Sunday 9th July 2023

A decade ago, when I "got into" orchids, I bought a guide. Harrap's Orchids of Britain and Ireland, a field and site guide. (ISBN 978-1-4081-0571-9), and I looked at the pages of the fifty or so species that can be found, and wondered what it would like to see them all.

Now, I have to add that:

1. I saw the Dense Flowered Orchid on Rhodes last year.

2. Hebridean may or man not be a sub-species of a Dacht.

3. Who decided that Fragents get three species? I have seen two, will my life be made better by seeing the Marsh?

So, with the above statements in mind, I am running out of species left to see in the UK. If I don't include Ireland. The Republic, that is.

Also I saw the Lindisfarne Helleborine when it still was a separate species, it is a sub-species of the Dune. So, I have seen the two sub-species of Dune, but not a simple Dune itself. Does that matter?

Maybe not.

Last year I saw the Narrow Lipped Helleborine in Surrey, the ultra-rare Red Helleborines in the Chilterns and Irish Lady's Tresses in Wales. This year it was going to be the hard to find, tiny weeny species.

In Northern England for the Coral Root and Lesser Twayblade, and I did see a Small White Orchid, but not in actual flower.

Then there is the Pugsley's Marsh-orchid: I saw a likely candidate in Yorkshire this year, but was just a SMO it turned out.

That left the Bog Orchid and Creeping Lady's Tresses to see. I am saving the latter for next year and a trip to Norfolk to see this Scottish speciality, so the Bog it is.

The Fen Orchid is a small green orchid that thrives in alkali environments in Norfolk and South Wales, so the Bog Orchid thrives in acid bogs, mostly in Scotland, but also the New Forest in southern England.

So it was that we left Chez Jelltex at twenty past five this morning to drive to the New Forest in Hampshire to meet with a friend who would take us to see the tiny orchid.

Once I tried to explain to my Father-in-Law why we did the things we did: churches, historic London, orchids, but I couldn't, it was lost on him. And how could I have explained this, a three hour ten minute drive to a closed pub on the heath, then follow his car down narrow and narrower lanes, then hike a mile across the heath to a waterlogged bog where there were ten tiny spikes. And having photographed them, walk back to the car and drive home, getting back just after two in the afternoon, 330 miles driven in a little over seven hours.

Is this normal?

Leaving so early mean going was very easy up the M20 and along the M26 to the M25. Heck even that was OK, if you ignore the middle lane tossers who think they have squatting, or driving rights. That includes the chap who responded to me flashing him as he was doing 60mph in the third of four lanes with a raised middle digit. Nice bloke, nice and dim.

All was going well, but the M3 to Southampton was closed while workman tried to help a bridge do press-ups, or that's what it looked like on our way back when we went past. So we took the detour down the A3, then across through leafy, sleeping villages, As far as detours go, it was pleasant, and the roads none too busy, so we got to Winchester and back on the road in half an hour, even with a break for some service station food.

So, into Hampshire, round Southampton, avoiding the ferry to the Isle of Wight, and on the road west, turning off the main road, and right onto a track leading across the heathland.

Ponies were seen, but no deer, as we drove deeper into the forest. Not only that, rain began to fall harder and harder, another time when despite planner the weather threatens to ruin everything.

If only that blue sky away to the west would drift over.....

We met my friend outside a pub at a crossroads, and we made our way to a very nice village, parked in a small wood, then trekked across the heath, with mist still hanging in the upper branches of trees on the other side of the small valley.

Well, I am doing this just the once. Seeing each species. I won't go down to the New Forest to see the Bogs, now if something else were fond, then maybe.

Anyway, the bogs this orchid loves are waterlogged, soft and muddy, and the spikes a bugger to photograph. Only this one sits on the edge of a shelf, is easier than most, and on the edge of the bog, I didn't get too muddy.

Now, when I went to snap its three friends, I did nearly fall over, lost a shoe and got a very wet and muddy foot.

But lived to tell the tale.

As the rain drifted across the heath once more, we walked back to the car for the long drive home.

Job done.

Not much to report, just much more traffic. A lot more.

Up the M3 and mixing it with early holiday traffic perhaps either way it was slow going. Or we thought it was before we turned onto the M25 and all travel ground to a halt.

We inched forward for an hour, and then, magically, cleared, jams melted away and we surged back into Kent, and back down to Dover.

A brief stop to get some peanuts of the fox and birds, then back home for a well-earned brew, and for me, a shower to wash the stinking mud off my feet.

No football to watch, just more rain drifting across, soaking the garden and topping up the butts.

And that was that.

A quiet afternoon filled with snoozing, then an evening writing and editing, before heading to bed early before the rat race begins again on Monday.