No trip to Towyn is complete without an ascent of Birthday Hill. This time we were a little early for Little S’s big day, but, as ever, it was a great sociable walk.
The view along the Llyn Peninsula from Carn Fadryn.
As usual, we sat on the top for an age, enjoying the amazing all-round views.
A good spot to wait for the slow coaches (like me).
On our way down, we passed a young family with small kids who seemed to be enjoying their walk. I wondered whether they would be back again when the kids were towering over their parents like the DBs do.
Porth Towyn pano.
With the sun actually shining, and a bit of accompanying warmth, a trip to the beach was the obvious follow up. We squeezed in the usual favourites: swimming, body-boarding, tennis, chucking stuff at other stuff and beach cricket; although, sadly, the standard of fielding has noticeably declined over the years. I think it might have been the next morning when I finally got around to a snorkel, but the water was very cloudy.
TBF body-boarding.The Prof taking it all in.The DBs playing beach tennis.A highly competitive match of chucking things at other things.
The Eternal Weather Optimist has been living in symbiosis with his famous green fleece since at least the mid-80s, rather like the ecosystem of algae, fungi, moths, and insects which survive in the fur of sloths. Although, admittedly, he moves a good deal faster than your average sloth. Unlike me.
This is obviously Boules for the old and infirm, with the ‘cochonnet‘ within falling distance.
This might seem a bit rich coming from me, ridiculing my old friends just because they would have as good a chance of reaching the jack by holding their boule above their head and falling flat on their face in the sand, but these folk are all older than me*, I bring the youthful zest to the party! I can chuck a boule more than a couple of yards at least. Even if I have undermined my argument somewhat by using imperial units. *Well, a bit older anyway. Aside from the EWO, but I’m not as old as his fleece, so that’s okay.
A large hovering raptor. A Buzzard?
Later, back at the tents, there was a good deal of excitement about a bird of prey which was hovering above the cliffs. It was clearly much too big to be a Kestrel, which is the obvious first thought in this situation. My expertise was called upon and then immediately called into question when I suggested that it was probably a Buzzard. But they do hover, honest. Not as proficiently as Kestrels, but they can do it.
Sunset from Porth Towyn.
Later still, we had a late wander down to the beach, another staple of our trips. I think this was the evening when we tried to throw some frisbees around in a very strong wind, without much accuracy, or catching.
A late trip to the beach.
Little S and I decided to go rock-pooling in near darkness. Our rock-pooling was never very successful on this trip, but we did find a good-sized Shore Crab. It was very dark and the photo was taken with flash.
A large Shore Crab.
The next day, we were heading home, but still managed to fit in some swimming and a little more fruitless rockpooling before we needed to pack up.
Rockpools and seaweed.Rockpool colour.Seaweed.Little S.B heading back to help pack up our tent.
A short trip, with some very mixed weather, but our trips to the Llyn Peninsula are always good value. Roll on next summer!
What’s this, some grass, some mud and a large foot in a scruffy none-too-clean shoe? Not my most artistic composition, I’ll admit, but I should also add that this is arguably the most exciting photo in this lengthy post, in as much as, it’s unique; I’m sure I haven’t ever shared another picture quite like this one, which can’t be said for any of the many images which follow. You have been warned!
The outsize trotter is mine and is there for scale. On this particular Saturday morning in late March, before I set-off for my walk – around the coast to Arnside and back over the Knott, for the umpteenth time, you’ll be completely unsurprised to hear – before I set-off, I traipsed down to the bottom of our back garden, probably to dump some vegetable peel and the like in the compost bin. In the lawn, I discovered five large bald patches, with some indistinct paw prints in them and some pretty impressive claw-marks. I know that there were five, because I took photos of them all – of course I did. In addition, there were a number of small holes, with swirls of grass and moss around them, as if they had been made by a twisting motion. I have a couple of books on animal tracks and signs, and between them and a bit of lazy internet research it seems that the most likely culprits are badgers. The small holes are made by them sticking their snouts into the ground in search of their favourite food: earthworms.
They came back and did it again a few nights later, but, sadly, I’ve never seen them and they don’t seem to have been back since. TBH is not quite as devastated as I am, by the fact that our lawn is not being ripped up on a regular basis. She’s already fed-up with the Roe Deer consuming many flowers, particularly, but not exclusively, tulips, and would like to erect a tall mesh fence with a roll of barbed wire along the top and probably towers manned by sharpshooters.
Robin.
And so, leaving our garden; around the coast to Arnside and over the Knott, episode three hundred and fifty-seven (or thereabouts). Other local walks are available, obviously, but I seem to be in the grip of a monomania and, recently at least, only a walk to Arnside and back will do me.
Hazel Catkins.
At least spring was well and truly underway and so there were new things to see relative to other walks this way from earlier in the year.
Sculpture?
I’m assuming that these large metal squares serve some purpose at the cricket ground and weren’t just hung in the tree as a piece of modern art, although I think they pass muster as an example of the latter. I really ought to ask Little S what he thinks!
Louring skies over Arnside Knott.
Rather than walking across the fields towards Far Arnside, as I usually do, I took the road by the shore, hoping to walk on the sand from the little cove known locally as ‘the dip’. However, when I reached the dip, the sand was wet and and not at all firm and so not a very enticing prospect, and I stuck with the road.
A display of white violets on the verge.
I’m glad that I did, otherwise I might have missed a superb display of white Violets on the verge which stretched out over several yards. It was a gloomy morning, but the sun came out just at that moment, just as I was photographing the violets.
Far Arnside Daffs.
If the violets were a somewhat unexpected bonus, the daffodils in the woods at Far Arnside were totally anticipated and half the reason I had been drawn this way. And when the daffs are on display, I also know that I will find Green Hellebores flowering too…
Green Hellebore among the daffs.Green Hellebore.Around the coast again!Gorse flowering.Hampsfell and Grange-over-Sands.The Kent Estuary.
Not only do I love the view that is revealed when I turn a slight corner here into the Kent Estuary, I also like to drop down on to the sands here, where there’s a handy ramp down across the small limestone cliffs…
The slabs which lead down to the ‘beach’.
I hadn’t been doing that of late, because the beach had always been very wet and muddy, and often slightly submerged. It was no different on this occasion, everything was under an inch of water or more, but for some reason I abandoned caution and decided to head down anyway.
Lichened rocks.Seaweed – Spiral Wrack, I think.
Looking back towards Grange, it looked distinctly like it was raining over there. I thought: “Oh look, it’s raining in Grange”. I didn’t make the obvious inference: “Oh dear, it’s about to rain on me”.
Which of course, it did. Quite heavily, but fortunately not for too long.
A heavy shower.
It was quite odd to be walking in an inch or two of water whilst it was also pelting down.
Seaweed – possibly Bladder Wrack, or a mixture of Bladder Wrack and Spiral Wrack?
Jumping forward to the here and now, June, where we are possibly going to get our first rain in weeks today: I went to a talk about plants this week which was organised by the local Horticultural Society. It was a fascinating presentation, and one of the things I took away from it was the fact that seaweeds are not regarded as plants, but rather as multicellular algae.
A muddy path and a faint rainbow over Whitbarrow Scar.River Kent, light catching a corner of Whitbarrow, and the viaduct. Coastguards training.
By the Coastguard Station on the outskirts of Arnside, some of the coastguard officers were busy training. With hindsight, how I knew that’s who they were, and that they weren’t just thrill-seekers having fun, I can’t remember. It did look like fun, although maybe a little bit on the chilly side.
Haverbrack, Beetham Fell, Farleton Fell.
The views from the Knott were rather limited, since many of the Lakeland Fells were smothered by clouds. Still worth the climb however.
River Kent and Gummer How from the Knott.River Kent pano.Gummer How, Whitbarrow Scar, Foulshaw Moss, Scout Scar, River Kent.Silverdale Moss and Hutton Roof beyond.Morecambe Bay.Whitbarrow Scar again.Knotty tree trunk.
I walk past these couple of old, gnarly tree-stumps almost every time I climb the Knott; what possessed me to take lots of photos of their whorled and fissured surfaces on this occasion rather than any other, I couldn’t say.
Fissured tree trunk.Saul’s Road.Arnside Tower Farm and Middlebarrow Wood.
There are Hellebores to be found along the edge of Middlebarrow Wood – to the right they are scattered along the perimeter of Holgates Caravan Park, to the left there’s a single spot where a large clump and several smaller outlying clumps always appear. I chose to head to the left.
Silverdale Moss and Beetham Fell.Green Hellebore – a sizeable patch.
Every spring, I worry that this little clearing, just by the footpath, will have been swamped by the brambles which seem to dominate everywhere else. So far, my fears have been misfounded.
Lots of flowers this year.Rather shy and retiring blooms.Perhaps, a bit nondescript – but I like them.
I’ve limited myself to a handful of the host of photos I took. The flowers are green and rather nondescript, and I’ve posted inumerable photos of them over the years, since I first stumbled upon them flowering, but I like them and I’m afraid I shan’t tire of them anytime soon.
Flooded fields by Middlebarrow Wood.The path along Black Dyke to Arnside – waders required.
Rather astonishingly, I was able to walk this path shortly after this photo was taken, without getting my feet wet. At the time, however, it was very flooded.
Willow catkins.Quince flowerbuds.…and flowering.
The thicket of Quince at the corner of Elmslack and Cove Road wasn’t really flowering in earnest yet, which given that one year it burst into flower at New Year, seemed quite late. The Quince bushes here, and the hedge opposite are one of the many places around the village, including our own garden, where you can reliably hear the incessant chatter of Sparrows pretty much all year round. Despite being called House Sparrows, they are definitely fond of a nice dense hedgerow. Ours nest under our eaves, but seem to spend much of the day hidden in our Beech hedge, chattering away.
Beating The Bounds 