Monday 7th June 2021

Ian's on the road again.

It has been ten months since I last travelled for work, and this week threw up and a chance to head north to do some work, make a pain in the arse of myself, and maybe do some orchid hunting too.

Yes, how surprising.

This meant having to get a hire car first thing, and with the company I used to use now having left town, I had to switch to Enterprise, the company that once charged Jools £700 for a chipped windscreen.

Hmmmm, indeed.

Anyway, after coffee and the usual, Jools dropped me off in town on the promenade, there was sea mist in the air, but clearing quickly, light would change from moment to moment. There wasn't a breath of wind, so the harbour was like a mirror, it was all rather nice, but no time to wait.

I walk to the main road and across to the car hire place, and at five to eight, it wasn't open. So, I took a seat and waited. And waited. Staff arrived and I was seen to, but the car allocated had developed a puncture, they had to quickly clean a new one and change the system to refelct the change. I was given a Corsa that boasts a "sports" badge, and I can tell you that the badge is the only sporty thing about it.

I tried to accelerate up Jubilee Way on the way home to pick up my bags and foot flat to the floor, nothing really happened. Or at least in a hurry.

Back home, I have another coffee and breakfast, the squeeze the big case, all my camera gear, a coat and some spare shoes in the boot. I had a bottle of juice and a flask in the boot, and a snack. I was prepared, I think. I punched in the postcode for the hotel, and the sat nav told me it was a five hour five minute drive.

Hit it.

I pulled out of the drive, made for the A2 and turned north, at least this first part I knew well enough. It was a glorious morning, thoughts turned to orchids and shots of the hybrids at Holboroough a friend posted the day before on FB. They were glorious. I would pass within five miles of them. I should go.

So I did.

I park in Snodland, walk over the maon road, past the transport depot and the new warehouse being built, noise filled the air. Through the foot tunnel and into nature, sounds of the modern world faded, and before was the meadow.

I knew where to go, head through the meadow and over the secnd gate, turn left to the corner where there is the hybrid monster, all spotted leaves, huge spikes with darkly marked flowers. I take lots of shots, then turn round and walk back across the meadow, over the fence, through the tunnel and back to the car. Half an hour had passed.

I go back to the motorway and go north to the M25, where I hit a jam, and we inch forward for twenty minutes until the road goes down and we pass under the river and into Essex.

From there it was a case of just pressing on, the sies began to cloud over, but was very warm, twenty three degrees, and the air con in the little car wasn't man enough for the job.

I go past Stanstead, Cambridge and west on the A14, all three lane road (on each side), which has scarred the countryside for twenty miles to the A1, but tell me again how a two line railway powered by renewable energy is such a bad thing? And the irony is not lost of me writing this about driving in a four seater car containing just me.

So it goes, so it goes.

There is ten miles of four lane road heading north, with most not being able to pick the same lane, but then it narrow to two lanes, and from there to Ferrybridge there is just two lanes, and I get stuck behind an endless line of trucks trying to get past each other at one half of a mile an hour quicker than the one they were overtaking. It seems to take hours, but with the massive cooling towers of the power station loomin over the meeting of the two motorways, a thrid lane opens up, and traffi mealts away.

Roads to Leeds and York branch off, before I do too, striking for the coast, pasing Thirsk and passing just north of the North Yorkshire Moors.

Instead of the hotel, I stop to consult my ancient orchid guide, and it suggested a small reserve in the shadow of various iron works near the coast.

Twnety minutes later, I arrive and see a sign for the reserve pointing left at a junction, I turn left and there was no other signs. I find the sea, and drive along, whilse trying to program the sat nave and phone. I should have stopped, I know, but I was stupid.

The phone takes me back to the left turn and I see the reserve is right on the corner, so I turn down a track and kind of abandon the car, grab a camera and walk out nto the clouds of midges. I would regret this, I thought.

But they must have been the nonbiting cousins of the Scottish ones that nearly carried me off for their tea on Skye.

I was round the reserve, and see little, other than a couple of Reed Buntings showing well. I spoke to a couple of locals and neither had seen orchids that day, but back at the entrance, I looked at the map and saw a second entrance near to the beach, and what promised to be a wild flower meadow was near.

Sounded good.

I drove round, parked went to investigate. There was lost of Kidney Vetch and Milkwort, and the occasional butterfly braving the stiff breeze, and views over the scrapyards to the abandoned blast furnaces behind.

Well, its not Kent.

And no orchids either.

It was half six, so walked back to the car for the twenty minute drive to Hartlepool, where I was booked into a hotel overlooking the marina which used to be docks, and once surrounded by warehouses and factories, but all had been razed, turned into grassed areas of the hotel and "family" restaurant next door.

I check in, and have a ground floor room, go back out to stretch my legs then go to the Brewer's Fayre to have dinner. Sitting outside you can use a QR code to access the menu, order meals and drinks and it appears ten minutes.

Like magic.

Its poor fayre, but the company paid, the fruit juice cold. mI eat the second burger of the day and bloddy enjoy it, and feed a lame herring gul with the last two chips. Not fries.

And that was that. Back to the hotel room, write a blog, listen to a podcast and bed.

What a day.