Day 13: Wednesday 15th July 2015

Wednesday

All good things come to an end, and for us, it is the start of the long, long trip home. Somehow I manage to sleep until half seven, which means rushing round like a blue-arsed fly, having showers, packing, going down for breakfast and then loading the car. It might not be the best hotel in the world, but with views like those, who really cares? The room was clean, the breakfast good, and there was a well-stocked bar downstairs if you got thirsty.

Perfect.

And so, the open roads, hundreds of miles lay before us, we just have to get through the mad traffic around Edinburgh first. Saying that, it flows quite well, and soon we are heading out towards the coast, the sun is breaking through, life is glorious. The coastline is green and rolling, and at times the road runs right next to the coast, giving views of the rugged shore.

We roar down the A1, through small coastal towns, past factories and nuclear power stations until we come to the border at Berwick.

10 miles south we turn off at drive for the last time to Lindisfarne. This time we did know where the Helleborines were. So, we drive over the causeway and turn off at the parking area. It was a brisk walk to the dune slack: now, I did know that they were in flower, as, I had managed to get the internet to work, and had seen phots posted. And, at the edge of the slack, there were two caged plants.

Now, I have to say, that for most people, travelling the length of the country to see these two larger plants, with two smaller ones on the dune just showing above ground, might sound mad. It does me writing it now. But, it gave me such joy to see these small, rare flowers growing in this one area, despite there seem many over many acres that would also seem perfect. But that is orchids all over.

We walk back to the car with smiles over our faces. Or on mine at least. We had met a couple of good folks last time we were on Lindisfarne, and they told us of another Tyne Helleborines site, where they should be flowering. Only trouble was that the directions were vague. But this site would save us over an hour of travelling to Alston. We shall see.

The sat nav is programmed, and off we go, leaving the island with two hours before the tide would have trapped us. The sun is still shining, and we have Radio 6 on the car radio; it is wonderful. We know the roads by now, and so are cruising down the A1 towards Morpeth where the decent road began again. From there it was 20 minutes along the Tyne Valley to the small village where we hoped we would find the plants.

We park up in the village, and walk along the bed of an old wagonway. No sign of tracks or that there was ever a railway along here. Except it ran level and straight.

We turn off it, follow a path, then head into the woods. No idea of distance, except somewhere along here there were orchids. We follow the riverside path, pass through a sandy area, which seemed perfect, but it was so overgrown, it seemed impossible that they would be here, or at least beside the river. After 15 minutes, we turn round and split up. I take the path beside the river, Jools follows the main path set back.

I lose sight of Jools, but then through the trees I see her red shorts. And the rest of her. Have you seen them, I asked fearing the worse. Yes, she says, just have found a group beside the path. And sure enough there, and many more in the undergrowth were the Tyne Helleborines. Wow, just like that we found them.

The ones beside the path were almost in the sunshine, so made for easy snapping.

Now, we had the two Dunes done, we now just had to re-visit Bishop Middleham once more to see if the Dark Red were open. I hoped they would be.

It was a half hour drive, back along the A1 through Newcastle and Gateshead, coupled with major roadworks, which made for difficult driving, but with the sun out if was pleasant enough. Into County Durham, and off the Great North Road, through some villages, past the huge quarry, through Bishop Middleham and to the disused quarry. Only to find ten cars parked on the narrow road, we just manage to find a space to park, grab our cameras and walk in.

I go straight to the edge of the quarry and look down, once again hoping to see a sea of red from the orchids: I think I see one flowering spike, so I give Jools the thumbs up. She smiles. I hope.

Down the steep steps and onto the floor of the quarry; around there are groups of two of three people looking at the plants and butterflies; they seem to have at least one guide with them. But we know our quarry in the quarry, and so go to where they are thickest. I am stunned to find either spikes not yet in flower, or worse, spikes that have been nibbled by rabbits.

I walk round increasingly desperate: this was supposed to be the slam dunk site: we knew this site, and where the orchids were. In the end we find a handful of flowering spikes, all I have to do now is wait for the sunshine.

Minutes dragged on, maybe 15 minutes, until the big dark cloud above us cleared, and the old quarry was bathed in warm sunshine. I get the shots I wanted, all in glorious sunshine, making the colours of the orchids so vivid.

After chatting with a local man, and showing him the orchids, he then points us to movement on the side of the quarry: a polecat was hunting rabbits and coming out of a rabbit hole and disappearing into another. One more highlight for our trip, but I don’t try to photograph it. It was too far away.

All we have to do now is to drive back down the A1 to a service area just south of Leeds. Not perfect, but £60 for a room is about what we want to pay, so, we set the sat nav for south, and off we go, Jools driving, and us roaring south, the Rav4 eating the miles.

The sun is now fully out, and it is hot so we turn the air con up another notch.

We arrive, weaving our way through the queuing traffic: we check in, and find our room faced south and with the windows closed seemed to be 120 degrees.

The choice for food is limited; Burger King, Café Nero, Greggs, etc. We hope, or thought we could find somewhere better, I mean every town has a good pub or two, right? We drive through Pontefract, but only find grim looking places, we do not fancy them. So, into Featherstone, and we find one place that looked OK; they have no chef as it has just been taken over, but they send us to a place called The Rustic Arms. We find it, only to find it a soul-less place, and much to our surprise, they stopped doing food at seven.

We gave up and thought that we would go back to Burger King. As we are driving back, we come across a really nice looking pub: we park up and go n: are you still doing food? Yes they were, and had a table.

I have steak and cheese pie, Jools as medallions of pork. Both are wonderful, but lay heavy: it would be an uncomfortable night’s sleep. But we got back, had a shower. We decided to take the duvet out of the cover and just use the cover, it was so warm.

A hard day’s travelling lay ahead tomorrow.