Wednesday 26th May 2021

I woke up at six fifteen, not enough sleep, but deep and restful.

The original plan was to look round more local sites before heading south, but I was impatient, and the grid references to find the orchids I wanted hadn't arrived by seven, when it was time for breakfast, so instead I decided to head south to visit my friends who visited Kent last week, but live in Gloucestershire. Duncan had promised big.

I packed, checked the room twice, and went downstairs where the landlord showed my the fruit, cereal and coffee, took an order for sausage and bacon butties, while I took some fruit and a coffee.

I eat and drink up, say goodbye to the owner, and remind him again the name of the orchid I had come up to see.

I load the car, program the sat nav, which told me I had 183 miles to go.

I drove out of the car park, up the High Street, then along to the motorway junction, I turned south and engaged most of the horses, the car leapt off, overtaking a truck, and joining the motorway, filled, as it was, with light traffic.

It started out dull and grey, but brightened up, meaning I was even more enthused about some orchiding in a new county.

Down through Preston, round Manchester, bypassing Liverpool and further south until hit the roadworks between Crewe and Stafford, so we crept forward at fifty, the fifteen miles dragging.

Out through the roadworks and onto the clear three carriageways of the M6 Toll Road, driving for the sheer joy of it. I stop at the services for a coffee and a slice of cake, then back onto the road, taking the M42 to the south west, joining an old friend, the M5 towards Gloucester and Cheltenham.

I used to drive this road every week when I was still with wife number 2 and at Cosford on my fitters course, I think we must have travelled on it too when we had a holiday on the Long Mynd maybe 14 or 15 years ago now, but time matters little. Much has changed, and yet, much is the same.

I turn off and head east through Regency Cheltenham, I should have stopped for photos of the Georgian houses, the stonewear four sided bench and the fine pub named The Tivoli. But I had orchids in mind. I arrived at their house, and reveresed into their parking area, Duncan came out, and said he had already put the kettle on.

We have a cuppa, and a Danish pastry, catch up and then it is time. He will drive as I had already done nearly four hours, which was fine, as he also knew where to go. We take endless winding roads, through stunning verdant rolling countryside, climbing all the time, until we made the final climb to Selsley.

Selsly is a Common, but seems to be another name for a chalk down, it seems to have free grazing, and there were a few horses in the distance, as the Common is huge.

We set off across the buttercup covered grassland, until it began to drop away, bringing into view the village at the foot of the down, the land dropping to the River Severn many miles away, then the hills of south Wales rising darkly in the distance. It was breathtaking.

We had to climb halfway down to the village, and in a location looking the same as any other,there was a spike of an orchid, but with flowers of a different shape: this was the spike of a hybrid, a hybrid between the Bee and Fly Orchid, and amazing it looked.

And then the sun came out.

Wow.

There was no one else about.

We both took lots of pictures, then began the climb back to the top, then over to the car.

The next call promised a climb of even steeper slopes.

Eeeek.

Duncan took us down narrow twisty lanes, along the valley and up the other side, past a huge pub to another Common, where we find a parking space, and ebfore we set off, we call in at a place selling what Duncan claimed were the best ice creams in England. A bold claim.

I had stawberry and cream in a snazzy waffle cone, and it passed the QC test, though I might need another to be sure.

The Common was covered again in buttercups and cowslips, we walk on, and the ground began to drop. We walked on.

Below us the sides of the down dropped away to the narrow lane we had come up, it was down there we had to go, there weemed no way of getting down. And remember, we'd have to get back up afterwards!

Duncan said if we took a certain path, and dropped down a gulley, we might get lucky and see some Dukes (of Burgundy).

It was a scramble alright, but once we reached the lower path, there were butterflies all around, including at least three Dukes. I managed to get a distant shot, and then one planded near me, so I managed to sccot closer and get a very acceptable shot.

Happy.

We climb further down, almost to the road, then along some, and ahead, Duncan lets out a cry: here they are!

Sword Leaved Helleborine is extinct in Kent, probably extinct, though I think one was found a few years back, and in Gloucestershore they're pretty rare. There were four plants, two full sized, and two much saller examples.

We were joined by two ladies who had also been looking, we all took shots before it was time to turn round and climb.

Sigh.

All journeies begin with a single step. Followed by a second. And a third. And so on. We make it to the first path, then up, zig-zaggin up and to the right each time, it was hard going, but in a few minutes we had left the two ladies and a rude butterfly chaser far below. There was the remains of a cart track, probably at about 40%, but easier on the feet.

We reached the top after twenty minutes and plenty of pauses for breath and photographs. We walked back to the car, then drive to the motorway and back to Cheltenham to their house. We had an emergency brew, then I climb in my car to follow Duncan for the last call; more orchids.

We drive through the villge, past schools and their roads jammed with Mothers in 4x4s, clogging up traffic, then into the countryside, climbing up through woodland, and turning off down a narrow lane, stopping on the corner of a lane, which looked like hundreds of other scenes.

But jsut along the lane, in the leaf litter, olive green spikes were emerging, many such spimes, each one a new season's orchid, Bird's Nest Orchids, rare, and rarely grow in the same location. Here, over 40 spikes were seen, with more coming. Sadly, none were quite in flower, but they looked impressive.

And that was it, it was nearing five, and I had another 180 miles to do, but this time along the busiest roads in the country.

I had to get to Swindon, then pick up the motorway, and for a while it was easy going, along roads I knew well 25 years ago. Into Swindon, past the huge Honda factory, and then in a long queue to get to final roundabout and get onto the motorway.

I edge on, and cruise at seventy, listening to the radio as I motored through Wiltshire, into Oxforshire and Berkshire, past Windosr Castle, and there was me expecting there to be awful traffic any moment, and yet there wasn't.

Onto the M25, and OK, there was a few delays, but nothing like I was expecting, so made good time, and was on track to get back home before eigt, which was a right result. The sun was sinking fast as I entered Kent and turned off down the M20, traffic light again, but I was being followed. Well, worse than that, tailgated by a van with ladders on the roof, it was about two feet from the back of the car, so when we came to some heavier traffic, I put my foot down and got the heck out of there.

It had followed me like that for several miles, and I could see it as I zoomed off into the distance, trying to keep up, but failing.

I slowed to seventy, and there was no reappearance for the van, so just took my time driving down to Ashford, then to Folkestone and finally, Dover.

I parked the car and as soon as I tried to get out the car, my legs screamed, OW WE HURT.

I know.

I carried my bags into the house, Jools already had the kettle on. We had brews, we talked, then when she went to bed, I had supper and watched the end of the man Utd v Villareal game, which Utd lost 11-10 on penalties. It was ten past 11.