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A walk upriver … to the sound of goldcrests | A walk upriver … to the sound of goldcrests |
(about 3 hours later) | |
The faded blue footbridge that spans the East Allen stands on tall supports, necessarily high for when the river is in spate. Last December it was a surging, terrifying flood; today the water barely wets the painted wooden gauge in the centre of the ford. A sign warns: “Caution. Due to scouring, depths may be deeper than indicated”. Now, two walkers dry their feet after paddling before putting on their socks. This is Old Man Bottom, a local name – with no apostrophe S – that you won’t find on any map. | The faded blue footbridge that spans the East Allen stands on tall supports, necessarily high for when the river is in spate. Last December it was a surging, terrifying flood; today the water barely wets the painted wooden gauge in the centre of the ford. A sign warns: “Caution. Due to scouring, depths may be deeper than indicated”. Now, two walkers dry their feet after paddling before putting on their socks. This is Old Man Bottom, a local name – with no apostrophe S – that you won’t find on any map. |
Mines were often known as Old Man, so it may have some connection with lead extraction. Next to the ford, there’s a new milestone, a stone sculpture of a packhorse pointing five miles upstream to the lead mine, ten miles down to the Dukesfield smelt mill. | Mines were often known as Old Man, so it may have some connection with lead extraction. Next to the ford, there’s a new milestone, a stone sculpture of a packhorse pointing five miles upstream to the lead mine, ten miles down to the Dukesfield smelt mill. |
As I walk upriver, goldcrests peep high up in the pines. Rabbits have grazed the turf to the tight sward of a lawn, making my footsteps soundless. A cluster of five tiny kits, each no bigger than my fist, are huddled together for warmth and comfort outside their burrow. One is grooming another one’s ears. I creep so close that my binoculars go out of focus. I’m nearly on top of them before they sense my presence and slip down into the safety of their hole. | As I walk upriver, goldcrests peep high up in the pines. Rabbits have grazed the turf to the tight sward of a lawn, making my footsteps soundless. A cluster of five tiny kits, each no bigger than my fist, are huddled together for warmth and comfort outside their burrow. One is grooming another one’s ears. I creep so close that my binoculars go out of focus. I’m nearly on top of them before they sense my presence and slip down into the safety of their hole. |
The narrow path opens on to a wide grassy ledge, river to the right, a steeply banked wood to the left. The cropped turf allows wildflowers to thrive: lady’s smock and white milkwort, forget-me-not, wood sage and dog violet, and, happy in this heavy metal soil, the mountain pansy. | The narrow path opens on to a wide grassy ledge, river to the right, a steeply banked wood to the left. The cropped turf allows wildflowers to thrive: lady’s smock and white milkwort, forget-me-not, wood sage and dog violet, and, happy in this heavy metal soil, the mountain pansy. |
A scattering of chewed Scots pinecones shows that there are still red squirrels here. A sloping field is studded with primroses. Sitting here beneath the pines, the scent is like sandalwood incense, resinous, woody and sweet. There’s the urgent call of a sandpiper, the flash of a dipper as it barely skims the water. Then, from the woodland above, the sound that sums up spring and gives a moment of pure pleasure: the call of a cuckoo reverberating and repeating through the trees. | A scattering of chewed Scots pinecones shows that there are still red squirrels here. A sloping field is studded with primroses. Sitting here beneath the pines, the scent is like sandalwood incense, resinous, woody and sweet. There’s the urgent call of a sandpiper, the flash of a dipper as it barely skims the water. Then, from the woodland above, the sound that sums up spring and gives a moment of pure pleasure: the call of a cuckoo reverberating and repeating through the trees. |
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