Sunday 2nd August 2015

Saturday

And here is the weekend once again.

Hoorah.

What to do with the weekend? Well, and here is we come to a difference of opinion. Jools wanted to go for a walk to Deal, I needed a haircut and check back on the violet helleborines. So it came to pass that at quarter past eight, Jools put on her walking boots and stomped off to Deal, and I climbed in the car for the adventure that is the drive to Dover. We never know how bad, or how clear the roads are going to be, with operation stack lifted and re-imposed on a daily basis, it really is not that much of a challenge, but to have this much trouble in just getting into town to do some shopping. Or a hair cut.

My first call was at the Dover Patrol, to check on the Autumn Ladies Tresses, only to find the grass area had been mowed, or razed, this week, and there were no sign of spikes. I will contact KCC to remind them of these precious orchids. The views over to France would have been good, only for them to be blacked by a row of camper vans that had set up for the day. I suppose we hope they are just there for the night, and not waiting for a slot on a ferry some time in November or something.

The drive along Reach Road is always spectacular, with the views over the cliffs to the Channel and over to France on the left, and in front the road heading towards Dover Castle. I mean these are stunning views but every day ones for us.

Into Dover and along London Road and into Cherrytree only to find there is massive roadworks in place, and there is a queue at the barbers and it not yet open. I make a decision, come back another day. Which means how to fill my time? I already knew the answer, I have my camera gear in the back, and there are orchids out there!

My first target is the violet helleborines, quite a drive away, but on a glorious sunny day, and with Radio 6 blasting out on the car radio, it is a wonderful morning. Up to Canterbury, then turn south towards Wye And finally, up a series of every narrowing lanes until I come to the remote church overlooking an idyllic valley. I park up and grab my camera gear and tripod. From the church it is a long, but beautiful walk up an ancient track to the woods in which the orchids should be.

I had been here last week, but only managed to find one unopened spike. I hoped to do better today.

The hedgerows are full of butterflies: Gatekeepers, Wall Browns, Large and Small Whites. Some of which I do manage to snap, others I just watch whirling around in a fine aerial ballet. Into the wood, and I am looking left and right. And there, about ten metres from the path, in a beam of sunlight, I see what looks like an orchid spike. Indeed it was. And it was my prey, the violet helleborine.

One large spike, and another unfurling one stood in a small glade. Not much, but it will do, as the large spike is at least half open. So, I get my shots then set off looking for more. I find the unopened spike from last week, when I hear approaching voices. Two ladies on horseback come slowly trotting by. I move off the path as some horse can be nervous: they ask me if I had any good shots that morning. I told them yes, I am hunting orchids. A bit late they said. But then these are late season orchids.

I had piqued their interest, so I show them the unopened spike, then the opened one, and they are very happy to know about the wood they pass through so often. They then have the trouble of getting back on their horses, which they do manage to do.

It is still only half ten, and so I think I can squeeze at least one more visit in, I remember last year seeing some Broad Leafed Helleborines beside a track, and because of work, I did not get a chance to go back to see them open: would they still be there?

As it is one of the main sites for orchids, it is a path I know well, but I had not been so late in the year, and I wondered how different it might look. The main difference was that mine was the only car parked at the start of the woodland drive. But I see that the air is full of butterflies here too. It is a long but gentle walk through the wood, past the woodpiles and to the reserve. But the orchids I seek are not in there, but I will walk back through it. No, I head up the main track, a steady climb, and one to get the juices flowing on a warm morning.

I think I must have been mistaken, as I walk along the edge of the wood, on and on I go, until I am sure I must have been mistaken. And then I see one spike, then two more. Until I see about a dozen of them. And much to my delight, most are of the paler variety, but here again, most are not open, so have to make do with those that are, getting down in the brambles and getting my skin torn to shreds. All in the name of orchidology.

After walking further along to check if there was ay more, I begin the walk back to the car, another half an hour, but good to walk in the woods, seeing all the birds and insects on the wing.

Now, I could head to a pub for some refreshment, or I could go home. I decide on the latter and so lunch with Jools. I drive the same way as last week, back to the A2 then down Lydden Hill and into Dover before driving past the castle and along the cliffs. As I pass over Jubilee Way, I see there is a queue, but not too bad, we hope that some kind of normality is coming and we can just get on. But that can change in a day.

Back home, I ask if Jools wanted to eat lunch; she had been back from her walk about half an hour, and although not initially hungry, she is soon tempted by the thought of breaded aubergine and pasta salad. So, we work together to prepare the aubergine, which I ten fry up, and in about half an hour, we are sitting down to a fine simple meal, along with a pint of beer/cider to wash it down with.

The remaining task for the day was to keep awake. Not as easy as it seemed, as it was half three, and mighty warm outside. I try to watch the women's FA Cup final, which is OK, but I miss the last 15 minutes as sleep took me.

We have yet another slice of limoncello and grappa tart for supper, washed down with a cup of strong coffee.

The final act of the day is to sit on the patio, waiting for the just gone past full moon rise in front of us. It does, just after nine, all big and yellow and clear. It rises through bands of whispy clouds, as the day ends and the sky darkens. I fancy something to drink to round off the day, wishing I had some port or Madeira. Much to my delight I find a bottle of the latter, with enough in it for a generous glass, and a fine way to see the end of the day.