Day 7: Thursday 9th July 2015

Thursday

On Tuesday, I called the boat people in Seahouses to book us on a trip to the Farne Islands, owing to the failure last year to actually set foot on the islands, and have to make do with looking at them from a boat, at times 5 feet from actual land. I checked the weather forecast, and when I phoned, booked the trip most likely to result in setting foot on the island. Thursday was the day, and so we had to be at the harbour in Seahouses at half one ready to board for the sailing to the island.

In light of that, we thought with the 90 minute drive, having to find somewhere for lunch, a place to park, etc. So, leaving the Tyne Valley home by half ten seemed prudent, drive to Newcastle then up the A1 north.

Simples.

A couple of days ago, Jools lost a filling, so we had to find a dentist, book an appointment. That it was at ten on Thursday, giving us time to get to the harbour for the trip seemed perfect. It was just a ten minute drive to the surgery, next to the railway: so whilst Jools went under the knife, I waited beside the line for a passing train to snap, just as well for me that trains in both directions were due.

Jools got her tooth fixed, I got my train shots. And we had more than enough time to get to Seahouses. More than perfect. And with the sun out and a light wind, it really did seem the day was set fair for sailing and pictures of puffins with beaks stuffed with sand eels.

The familiar drive then to Newcastle, and then north into the fells of Northumberland, until we turned off across the rolling farmland to the coast and Seahouses. As we saw the coast for the first time, a large rolling wave broke on the wide sandy beach. My heart sank.

Seahouses was packed, but then it always is, but we found a parking space with no trouble; which should have rang more alarm bells. Jools stayed in the car, and I went to the booking office, and my fears were realised as the lady behind the desk confirmed that all sailings were cancelled, and it was looking bad the rest of the week.

What this did mean, other than no puffin shots, was that we now had a free afternoon, to do what we wanted. And as Lindisfarne was just a dozen miles away, we thought, why not give the Helleborines one more try?

Oddly, for such a wild coastline, both Seahouses and Bamburgh were packed with people. Seahouses with people like us, wanting to get to the Farnes: and Bamburgh packed with Harry Potter fans, as it was inside the imposing castle walls that the young, but brilliant wizard had his first flying lesson. Or at least in the film.

We drive through these places; back onto the A1 and to the Holy Island Inn, where we stopped once again for some scran and beer. I had chilli and Jools has sweet and sour chicken. As we had just eaten fruit for breakfast, we were hungry, and it hit the spot.

The causeway to the island had just opened from the high tide, so we drive onto it, and parked once more at the Snook, grabbing our cameras and the orchid book, just in case. We past the meadow full of Northern Marsh, Common Spotted and Marsh Helleborines, and looking at the scene, I spot an elderly couple on the opposite side of the site to where I had been told the Lindisfarne Helleborines were.

I decide that asking people was the only way now to find where they were. I go over and the gentleman, and there are no other words for his kindness and understanding. They are just over here he said, let me show you.

And about 15 metres further on, there were two cages, and inside each was a small Helleborine, both yet to flower, but nearly there. And on the dune behind, at least two smaller spikes were showing. Here they were. I get my shots, as usual. And then Jools is thinking of how we can come back on our way back down south next week to see them in flower. Thing is, now we know where they are, a trip to the island to see the orchids would take just half an hour: seems doable. We shall see.

It is now two, and we have at least half the afternoon left, and another orchid hunter fires our imagination by suggesting we visit another site to see our other target: the Tyne Helleborine. In fact, Jools had been mulling this over, and on our way back to the mainland and then going south, in-between snoozing, she figured out a route to the South Tyne valley to another, more densely populated site, where, we hoped, we would see the Tyne.

Back down the A1, then across to Haltwhistle, and then along a narrow valley to the orchid site. Across a narrow bridge, parking on the side of the road, just where Harrap said the site would be.

We walk across a large meadow and we see a few Common Spotted. I guess that the Helleborines would be nearer the river, but I decide to walk to the far end inland, and then walk along the river back. As we walk back, Jools goes inland and straight away calls me over. Is this one? It was. And another, and another. Then further along, nearer the river, another cluster, then more and more. But none actually open, as yet. So another part of the plan for next week takes shape.

Anyway, it seems we have mis-calculated next week, and seem to have an extra day to fill; which it now seems will be full of yet more orchids. We need just a place to stay on Wednesday evening. Should be easy.

We drive back via Alston, the over the moors back to Hexham. The light was stunning on the heather, the vista and colours were spectacular. I should have stopped to snap the views, but I did not. The trip was worth it even if we had not have found the orchids.

We call in at Waitrose of some cream and I add Doritos and dip to the basket. Arriving home just as thick cloud spreads from the west, once again thwarting an evening sitting outside.

I review my pictures of the day, and then try to get Facebook to load on the dongle, which is not working. One of them great days I think, even without puffins.