Exploring the Great Welsh Sea Serpent

This is the tenth blog from my time in North Wales, dating from the 17 July 2013.

Standing on top of a large lump of limestone rock on the outskirts of the genteel Victorian seaside town of Llandudno, it was hard to imagine that the old Viking name for for the Great Orme means Sea Serpent, for all you see are the burnt grassy pastures and the masses of tourists thronging the slopes. Away from the honey pot at the top, and down below the first outcrops of rock, where the modern road now runs round this headland, the story was very different. Here, even though the summer had been hot and dry, there was still water dripping out of the flushes and through the rocks. Add to this the effects of differential erosion of the rock, to produce a distinctive patterned of layers formed of green vegetation mixed with layers of white and grey rocks, accompanied by the shape of the headland as seen from out at sea, and the thought that this could be a slavering Sea Serpent might not be so unbelievable.

The Great Orme – 17 July 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Wandering along at this lower level, the edges are rich with species. Calcium rich flushes deposit areas of tufa as they flow over the rock surfaces, amongst which many lime green rosettes of the Common Butterwort are spattered, just like pustules on a teenagers face. Each of these rosettes are splattered with a good covering of flies, slowly being digested to provide nutrients for these plants that cling to the rock surface. Above which the purple flowers attract more insects for the requirements of reproduction, followed maybe by a bit of supper!!

Drier areas are green and grassy, especially where the soil depth is deeper, accompanied by an array of flowers through which flit a number of small blue butterflies, tempting and teasing by not sitting still. Now normally small rich blue butterflies are most likely to be just Common Blues, but maybe, just maybe, because we are on the Great Orme there might just have been a Silver Studded Blue amongst them. I only say this, because this was the Great Orme, where a distinctive sub-species of the Silver Studded Blue is found, but unfortunately all I could get to see clearly was the bright blue top of the wings, which when they hardly settled at all could easily have be either.

Amongst the drier areas where the soil was thinner and the vegetation generally much shorter and by now, after a number of weeks of hot, dry sunshine, were very much burnt off, there was one more surprise left to be found, in the form of the small prickly plants of the Carline Thistle. I love the Carline Thistle, as their inflorescences always reminds me of miniature Sunflower heads, that seem to point towards the sky and open and close with the weather. In dry conditions the straw-like bracts surrounding, the delicate yellow inner tubular florets open wide to soak up those rays and invite insect visitors to feed.

Carline Thistle – 17 July 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

From Out of Darkness

This is the third and final blog entry from the last weekend in October – taken from Sunday 28 October 2012.

From days of bright sunshine and clear blue skies, the weather broke on Sunday. The clouds sat low in the landscape, hiding all but the lower slopes of the surrounding hills. The greyness hid all those hummocks and hollows that the sunshine had brought to life; that had made the landscape three dimensional in nature. Now with the clouds sitting so low, and the light so grey and flat the distant views, where not lost from sight in the swirling clouds, have become much flatter, and two dimensional in nature.

 

Over Looking Malham Tarn, Tarn Moss, with Great Close Hill in the Distance – 28 October 2012 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Not all in this landscape has lost its shape, form or highlight, for even though the light is flat and bland, the autumn oranges and browns still highlight and radiate remnant memories of the summers warmth. They produce a warmth in what has become cold and grey, and add depth to what tries so hard to become flat and lifeless. In some places they also take over and dominate, such as within swards of Purple Moor-grass, which have now been turned a rich warm orange by the shortening days and dropping temperatures.

Carpets of Purple Moor-grass – 28 October 2012 (Copyright Ross Lockley)

Scars of Times Past

This is the second of three blog entries from last weekend – taken from Saturday 27 October 2012.

Being in a landscape that has been shaped by the work of ancient glaciers is amazing especially in autumn, when the sun is shining and very low in the sky, so that all the hummocks and hollows are accentuated. The Yorkshire Dales is the perfect place for this and last Saturday was also the perfect time, as the skies were clear, the was sun shining and the autumn colours were amazingly bright and warm, even if the temperature wasn’t.

The landscape around the Yorkshire Dales have been scraped and furrowed by the passing glaciers of the last ice age, around 300 million years ago, producing towering crags, shadowy peaks, limestone pavements and deep valleys. One of my favourite places to see the grating effects of the passing glaciers is at Yew Cogar Scar, where even when the light isn’t quite perfect, long scrape lines can be seen highlighted in the early afternoon shadows and grey patches of bare limestone rock. I’m never sure whether its the geology of this place that fascinates me or the remnant of the hanging Yew wood that clings precariously to the edges of the scar, away from the continuous nibbling of the local sheep. Those remaining Yew trees, make the occasional dark green blob, still fresh against the browning greens of the dying grasses.

Yew Cogar Scar – 27 October 2012 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Another, definately more impressive view is that of Pen-y-Ghent, sometimes known as the Sleeping Lion. Here unlike Yew Cogar Scar where the scar lines run along the valley. At Pen-y-Ghent the errosion lines run down the mountain. These erosion shadows highlight the layers of different rock types, and so throw new shadows outwards. Then to complete the contrasts of the mountain come a warm orange foreground of Purple Moor-grass, accompanied by the varying autumn greens of the surrounding grass moor.

Pen-y-Ghent – 27 October 2012 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Lost Naturalist Goes South

This is the first of three blogs that all date from last weekend, 26 – 28 October, when the Lost Naturalist travelled south to North Yorkshire. In fact the first dates from the journey south itself.

Headed south late on Friday afternoon towards North Yorkshire, on a day when the autumn colours shone brightly in the sunlight. There were all the shades of autumnal colours imaginable present, from bright yellows, through brilliant oranges to the warms shades of brown and all sorts of shades in between. A perfect day on which to enjoy the wonders of what seems to be an amazing display autumn colour, highlighted by the clear warm nature of the sunshine and set off against the clear blue sky. All the way the south, the patterns and variations of these colours varied infinitely, patterns and variations that seemed never to end, and mixed with the now end of summer greens, that have now taken on a slightly tired and worn appearance.

Autumnal Colour – 26 October 2012 (Copyright Carol Jones)

As time stretched on so came the first hints of evening, as the sun began to sink towards the horizon colouring the sky with an amazing show of delicate oranges, many almost apricot in nature that changed and varied by the minute. Eventually slowly darkening as the sun continued its relentless journey towards the west. Accompanying the sunset, was an amazing display from a flock of Starlings that swooped and dived, hundreds of birds all acting with a single purpose, forming a large homogeneous mass, moving one way followed by another. Unfortunatly passing on the way south, meant that they were just a flash in the eye, soon left many miles behind.