Bluebells in Birks Wood.
During the night I lay awake listening to the wind gathering in the valley, shaking the trees and then a tell-tale roar and moments later the latest gust was upon us, making the tent shake and rattle, creak and groan. Our tent has survived several such windy nights, both here and at Towyn Farm, but this time was once too many it seems and at around 5am the awning came crashing down. Many of the elastic pegging points had given up the ghost, but in other places the pegs had been ripped from the ground. Our folding table had blown clear across the campsite and was looking slightly crumpled. Fortunately, it wasn’t raining and TBH and I quickly stowed away our possessions in the car and then went back to bed for some more fitful ‘rest’.
Later, when we had surveyed the damage – the canvas seemed sound but some of the awning poles were bent and one had snapped – and the wind had moderated a little, we headed out for a walk.
It was gloriously sunny, and at valley level, the weather seemed quite benign, the woods were full of butterflies and the chatter of small birds, but even on the modest heights of Irton Pike you can perhaps tell…
…there was still a fierce wind blowing.
Andy went to investigate a sheltered looking spot in amongst the trees…
…which turned out to be a perfect spot for some lunch, a snooze and a bit of unscheduled bird-watching when a Kestrel ‘rebuffed the big wind’ and hovered over the hillside ahead of us.
In Santon Bridge TBH and I stopped in at this little hall to peruse an exhibition by local artists…
A walk and some culture, can’t be bad!
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to us, The Shandy Sherpa and The Ginger Whinger were corrupting our kids by taking them to the pub for a drink. A soft drink no doubt. I suppose they might claim that they were shanghaied into taking on the child-minding duties.
Anyway, this had the unexpected side-effect that TBH and I had a very quiet and peaceful walk back along the River Irt on our own, enjoying fine sightings of a pair of Mergansers and also a Buzzard.
More Bluebells, this time in Great Coppice.
Since this was April’s final fling, walking wise, with a bit of guestimation and ignoring the to and fro I do at work, when I am generally on my feet all day, I’ve arrived at a total mileage for the month of just over 110 miles. Doesn’t seem all that much on the one hand, but it’s more than enough to take me to the magic total of a thousand miles for the year, so – job’s a good’un.