Sunday, 25th June 2017

Sunday, a day of rest.

Unless there are orchids, butterflies and trains to see. And photograph.

Last week, when I walked to Kingsdown with Tony, I spotted a couple of pale Pyramidals on the cliff tops, so, with the best of the weather expected first thing, we went there first thing.

Getting to the monument is now much easier that the estate owners have actually tarmacked the road, at least until the final hundred yards to the monument, that is still pot holed to the max.

A short walk along the cliffs were the orchids, and a couple of hundred yards down I find the pale lilac spike, easily snappable, so I take advantage, and walking back find a few more. There was the single camper van beside the monument, I think they are trying t stop overnight camping there, maybe the Germans could not read the signs, or refusing to comply.

Back home for bacon butties and a brew, before the next item on the agenda; a hunt for the fabled Frog Orchids.

Two or three years ago, Jools and I searched the area above Crabble Athletic Ground for the orchids, but having not seen them before, wasn’t too sure what a spike would look like, even with the trusty Harrap in my hand. But after seeing them two years in a row now in Suffolk, and having top quality orchid eyes, we would search again. Once an area of downland is no longer grazed, it quickly gets taken over by scrub and eventually trees, closing in the open ground and forcing the plants that were there before to move elsewhere or die out, Moving is only possibly by setting seed and if there is a new place to grow, but there is the chance a spike or two could cling on, maybe in a glade.

We hoped.

Parking at the football ground, we walked up the steep slope to the old pasture that used to be where the spikes grew, at least to the beginning of the 80s anyway. Jools knew the area back then, but trying to reconcile with what was there before to what is there now, is difficult. Even asking a dog walker we wasn’t too sure either, but then he said he had seen what he thought was an orchid the day before, would we like to see it?

We did, of course, and so he takes up along steep and overgrown paths to where it opened out slightly, and beside the path were two small Common Spotted Orchids, showing, if nothing else, that conditions could be right for Frogs.

He also explained the land at the top of the downs, and where grazing took place, so we followed him up, and me branching off every time I saw a clearing or grass pasture. I looked and looked, even at the top of th down where there was a large clearing full of grass and willow herb, but nothing there either.

Finally, walking back down we came to an area which had been cleared last winter, hoping this would be the place; I found Knapweed Broomrape, and other wild flowers, many butterflies, but no orchids. However, this was by no means a comprehensive search, and a return, maybe next year at the start of the Frog flowering season.

We walk back to the car, finding it still only quarter past ten, and having done so much already.

Next up was Sandwich Bay to see the newest species of the season; the Marsh Helleborines. Many people’s favourite orchid. Me, I can’t choose.

Sandwich was pretty much closed off due to a road race taking place, and a coach getting stuck down one of the narrow streets of the town, but one more entrance, over the old town bridge and past the church lead us to Sandwich Bay, and paying a pretty pound got access to the Bird Observatory, and a place to park, and where permission to see the orchids could be sought.

It was no trouble, so Jools and I got our camera and walked over the meadow to the ringing area, and into the orchid meadow. Most spikes were at least partially open, not quite at their peak, but good enough to get shots, and the sun even shone for a while making the pictures sparkle.

All the marsh orchids were over or almost gone over, so none were worth snapping, no sign of the pure white one either, but to compensate there were dozens of butterflies to see and chase once the orchids had been snapped.

We had a brew and some chocolate on the main building, swapping stories of recent finds with a friend. I say friend, stole one of my discoveries as his own, but who am I to bear a grudge?

And back home for lunch, which turned out to be dinner; chicken salad and Jersey Royals. And tea.

At four I am off out again to snap a train. The East Kent \railway was having a gala, and on the final train of the day there were going to run a train with three shunters pulling. Worth going to Shepherdswell for I think. So I am standing in a layby overlooking the line, which is hard to photograph due to thick hedges shielding the line, but I think I should get a shot here. I have half an hour to wait, enjoying the warm unexpected sunshine playing on the field between me and the line.

Just before showtime, another car parks near mine, and two volunteers from the railway run across the road, through the field and leap over the gate onto the line so they could get shots I guess. I think about following them, but decide to stay where I was.

I could see the front of the first loco coming towards us through a gap in the trees, not going fast, so I snap a few shots. As the lead driver spied me, he tooted his horn, then the drivers of the three following locos all begin tooting their horns too. Sadly, I wasn’t taking video, but it was interesting to say the least, like a row of terraced houses about to fall down, moving, so ragtaggle did the locos look.

And they were gone, trundling into the gloaming of a summer afternoon, and I could make my way home, over the fields, along the narrow lanes Tony called six foot sixers, to Guston and then home.