Saturday 23rd July 2016

We woke up to find, thanks to Twitter, that Dover was already at a standstill. Seems that there had been less than the required number of immigration officials on duty on the French passport control, and with enhanced shecks in place, the whole port ground to a halt, and the queues of traffic quickly built up, with many families facing a 14 hour wait to get onto a ferry. If they were lucky. Many had to spend the night in their cars, with no food or water, and although this is clearly bad news for those setting off on their holiday, for us locals getting around was going to be just as bad.

But there are lanes and back roads we could go down, just in order to be able to go to the shops, or go out on an orchid hunt for example. Hmmmm.

After last week's failed Chalkhill Blue hunt, I thought what with it being such a fine morning with no breeze at all, and there being no one manning the toll booths at the NT place, it meant it would be free.

A quick drive along Rach road, and then through the NT place, up to the overflow car park, careful not to disturb those sleeping in the tents near the edge of the drop to the car parks below. I go through the gate, look up the down and could see no butterflies on the wing, but as there had been mist at dawn, it meant that any that were about would still be warming up and maybe even basking in the morning sunshine.

Just below the top of the down there is a sheltered glade, I go there first, and at first see just Small Heaths and Marbled Whites about. I look into the long grass, and deep in the undergrowth, near to the bottom of the stalks were three male Chalkhills, wings open wide taking in the morning sun.

I bend down to try to get shots, a couple fly away, but one lets me get quite close before it too flies off.

A little later on, I see one on a crown of wild rosemary, so I get down on my belly, and leopard crawl closer and closer, getting better and better shots with the male apparently stretching it's tongue.

With there only being half a dozen about, I have some shots, but will return in a week or so. Anyway, time for breakfast.

It has been a couple of weeks since I went last orchid hunting, and with the main season now over, it just leaves the Helleborines to look for and snap. Only that many of them now grow further away from home, so require more travel, and with the main roads blocked with port travel, it would require some serious alternative routes for us to be able to get onto clear roads, and then we would have to get back, but hey, life is a gamble, so lets get it done.

After breakfast, we load the car with camera, tripod, reflectors and the such, along with a bottle of water, just in case, and drive down the the Deal road then through Guston, then via narrow tisty roads to Whitfield, then again down more lanes to Eythorne and then to Shepherdswell. Taking over half an hour for a trip that would normally have taken a few minutes. But at the A2 we were confronted with stationary traffic on both carriageways of the port-bound side, and that soon narrowed to a single line, and so they would not be going anywhere very quickly. Indeed, we same most drivers and passengers out of their cars and buses, walking around or sitting on the side of the road, they had been there for ages, clearly.

We were able to get over to the London-bound side, and accelerate up to 70 and cruise past Canterbury and onto Faversham. We would have to get back of course.

Once off the main road, we drive down the old A2, turning off and making our way to the golf course, where I had heard there was a small colony of very pale Broad Leaved Helleborines. I had been to the site before, but that was over two months ago, and I really didn't think I would be going back, so didn't pay as much attention as maybe I should have.

It was a wonderfully sunny and therefore hot, and not really the right time to be recreating Dr Livingstone's trek through the African bush. But, with only the most briefest of directions where to go, I go clambering up and down the grass bank, forging paths through saplings and thickets, getting scratched and all hot and bothered. I see no orchids, just a multitude of butterflies, and most of them Brimstones, both male and females, and I even get a couple of half decent shots, but they weren't in the best of positions for shots, and when I moved closer all of them flew off.

I searched for two hours, and was covered in scratched and bathed in sweat, and found zero orchids. At midday I promised myself I would abandon the search, which whilse was a disappointment, meant we could go onto to another site, via a pub for some refreshment of course.

Back through Fasversham then seeing the coastbound side was packed with traffic, we turn the other way and decoded to take the back road way to Detling. We come to Newnham, and see there are spaces in the car park at The George, so go in and decide not just drinks, but we were so hungry we would have lunch. After a fruit juice, just to cool down and quench our thirst, we order our meals; burger and fries for Jools and chili for me, and we are set. The food is good, but to be honest we were so hungry, I think we would have eaten almost anything.

I pay and we return to the car, drive south through Doddington to Lenham, then along the A20 to Maidstone before turning back up the down to the small village where we would abandon the car before walking into the woods.

Our destination was a clearing, a quarter of an hour along narrow paths through the woods, where there was a large colony of BLH. We come to the clearing, and climb up to to the shade of the trees where they usually grew, only to find none. But after some searching, I find a few spikes, yet to flower. Nearby Jools sees one partially open, so I snap that. We walk down a footpath on a slightly different was back tot he car, and I see several dozen spikes, some open and many more yet to. I snap those, and happy that at least for all this effort I had some shots of orchids.

Next up was Crundale; the most remote Kentish village, and where we were going was most remote part of the village. From the vantage point of the car park, I could see just one farm and nothing else, and yet this is Kent in the over-crowded south east! It was half one, and the hottest part of the day, so Jools says she would not be accompanying me on the walk to the wood, so I take the camera, tripod and reflectors from the boot, and set off on the mile and a half walk along the undulating track to the wood.

I won't lie, it was hard work, and I was hot and bothered all over again; the scratches I got earlier in the day, itched like mad, but I pused on until I reached the shadow of the wood. In I walked, looking on either side of the track for the telltale shape of a Helleborine spike, but saw none. I was searching for the Broad Leaved less showy cousin, the Violet, very hard to find, and found only on a couple of ancient beech woods. I searched and searched, retraced my steps back out of the wood, and found none at all, not even an unfurling spike.

From there it was a long walk, but mostly downhill back to the car where the water bottle and Jools was waiting.

Quarter past four the clock said, and now we had to get back home. Back up north via Stone Street to Bridge, then along the A2 until the traffic news at quarter to five told us there were 5 miles of queues ahead of us, so we turned off and went via Womenswold, Barfrestone, Shepherdswell and Eythorne, following the route we had left on that morning.

The Deal road was quiet, so turned towards Deal before branching off up Station Road and home. Quarter past five. Sheesh. What a day, and all I have to show for it was a handfull of orchids and a few blurry shots of Brimstone butterflies. But I had pushed myself very hard, and came through it.

We sit in the shade of the living room and drink pints of squash with lots of ice. That's better.

The evening before we had made Limoncello and Grappa tart together. After eating dinner; making the pastry, separating the dozen eggs and mixing in the booze and ground almonds. I let it cool all night, before popping it in the fridge for the day. So, we were able to cut the first two generous slices along with a fresh pot of coffee, so sat on the patio in the evening sun, munching on what is the best desert in the world. And I mean that!

1 packet of ready rolled sweet pastry (I make my own)
1 punnet of blueberries (I use one of blueberries and one of raspberries)
12 egg yolks (yes, 12)
juice and zest from 3 lemons
100ml limoncello
50ml Grappa
300g caster sugar
250g ground almonds.

454g = 1 pound, 227g = 1/2 pound, etc

Method: Butter a 12 inch flan ring, then line with pastry stabbing the base with fork. Pour in berries and allow to rest in fridge for 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 160C/325F/gas mark 3. Whisk the eggs, lemon juice and zest, limoncello and grappa and sugar in a large bowl. Fold in the almonds pour this mixture in the tart shell. Bake for 40-50 minutes. Will be cooked when a knife comes out clean. Serve dusted with icing sugar, more limoncello and cream.