The 2020 Kentish orchid season (part 1)

Little did we know.

Little did we know that this would be a rather memorable year as well as an orchid season.

I failed to see two Kent orchid species this year; the Burnt Tip did not appear for what would have been it's third year in a row, and the Bird's Nest failed at the once reliable site, and because of the lockdown, not really a chance to see them elsewhere until they had gone to seed. I do have a good location for 2021, one I have not been to before, so hope springs eternal.

And for one of the UK's most common species, I only saw in flower on three occasions, as it's peak was in the middle of the initial lockdown, when travel, anywhere, was possibly aganst the law. The Early Purple flowered and went to seed, mostly unseen by me. But they did flower.

I first went to do some orchiding on 20th Janaury, when I dragged Jools to Barham, to wade through the mud, up the steep bridleway, where a handful of bright and fresh rosettes were showing well.

By March 20th, the rosettes had increased in size and the spikes had begun to form. It looked as if I would see orchids in flower in March for the first time, word reached me of at least one spike from North Kent, I was expecting to see one myself the next weekend.

I went out on the 22nd, and found a fine juicy Fly Orchid spike showing well, it was all happening!

Greater Butterfly were also seen, the spike beginning to form its distinctive shape.

And then on 23rd March, the national lockdown was imposed. There would be no orchiding for the forseeable future.

On 4th April, I walked to Leathercoat Point, and found the small colony in good shape, and soon to be in flower. Samphire Hoe was closed to all visitors, as was travelling almost anywhere,

So, two weeks later, on her way to work, I got Jools to drop me off at the NT place on the cliffs, and walked back, on the hunt for Early Spiders. I was rewarded quite soon with the most splendid, almost mono-coloured flower, made the walk worthwhile for sure.

I saw several spikes at the Dover end of the walk, mainly, including this one, which was already fading:

It was on this walk I snapped this fine backlit spike:

At the end of April, on the 26th, after much consideration, we decided to walk to Sandwich Bay, parking at the far end of Deal promenade, and walking along the top of the shingle bank. Here is my account of the day:

Norwich are still in the FA Cup and have not been relegated yet.

We would have taken that at the start of the season!

In other news, I have lost some weight. Not a lot, but some. T shirts that were tight are no longer. So, it gives me encouragement to carry on, even though some days my heart isn't in it.

So, onwards and upwards, and carry on pumping the lard.

And so, to Sunday, and what to do? The original plan was to repeat the previous week's walk from the NT place back home, but that is more of the same. So, what to do different?

Well, I wanted to see another species of orchid, and on my radar was the Green Wing. My friend, Mark, told me of a new colony near to Whitstable, but that would be over half an hour's drive to see them. And as locals had been rightly complaining about the number of visitors during what is supposed to be a lockdown, I thought something else would be needed.

The nearest colony to us is on the golf course next to the Sandwich Bay Estate, but surely that would be out of bounds to traffic/ But then I remembered there is a public right of way along the beach. So, why not drive the ten minutes into Deal, park the car at the north end and walk to the estate along the beach?

Why not indeed.

What time to leave the house? After seven.

So, a plan. The plan.

We get up, have coffee but no breakfast. Put our boots on and load the Audi, and I drive us to Deal, past the castle, the car park and along the sea fron the the remains of old Sandown Castle.

We park on the main road, I gather my cameras, and despite being just seven degrees, I wear no coat, as I hope it will warm up later.

Which it does.

The Kent coast has changed over the centuries, Sandwich used to be a sheltered port on the Wantsum Channel, which separated the mainland of Kent from the Isle of Sheppy. A huge storm in 1287 changed the coastline, and ports silted up, former islands became joined, and the Stour now ran next to the town to where it ran into the sea in Pegwell Bay.

Now, north from Deal there is a wide stone and earthen bank protecting the country beyond from the sea. This wide flat topped bank made for easy walking, for which my back was grateful. And of course the easy going and good conditions meant I could take my time and look for any interesting plants and insects that might catch my eye.

I see much to like and snap, photos included here:

Field Mouse Ear.

Beach Daisy.

Rosy Garlic.

Common Ramping-fumitory.

Tree Mallow.

By then we had reached the Sandwich Bay Estate, which is, for some reason, a private estate, which costs the casual visitor (in a car) seven quid to visit. On the positive side it does mean tha the rare plants that grow there are well protected, but then the land is, and here I was going to say owned by some chinless minor member of the aristocracy, but it seems one of those sold it to an Australian millionaire at the end of the war, but the estate is now owned by a provate company on behalf of the residents.

Tool fees help in the maintenance of the estate, which is pretty something I guess. So, I have learned something, and will not be so unwilling to pay the toll in the future.

Anyway, past the Yacht Club, the past the huge houses that make up the estate, and then to the Prince's Golf Course, where usually botany is a dangerous activity, having to dodge the golf balls and irate golfers as we get in their way. What this year, everyone is locked down and gold is forbidden. I could wander hither and thither.

As much as I wanted.

Which was nice.

There is a footpath across the fairway that runs beside the coast road, and just a few yards in is the colony of Green Winged Orchids. Because of the irate golfers I usually go to Marden to get my GWO fix for the last few years, so returning here it is amazing how stunted these coast orchids are. At first you see what appears to be a purple smear on the grass, then the tiny spikes make themselves clear.

Most were just purple, but one or two were a paler pink in colour.

I take a few shots, I have snapped loads of them over the years, but what I really wanted to snap was a pure white var. alba, I thought there were none, then, just as I was walking to the gate to start the long walk home, I spot a single small white orchid.

Bingo!

And so to walk back to the car. At least we had a tail wind.

We could see the start of deal in the mist in the distance, it seemed miles away. But one foot after another, we walk back, I see more and more plats, snapping them as we went.

And, as we pass more and more walkers, most with dogs, we were a few hundred yards from Sandown Castle and nearly back at the car.

Yay.

We climb in the car, drive through the housing estate to double back to the seafront road, past the pier and to home, with the roads still pretty quiet.

Once home I cook bacon sarnies and make huge brews for a belated breakfast, it was eleven, so brunch.

It was a glorious morning, clearly the warmest day of the year, and for me, dressed in black, too hot to sit outside for too long.

I make asparagus cooked in butter with fresh buttered bread. The bread was fresh when we bought it two days previously.

That's my excuse.

It was a warm, nearly hot afternoon. Jools sat in the garden, and I sat in the cool of the house, fighting off the snoozing as I had supped a Leffe Blond with lunch.

And so to the evening, and dinner was, for the first time this year, pan-fried breaded aubergine. Two medium aubergines make enough yummy golden food for dinner and have enough for both our lunches on Monday.

And that was it, really. I edit shots, listen to the radio and post shots of flowers on Twitter. Situation normal.

Outside the day fades, and tomorrow is Monday. Apparently.

Onto May now, and our visit to Yocklett's Bank, and what we saw there:

The "rules" as to what is and isn't allowed to be done these days is becoming ever more confused.

I saw a Tweet from a nature reserve saying that visits to the site for exercise only was allowed, no looking at plants, birds or butterflies was. This is not the law, or even the SI from the Health Minister. A single trip for exercise is allowed, but not being allowed to stop to look or take photographs is not mentioned.

Jools and I aware of many of the sites we visit although are in the countryside, but have people living close to them, so it would not be fair to drive to these sites, even if the guidelines state that if the exercise lasts longer than the drive, then that would be OK.

One site we do like, and has no houses within a mile of the parking spot is at Barham.

So, the plan was to drive out there after coffee, to have a walk and take some orchid snaps, though expanding the number of species seen this year.

Back in the 70s, one of the TV series that made a huge impression on me was Survivors, a series about how a pandemic swept round the world, helped by transcontinental travel, wiping out 99.9% of the world's population. The idea of civilisation just stopping is something that has fired my imagination ever since, and how would we cope? How would I cope? I have thought about how to wire up a house to run on a generator, and I have to admit, I have no idea. And unless my hunting skills were to improve, I would live on canned foods.

Anyway. I mention this as traffic is very light around here now, even on working mornings. And on Saturday morning, when the world and his wife would be going to Tesco, just one or two cars were to be seen. We take the A2 past Tesco, and out of Whitfield, along to Barham, turning off by the Black Robin and into the countryside.

We saw no other cars, and most unusually, no cyclists, so we were able to drive the two miles down the narrow lane, not having to wait while cars came the other way. Just two other cars parked near to footpaths leading through the woods up the wooded valley.

We park at the hard standing, I have the 6D, the 150mm macro lens and on top and in front of the lens, the ring flash and trigger unit. It weighs about the same as a small baby. For photography, I will carry this and carry on knackering my back. The camera is, at least, on a new-fangled strap thing that should spread the weight, and make it easier for some shooting from the hip, if needed.

A short walk to the footpath, then into the darkness of the wood, past Wild Garlic, tangles of Dog's Mercury and Common Twayblades, a flash of purple catches my eye, and hiding in the undergrowth beneath a shrub, are three Early Purple orchids, the first I have seen this year. And in a place, this side of the road, I have not seen them before.

Always something new.

We were here really to see the Lady Orchids, though in most normal years, they would be a couple of weeks away from opening, but in more than one sense this is not a normal year. The weather has been mild all over winter, so that the first Kentish orchids were seen, though not by me, in March, and so everything is several weeks advanced that what could be expected.

Which is why we were here to see Lady Orchids on the 2nd May.

I see a few spikes, the first few yet to open or just with one or two flowers open. But further on, things get better, with a single white Lady standing alone, almost half fully opened.

I walk up the down, going from one open space to another, inspecting all the Lady spikes, and each one better than the last.

Jools calls, she says she had found a Fly Orchid. By the time I reached her, she had found more, over twenty spikes in fact. And several were beginning to open. I take photos of a couple of those too, being careful not to lay on an orchid spike or two.

More Lady were at the top of the down, by an only flint quarry, these were the most advanced, and looked fabulous. I snap most of them.

I walk to the path that runs beside the wood, walk down towards the road. Along that I find more Early Purples, and other wild flowers too, these woodland flowers were in good light, so able to be photographed.

Over the road and up the bridleway and up the steep and muddy slope, all because a rare orchid grows up here. Most years. And although it wouldn't be out yet, might be showing a rosette or spike.

But no sign.

But plenty of more Early Purple Orchids, of which I snap a few, but none of the pure white ones that used to grace the site a few years ago.

Back down the slope to meet up with Jools back at the car, load up and drive back to the A2 to head back to Dover, though we were going for a quick stop in Lydden to check on the colony of man Orchids.

Again, the roads were almost deserted, so no worry about cruising down Lydden Down, pulling over on the wrong side of the road, then hopping over the fence to stare at a grassy bank, where, in time, the tiny orchid spikes should become clear.

Other Kent sites had spikes flowering already, but none here. Just one with the lowest of flowers just beginning to fall away from the spike.

A repeat walk along the cliffs from Dover back home brough the sights that the Early Spiders were already on their last legs, the final interflorances were open, and many spikes already dying off. The year and nature moves on, and waits for no one.

On 7th May, I went up on the downs to look for the Burnt Tip spikes that I hoped would be showing:

Thursday is the new Friday.

Which is good.

Meaning that this is the last day of the week, and already mind is on orchids. Always the orchids.

But there is the day to get through. After getting up, and drinking coffee, I am on the cross trainer just after ten past six, meaning I was done nearly an hour before the daily meeting. Meaning I had an hour to do chores: take the rubbish out, fill the bird feeders, prepare breakfast and make another coffee.

I am so far ahead of the plan already!

We have the daily meeting, not much to report, other than we are all healthy and looking forward to when the pubs in our respective countries open.

I'll drink to that.

Once that is done, I spend three hours thinking about the wording on the two final paragraphs of the manual I am writing.

On occasion a particularly hard couple of words demand a fresh, strong brew. Which I down from a pint sized cup. Mug.

As a treat, just after lunch is our monthly department meeting. Four of us turn up, and like auditors do, spend half an hour discussing what a single word means.

And as soon as that was done, I pack the computer away, load the car with my camera, and head to Temple Ewell for a walk.

Traffic was so light, I arrived the other side of Whitfield, parked behind the old George and Dragon, once I got out, tightened my laces and looked up. Temple Ewell is not a mountain. Barely a hill, really. It would be a mountain in Norfolk, mind. But, anyway, from here it was uphill for quite a while, and with it being the hottest part of the day, why not climb every mountain?

Why not indeed.

Up the wood-fronted steps leading into the wood, past the allotments, then up the narrow path up the the style leading out onto the down. It had been uphill all the way, and from the tree line, the path of worn grass lead ever-upward, across the first meadow, then across the second.

There wasn't even a butterfly on the wing to chase, to break the climb. Just stopping every 50m, huffing and puffing and swearing at my back as it screamed at what the heck I thought I was doing.

I reach the top of the second meadow, meaning I was nearly to the top. Just need to walk round a scar in the side of the down, a cattle track now, rutted with dried mud. I could see the gate into the nature reserve, but to get there was one last slope, just a 100m, but it nearly broke me.

With one last weary step, I reach the top, go through the wooden stile, and the path drops away through tussock grass several feet high. I pretend that I won't have to climb back up in half an hour or so.

So, there is just the side of the hill, covered with close cropped grass and downland plants. The land falls away to the main road and railway, the world seemed a million miles away.

The path drops steeply downwards, through another gate, and there I knew on either side was a small colony of Early Spiders. Without looking too hard I find six spikes, in good condition, and most not yet fully opened. I snap a few, then walk down the hill towards where I was hoping to find the rarest Kent orchid, the Burnt (Tip). They had been seen for the last two years, and I was hopeful of it being a hat-trick year.

But no matter how hard I looked, I saw no sign. Not even the tell-tale markings showing where the warden had found them. But nothing.

So, after half an hour, I turned for home and began to long slow and steep walk back up the down.

In fact, my back had given up complaining, so I made good time, and was back in the car in 40 minutes, hot and sweaty and disappointed at now Burnt Orchid, but that's orchiding!

I drive home, with the clock ticking to prepare lunch for Jools' return from work, it was courgette fritters and garlic bread. Each time the mix is different, and so it was this time.