Tuesday 10th June 2025

The North Downs stretches from Farnham in Surrey to the Kent coast. Though in Surrey they are called Hills, but in Kent "Downs" is from Old English dun, meaning, amongst other things, "hill".

The North Downs forms the White Cliffs, and other chalkland hills north of Folkestone and Hythe, the final ones dropping away allowing for the Channel Tunnel complex, the M20 and the towns to fit in before the sea.

Downs also means "elevated rolling grassland" around the 14th century, but the important part is to realise that the rolling chalk downland is a man-made construct, caused by annual and generations of grazing by sheep and cattle.

And without the grazing, the downland would revert to scrub and in time woodland.

An entire ecosystem of flora and fauna has developed alongside the creation of downland, but without careful management, plants and animals that we common for centuries, just disappear.

This is true of the Late Spider Orchid, a plant of warmer climes, and here in Kent is it's most northerly outpost, just clinging on due to the milder temperatures and the farmed chalk downland. But since the Second World War, over 90% of meadows and downland have been lost, the highest and steepest escaped the plough due to the soil being so poor, but in places where grazing was allowed to die out, the once common plants become rare or worse.

A line of Downs meets the coastal lowlands, and on these escarpments, sometimes in small, sometimes larger numbers, orchids such as Early Spider, Fly, Bee, Chalk Fragrant, Common spotted and once upon a time, Frog thrived.

Frogs became extinct in the county at the end of last century, Burnt Tips are down to single number of plants, and the Late Spider is spread over several sites, some better known than others.

Some spend the few weeks of the orchid season finding all the remote colonies or finding new ones, as it seems the Kent Late Spiders are prone to hybridisation and throwing up oddities that few other places does. Maybe this is helped by that in Kent all are designated Ophrys fuciflora, but elsewhere, Late Spider, Bee and Early Spider are apparently slpit into smaller and smaller species depending which islands they are found or what insect pollinates them.

What some see as a sub-species other see as a species, and there is a wild west situation with there now being over 450 Ophrys species in Europe and around the Mediterranean.

On top of all that, all Ophrys, and all orchid families for that matter, like to interbreed and hybridise, and as Kent is the only county to have all four Ophrys species, and these can all hybridise, with their offspring displaying characteristics of either or both parents.

And then the hybrids and then cross-pollinate with "pure" species creating another level of chaos.

Which is why we are so fascinated with orchids, and return to the same sites over and over again just in case there is something unusual or rare or unexpected.

And that's where the "Yellow" Late Spider came in.

Comes in.

Two years ago, friends stumbled across a rare genetic mutation of this rare plant that had no pigmentation, so the flower appeared yellowy-green.

Since then, many people have tried to find it, and some succeeded.

I have tried myself, and it was clear it was to be found at some new site.

Which is why I had arranged to meet with two friends today to visit a new site, having got permission from the landowner, as some have shotguns you know.

I had a quiet start, no gym due to Jools's knee, but she would go swimming after dropping me off.

We had breakfast, coffee, then got ready.

Jools dropped me off at quarter to ten at a little-known car park, and my two friends were waiting. We shook hands, Jools left and we tightened our belts, checked our boots and set off, soon veering off the main track, over a gate and up across a meadow.

Through a thicket of brambles and angry trees, up a path rutted by cattle using it in wetter times making it now like concrete and tricky to walk on.

Up and up we went, along tracks made by rabbits and other small animals. I fell over at least four times, ending up nose first in the long grass.

By step by step we neared the top, until the ground flattened out, and among the tussocks were our prize.

Our precious.

We spend an hour searching, and were rewarded with more and more spikes. Not a huge number, but enough.

No, not enough, but you know what I mean.

And there, just minding its own business was the Yellow LSO.

Not tall yet, just one flower open. But that was enough.

I was the one who spotted it, so I got the honour of being first to take shots. I get down and marvel at its ghostly beauty, like others and yet so different.

We stayed 90 minutes, finding more and more spikes.

Clouds rolled in and the wind built, and there was even the hint of rain. It was gone two, so we decided to turn back for the car, down the hill.

Much easier going down, but easier to turn an ankle too, so we took it careful, taking a longer but safer route down.

Once over the gate, I realised I was bushed. And I have a day in London tomorrow and two days orchiding at the weekend. They were off to another secret site, but I was done.

Drop me at a pub and Jools will come and collect me.

Which is how I ended up outside a pub on the Elham valley road, which had a big sign saying it was open. Then in smaller print: five days a week. And Tuesday was not one of the five.

So, I sat on a bench, ate my lunch of sausage rolls and drank water from my bottle, and waited the twenty minutes until Jools came to pick me up.

I shuffled to the car like an old man, slumped in the passenger seat, and Jools drove us home, cross-county to avoid the building jams heading into the port on the A20.

England played in the evening, and lost 3-1 to Senegal. Thir first defeat to an African team, and a defeat that should have been heavier, as Senegal were everything England were not. Quick, incisive, a joy to watch, and fighting hard to win the ball back.

On their third manager in a year, and their displays have not improved.

They have the players, and yet, underwhelm.