Greens that Shine into Autumn

Continuing into autumn with a blog dating from a visit taken on the 06 October 2013.

Took a walk up a small hill (or maybe hillock is a better term) called Muirhouselaw, at the start of October, a hill which is found to the south east of the Eildons and from where they stand out like pimples in the flat surrounds. On this day, which was one of those dull autumn days when the sky was grey, the clouds seem to sit as though they had been loaded with lead. The clouds were not so low as to hide the hill tops, but low enough so as to sit like a distinctive layer in the sky, grey and heavy with much promise of more to come.

The Eildons – 06 October 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Currently the surroundings where set against this dull grey but this brought the greens into full focus, it made them bright especially the improved grassland just in front of where we were standing, which seemed to glow in the gloom. Below even the old greens of the wooded strips that disappear towards the Eildons looked bright and were highlighted by the occasional patch of autumnal gold that was just beginning to appear in the odd tree here and there. Then between the strips of green even the brown of the freshly ploughed fields have begun to shoot away to produce a new sheen of fresh new green.

Peniel Heugh – 06 October 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Glimpses

This is the ninth blog from my time in North Wales, dating from the 16 July 2013.

Took to the train for the day, as train journeys are a wonderful way to grab a flavour of the surroundings and be intrigued, especially so when on a heritage line as the speed is limited to a genteel rate. The journey on this day was from the industrial town of Blaenau Ffestiniog down to the coastal port at Porthmadog, following the route that the products of the industrial town would have taken to the local port, but I’m sure the landscape will have been been much changed and tamed since it was used by the Victorians.

Leaving the industrial town of Blaenau Ffestiniog, passing on the way a Victorian stretch of ribbon development which follows the railway out of town that has not been enlarged on this side of town in modern times. The landscape here is rocky and rugged, and the train picks a smooth gradient between the rocky outcrops, running at one stage along the edge of the Tanygrisiau Reservoir, which nestles between a number of these outcrops. Along the far edge we catch sight of the original rail route, now sunk below the surface of the water flooded out, when the reservoir was built.

Tanygrisiau Reservoir – 16 July 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

On through rough pastures with tantalising glimpses of the surrounding hills and mountains as the train moves forward, circling round the Dduallt spiral, like the Buzzard that circles over head as we passed by. Onwards – only stopping for the odd station to allow passengers to disembark or alight. The journey passes onwards moving from the rough pasture, through scattered trees and shrubs and on into a more wooded landscape, in an area known as Coed y Bleddiau, or Wood of the Wolves. Sadly there are no Wolves in these woods any long, there are supposed to be a couple of Willow sculptures depicting Wolves along this stretch, but unfortunately the continuous moving onwards of the train meant that I failed to spot these creatures, but then that is one of the tantalising things about train journeys – a little only, to tempt and tease, before the next scene is upon us.

Dduallt Spiral – 16 July 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Passing through the short Garnedd Tunnel and out into a more densely wooded landscape where amongst the banks of Larches and other conifers there stands tall and proud ancient Sessile Oak trees lonely remnants of the once primeval woodlands that would have covered these slopes. By now the downward run to the coast is well on the way and we pass out of the wooded landscape and on to the drop down through a number of smaller villages on the way to the coast.

The final stretch into Porthmadog is across the causeway known as the Cob, which was built originally as part of an Enclosure scheme at the beginning of the 19th century. The building of the Cob, has resulted in the formation of Glaslyn marshes, which now at low tide is full of birds wandering across the exposed mud flats. Even at the genteel rate of our train it is too fast to see very much apart from the mass of Canadian Geese gosling’s gathered in the closest bit of water. To be honest though these took second place to the view beyond the marshes, even in the heat haze which fogs the scene slightly, this is an amazing view of the complete panorama of the Snowdonia mountains, including the iconic Snowdon.

The Snowdonia Mountains – 16 July 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

There’s Slate in Them There Hills

This is the eighth blog from my time in North Wales, dating from the 14 July 2013.

Blaenau Ffestiniog is famous for its slate mining and was once know as the Slate Capital of Wales, following the discovery of a rich slate deposit in the 18th century, with the surrounding hills littered with the signs that this industry has left. Whole hillsides have been cut away by modern mining activities, leaving sharp, shiny cliff faces, as bright new scares on an ancient landscape, and have seen the removal of hilltops forever. Many more slopes are covered in waste from centuries of mining activities. Made up of irregular shaped pieces of rock, just thrown away as waste from the process of extracting slate from the surrounding hills.

A Modern Slate Quarry – 14 July 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

The landscape around Blaenau Ffestiniog is industrial, but set against the harsh backdrop of the Snowdonia mountains it has a kind of stark, rugged beauty. The rocky remains form an intricate jigsaw across the hillsides, larger pieces knitted together with smaller ones, with an infinite number of shapes and angles formed, never seeming to be repeated across any of the hillsides. Then to add an artistic touch, there are the remains of the historic workings zigzagging across the hillside, as though the miners of the past were adding their own signatures to the landscape we see today.

Slate Waste Across the Blaenau Ffestiniog Hillside – 14 July 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

The slopes seem stark and bare at first glance, devoid of life, but nature does not leave them alone for long. Beginning as the odd small spot here and there; that are formed by ferns, turfs of grass and spikes of Foxgloves. Anything that can get a foot hold, which slowly develops to a regular covering of bushes. All of which begin to blur the harsh outlines and will in time reclaim the picture to wooded hillside. Maybe not a natural scene as many of the species presently colonising seem to be non-native, including Rhododendron and Buddleja, but then neither was the starting point. Not only are the scares of mining being hidden under new growth, so to are the remains of the equipment and vehicles that have been left behind when no longer required. As always nature will find a way.

Abandoned Vehicle – 14 July 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Signs of Spring

This and the next blog date from my trip to the North Pennines last weekend, 20 and 21 April.

Saturday was a bright spring day where the sun had enough warmth to it when out of the wind, enabling me to sit on a bench and bake in the heat that was contained in the new rays. The wind though still had a strong winter chill to it, reminding me that winter hadn’t totally fled the scene yet. This reminder of winter was further enhanced by the patches of snow that were still around on the slopes of the nearby moors.

A Snow Patch at the County Boundary (around 590m asl) – 20 April 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Riding up the South Tyne valley behind the characteristic squeaks rattles and shakes of a narrow gauge engine, is a perfect way to appreciate the beautiful views of the surrounding hills as they roll up from the river to the fells behind. The hills are sculpted by the highlights and shadows formed from the splashes of sunshine. From the train track the land dropped gently down to the river through a number of wet, rushy meadows, that are still dominated by the various browns of winter. Rising up the hills opposite, the hillside is first delineated into neatly walled fields, still green but old and tired, showing no signs yet of the new growth to come. Interrupting the neat lines of the walls, are the skeletal outlines of trees still wrapped fast in the blanket of winter, occasionally highlighted with the dark green of a lone conifer or a square of planted conifers. Very rarely there is the odd sign of spring where a Willow is found covered in pale yellow catkins. Finally rising up the hillside to the wilder heights above, various shades of brown from areas of rough grass and Heather dominate the final stretches of hillside up to the bright blue skies.

Looking Across the South Tyne up to Ayle Common – 20 April 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Not all though is still wrapped tight in the blanket of winter, close to the line the odd spot of life can be seen. Poking out from amongst the tussocks of grass, still covered with the dead remains of last year’s growth there are spots of bright yellow in the form of Lesser Celandine flowers, shining like small stars in the spring sunlight. Accompanying these are the odd patches of much paler yellow Primrose flowers, raising their heads to proclaim the arrival of the warm sunshine. All of which promises the return of new life that begins to awake to the call of the warmth in the spring sunshine.

Changing Light

Running a bit behind as typing is slow with one hand at present – this entry dates from Monday 11 February. Enjoy!

From the greyness of Sunday, Monday was just so different. It was as though overnight someone had taken the flat grey world and coloured it in, to form a beautiful, new, three dimensional place. All because the sun decided to shine!

In the light of this new world, went up to St Mary’s Loch and Loch of the Lowes, here the hills still wore a mantle of winter, with a good coating of snow. Up here the snow was still fresh and bright, like a new coat of icing. For once there was a very distinctive snow line, above which the snow sat pristine and deep, below which the winter browns and greens had just been splattered with a thin indistinct covering that quickly lost all signs of snow. Against the white, the browns seemed much warmer and alive today. This was especially so for those Larches that occurred in patches amongst the dark greens of the surrounding conifers, even more so when the conifers had been sprinkled with snow. Just like someone had shaken icing sugar all over them.

Loch of the Lowes – 11 February 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Monday was a day when the light was continually changing. One moment the bright sunshine produced clear warm colours; the next the clouds had moved across the sun and the scene became brooding and dramatic. Then as the clouds moved again the sun rays broke through, looking as though a series of spotlights had been fired up highlighting specific points on the hillsides and loch, almost as though it was an alien landing point.

St Mary’s Loch – 11 February 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

The Eye in the Snow

First sprinkling of snow for this winter (though in fact we have yet to reach winter and are still in autumn) occurred on Friday night, maybe an appropriate way to welcome December in. To be honest, it wasn’t what I would necessarily call real snow. More like a layer of tiny ice crystals that gave a thin white crystalline coating to the already frozen ground. Each ice crystal was still quite visible, looking as though there had been a leak in a bag of rice, as each crystal was about the size of a grain of rice and each was individually identifiable.

Ice Eye in the Green of Winter – 01 December 2012 (Copyright Carol Jones)

The cold though, has made the temporary duck pond into a shining frozen eye, and with the sun low in the sky the whole affair shines and twinkles like a watery eye. This eye is then ringed by the hazy bright white band of ice crystals, made even brighter by being in a field of green, where the rest of the snow has been melted by the days bright sunshine. This eye sat there almost unblinking in the bright light, but not quite, for the warmth of even the weak winter sun, makes the ice expand and contract. This expansion and contraction produces a wonderful pinging sound, almost like the stretching of an elastic band to its final limits. The expansion was so great that the elastic pinged, and broke, as it breaks the note produced almost reaches the high notes of heaven.

Two Went Up a Hill and Came Down a Mountain

Back to the hills again last Tuesday (17 July), where the rain over the past few days made the paths very wet and muddy. Easy plan for this day’s walk, up hill to Gubałówka, miss the Blackpool Strip by turning right, to head down hill through the forests to Piszezorówka. Then up and down dale through the small villages of Szczechówka and Słodyczki, while circling round to approach the far end of the Blackpool Strip at Buńdówka, again avoiding its horrors and head back down hill via a diagonal path to Zakopane.

At last a walk that gave us some views for we were able to escape the continuous confines of the Spruce woodland that has dominated on a number of walks. Even so when away from the trees there were always trees in view, but we did pass through a variety of meadows, some of which must have had been species rich before being harvested for hay, as suggested by the edge remnants.

Field Edge to the West Of the Blackpool Strip – 17 July 2012 (Copyright Carol Jones)

The woods themselves are much more acidic than those on the Tatra slopes and were carpeted with Bilberry, which was just becoming a feast of fruit and where the canopy had been thinned areas of Horsetail that looked somewhat like the delicate shoots of Wood Horsetail, with its multiple branched branches. Best of all though, while following the trail back to Zakopane, was the opportunity to obverse the mad games of a pair of black coloured Red Squirrels, as they ran up and down, and round and round a number of trees, oblivious to the onlookers.

Patchwork at 30,000 feet

The Lost Naturalist was both temporally and spatially lost yesterday, having got up at the ridiculously early hour of 3.30AM in order to get a 6.30AM flight to Krakow.

Taking to the air though, was worth while, for we were soon above the blanket of cloud that has regularly covered the UK for the last few months. Above this cloud layer, the sky was blue and the sun was a burning ball of fire in the sky. Just as summer should be.

Heading east, the cloud soon began to break and the patchwork landscape below opened up to reveal large agricultural fields in a range of greens and browns, linked together by small areas of woodland, now in the rich green hues of summer. Heading east the fields gradually decreased in sized and were knitted increasingly together by the greens of hedges and large areas of woodland.

Patchwork Countryside at 30,000 Feet – 09 July 2012 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Not sure exactly when, but at some point the fields changed from small irregular shapes into long narrow strips. Almost as though someone had begun to weave the countryside together, from long strips of fabric. Every now and then the maximum size of fabric was reached and the next piece would be sown on at a different angle, as though a new square had been added.

The Woven Fabric of the Countryside – 09 July 2012 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Monuments and Mausoleums

Went out yesterday to avoid the showers, and found as a result, the weather for some perfect views across the Scottish Borders.

The first stop of the afternoon was the Thompson’s Monument, situated to the north of Kelso, at Ferneyhill. The Thompson’s Monument is not on a high hill, in fact its not really much more than a pimple, but when the surroundings are generally lower, then the fields are set out like a patchwork below. In this part of the Scottish Borders, especially when looking northwards, the views remind me of the old fashioned crochet blanket (like one that your granny would have made). In this case, one that is made up of crochet squares of various greens and browns, highlighted by the occasional bright yellow square and knitted together by the scraggy green lines of hedges. Within this area, the image of a blanket is occasionally disrupted by the presence of a number of rounded hills and rocky outcrops, such as Hume Crags, Queenscairn and Sweethope Hill.

Looking northwards across the patchwork of fields to Hume Crags, Queenscairn and Sweethope Hill – 22 April 2012 (Copyright – Carol Jones 2012)

Turning round to face south-westwards, where the ground is generally more rolling and higher, the patchwork effect of the surrounding fields are hidden from view. From this direction the hills approach the Thompson Monument like waves approaching a beach. The horizon though, is not all rounded and settled, but disrupted by the occasional distinctive feature, such as the Waterloo Monument, on Peniel Heugh, which intrudes into this roundedness, like a pin stitching out of a pillow.

Looking south-westwards from the Thompson’s Monument to the Waterloo Monument, Peniel Heugh – 22 April 2012 (Copyright – Carol Jones 2012)

Our next stop was across this sea of hills, at the Monteath Mausoleum, from here the the Waterloo Monument is closer and clearer as the light has changed, and the hills from this side are distinctive and clear. While the horizon is lost in a haze, which hides the patchwork of fields seen earlier, but from the certain positions the Thompson Monument can just be seen glinting in a ray of stray sunshine, that has escaped from behind a cloud. From this direction the whole character of the landscape feels totally different. No more rolling waves, just a growing set of pimples, pushing its head out from the blocks of trees that cloths the growing slopes.

Looking eastwards from the Monteath Mausoleum to the Waterloo Monument, Peniel Heugh – 22 April 2012 (Copyright – Carol Jones 2012)