As climate change changes the very weather we have, the plants have been moving, northward, and with some already on the other side of the Channel. We have been expecting them for a few years to appear in England, though in Kent, not on the Home Counties.
There is an explanation.
Just as well.
There might have been an orchid fanatic in the area about two decades ago, who, it seems, might have possibly sowed seed of this and Lady Orchid (these elsewhere in Oxfordshire).
Anyway, in 2007, a spike of an unusual orchid was discovered growing beside a footpath, it was identified as a Giant Orchid.
Back in those day, the internet's drum telegraph wasn't as good as it is now, and news didn't really get out, and the plant died out, or was helped to die out.
But it seems those two summers two decades ago produced seed, and those seeds produced several plants.
And these were rediscovered last year, and this time it was BIG news.
I mean not just orchids, but GIANT orchids. Three tall. And rising.
Or not.
Maybe under some conditions they reach three foot, but 18 inches seems to be the max that I have seen, on Rhodes.
The Hardy Orchid Society arranged visits this weekend, as it is a very early flowering species, and I went along.
It meant getting up at five, getting dressed, feeding the cats, making coffee and breakfast, so to be out of the house by six. I loaded the car, set the destination on the phone, and it told me it was two nad a half hours away. If there was no traffic issues, and as this meant going through the Home Counties along the M25, then ths could take up to five hours.
Not much to report, a pleasant morning driving up the M20 to Maidstone then beyond, turning west. Very little traffic on the motorway meaning I made very good time indeed. At Heathrow I turned onto the M4, past Windosr and Eton, and through Reading into Berkshire and finally up the A34 towards Oxofrd and its dreaming spires.
I had time to stop for a coffee and a Cornish pasty before the final half hour drive to the meeting point, a village hall beside an abandoned railway line. A few were already there, names were checked off the list, and at half nine, after an expaination of th history of the plants, or possible history, we set off. Across the playing fields, round the edge of a farmer's field, up the embankment and along.
The orchids are growing on a bank. A steep, grassy bank, and recent rains made it very slippery. I slipped over several times, once badly, I fell headfirst into a bramble patch. I lost my glasses and was scratched and bruised.
I followed some people down a clearish path, which was steep. I had forgotten the walking poles, but I would OK, right?
Wrong. At the end, the path turned sharp right, I put my foot down and next thing I went head first into a bramble bush, headbutting a fencepost on the way. Everything hurt.
I was in a position where I could not get out. I kept sliding back down, until a guy came and lent me a pole, so I could get some purchase and went along the path, but I was shaken.
My walking boots offered no grip, despite being quite new, and I went over again and again. And then I realised I had lost my only pair of glasses. I went back to the brambles, but could not see them.
I was now some thirty feet below one of the orchids, every attempt by me to climb up resulted in me slipping and sliding back down.
Another pole was produced, and with help I got to the orchid, took some shots, before finally someone helped me up to the top of the bank and the path.
There were other plants, but I was done. A combination of conditions, the extreme slope, poor footwear and vertigo made it a miserable visit for me. I was glad to get to the top, have a breather and then limp back to the car.I ached all over, was covered in mud, and really quite embarassed at how useless I had been.
I drove back to the main road and then to the M4 for the long drive back home.
On the way back from Oxfordshire, I thought about stopping off somewhere to take some church shots.
I'm sure Oxfordshire, Buckinghamshire, Surrey and Sussex have fine churches just off the motorway, but one had stuck in my head, back in Kent, and that Hever.
What I didn't realise is how hard it was to get too.
I followed the sat nav, taking me off the motorway whilst still in Sussex, then along narrow and twisting main roads along the edge of the north downs, through some very fine villages, but were in Sussex.
Would I see the sign marking my return to the Garden of England?
Yes, yes I would.
Edenbridge seemed quite an unexpectedly urban place, despite its name, so I didn't stop to search for an older centre, just pressing un until I was able to turn down Hever Road.
It had taken half an hour to get here.
St Peter stands by the gate to the famous castle, a place we have yet to visit, and even on a showery Saturday in March, there was a constant stream of visitors arriving.
I asked a nice young man who was directing traffic, where I could park to visit the church. He directed me to the staff car park, meaning I was able to get this shot before going in.
The church was worth it, and very welcoming. I got my shots of the details; brasses, glass and memorials before leaving, where I found it pouring with rain again.I dashed to the car, getting pretty wet, but had made it.
It was another 20 minutes to get back onto the motorway at Wrotham, passing a few places it would very good to revisit in the summer. But for now I just wanted to get back home.
I went to Jen's so she could drop me home and then have the car. She laughed when I told her of my misadventures. But I had done it.
Back home I fed the cats, filled the bird feeders and made a brew.
And relax.
Dinner was sausages, fried potatoes and Boston beans, but with normal radio cancelled for the weekend due to the festival, and football on an international break, not much to listen to, so I messed around until it was time to go to bed at nine.
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