I have now come to realise that orchids brings out a special kind of madness. I may have said this before, but there seems to be no middle ground; meh or crazy.
In the past year or so, this madness has manifested itself by calling in at a nature reserve on the way to see my Mother, or travelling to the next county to walk the downs in the offchance of finding the tiddlers. And then there is the whole thing of planning not one, but two annual holidays around seeing orchids in the north east. There will be more of this in July I don't doubt.
And so it came to pass that we were to spend this Saturday driving round the M25 to Buckinghamshore to find a clearing in a wood, then onto Oxfordshire to walk along some downs to find another reserve. All this to find some rather special orchids. And once again Jools would say that I would claim that every time. But this time it was true.
We were awake very early, not by choice, but by the seagulls calling from our roof. No idea why in the last week they have taken up residence, but they are bloody annoying and loud, but saves on setting the alarm.
We have coffee, load up the car, program the sat nav; and we are off. Up the M20, along the M25, both very quiet, but getting busier as time went on, and finally up the M4, past Windsor. Soon we had turned off, along a very quiet dual carriageway until we came to Marlow. Marlow, a town I had not know existed before this week, was just walking up, and had we thought we should have stopped for breakfast, but by now the orchid blood lust was building and I had to see it. NOW.
Through a housing estate, and then along a winding country road through a forest, turning right at the Trout and Toolbox pub, or something, and up a very long, very narrow lane. The directions seemed right, could it be this straightforward? Yes it could. We stop at the entrance to the wood, and after dinning our walking boots, it was a 50m walk up the track and into the reserve, and there was another photographer hunched over an orchid, snapping away.
And all over the glade were orchids. Not just orchids, well, mostly one species: Military. The Military Orchid is closely related to the Lady orchid, but is much rarer: so rare in Britain, it is found in just two locations. And this is one of them.
Happy with the shots, I packed up my gear and we walked back to the car to drive to the next location: Princes Risborough to find a bead shop for Jools. It cannot have escaped your notice that most trips are for what I want to do, I can get a little obsessed with orchids, churches, trains or football. Or some other thing which suddenly becomes so important we spend all of the weekend chasing it. Anyway, it was 15 miles to the shop, and with the sun abroad, it was a very pleasant drive, along even narrower lanes, with grass growing through the tarmac, so thick we could hear it brushing the underneath of the car.
Outside Wycombe, we pass through a town, and now thirsty and hungry we find a small tea room, with a parking space outside. We pull in and find it is also an old fashioned sweet shop, with walls lined with glass jars of boiled sweets and candy of all sizes, shapes and colours. We order toasted tea cakes and cuppas. And when we leave we buy a pound of sweets; including rhubarb and custards for me.
We find a place to park outside the bead shop, and whilst Jools goes in I watch the locals try to park their cars; a scary experience, and I am glad that all spaces around me are taken and so our car should be safe!
Jools returns, and I have already programmed the sat nav for the Thames Valley. Another half an hour or so brought us to a nameless railway station. Two pounds and eighty pence of your Queen's money paid for parking until a minute to midnight, nothing less was available.
A mile walk along a street lined with semi-detached bungalows, most guarded by huge hedges. And then into a narrow country lane, heading for a farm.
We turn off the lane, and walk up another leafy lane, through a gate and into the reserve. The lower slope was fine, south facing, but orchid-free. However, I saw some steps heading up through a copse leading to the upper slopes. There we already people up there, so yet more climbing and up we go.
And there behind a thin tape were orchids. Not just any orchids, but hybrids. The site is well known for Lady and for Monkey, but since 2006, they have been interbreeding, producing the Lady x Monkey, and this is the only place in Britain they can be found. Well, as there only two other sides where the Monkey is found, that is perhaps understandable.
I climb up the down, and despite the tape I can get very close to some of the orchids to get the shots I want, and the tape has done its job in keeping the majority of the site in a pristine condition, with no spikes flattened by eager snappers. We take a few minutes to sit down and survey the scene: the orchids, the river valley, the trains hammering along and above, Red Kites circling. A perfect afternoon.
I meet a local couple, who are visiting thw aite for the first time: they ask me about the orchids, and why they are special. Once you say that this one is found at only two other sites in Britain, and the larger ones found no where else, they get it. And realise how beautiful the orchids are. I explain how some people steal the orchids, dig them up, and then the orchid is lost forever. They understood. But I also warned about the orchid: they cause a great deal of madness, if you want to keep your sanity, keep away from the orchid!br />
Sadly, we have had noting to eat since the toasted the cakes, and nothing to drink either, and with the time ticking towards two, we think about lunch and then the journey home. We walk back down to te lane, then along the lane back to the railway station. Back through the village, over the double bridge over the river, with wonderful views of the weir, but we have no time to stop, we need food, and anyway, there were no places to park. Along the main road to the next village, and the riverside pub is jammed with Porches and other luxury cars: we drive on.
We finally find a sprawling pub, with spaces outside, and once inside we order large fruit juices and fish and chips each. The joices are good, so we risk a beer for me and a cider for Jools, and when the food arrives, the fish is fresh if a little greasy.
Just a few miles to the motorway, the M4, now packed with cars, and the peace and quiet of the valley is left behind. The M25 is even busier, and it is slow going at times, but we press on, and as the counties change to Surrey and the to Kent, we take the M26 and are on the final leg home. The sun still shines as the day turns to golden evening.
And it is Cup Final Day, Arse are playing Villa, and in a homage to The Likely Lads, I am avoiding the score so I can watch the game without knowing the score. We arrive home at just after seven, and with the need for dinner and then to review the shots of the day, the football is not watched. And whilst on Faceache, I see in a sidebar, the score. So, the surprise is gone, and I will watch the game in the morning.
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