15 Aug 2010 9:06 PM

Yesterday, I wrote about the walk my wife and friends took on the Moor with me and thought I would include one of the photos I took.

Most of the plant snaps, I took at close quarters, did not come out properly due to the wind being so strong for their movement put them out of focus.

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15 Aug 2010 4:41 AM

This week, my wife and I were to meet friends at a reservoir site.  Only 17 miles away from where we live but a drive that would take us up hills, down valleys and eventually lead us onto moorland. 

On such a drive, where there are lots of gear changes while negotiating 'hair pin bends,' it is important to have a half filled petrol tank.  Some of the steep hill climbs, on the brow of the hills, can put the car into a stall if the petrol gage gets too low.

Today, with a fair amount of petrol and a steady driving pace, we hugged the edges of the narrow roads to make sure we did not run into oncoming traffic when there was barely enough room for two vehicles to pass. 

Has it turned out, there was hardly a car on the roads and once we were out into areas where nothing could be seen but field after field of wheat, barley and corn crops, over steering compensation, for the twisting and winding roads, was not as necessary as I had thought it would be. 

The last two or three miles of our journey was all up hill and gear changes, due to a car with a  one point one engine, were needed much more than should be normal on a usual drive into the country. 

Eventually, when we reached our destination, reversing into an elongated car park that ran alongside of a lake and gave us stunning views of the water, we were met by other members of our nature lovers' club. 

The sky line, with large panoramic views of moorland, was changing all the time.  Large puffy clouds, mixed with light and beautiful azure blues, changed in an instance and kept changing all the time.

As is usual, the group get together to catch up on a few things and carry on chatting until all the members have had time to get to the venue.  They are logged in, on a register, for safety reasons, and when everybody is ready, we usually set off in one block of people.  Today was no exception and while I was chatting, I could not help but notice that thick black clouds were looming and, if they did not blow over, we could well be in for a soaking.

While some of the walkers were getting organised, I did a 'rekey' of the area and found the public toilets to be locked and bolted.  That was the downside but the upside was I found a patch of Harebell wild flowers which I was later able to show the group.  This blue bell shaped little flower is hardy and will thrive on limestone but I have never seen it growing in moorland before.

As soon as we began to look round, to see the flora, out came the books and our members were soon discovering new plants that they had not seen before.  One hour later, we had not managed to move twenty yards away from the cars. 

The cloud line changed again and, on this occasion, the clouds became black and storm like.  One of my friends jokingly said that he was not going back to the car to get his water proof jacket for he believed the storm would blow over.  I did not think so and put on my jacket. 

A few minutes later, spots of rain came and I made a hasty walk to a building that stood, all on its own, and was used to pump water out of the reservoir when the water levels became too high.  I was followed by the rest of the group and we stayed there, sheltered from the prevailing winds as the rain hammered down and bounced off the ground. 

At one point, the rain came down so hard it was not possible to see to the far side of the moor.  I pulled out the jacket's material, from my body, so that rain drops would fall to the ground and not onto my trousers, fastened up my pockets, for rain was streaming down my coat and into the pockets, and, once my hood was in place, I bowed my head low so that I could only see my feet and the feet of the rest of my friends.  In other words, I was making my surface area as small as I could so that there was a chance less rain would hit all the spots where it could get through my old coat. 

After about ten minutes of an absolute deluge of rain, the rain slowed and quickly stopped enough for us to be able to walk on.  I was pleased to note that my friend had managed to get back to the car to get his wet coat. 

We walked up a steep flight of steps, my wife struggled to get up, and, at the top of the steps, the hillside levelled out and it was at this point that I was to receive my first sighting of the dam wall.  The wall, built out of large interlocking Granit stone, looked to be at least one hundred and fifty feet high.
 
To my surprise, at the bottom of the dam wall, precariously I thought, was a row of houses probably used by the workers who helped maintain the lake, its walls and the quality of water in the dammed up back log of an acute valley.  Not only were there houses, in the area, several bungalows had also been built there and I wondered if they had been built for people who had retired.

At one side of their view point, all they could see was the huge high wall and, at the other side of their dwellings, all that could be seen was mountain areas that lead the view to the sky and no where else.  That, in itself, was not good but what made matters worse, in my view, was that a decision had been made to have a huge electricity pylon built close to where the houses had been built.

At first sight, before we saw the pylon and the close proximity of the dam wall, I thought the area would have been a good place to live but everything was stacking up against anybody wanting to live there. 

Of course, there were no shops in the vicinity and my guess is, once the winter season came, the people, that were living on site, would be stuck there until the frosts or snow had thawed.

Our party walked on and, when because there were few things to see, my ears pricked up to try and find out what other animals could be in the area. 

In fact, there were few birds to be seen and, at first, I could not understand why the area was devoid of birds.  That is until I heard the sounds of guns being used.  I had forgotten that it  was the 'Glorious Twelfth' when people go onto the moors to shoot Grouse that have been tended all year so that those, who can afford it, can shoot the birds. 

Many people argue that the birds should not be shot and the other side of the argument is that without the Grouse shooting the moorlands would be transformed into thick Bracken areas that would choke the thin soil areas and render the moors useless to everybody. 

I have mixed views on this point but one thing is for sure, nothing will grow where the Bracken takes hold and, if there is a very dry summer, the Bracken dries out and will act as tinder to an unwanted match. 

We moved on and, at one point, our walk took us along side of a minor road and, at the side of the road and in the middle of know where, one of my friends spotted and Orchid.  After that, there was very little else to see so I turned my attention to the scenery. 

The weather beaten flattening mountain tops were, in places, devoid of soil and jagged edges of rocks could be seen protruding.  Coming  down the steep sloped embankments, tufts of vegetation eked out a life style that would kill off less hardy plants and, half way down the slopes, Heather had taken hold and gave the appearance of a pink carpet.  Lower down the slopes, hardy sheep were munching at tufts of grass and their munching attention gave the appearance of a carpeted area that had just been closely cut by a lawn mower.

Walking on, now in a large circle that was to take us back to the cars, there was no shade to be had and I was, as the sun's rays beat down on us, pleased that I had quality head ware. 

Our two hour walk, although wonderful  for I was able to see Canada Geese feeding in the fields after being disturbed on the water by small windblown boating craft, had been a walk of contrasts.

Sometimes it was cold, in the wind blown areas, there was a period when the rain was so strong and powerful it could have blown us over and, latterly, we were faced with taking off our rain coats and tying them round our wastes to keep cool. 

The 'rule of thumb', even on a warm day, when going out into the wild or going to areas where there is height to be had, is to wear one thickness more than you would when walking in your own locality and carry a rain coat that will cope under any kind of watery experience.

Being warm and dry has, I believe, kept me in good stead for over forty years of walking out in the countryside and I hope I can carry on keeping as warm and dry as the environment allows.

By for now,

John.                   

   
   

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9 Aug 2010 3:54 AM

Some time ago, I wrote a blog about my beloved and late friend Ben-my dog-and, from time to time the smallest of things sparks off memories of times when we were out walking together. A photo, tucked away somewhere and then found or the sight of his old sleeping bed box still fill my eyes with tears.

I remember, when we first saw Ben, in a corner of a dog pound and on his own, he had to be coaxed out of his box to see us.  He was reluctant to come to us, for an inspection, for Ben had been mistreated and was very wary of humans.

I remember his first reactions, towards us, when he came to us, almost walking on his stomach and with his tail tucked under his body and with his head on the floor almost slithering towards us. 

The poor dog, a mongrel, black and with a few patches of white, the length of a Grey Hound and with the most beautiful face and eyes, was in a poor mental state and took lots of encouragement to get him to accept that we were not there to’ beat’ him. 

He had his moments but, in the main, he became a part of our lives that was enriched just to have him near.

For a few weeks, when we brought him home, we thought Ben did not have a voice box for he never made a sound but, one day when a knock came to the door, Ben barked so loud and with such force that we all jumped out of our seats.  From that moment on, Ben became the best house dog you could wish to have.

On the one hand, Ben was the kindest pet you could wish to have but, if you were a visitor to our home, you would have found his bark to be fearsome.  No one, unless we permitted it, would ever get into our home while Ben was around.

Seeing Ben, when I came home from work, wagging his tail as if his back would break from the contortions that were taking place, until I spoke to him and patted him, is a sight I will never forget.  Here was a dog that was very special and we all knew it. 

It was not always that way for when Ben came into our lives; he would have nothing to do with me and would cling to my wife’s legs as if his life depended on it. 

Once Ben realised that I was not there to be cruel to him we became inseparable.  Originally, Ben was brought into our lives as company for my son and although my son and Ben were the best of palls, the dog loved to be out walking with me in the fields.

Wonderful memories but, for the time being, I will stop there for my fondness for my late friend still fills me with sorrow but with memories that Ben had the best from life while he lived with us.

Are you like me, fond of dogs and have you memories that you treasure?

By for now,

John.     

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9 Aug 2010 2:16 AM

Over a forty year period, when out for a walk, I have tried to make sure that I did not get wet and, to some degree, I have been lucky enough to make sure I did not get drenched through.

In my youth, clothing was not as good as it is today and, no matter what you wore, the rain always managed to soak through to the skin but today, with water proof and breathable clothing, things are very different.

This morning, after awakening early, like a spoilt child, to have a look and see if a cabinet, I have been renovating, was looking as good as I thought it might after working my magic on it, I decided to go out for a walk in the beautiful gentle sunshine.
In a couple of hours, I had visited two lakes, sat in a hide and been so close to a juvenile Pied Wagtail after it entered the hide I was sitting in and almost touched the coat sleeve I was wearing, I decided to go into thick woodland.  The skies were clouding over a bit but the cloud line was still quite high and I felt that rain was not imminent. 

When I was in a wood, the heavens opened and I found myself in a very heavy down pour.  Fortunately, this part of the wood was very closely planted and the rain, before it stopped, did not get to me. 

Walking off the beat on track, trying to avoid the wet, I had to find my way back and this was not as easy as I first thought for the Bracken, in the wooded areas, was only short but the Bracken, at the edge of the wood in full light was as tall as a man and I could not get through it without getting soaking wet.  I doubled back a couple of times before I was able to find a decent route. 

The rain came again and again and, instead of going into the thick woodland, I skirted it making sure I was hugging close to the thick girthed mature trees.  This tack tick worked for me but my water proof coat was starting to drip so, with hands in pockets, I pushed the material away from my body so that any water would flow off without catching my trousers and it worked.  From time to time, as I made my way out of the wood, I stopped and waited for the rain to abate and all went well until I came to the end of the wood.

In front of me, I could see the rain driving across a huge expanse of a tree free zone and knew I had to stop and wait it out or risked getting soaked to the skin.
While looking for a good site to stand, two very large St Bernard dogs came bounding up to me and although I was not frightened of them, I was not keen on them being so close to me in case their enthusiasm, to be seen, pushed me over.  Luckily, their owner shouted them and they instantly obeyed his command.

When the dogs had gone, I found a broad leaved tree, an oak, and pushed away all the nettle type plants, from its base, and stood as close to the tree as was possible.  From time to time, as the wind changed direction, I moved round the tree trunk so that I did not stand in the force of the prevailing rain.  After a while, the wet began to soak through the leafy canopy as droplets fell from the higher leaves to the ones just above my head. 

I looked round and was able to find another dry trunked version and quickly ran under it.  Again, I had to clear away the things that were growing round the trunk but, as the rain fell and the noise of the rain beat hard on the leaves, I felt quite comfortable for, so far, I was still dry on my inner secondary clothing and my ordinary walking trousers were also still dry.

I was about to look round for another tree, although I must admit it was getting harder to find  a dry place, when I noticed a break in the clouds and, within minutes of me looking, the rain stopped just as if it had been turned off with a tap.

I moved out of the wood, onto the open path and made my way back to where I had left the car.  Within only a few hundred yards, I felt the need to open my outer coat due to being so hot and, when I looked down at my inner garments, I was pleased to see they were bone dry.

Later, as I walked up a leafy lane with trees hanging over almost cutting out the light from the path, I could see several dry patches on the path and noted, if I had to set off up the open field, at least there would have been some shelter for me to use but, by that time in my walk, I would have been soaking wet.

I have read it, many times, that you should not stand under a tree when it is raining for you will get soaking wet; this is a true statement but it is only usual to get soaking wet if it has been raining for some time.

On my return to the car park, I met two old friends and one of the men told me he had been able to spot a butterfly that has never been recorded in the area I live in.  I was very pleased that my friend had seen the butterfly for, since he has retired, he has dedicated his life to butterfly hunting. 

By the time I reached the car, now removing my walking boots, the sun was out and it was humid too.

By for now,

John.         
 

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1 Aug 2010 3:53 AM

It was Friday morning and I decided to go for a walk but drove to a nearby nature reserve before going out for my exercise.  The first thing I noticed, as I sat in the car with the door open while putting on my walking boots, was the sweet smell of freshly mown grass as the morning's dew began to dry out. The wonderful smell, from the closely cropped clover, hit the back of my nose and aromatic receptors of my brain stimulated a memory zone.  It reminded me of the time, as a small child going to school, of a wonderful summer's morning where, without a care in the world, I skipped my way to school.

Briefly, for he wanted to be off checking on the site's birds, I met another birdwatcher.  This man, who visits the same site each day, is usually a 'mine of information'but not today.  I had hoped to ask him if a Little Egret was still to be seen but he had walked out of ear shot before I had time to ask him anything.  Not to worry, when the man was out of site, I went my own way.

Birds were still lethargic, from the night's rest, and a juvenile Mallard had its head tucked into its back while it stood, motionless, at the side of a small pond. 
There was little to see on the pond, apart from a few Coot and their young so I kept an eye on the Mallard and, still with its head tucked into its back, the duck was suddenly startled into a jerk like movement, as if it was having a nightmare or being pulled out of a deep sleep and almost lost its balance.  The Mallard had been brought out of its deep sleep by a cheeky Swift that decided to dive bomb the duck. 

The young Mallard, like a small child might when being awoken quicker than it wanted to be, almost jumped out of its skin and made a noise I have never heard a duck make before.  It is not usually my way, to compare human activity to bird activity but, on this occasion, I wondered if the Swift was simply playing a game with the Mallard.

I walked on and, because there were no other signs of humans, I was taken aback by the peace and tranquillity of the morning.  For a while, before the sound of constant car movement, as commuters drove to work, I seemed to be in a dream like world of my own. 

The sun, now rising in the sky, cast a bright mirror like image across the lake in front of me and I felt the need to hug up my eyes because of the brightness of the water, until I was able to pass the glistening shimmering white wall of light, it was difficult to see anything. 

Minutes later, while I was making a few notes, a juvenile Swallow few low overhead.  I have not seen a lot of Swallows this year so I made a conscious effort, every time I here on calling, to stop and look at the wonderful migratory bird. 

My boots, now wet from the early morning dew, were being tested- to the limit-for their so called water proof repellent materials.  Our feet, as we get older, become more important to us than when we were younger for they can soon chafe and become infected.  I am pleased to say, now my new boots are beginning to get 'broken in properly,' they feel more comfortable every time I use them.  Before purchasing these boots, I had bought two other pairs and none of them were right for my feet although they felt good at the time of purchase.  Getting it right, first time, can save a lot of money and also be very beneficial to our feet so, if you need to purchase any walking boots make sure they fit properly before you spend your hard earned cash.

While I was walking, in the fresh and clear air, I took in several deep breaths of air to enjoy, to the full, the wonderful perfumes coming from the trees, plants and grasses.  After a while of breathing in the wonderful smells of summer, my whole body appeared to fall into a tranquil state yet, at the same time, there seemed to be a new 'spring in my step.'

This year, several fields had been left fallow for nesting birds and now the nests  were clear of any fledglings, the farmer had cut the grass short to encourage another growth and to aid feeding for the ducks and chicks. The smell, as it lay low in the thin cool and damp air, wafted across to me and the aroma was something I was glad that I had not missed.

For a few minutes, now with the sun on my face, I sat alone- in a wooden hide- to look out of the slatted windows and noted that the geese were moulting.  Everywhere I looked, there were thousands of plucked out body feathers that were now no good after the breeding season. 

The wood, in the hide, has it warmed up from the morning's sun, cracked and creaked and as I looked round the hide, I saw evidence of nesting Swallows in the hide.

Geese dropped onto the water in front of me, splashing around like young children might in an evening's bath tub.  Only a meter away from me, while I sat quiet in the hide, a Pied Wagtail stood on the window ledge surveying the scene to see if it could take the mouthful of water born insects and worms  to a nest that must have been very close to where I was sitting.  Just in case the nest was near, I quietly moved out of the hide and head towards footpaths that were now getting dry.

The sun had risen in the sky, thick cloud now engulfed the burning mass, it instantly became colder and I wondered if I had already seen the best of the day's weather. Has it turned out, the weather changed for the worse and remained miserable for the rest of the day. 

I took out the camera, to photo veiled webbing, that was protection for some kind of caterpillar, but, on this occasion, the camera would not work due to the batteries being flat. Usually,  I do lots of checks, to see if everything is working properly, before leaving the house but today was different for I went out for a walk on the 'spur of the moment.' 

I went back to the car, to stow the camera, and paused, before walking again, close to a feeding station and saw lots of greedy Chaffinch filling their bellies after their night's roost. 

From there, I headed off into woodland and when I came to a sharp bend in the lane, I employed my trick of walking on the left of a right hand bend.  This way, if there was anything round the corner, I would see it-with any luck-before it saw me.  In fact, has it turned out, an almost silent rabbit scampered off into the undergrowth without it seeing me.

To one side of me, a field, still full of bailed hay, was waiting for the farm workers to collect it.  While I was looking at the large bails, I could hear the call of a Green Woodpecker but no amount of waiting brought a sighting of the bird.

Has it turned out, the weather changed and I decided to go home but, on my way, the farmer had come back to collect some more bails so I stood back so that he could manoeuvre his large tractor and trailer down the narrow lane.  While the farmer repeatedly tried to manoeuvre his vehicle into the field, he clipped the gate post and some of the post fell to the ground. 

At this point, I left the scene and eventually made my way home.
I hope you enjoy reading my blog as much as I enjoyed writing it.

By for now,

John.       
     

         
       

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