It was one of my Hebridean holiday aspirations to see a corncrake, a secretive little bird, that at one time used to live in our meadow, here in north Derbyshire so Freddy the farmer told me.
Freddy was born around 1920, and farmed from this house until the 1970’s, when during that life time the corncrakes disappeared from our meadow, I don’t know, but I do know that there are now only just over a thousand calling males (and hopefully a similar number of females) in the UK. The birds demise has been a result of changes in farming practice, and the birds reluctance to break cover when the grass is mown, you can guess the rest.
One of the best places to find them is the islands of the Outer Hebrides, where much work is being done to give them the best chance of breeding safely.
One you’ve heard a corncrake, you will know its call forever.
We heard plenty but didn’t see a one. They favour clumps of nettles and long grass. I spent a long time staring at clumps of nettles, knowing the blighters were in there.
They’d lure you in with a call, then fall silent for fifteen minutes or so, then, just as you were starting to think you’d move on they’d give another rasping call.
The best time to see and hear them, is at dusk, or dawn, or just after it has rained. the problem with dusk and dawn in the Outer Hebrides in June, is that dusk is very late and dawn is very early. We heard plenty, especially around four am. I have the badge to prove it.
A calling corncrake is a lullaby I can sleep with.
Where the water flowing from the flanks of Beinn Mhartainn, on Barra, meets the sea. I thought there must be a special word , for when a river meets the sea, but I could only find estuary, which just didn’t seem to capture the moment, so I’ve gone with riparian, which means located by the banks of a river , stream or other body of water. (Is this where ‘rip tides’ come from?)
I’m sure that this rich mahogany coloured water is the kind of thing that must enhance the flavour of whiskey? But I can only find references to the use of peat in the process of distilling whiskey, not the water that goes into it..
Mr Uphilldowndale took to rock hopping, and pretending to make a beach landing. Spud the dog and I kept our feet and the camera kit dry.
There’s more than one way to arrive at the Outer Hebrides, we sailed, from Oban to to Castlebay on the island of Barra, but not before we had a very tasty lunch at the cafe at the ferry terminal, lovely food, delivered by lovely people, I had a bowl of cullen skink, delicious, safe in the knowledge the weather was fair and we were in for a smooth passage, it probably wouldn’t be the best dish for heavy seas! Spud the dog is pretty chilled about ferry crossings, he stays in the van on the car deck, but there is a lounge on the ferry where you can be with your pets for the passage, but we think he’s happiest in his home on wheels and it avoids him having to navigate the precipitous stairs between decks.
But back to Barra, you can if you wish arrive by air
And my many friends who like a Landrover, will be taken with the fire engine.
It also has a cafe, I’d been told in advance about its legendary fish and chips. But we were out of luck, I was gutted, it was to be a reoccurring theme.
We waited for the flight to arrive, there is something that feels very wrong about standing in the path of an aeroplane as it comes into land!
Plenty of spray, you probably don’t want to buy a second-hand plane from this route!(All that salty water can’t be good for the mechanical bits).
It taxis up to the door, and the ground crew attend.
The passengers disembark, take a selfie or two.
Things that need to be done for the return flight are swiftly attended to, and away they go again, before the tide comes in.
You can watch a landing, they are using one of the two other ‘runways’, landing across the beach rather than up the beach.
I’m still here, not that you would think so, from the lack of posts.
I’ve been busy putting a project to bed, its nearly done now, I’ve only a couple of days work left to do. What next, I don’t know, I suppose you could say I’m at a small career crossroad .
We meandered our way through Shropshire, and the South Wales coalfields, to reach Cardiff, our boy Joe has been working in Cardiff on his industry placement year, what a cracking time he’s been having (he’s studying civil engineering at Swansea University). There is a very handy campsite, near the city centre, (book it is you can it is fully booked more often than not) this allowed us to catch up (and feed, what student doesn’t want mum and dad to turn up and take them out for dinner?) with Joe in the evenings and we got to have a good mooch around the city, with Spud the dog, close at hand.
We were on the doorstop of The Museum of Wales, at opening time, along with a large number of school parties, but we were swift of foot, and savvy to getting ahead of school parties, before teacher could raise their clipboard, we were off and in, to see astronaut Tim Peake’s *landing capsule, which has been touring the UK, it’s got a bit of a Sutton Hoo look about it, in the background, the parachute with which it drifted down to earth or came down with a bump, depending whose story you believe.
It was very well lit, so you could see inside, not much room to swing a cat…
it looks kind of basic doesn’t it, compared to the smart phone or tablet you might be reading this blog on?
We were comforted to see, that if all else fails, there is a ring bider or two you can refer to for instructions what to do next.
Not sure how you recharge it though.
It looks like it took a bit of a knock, I’m sure a bit of body filler or gaffer tape would sort it though, no harm done.
*Tim Peak is a bit of a hero in our books, not only for what he did in space, but with what he continues to do educating and encouraging young people into studying STEM sciences and with his involvement of The Scout Association
I want to go to Big Pit, said Mr Uphilldowndale, after we’d been wallowing in the history of the industrial revolution in Ironbridge. ‘That sounds interesting’ I said, ‘but I’m not going down it.’ For decades Mr Uphilldowndale has been regaling me with his description of what it was like, back in the very early 1980’s, when he went down to the 48 inch thick coal face of Emley Moor colliery and there was no way I was going to be wriggling around 300 feet underground. Far to claustrophobic for my liking.
So we headed south into Wales and rolled up at Big Pitt,
Mr UHDD went to check the lie of the land and came back to tell me that I wouldn’t have to crawl around I could stand up throughout our tour, that admission was free (I had been feeding the dogs) and that we were going down the pit now, as they were expecting 70 school children to arrive in twenty minutes time. So cajoled by added headroom and propelled by the thought of not wanting to be caught up amongst 70 children in a confined space we were on our way down Big Pit.
The mine is covered by HM Inspectorate of Mines regulations, because it is still classed as a working pit.[4] Visitors wear a plastic hard hat, safety lamp, and a battery on a waist belt which weighs 5 kilograms (11 lb). Visitors must also carry on their belt a rebreather, which in case of emergency will filter foul air for approximately one hour, giving a chance for survival and escape.[40]
The tour guides are men who used to work at the coal face, or either Big Pit or another colliery, so you got a real flavour of what it was like ‘in their day’ and plenty of history too. Who can start to imagine what it was like for children, working underground. There was enough to see and hear about keep my attention from wandering to the fact, I was in a coal mine, most of the time. I was surprised about the amount of woodworm in the pit props and timbers though! They can’t treat the timber with chemicals, they just have to keep on replacing it.
They had some beautiful shiny miners lamps, I’ve one at home, it looks a little neglected to compared to Big Pit’s lamps. No canaries down the mine but they did have some in the lamp room (I hadn’t been reunited with my camera at this point!)
Plenty to see around the mine
Many of the original buildings are accessible, from the explosives store,
to the medical room,
And displays of equipment and ephemera.
The locker room, what a lot of lockers! I’d never thought about the fact a miner would have two lockers, one for his coal soiled clothes and one for his clean clothes.
I can imagine both would have been popular.
The arrival of ‘pit head baths’ must have transformed the daily routine, for the miners and the women at home… I love these towels, their style is on the edge of my childhood memory.
Much Wenlock is an ancient market town, it was sleepy when we hit the streets early next day, it has many beautiful old buildings,
I was caught by a wave of childhood nostalgia, by a RSPCA collection box, a little bell rang when I put Mr Uphilldowndale’s money in it, lovely, look how loved those noses are!
Can graves look cosy? Maybe its just the symmetry.
There was an antique shop, that was very well stocked…
Certainly not somewhere that has not had a Marie Kondo makeover!
Another little flash of nostalgia, my grandmother had a little table just like this, I’m sure she brought back from one of her early early ‘package deal’ holidays, of which she was an early adopter… I must post about that.
