost adult glove gives an idea of its size – says: “PRESENTED TO THE PUBLIC BY J HRY BURGESS ESQ RESIDENT SURGEON IN THIS TOWN 50 YEARS AND DURING HIS SIXTH MAYORALTY 1864…1865” And what is it decorating? Very appropriate for a surgeon – public conveniences, still, in ‘normal’ times, in use.

From a car park, an even better view of part of the Abbey. And another idea for a future blog.

I knew there was a Glastonbury community ‘fridge’ (not limited to chilled foodstuff) but not where it was, next to the Town Hall. (I am going out very, very little these days!)

A near deserted market square

This time I go past St Benedict’s church and the Mitre Inn.

And, very close by, The King Arthur.

Finally, a pretty row of houses opposite the entrance to the garage.

My car had passed its MoT with flying colours – but then it had only done 2000 miles in the last 12 months, and much of that was done in the two weeks before lockdown, as I drove to and from Gatwick Airport for my trip to Morocco, of blessed memory.

An autumn distraction

Tags

bindweed, bryony, Candide app, CNN, convolvulus, Covid, Covid-19, cow parsnip, crabapple, Dog rose, field maple, Glastonbury Tor, hedge woudwort, Hogweed, hornbeam, jackdaw, longtailed tit, magpie, Millfield Prep, Priority postbox, sheep, Somerset Wildlife Trust, Teasel, US presidential election

It was Stressful Wednesday, and I had been obsessing with the rolling news half the night (less than four hours’ sleep) and all day until lunchtime. It was gorgeous outside, and I hadn’t done my little there-and-back walk from my house for a very long time. I wondered if it was possible to distract myself for an hour or so.

It was. I can honestly say that I did not give the US presidential election a single thought all the time I was out.

Down to the end of my road,

through a small passageway to my left, up the lane to the main road where the prep school is situated, and back again. Views and details.

There were children, parents and a dog in the playground, to the left of this view.

Dog rose hips in among the ?privet.

Hogweed aka cow parsnip

I spent a few minutes trying to capture hedge reflections in the puddles at the side of the road. This is the only vaguely successful image.

So I raised my eyes to the lane ahead, and thought that they’d soon be flailing the hedges.

In theory there is a right of way up to Glastonbury Tor from this stile, but I’ve never seen anyone take it.

I’m always intrigued by this old tree. Has someone just put an old crate in its hollow trunk for stability, or has it some more interesting purpose? Sadly two other, much younger, trees have succumbed to the recent winds. And there is an apple trapped in the wire netting round the nearest tree!

Mixed feelings about convolvulus/bindweed, but here it’s pretty

Jackdaw in crabapple

Hooray. When last I passed by here, this right of way was completely overgrown and impassable. To be taken another time.

To my untutored eye none of the ash trees on this walk has yet been affected by ash die-back, but it’s a very serious threat in Somerset. The Somerset Wildlife Trust has asked people not even to visit four of its reserves in the east of the county, and at its online AGM this morning the CEO said that she thought that 90% of its woodland would be affected within 10 years.

Field maple supporting bryony fruit

Yup, ‘they’ have started trimming the hedges.

Still, it does mean that views like this are revealed.

An unprepossessing gate, softened by teasel.

Magpie in ash tree

I zoomed in to look at the top of the Tor. Quite a lot of people (and there were more on its sides).

Will the ponies be in the field?

No.

I tried to catch a long-tailed tit on these twigs, but it flew off. But I thought I would include the picture as a sort of abstract – and found that, top left, I had indeed captured the long tail and a wing.

Good to see cars in the staff car park of the school,

and even better to hear the cries of small children playing, not, as they were in the spring and early summer, absent during this lockdown.

Will the Open Event happen?

Victorian postbox in the wall of the school at the junction with the main road. I wondered what a Priority postbox was, and found once I was home that it’s related to Covid testing – more info here.

Time to turn round.

The signs are presumably channelling parents as part of Covid-safe measures.

From now on, I was facing the low autumn sun.

Glastonbury Tor not zoomed. There are little human dots up there.

The sun highlights a flooded field – I am surprised there are not more, given the rainfall we have had recently – and some telephone wires.

I was intrigued by this very new fencing on either side of this track, which on first glance appeared to be creating two paths. A closer look made me realise that in fact it was protecting new hedging. I waited for the sheep to be ushered into the right-hand field, and for the ‘shepherd’ to come back to his van, to my left. From him I learned that in fact this was his project. Living in town, he owned nine acres, and was putting native hedging around the three fields, for the benefit of wildlife. 600 metres so far. Brilliant!

I stood and listened to these sheep tearing at the grass – quite soporific.

According to my Candide app, this is Hedge woundwort.

Common dogwood

It’s only 3pm, but shadows are long at this time of year.

For some reason, a toffee apple came to my mind as I looked at this tree.

I’m back at the bottom of my road again.

And the hornbeam in my own garden’s not bad!

I started this post early on Saturday afternoon. I broke off about three pictures ago to watch CNN, and caught the moment the result was announced. Stressful Wednesday was worth it!