A few trips out of Kent this year to see new species and variations we don't get here. Rather than retelling the tales, just as easy to repost them.
1. Military and Lady x Monkey hybrids:
12 May, 2022
The day of the great power cut.
I knew it was coming as National Grid kept sending these automated information messages. I never clicked on "next" to see what we should do. It seemed quite straightforward, boil water on the hob, open fridge and freezers as little as possible.
And so on.
Or go on an orchid-centric road trip with the two mods from the orchid group!
Yes, that's the way to do it.
Which is why Jools was going to drive Jen's car two work, and would drive the Audi.
Arrangements had been made to pick up the boys from Ian's in Wateringbury, then we head west to Buckinghamshire.
I thought that if I was up early, I could go to Marden on the way to snap the last of the Green-wing. In the event, they are still at peak, but at seven in the morning, I had the three meadows to myself.
I was ready to leave before six, so took the chance to call in on the Late Spider site in Folkestone. I parked on the road and walked into the meadow, finding the single spike still not quite in flower, but the first flower open enough so I could see the upturned lip.
I'd count that as open.
I kidded myself.
I walked back to the car, programmed the postcode for Marden in, and set off.
As before, the road through Pluckley was closed, as were others, but I made my way nort and west, coming in time to Staplehurst.
It was a glorious morning, without a coud in the sky, and the splendour of springtide was all around. I should have stopped to drink it all in, but I was on a mission.
Nearing Marden, there was a slight mist too, diffusing the sun, but at the meadow, it was clear again.
I grabbed my camera and walked to the main meadow, then by the circular path I snapped close spikes to the path, including a pale pink one, and a couple of pure white ones. A heavy dew lay on the ground, and my feet were soon soaked, but I was enjoying myself too much to notice.
A couple of 12 car commuter trains sped by to London, seats full and heads bowed, looking at phone screens. I was outside, at one with nature.
I know who was doing it best.
I walk back to the car, and set Ian's address into the sat nav and set off the 12 miles to his house, having to cross the Medway via one of the ld pack bridges, all are single track and a traffic nightmare in the 21st century.
I chose Teeston Bridge, mainly because I was going to visit the village shop and buy supplies, so that would be asy, and before eight in the morning, the cars waiting to go north, which have to give way to those going south, can see just enough of the bridge to guess when its safe to do so.
I get across and go into the village, parking up, I notice my wet feet for the first time. Very wet indeed.
In the small shop there were no sandwiches, just snacks, so I buy two packs of Mini Cheddars, two bottles of pop and a sausage roll. I had 50 minutes before was due at Ian's, so I ate in the car and watched the world go by. I had the sausage roll and one bag of Cheddars, and was happy with that.
Ian lives the next village along, up one of the main roads that meets at the cross roads in the centre, which they are laying new pipes under, or something, so there is traffic lights and long delays. It took ten minutes to edge along the road before turning, and pulling into Ian's drive. I knew it was his due to the horse box and horse van.
I knock on the door and he answers. Terry is not here yet, so we load up Ian's gear, so when Terry arrives, we do that same for him and we are set.
All aboard the Skylark!
We drive up the kill to Wrotham, joining the M26 there and heading west. Traffic was heavy, but we made good time, cruising at 60 or 70, onto the M25 and skirting southern London's suburbs.
We were held up a couple of times, but not too bad, so once we reached Heathrow and the M4 junction, we turned onto that and went further west for ten miles, before turning off again, driving up to Marlow, which claimed to be a village, but is a small picturesque town, with suspension bridge, old houses and pubs and a traffic problem.
I had wanted to stop, but there was nowhere, so we drove on as we were three miles from the reserve.
I should have remembered the last time I came with Jools when she directed me using the directions on the reserve's website, not the postcode. But I didn't. So, in rural areas, postcodes cover a wide area, and after arriving where the sat nav said, there was no reserve.
We drove on and nothing looked familiar.
Then I remembered.
I looked at the website on my phone: turn right at the Dog and Badger pub it said. So we set directions for the pub, turned right, then along. Over a crossroads and down a lane, following an Austin A10 of just post-war vintage, to the small car park.
But we had arrived.
We were here to see the Military Orchids, a close relation of the Monkey and Lady. The Military was once found near Dartford in Kent, but development built over where they grew, and they are in the county no more. In fact they grow at just three sites; two public and one private, and the Suffolk site is only open a couple of days a year.
Which is why we were in Buckinghamshire, one of a number of pilgrims who were coming to pay their respects at the roots of this rare plant. Or these rare plants.
A short walk through the woods brought us to a clearing, and on the far side were cages containing spikes or ones partially in flower. We spit up and went to take shots.
The sun even came out, and we talked to the two other groups that were there at the same time.
I found Fly Orchids too for one of the groups who ahd never heard of such a thing, so I could use terms like pseudo-copulation in polite society. Again.
But enough of the militaries, we had a date of the bastard offspring of two other orchid species; Monkey and Lady.
The Lankey.
A short seven mile drive to the foot of a down, but faced with a one and a half mile walk along said lane to the reserve entrance, as there is no parking.
We park, have a drink and a handul of magical Cheddars, and set off. Only to be hailed as we walked across the car park:
"Ian!"
I wasn't the only Ian in our group of three, so was it me being called?
I looked at the gentleman, and he looked at me.
Don't you recognise me, Ian?
He said, looking at me.
It's me, Duncan, from Gloucestershire.
Then it clicked. But I had suffered brain freeze.
He was leading an orchid tour, and his orchidists were waiting by the minibus he was driving, so we couldn't talk much, and he had to go.
We walked to the lane, then up through the houses into the countryside, the lane climbing upwards, just shallow enough not to set my back off.
We reached the turn in the road after twenty minutes, walked up a track, and there was the entrance. The ground rse up before us, with three tracks leading, the centre one to some steps cut into the down.
I remembered those.
So we set off, the ground climbing, and all three of us gentlemen of a certain age, battling gravity.
Up the steps, holding onto the fence, and in front I could see the fenced off areas where the orchids would be.
Out of the trees, the ground was still steep, so that photography was tricky, and the clouds that had rolled in meant waiting for the light at times.
But we got our shots.
We talked to a couple, about orchids in general, and I said I ran an Kent Orchid group on FB.
You're not Ian Hadingham, are you, Denise asked?
I was struck dumb. Yes, I am, I said.
I read your blogs, she said, your experience with your mother was so like mine.
It always catches me unaware that people read these words, most that do know me in some way, but this was really amazing.
We finish taking shots of the hybrids, and both parent plants, a couple of Lady and at least three Monkey. The hybrids are hyper-fertile, so create a swarm, and are tightly packed in two small areas.
All done, we bid our new friends goodbye and walk down the hill. Sharp-eyed Ian, no the other on, spots two Monkey on the grass at the foot of the down, showing how they are spreading here.
Good news.
It was an easy walk back down the lane to the car, arriving back, we have some more to drink and set off back east to Kent.
We had hoped to have a bite to eat at some historic pub or another, but the one we did see was packed, so we pressed on back to the main road, then onto the motorway at Reading, turning east.
We did stop at the services for food, amazed to find unleaded at £1.89 a litre, and diesel 10p more. I ut twenty in and we set off back into traffic, and the M25 which was nearly the start of rush hour.
We hit two jams, but not held up by much, and soon we were out of it, cruising along back into Kent, turning off and driving down into Wateringbury to drop Ian and Terry off.
I got across the Medway again at Teeston, but found more closed roads, so I thought I knew better than the sat nav heading across country, driving by dead reckoning, and coming to the road I was looking for, even if it die mean dealing with the rush hour queues at Langley and in Leeds. Anything was better than Maidstone.
I called Jools saying I would meet her at Jen's at six, or just after, so I got back on the motorway and cruises towards Ashford and then the coast.
I arrived at twenty past six, Jools was waiting, and just wanted to get back home, so we thanked Jen and drove back home, where four hungry cats were waiting.
Toast and brews for supper, then a viewing of the North London Derby, which Spurs won easily. By which time it was nearly ten, and time for bed.
2. Early Marsh and Fen Orchids, South Wales.
3 June, 2022
We woke at quarter to six in Swindon.
Outside it was warm and cloudy. But with the promise of sunshine later.
We had a shower, dressed and was down fr breakfast for half six, with all bar the cooked food ready.
So, we filled our boots with fruit and coffee before the fry up was brought. Aroud us, young red-eyed familes ate in a daze, and men in work clothes got ready for their last working day of the week.
We had a 90 minute drive, so we turned out of the car park at seven, across the huge roundabout ond onto the M4 heading due west for Bath, Bristol and Wales.
We put the radio on, and as the cruised through the Wiltshire countryside, the clouds above thinned and the sun broke through.
It was going to be a perfect day for orchiding.
We crossed over the new bridge ito Wales, traffic was heavier, but it flowed well, and all around the weather improved.
Past Newport and Cardiff beofre trning off to the coast, lead by the sat nav into which I had programmed the postcode. Although that wasn't enough, as the post coast was a gated farm track.
We tried to drive into the nearest town, and there was no reserve, but on the way out I saw a brown sign with a waterfowl, the symbol for a reserve.
Getting close now.
We arrived, and already the car park was half full, because sadly most people use reserves as dog exercise areas, and we were to be harassed and harried all our visit but aggressive small and larger dog and owners who don't give a toss.
I was here to see a rarer colour variation of the Early Marsh, but Kenfig is also home to the only western colony of Fen Orchids. I had seen these in Norfolk a few years back, but as were here, and someone on Twitter supplied me with a grid reference and good directions, as the orchids are tiny.
So, we went via a maze of tracks, heading mostly west, through coppices and dunes, until there was a large open area of grass.
And orchids.
And there were the magenta coloured EMO.
I filled my boots.
Then, to find the Fens.
Beside one dune that looked just like any other, some work had been done last year to disturb the soil, and here, if we looked hard enough, would be the orchids.
What I saw were hundreds of Marsh Helleborine rosettes putting up spikes, more than I have seen since I was on the Snook.
But then I saw the familiar spike, with two rounded leaves wrapped round the spike.
But not in flower.
We looked more, and found three more spikes, but none in flower.
Then Jools called, and by a short piece of bamboo, there were two flowering spikes, barely 4cm tall.
I got my pictures and we turned for the car, meetng folks on the way who showed us a good spot for dragonflies. We saw damsels, though they were flighty, and then a couple of dragons, but neither settled. Sure one was either a Norfolk of Brown Hawker, but can't be sure.
We reached the car and programmed the hotel in: 117 miles and nearly four hours away.
We drove back to the motorway, past a music festival with people arriving carrying tents and coolers.
We drove on.
Back onto the M4, before turning up through Neath and up and up to Brecon.
At the highest point of the pass, miles of cars parked on the verge, and a line of folks in bright rainware heading further up.
It was packed. So we drove on.
Down the otherside, we came to a greasy spoon, where we stopped and had coffee with "posh" sausage rolls and cakes, whole sitting in deckchairs provided, so we could look on the traffic as we ate.
We drove on, looking for a pub in which to whet our whistle. But there were none. For over an hour we passed through towns and villages, but no pubs were seen, The one we did find, was closed and locked.
We drove on.
Within twenty miles of the hotel we came upon a Red Lion, they were not doing food, but they had beer.
We supped our ales sitting in the beer garden, while around birds sang in joy.
Not a bad spot.
We had an hour to kill, so needed to stop. I saw signs for Welshpool, so thought we would call in. And I knew there was a narrow gauge railway here, maybe it would be working?
Being the second bank holiday of the Jubilee, and just after three, there wasn't much happening in town. Jools went to Boots to get supplies for her cold, and I wandered around taking shots.
We went into a coffee shop for a brew. I made the mistake of having a flavoured latte, but turned down the sugar when offered. Good job, as I had forgotten how sweet coffee with syrup could be, even with an extra shot of espresso in.
But we had killed an hour, so could go to the pub and our home for the next week.
We reached the hotel at four, Bob the andlord was expecting us, and poured me a pint in welcome, as was a fellow armourer in a previous life.
Our toom is up two steep flights of stairs, but we have three rooms, two beds, two TVs and a bathroom. Which will do.
We went down for dinner, I feasted on steak and ale pie. Homemade, while Jools has chicken Kyiv.
We had a cheeseboard, and a wine, before wearyness swept over us, and we headed back up them steep stairs to bed.
3. Red Helleborine
28 June, 2022
There are somewhere between 50 and 60 native orchid species in the UK.
I say it like that because as genetic sequencing is used, what was once a separate species becomes a sub-species of something else.
And then with the availabilty of orchid plants and seeds on the net, the "chance" discovery of more and more exotic species becomes ever more likely.
Of the top of my head, these are the species I have yet to see.
1. Narrow Lipped Helleborine
2. Creeping Lady's Tresses
3. Irish Lady's Tresses
4. Lesser Twayblade
5. Coralroot
6. Bog Orchid
7. Irish Spotted Orchid
8. Small White Orchid
9. Dense Flowered Orchid (though seen on Rhodes)
10. Dune Helleborine (though seen both Tyne and Lindisfarne(though the latter was a separate species in 2014))
11. Ghost Orchid. (of course)
12. Pugsley's Marsh orchid
And until yesterday, Red Helleborine.
Some are rare due to geographical location limitations, and some are low in actual numbers, some, both. The Ghost I probably won't see, but of the others, the blandly names Small White Orchid might prove to be the most difficut.
The Red Helleborine was never that common, but since the war its best sites have been built on, and what sites are left have at times poorly managed. Most years less than five plants flower, some years just one. So, the chance to see one of the sites, and as it turns out the only one with flowering spikes this (and last) year was too good to turn down, and after the hours put in last week, I thought I would claw some back this week by taking Tuesday off.
It would mean having the car all day, and driving to the Chilterns and back in one day, but what the heck? THe trip was arranged by the Hardy Orchid Society, I put my name down and was accepted.
We were up at five, Jools made drinks and then had a shower, I dragged my body out of bed, got dressed and got all my shit together.
We left at quarter to six, me dropping Jools off on Hythe seafront, and then heading back to the motorway before taking the M25 south round London. I knew it would be tough, but I had four and a half hours for a two and a half hour drive.
Should have been enough.
I won't lie, travelling along the M25 and then round the M25 is not pleasant. Even in glorious sunshine. Traffic was stop/start for over an hour, and then the sat nav declared that the motorway ahead was closed.
I said to the sat nav, if that were true, I'm sure the matrix signs would have mentioned it.
The motorway is cloed, it said.
Again.
So it came to pass that I was travelling at between 60 and 70mph along what the car told me was a closed motorway. So, I had no estimated time for arrival, only that the alternative routes were to take much longer than I had.
So, once the car agreed with me that the motorwa wasn't closed after all, and with the expected delays taken into account, I would still get to the site with an hour to spare.
Good news.
It was great to turn off the M25 at the junction after Heathrow, head to Oxford, but have enough time to be able to stop at High Wycombe services for a comfort break, then call in at Greggs for not one, but two sausage rolls for second breakfast.
I was boosted by their energy for the last half an hour drive to a lay by in a wood, where the warden was already waiting.
As time went on, more and more cars arrived, so soon over a dozen folks had arrived, and at half ten we had our brief and we walked into the woods.
Because there was a clay pigeon shoot on at the landowner's estate, it was like being in a warzone, but walking carefully down the chalk slope through dense woodland, we came to a stockade, and on the other side were two weedy looking spikes with glorious spink flowers.
Red Helleborines.
We took turns to take shots, some took a few, other apparently took hundreds.
I suppose I should mention I was recognised by the organiser, Richard, and a couple who asked: did we meet at Homefield Wood where you pointed out orchids we should look at?
Yes, that was me.
And another couple when I said I bumped into a friend of us both at Goring railway satation on the way to Hartstock, they said they were in the minibus waiting for their driver, Duncan, to take them somewhere else.
Small world.
Is the orchid world.
After 90 minutes we were done, so we walked back to our cars, and with it being after midday, I knew I had to make tracks to head back to Kent.
So, programmed the sat nav for home, and away I zoomed.
I had no idea what the traffic would be, but the matrix signs told me the souther way round would be delayed by an hour at least, so I went clockwise round via the Ma, A1, M11 and A12 to Dartford.
THere were no delays, and arrived at the bridge in good time. So the plan then was to call in at The Larches to check on the Broad Leaved Helleborines. Dashing down the M20 then up Detling Hill, turning off onto Pilgrim's Way, parking at the side of the road.
The site was very dry indeed, and I found just one spike in the whole of the large clearing, none under the two lonely trees at the top, nor between them and the path beside the wood.
Along the path I found maybe a dozen spikes of good size, about two weeks from flowering. PLenty of Ringlets about too, but none settled long enough for me to take shots. So, having looked for the orchids, I walked back to the car, and with over two hours to kill before I had to pick up Jools, I thought I would go to Hothfield to look at the Heath Spotted Orchids again, and at the Keeled Skimmers which I knew now was their only Kent site.
I was hot and hungry, but told myself I would call in at a garage once I had these last shots for some pop and crisps, so was happy to park on the main road, grab the camera and set off through the wood.
Into the fenced off area, and the overgrown birch was even worse than in May when I was here last, though there were a few Heath Spotted spikes, not as numerous as in previous years.
But onto the boardwalk I stood for over half an hour watching the Keeled Skimmers flying, baking, mating, egg laying. It was like an air show, and wonderful.
A lady came to see what I was taking shots off, and she pointed out the orchids gowing in the dried out mud.
I see those too at Blean Woods, she said.
No you didn't, I said as nicely as I could.
I then pointed out the difference between CSO and HSO, the lip shape, patterns and PH of the ground, and she was amazed. As she was at the dragonflies too.
I had my shots of orchids and dragons, so walked back up the hill to the car park, then drove to the main road and down to the garage where I filled the car and bought a bottle of lemon Fanta and two bags of paprika crisps. Which I ate driving into Ashford, then along the M20 driving to Hythe.
I was an hour early, and I had toyed with the idea of going to a pub, but decent ones are thinon the ground in Hythe, so I sat on the prom for half an hour, looking at the sea and the slight waves lapping at the stony beach, while teens swore at each other in what they though was a really funny and grown up way.
I drove to the factory and waited for knocking off time, the hooter went and they all came tumbling out, I picked Jools up, and we drove throught he town and up and over the down to junction onto the motorway, then back home.
Phew, what a long and tiring day.
Home I warm up some pasta sauce, heat some gnochi, and within ten minutes we were sitting down to eat.
Not great, but good enough.
I even resited the lure of wine. Oh no I didn't. I had three glasses. It was the night before I had squash.
4. Narrow Lipped Helleborine
24 July 2022
When you arrange things, sometimes you forget how they will impact your life.
I mean, when I booked to go on the railtour, I didn't realise it would mean 20 hours spent travelling. And then having booked to go on an orchid site visit the day after the railtour I would drive over four hours back to Wales, and then on Monday drove the hour to the site, then have nearly six hours to drive home.
In the school holidays. And with traffic chaos in and around Dover still.
That was my choice.
THe reality was that there would be little time for rest, always on the move. Although on the railtour I would be sitting for the duration of the trip, looking out the window, so not doing anything other than looking for things to photograph, but 90 minutes driving before and after it.
So, Sunday morning.
And we had the chores we failed to do Friday and Saturday: washing, shopping, clearing up, before I would leave at one in the afternoon. One thing I learned for JOols is to prepare, so when she went to the beach for a swim, I had a shower, then packed my overnight bag, wrote down postcodes, directions and details of my stopovers, charged camera batteries.
The car was running on fumes, so we went out at ten to fill it up, now costs £90 from empty. And get wild bird food.
Back home for lunch of caprese, I had even made time to make a small focaccia loaf, which I popped in the oven, so come midday it was done and we could listen to Desert Island Discs while eating. It was Kate Moss, the model, and well, her life seemed so shallow. Name dropping inbetween tales of how she was exploited. She seems to have found happiness, which I guess is what we all deserve.
So, at one I packed the car and set off, having to get through the traffic chaos. In fact it wasn't too bad, but I still avoinded the port and Townwall Street, driving towards Whitfield before heading down the Alkham Valley. I only just made the turn as a lorry had sideswiped a Nissan Micra, and blocked the rest of the roundabout.
I turned off, unaffected, and was soon enjoying the open road driving towards Folkestone. THe on ramp to the A20 was open, and no traffic to really hold me up. On the other carriageway, no cars were allowed on the motorway after Maidstone Services, all traffic being sent down the A20, and that road was at a standstill. My worries already were of the journey back on Monday.
NO problems in etting to the top of the motorway before turning west and the M25. Traffic was heavy, and slow in places, bbut I had a layover planned, and a meet up with a fellow orchidist to see a new species for me.
There are between 50 and 60 orchid species, and I have seen many of them, so the weekend was offering me the chance to see two new species. The first of which was the one we had looked for the weekend before, Narrow Lipped Heleborine.
I turned off the motorway and was soon heading down leafy lanes, which partially hid what used to be called the stockbroker belt houses; huge mansions with electronic gateways, where money buys you privacy in a country mansion. The villages were pretty enough, and the chuches, none of which I had time to stop and look at. Nor the wooden village water well I passed either, even if it looked photogenic and ancient.
I had agreed to meet with Richard between half two and three, so after finding the car park for the reserve, I tried to call him, but turned out his phone had no signals. So I tried to make sense of my scrawled directions, with no luck.
I was in the process of calling other friends who had visited, when Richard called back.
He would come and meet me, he confirmed which path to take, so I wandered off and straight away came to a what was clearly an orchid rich area under huge beech trees and deep in leaf litter. Small orchid spikes dotted the woodland floor, and these were the Narrow Lipped Hellebories.
Richard came and showed me the best spikes, the hot weather had fried many of the others, but there were more than enough to snap.
We carried on walking, and came to a clearing where there were a good few Braod Leaved Helleborines, some were partially baked, but still had flowers, and were being visited by drunken wasps.
Time was getting on, so I had to say my goodbyes to Richard and make my way back to the car.
I programmed in the hotel address, and the sat nav guided me west through yet more picturesque and exclusive villages to the A3, then a short blast to the roundabout at Wisley and onto the M25 again, having missed out several busy junctions on my detour.
Almost straight away, the sunny day was shrouded in thick smoke as another heath fire had broken out to the south, so traffic slowed to a crawl through the poor visibility, everything tinged with brown and even the smell of burning made it into the air conditioning.
But at Heathrow, I got through the smoke, and clear blue skies were overhead once more. And through the final jam, I made my way over to the slow lane to take the slip road to the M40 and head north at last.
This isn't the quickest route, but it is less busy, and there is always the delight of seeing dozens of Red Kites hunting on the way.
I made good time, speeding north, past Oxford and Bicester, pressing on towards Birmingham.
Where, I decided I knew better than the sat nav, and rather than take the M6, I went on to go up the toll motorway, which has lighter traffic, only having to cut through a small village to get back onto the M54 west to Telford and Shrewsbury beyond.
I had the radio on, and on Tom Robinson's show, he played all the tracks from The Streets' first album, which amazingly is 20 years old this week. Still sounds as fresh as it did then, and I learned made using free software on a laptop under a blanket in his wardrobe(!) to muffle sounds as he had no studio.
Weak become heroes indeed.
Shrewsbury bypass is all roundabouts, but at six on a Sunday evening traffic is light, so made good time, and at the last one was the sign to Knockin, the village before the hotel.
THe hot and sunny weather had given way to clouds and even showers, it felt and was cooler, yet the car told me it was still 24 degrees outside.
I arrived at the hotel just after seven, Bob gave me a hug and poured me a pint of dark mild.
That went down well.
So downed two more as I ate dinner of chicken Kyiv and chips.
I was suddenly very tired, I said I was going to my room for a lay down, but to give me a knock if he wanted to have a drink later, not thinking he would.
And hour later there was a knock, so I went down and made two Mai Tai's vanish as we chatted and joked.
I climbed back up to my room at half eleven, so very tired.
5. Irish Lady's Tresses
25 July 2022
I knew the weekend was going to be tough.
But Monday was going to be the worst.
After two large Mai Tais the night before, and less than six hours of broken sleep. I looked in the bathroom mirror and saw two bloodshot eyes staring back at me.
Oh God.
At least there would be a heary breakfast.
So, at seven I go down and have orange juice, and another fry up with sausage, bacon, black pudding, mushrooms and a fried slice.
And coffee.
Not as much as I needed. But it would do.
Now.
A couple of months ago, I bumped into a member of my orchid group, Graham, at PGD, and he introduced me to his friend, another Graham, and Graham 2 asked f I was going to see the Irish Lady's Tresses.
I was.
He would have a camper van, but was staying near the bog, could I give him a lift so he didn't have to take his van and disabled wife.
I would.
That was two months ago. Now it was the day, and all I had was a postcode and his phone number. But I also had plenty of time. So, after loading up the car, I said goodbye to Bob and Cath after paying the bill, and programed the reserve and then the camp site as a stopover.
I had an hour, but on these Welsh roads, it could take longer.
To add to the dram of the day, it was overcast and drizzling. The valleys would remain green.
Apparently.
I went to Welshpool, then to Newtown, along the bypass and towards the coast. Stuck behind a train of flatbed lorries, I made steady if unspectacular time. At least the road ran beside the railway, so I knew I was heading in the right direction.
After passing through a small gorge, I came to where the postcode said the camping site should be. And it was. I drove in and parked up and called Graham 2.
There was no signal.
I tried again. And again.
No luck.
Maybe, if i go to the top of the site I could get a signal?
So, up the camping site, passing vans and tents until I got to the very top.
And after a couple of minutes, I got a signal and called Graham 2. He picked up and had seen me drive by, so I went to pitch 22 and there he was, standing at the door of a very small camper. Inside were his wife and three dogs. I went in for a brew, and stodd as most flat surfaces was taken with dogs and their beds.
We left at just gone nine, a 40 minute drive to Borth, beside the railway again.
Our joining instructions mentioned a cafe nearby, so we called in there for another brew and for me a slice of fruit cake. I thought I'd check my phone for news, but again no signal.
We left for the final two mile drive at twenty past ten, being the second car to arrive, we were sent down the track to the small parking area.
We were here to see an orchid called Irish Lady's Tresses, which had been found on the site in 2019, which for the species tick meant not having to go to Ireland. We will get to Ireland at some point, but it would be longer than a day trip.
In the bog beyond the gate was a small area surrounded by an electrified fence, and in there was over 20 small orchids. We had to wait for the warden to disarm the fence, but a few plants were near enough to get half decent shots.
Once the warden arrived, as well as other HOS members, we were allowed inside the fence. A rope was placed over whch we were not to step, but was close enough to get fine close ups of the orchid spikes.
We take turns in getting shots, some more serious than others. I get mine, so after twenty minutes I say to Graham 2, shall we go?
We shall.
Once back in the car, I program the camp site back in and we set off, down the track to the lane, and from there began the long journey home.
Graham 2 used to be an auditor, so we swapped auditor horror stories until I dropped him off, and there was peace and quiet in the car. I had no idea how long the drive back would be, I though I'd do well to be home by eight, the sat nav said ten past five.
Let us see.
I drove back the same way I had drove that morning, back alomost to Oswestry before picking up the A5 and at that point the road improved, and I could make good time.
Toe Telford and the start of the motorway, passing RAF Cosford where I had spent 28 months of my life in two spells of training in the RAF. Just a museum now, it seems.
I cut across to the toll road again, as the services on it are better and quieter than others, and worth the six quid for the 30 mile drive.
I stopped to fill up and buy lunch: a pasty, Snickers and vanilla diet Coke. Nearly £90 to fill up now.
Eeek.
Back on the motorway, eating as I went, heading south onto the M6, and then cutting across on the A14 passing Northampton and Cambridge before picking up the M11.
All was going well until the road from Norwich, the A11, joined and there was a ten minute hold up before I got through.
And as I went further south the weather got better and better. I had Craig on the radio, and so the journey sped by.
Over the Dartford Crossing and onto the A2, and all seemed to be going well.
I was getting close to home, though slow traffic meant it would be nearer six when I should have got home.
That was until I reached the turn off to Dover at the end of the motorway, and a shunt on the slip road meant I decided to head along Thanet Way rather than wait in traffic, only to be caught in another jam near to Whitstable.
I turned off to Canterbury, hoping to either go through Fordwich or along to Grove Ferry. As there had just been a train and traffic was bad, I went to Grove Ferry, then across the marshed to Preston.
Jools called: could I get dinner on the way?
Yes.
So, I went to Deal hoping to find a chippy to park outside. The ones on the Stand had camper vans parked outside, but the one in Walmer had spaces, and a full shelf ofready cooked food. I got batter sausage and chips, twice, added salt and vinegar, which were then wrapped.
I called Jools: I'll be five minutes, so she made brews, so once parked on the drive we could sit down and eat.
I was shattered.
I checked my shots from the two days, edited one for each day, and I was done.
Time for bed.
There was plenty of room in the car park, but once inside there was the problem of finding where stuff was in a store we didn't know.
With the wind howling, we drive back to Dover, up through Cape, so we could park up along the clifftops for me to take shots. Despite the gales, the sea wasn't that angry, though I was glad I wasn't out in this weather. I take shots, and then Jools managed to fall down the slope heading back to the car, scratching both her palms, but no damage done, just a bit embarassed, really.
Once we get into Dover, we go to St Martin's Battery to have views over the Western Docks and out into the Channel, where a DFDS ferry was making slow headway into port, the ferry lumping up and down through the waves.
That'll do.
