A Stark Contrast

A healthy king palm frond set against the background of a defoliated sycamore. I must say that palms are my favorite trees for winter!

Nassington circular via Old Sulehay

With Jill, Barry O, Barrie E, and Gordon. Led by me. Sunny, very warm. Some muddy sections. 6.8 miles - should be around 6.5. The same walk as yesterday, with very slight variations - one intentional, one unintentional!






We walked through Nassington, on the Apethorpe road as far as a
left-hand bend, where we carried straight on. The footpath turns off to the left, just after
a house called Frog Hall, and goes through a complex of holiday cottages, then
a gate near a chicken pen. Soon after
this the path follows a narrow space between hedges before coming out into
fields.




The path here is clearly marked and easy to follow, crossing a bridge over the dismantled railway
and passing an info board about Old Sulehay Nature Reserve.








The path leads past a Wildlife Trust Field Station, where we
crossed the muddy byway and went through the gate to take the footpath
opposite.





All went well as we turned into a field and headed north-east,
then curved round east then southeast – the path hugs the edge of a small wood,
and leaves another on a little way to our left.

Then, if you check my garmin traces, you’ll see that we went too
far south, to the edge of a water filled ex-quarry/clay-pit. My mistake – I knew I was heading for the
woods, but I chose the wrong ones. When we sorted ourselves out, thanks to a
grid ref from Barry, and even compass work, the path looked very clear. I hadn’t
missed it yesterday . . .




So, there we were on the track through Great Morton Sale,
heading north, as we should be! Next stop the memorial marking the spot where Glenn Miller played his last hangar concert in October 1944, before he disappeared over the English Channel in December of that year.

Glenn Miller memorial - unfortunately Barrie didn't bring the trombone.

We followed the track, and stopped for a break at the end of the
wood, grabbing the last bit of shade for a few hundred yards. On the other side of this track are the remains of sand pits. The sand used to be used for casting metal.




The path passed
by Kings Cliffe Industrial Estate, which has a café, open in the morning (not
on Sunday, I think). We crossed the
Roman Road between Kings Cliffe and Wansford and walked past a woodyard and
farm before turning right into the woods of Bedford Purlieus, which contain Roman remains and have been investigated by Time Team.



We followed the path, ignoring a right turn. After another rather muddy trudge, we came out more or less opposite
Sulehay Road. There’s a rather surprising sign forbidding motor vehicles on the
path, which is about two feet wide.




A little bit of road walking took us past Sulehay Cottages, and
then opposite Old Sulehay Lodge we turned left into the nature reserve’s
disused quarry. There are masses of wild flowers - some very striking deep blue ones among them. We followed the paths and came out at the diagonally opposite corner and crossed the Sulehay Road again to the footpath over the road.




For a couple of fields we walked between fences, then across a field, through a mini-jungle of a hedge . . .

emerging through the hedge

through a couple of oilseed rape fields, with good wide, though muddy paths . . .

golden barley

across meadow-style grass, past barley fields, and after following the path with no difficulty, we arrived at a muddy byway. The path formed a bridge over the ford, and we came back into Nassington just below the footpath where we began the walk.

Big Bend :: Down by the River

The second morning at Rio Grande Village I awoke to see the sky ablaze with color - the dawn's early light. Taken from just outside the van at my campsite.

The sun was already up and casting it's rays on the mountainside by the time I reached the top of “my” hill. Soon the entire valley would be filled with bright light. This was the view looking away from the sunrise, Rio Grande Village is off to the right. The glow lasted only a few seconds. I had never seen anything like it before.

This morning I decided to follow the trail all the way to the river. Unusual for this time of year, the Rio Grande was higher than normal. Even at this “high” level the water was only a couple of feet deep. I had been told by several people that on previous visits the river was just inches deep and you could easily walk across it. I was amazed by how rapidly the water was moving along. Quite fast.

At some time this area was flooded, now it is dry and the ground is crackling.

The tenacity of living things is incredible to me. The little “trees” in this “forest” were anywhere from 1 to 18 inches tall. Barely clinging to life in the dry, parched soil. However, there were bits of green here and there.

New growth coming on. Their roots must run deep. There is no surface water here.

Just a short distance from the river, these tiny flowers were growing along the path, a trail trampled daily by many feet. Makes you wonder if everyone tries not to step on them. And why does it have two different colors of blossoms?

These were growing amongst stones where there was barely any dirt. How do they get enough sustenance to survive? The plant is wiry and spindly, almost ugly, but the tiny blossoms are gorgeous.

Later that day I drove over to Boquillas Canyon and walked the short trail along the river and spotted these three canoes.

Distances are deceiving. Everything is much farther away than you think it is.

Wind Beneath My Wheels

Cycling in New England,I've had my share of encounters with strong winds. Or at least, what I considered strong winds. Here in Northern Ireland they are on an entirely different scale. Part of it is the open landscape. Much of the time, you are cycling through glens (undulating grassy hills), without much in the way of trees for cover. Even the mountains tend to be all grass and rock, with only the occasional clump of forest.This quality of the landscape is part of what makes cycling here so special - the open, panoramic views are ever-present, encouraging on climbs and breath-taking on descents. But on windy daysthere is little in the way of shelter. Cycling in a group, the riders can shelter each other. Cycling alone, you are exposed to it all.




And the windy days can be unpredictable. I have gone out on a calm morning, only to battle violent gusts mid-ride. I have cycled down a straight road in what alternated between headwinds and tailwinds - confused, erratic currents.




One day last week, a headwind grew so strong and steady that, as I rode down a long steep hill it insistently pushed me back up. I could not have imagined such a slow, strenuous descent:It was as if some invisible giant had casually put his hand up against my handlebars.




But most disconcerting of all are the cross winds. I've had the least experience with these so far, but here they are common. Winds blowing sideways and on the diagonal can be strong enough to push the bike around the road. When the wind is steady, I find ways to either lean or position myself against it to reduce the impact. But when it is gusty, a sudden push against the side of the bike, or worst of all, the handlebars, can rattle my nerves. Faced with this, I try to keep simultaneously loose and hyper-ready to react to the blows with quick tiny counter-movements. And if the gusts get really bad, I wait it out: The weather is changeable; the pattern will morph into something else before long.




But the wind is not all bad. One night, I was cycling home along a 10 mile flat stretch. A tailwind picked up - so strong and so close to the ground, it felt as if the current settled in between my tires and the road, transporting me all the way home on a magic carpet ride.

Balloons from many Countries

The International Balloon Fiesta is called that because they have many balloons come over from other countries to participate in the fiesta. This one was the only one I saw that I could really tell was from another country because I couldn't read the writing on it. I suppect Germany but I could be wrong.

In the absence of flowers

I took a walk but couldn't find much blooming yet. There were two bloodroots coming up, but they were a little battered by the storm.

I had Jasmine with me and she battered one of them even further. She became very interested in whatever I was looking at. I don't think she sees the point of stopping to look at flowers.

Here are a couple of musical pictures from earlier in the winter.



Treble clef - I took a picture of the locust bean when the light was harsh. I continued my walk, thinking I'd come back later and get a better shot. But by the time I returned, a squirrel had stolen it away.



Quarter notes - Sycamore seed balls.

Sweet FA (First Ascent)

You've worn his kneepads.

You've read his forum.

You've done his training.

Now let's see him climb.



You know the rules: If you bolt a new route, it's your project. No questions.However, if you leave the State it all gets a bit ambiguous.

William Monks bolted an extension to Friends in High Places, leading intobrave new territory between Gasoline Rainbow and Cleared for Take Off.



Willmade a public announcement opening the project on29th July .

By 10:00am on the 30th Lee had sent it.

The lower section is in common withsedate and slopy Friends in High Places 21





But the top goes nuts !

Along the way there's some spectacular scenery, big strong moves, razor sharp edges and the odd kneebar.













Did I mention the kneebars?





That is one spooky top out.

Climbers, you know the feeling: You are a long way off the deck, your rope is coming from below the overhang, everything slopes the wrong way, and you are pumped spastic.







Lee displays his trophy. The faded red tape that once marked the route's ownership to Mr Monks.

Thanks Will, for a terrifying new addition to an already intimidating wish list at Coolum Cave.

Tentatively graded 26.



Photo: Sam Cujes

Senior climbing photographer and style director from jjobrienclimbing was there to get the story.



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