A cold, wet Norfolk. Not a great greeting on our return from Italy nor was the virus I picked up which left me hacking and coughing and lacking get up and go. Then spring broke through, gloriously. No time to waste. No time to feel sorry for myself. Time to get out and explore.
Where to first? Where will we see the most diversity? Always a difficult choice but let’s start in the ancient woodland at Foxley. Very soggy underfoot thanks to our ‘moist’ climate of late but worth the muddy boots to see the vast swathes of native Bluebells. Butterflies appeared, not many but enough to lift the spirits, spring has sprung. Then over to Wiveton Downs for more of the same but no mud!
When the butterflies you see are those that emerged from pupa you know spring has really started. Green Hairstreak (Callophrys rubi) on Bluebell, Wiveton Downs April 29thBack from a winter in Africa the Reed Warbler (Acrocephalus scirpaceus) is ready to play hide & seek. Titchwell May 5thReed WarblerSome butterflies like this Peacock (Aglais io) spend winter as adults in a state of dormancy so can be forgiven for being a bit worn around the edges. Foxley Wood
A trip to Titchwell Marsh was on the list. Lovely to see the return of spring migrants but at the same time sad to see the departure of those waders that breed in more northern climes.
Male Reed Buntings (Emberiza schoeniclus), now resplendent in their summer finery, marked their territoriesThe tiny Holly Blue (Celastrina argiolus) is having a good spring being the most numerous seen in my garden. This is a fresh female at WivetonThis Gadwall (Mareca strepera) choose a dark and secretive pool at Titchwell for lunch…………Whilst the Goldfinch (Carduelis carduelis) preferred a sunny spot to eat it’s Sallow seeds
After overnight rain and a thunder storm our last day in Liguria dawned warm and sunny. Another free day, so we decided to walk the three miles east around the coast to the medieval hillside village of Cervo. Built on the riches of coral fishing this gorgeous place is on the list of the most beautiful villages in Italy. Narrow streets wind their way up through hidden piazzas to one of the finest baroque churches in the country, San Giovanni Battista.
Mrs H couldn’t stop smiling all week, unheard of!Residents of Cervo do not suffer from claustrophobia!Loved the old piazzas
Sadly on Saturday morning it was time to leave. Our drivers told us we were returning on a different route. We headed towards Genoa and at Savona it was on to the E717 north to Turin. It wasn’t long before the snow capped Alps came into view. This was brilliant, I have never seen such mountains before (except from above by plane).
Stunning scenery. The 12,600ft Monviso accompanied us on our journeyI kept my eyes open for butterflies on the way home but only saw this one, a tiny Grizzled Skipper (Pyrgus malvae), at a rest stop outside TurinSacra di San Michele on Mount Pirchiriano in Piedmont NW Italy dates from the 10th century. The monks had cracking views but a trip to the shops was a pain!Around every corner was another jaw dropping “wow, look at that!” momentAnd so it’s addio Italia and bonjour la France. We are about to enter the Frejus Tunnel. 8 miles (13km) long with the border in the middle
As we approached the border we were greeted by flurries of snow. We had an overnight stop in that wretched motel in Dijon, a worse experience than the journey down. And the next day it was onward to Calais. When we were travelling down the temperature was 26c now it struggled to the dizzy heights of 5c. The landscape heading north is really quite boring, open fields as far as the eye could see, hardly a hedgerow or wood to be seen and countless thousands of wind turbines. The ferry crossing was a bit choppy. At 10pm on the 21st we arrived home having travelled 2,420 miles filled with wonderful memories. Ciao.
One of the big draws for booking this holiday was that it included a day in Monaco. Must say we were quite excited though our plans probably didn’t sync, a little bit of compromise was needed. First a few ‘wiki’ facts. Monaco is the world’s second smallest State (after Vatican City) with a land mass of just 0.8 square miles (2 sq km) or 510 acres. It’s border is only 3.4 miles (5.47 km) long. The population is about 38,000 making it the most densely populated country on earth. A third of the population are millionaires.
First view of the Principality as we descended from the ‘Grand Corniche’
After a 90 odd minute journey the coach took us down the narrow, switchback road used by over 48,000 commuters from France and Italy daily. We had arrived just over a week before the start of the Grand Prix motor racing season and were dropped off in the famous tunnel where, at the end of May, Messrs Verstappen, Hamilton et-al will be thundering through at about 180mph! Whilst the rest of the coach party headed up to the famous casino three of us went in the opposite direction. I really wanted to walk part of this historic circuit and could not believe my luck as the barriers and grandstands were in place and workmen busied to put together the finishing touches. We strolled round the harbour admiring the yachts. A few quids worth here, some as big as a small village! Then to the ‘Rascasse’ cafe, one of the famous corners on the circuit.
Approaching La Rascasse, varoooom!A lovely tribute to perhaps one of the greatest of all Grand Prix drivers, Juan Manuel Fangio, who won 5 world championships in the 1950’s
After posing for photo’s at Fangio’s statue it was on to see the classic car collection of the late Prince Rainier III and his son Prince Albert II. We had to follow a path through the grandstands to the entrance and for only 10 Euros (about £8.50) entered a building of polished marble and brushed stainless steel filled with immaculate vehicles from 1800’s wagonettes to modern day super cars, a petrolhead’s heaven! Citreon 2CV and Isetta ‘bubble car’ rubbed shoulders with Bugatti and Ferrari. Here are just a few that had me in awe.
A thing of beauty. A Mercedes-Benz W125 from 1937. With a straight 8, 5.6 litre supercharged engine it could reach race speeds of 190mph!Prince Rainier’s 1956 Chrysler Imperial imported from the States for the arrival of Grace KellyA 1950’s Maserati 250F Formula 1 carMonte Carlo is famous for it’s rallies. This is a BMW M1 driven by Bernard Beguin and Jean Jaques LenneA line up of Formula 1 cars from the present day headed by Charles Leclerc’s Ferrari
Mrs H finally dragged me out as we had to go to the ‘Rock’, Monaco’s capital. We had lunch consisting of a very large baguette filled with chicken, cheese and salad, a lemon crepe, cappuccino and cup of tea for just 16 Euros (£13) cheaper than most places in the UK! Under greying skies with the wind increasing, we explored the Cathedral and around the Palace, also finding deserted gardens and bustling streets before it was time to leave.
Looking down on the playground of the rich and famous
‘Life styles of the rich and the famous’ so sang Good Charlotte in ’02.
For the second excursion of our Italian holiday we headed east on the motorway to some 20 miles past the sprawling port City of Genoa. We rocked up in Santa Margherita Ligure, a beautiful coastal town, with the crystal clear waters of the Med reflecting the azure sky. We had an hour or so wandering around the harbour before catching a ferry for a short trip to the swanky Portofino, reputed to be one of the most expensive places to visit on earth!
The E80 motorway, a series of tunnels and viaducts, impressive!The beautiful bay of Santa Margherita Ligure“Think I’ll go that way” Christopher Colombus is said to have been from this area before setting sail to famously find the Americas which didn’t even know it was lostBasilica of St Margret of Antiochia dating from 1658Approaching PortofinoPortofino
I have to say I found Portofino slightly underwhelming. Don’t get me wrong it was pretty enough and there was even ‘rough edges’ like washing drying from balconies with faded, peeling shutters to show ‘real’ people also lived here. I guess just being another tourist among hundreds of other tourists in a small area loses it’s charm. As for cost, I had a very nice ice-cream for about £4 from a back street vendor which is on par for similar venues in the UK. Lunch at one of those harbour side restaurants? well that’s another world from the one I live in!
One country that we have always wanted to visit is Italy. So last year when Mrs H saw a local tour company offering a 9 day coach trip to the Italian Riviera we decided to go for it. A taxi picked us up from home and took us to the departure point where, at 5am on the 13th, we set off for Dover. We were lucky and booked the front seats giving us a 180 degree view and the chance to get some ‘on the move’ photos. The ferry took the coach to Calais then it was the long, long haul south through France. An overnight stop in a grotty motel in a grotty part of Dijon before heading to Marseilles onto Nice passing famous places such as Cannes and St Tropez. Crossed the border into the Ligurian region of Italy which follows the coast of the Mediterranean to our destination Diano Marina.
View from the hotel balcony in Diano Marina was not too shabby
The motorway (E80) between Nice (France) and Genoa (Italy) is a pretty impressive piece of engineering. It consists of 78 tunnels some nearly 2 miles long linked by high viaducts over valleys, this is pretty hilly countryside. Everywhere was lush and green. Houses clinging, seemingly impossible, to hillsides and in the valleys countless thousands of greenhouses, this is the ‘Riviera dei Fiori’ the coast of flowers.
The village of Diano Castello in the hills above town
Our first day was a free day to do as we pleased. With the lovely warm sun and gentle breeze we walked west around the bay and out onto a rocky reef jutting in the sea for great views back along the coast. Then it was up into the hills to check out the local countryside and do a bit of butterfly spotting before heading back down to explore the town.
Looking back downOh hello, just like being back home. Well not quite, the European Swallowtail (Papilio machon) is not as habitat fussy as the sub-species Britannicus found only in the Norfolk Broads. Surprisingly not too many butterflies were seen despite the plethora of wild flowers
Day two was back on the coach heading west on the coast road, the Aurelia, through the regional capital Imperia onto San Remo. A stop here to wander around the harbour and bustling streets then inland following the Nervia River for a Ligurian lunch in the village of Isolabona. Afterwards we visited the picturesque village of Dolceacqua.
Imperia, building plots are at a premium!San Remo harbour, a mix of traditional fishing boats unloading their catch and well-to-do yachtsOur ‘typical’ Ligurian lunch was some 8 courses of local specialities served ‘tapas’ style in the ‘Antico Frantoio’ in IsolabonaThe real Italy. A typical street in DolceacquaThe 15th century ‘Ponte Vecchio’ and Doria Castle, Dolceacqua made famous by French painter Claude Monet
I will leave it there for now but there is a lot more I would like to show you in future posts. To be continued…….
Norfolk Reed, head high with the winter hue of yellows, buffs and golds. Soft, downy silver seed heads bursting open, the slightest breeze and a gentle whisper. Acre upon acre spread around the coastal marshes, vast swathes surround rivers and broads. I’ve walked around them and through them, sailed boats along hidden channels and fished the bays and inlets for hungry Pike, Tench and Bream. Our flat Broadland landscape. No hills or mountains here, the horizon only broken by the ghost of a derelict wind pump or distant church tower, maybe a small group of trees, often dead and gnarly, a roost for Cormorants and crows, a lookout post for raptors. It’s easy to forget this is a man-made scene, a cash crop. Reed harvested during the winter months to provide thatch for roofing. A centuries old occupation carried out by strong, tough Marshmen. Done in the past by hand scythe, now by machine knee deep in freezing water and mud. During the war years the reedbeds were left untended. Willow, Sallow and Alder quickly spread. The value of this habitat was realised by various wildlife and conservation trusts and restoration undertaken.
If you are a creature that makes it’s home in this environment you could be called shy and elusive. If you can eke out an existence deep among the swaying stems why risk visiting the open edges where a predator could find you? For observers you give tantalising glimpses and for those with a long lens, frustration. Let me introduce you to a reedbed resident that has evaded my camera for way too long…..
This, Ladies and Gentlemen, is a Bearded Tit (Panurus biarmicus) which is neither bearded nor a tit. It’s other name is more suitable, the Reedling but I call them Beardies. This short winged, long tailed bundle of loveliness is usually seen as it flits over the reeds in small groups. You are alerted to their presence by the high pitched ping, ping call before they dive down out of sight. On the 7th I was up at Titchwell, walking the raised path toward Island Hide, when a Birder pointed out a group of about six Beardies just a few yards away feeding on the seed heads. I could not believe my eyes or my luck!
Me and my shadowThe females lack the males black ‘tache and blue/grey head but is still a very pretty bird
The Bearded Tit lives all it’s life in the vast reedbeds. During the warmer months it’s diet is insects but as winter nears this changes to the seeds of the Phragmites, Norfolk Reed. The nests are low down almost ground/water level and they lay between 4-8 eggs, two broods are normal. The family group stays together to form these feeding parties. This bird is know to ‘irrupt’ from the reedbeds and disperse to form new colonies, something I once witnessed. There are only about 650 pairs in the Country but as long as it’s habitat is maintained it is not threatened.
Reach for the seeds!
And with that long, hard, angry stare, it’s time to leave the birds to go about their usually hidden lifestyle. Over half an hour being treated to a very special moment.
3c read the car’s thermometer as I drove the long, narrow concrete track across the marshes to the Iconic ruins of St Benet’s Abbey. The fresh north/easterly made it much, much colder and ice covered the puddles with frost glistening in the sheltered spots but the blue sky and low winter sun cheered me up. After what seems like weeks of endless rain and storm after storm it was surprising that there was not much water on the grazing marshes when some parts of the Norfolk Broads are flooded. It was good to get out. Pulling into the small, neat car park half a dozen other vehicles were already here, Birders are a keen, hardy bunch or just crazy! The previous day, in identical conditions, I had made the same journey with Mrs H as company. Lots of fresh air but no sign of the bird we had come to see. Today as I got the camera set and zipped up the jacket the un-mistakable sight of a distant Short-eared Owl was quartering the ground out east towards the River Thurne. I made my way to the ruins and there was another much closer hunting in brilliant sun. Happy days!
The Short-eared Owl (Asio flammeus) in classic hunting pose, my favourite shot of the day
The UK has 5 resident species of Owl, the Short-eared is just fractionally the biggest. Breeding pairs can be found in the upland moors of the north of the Country and parts of Wales. In Norfolk one or two have historically bred but it is winter migrants from Scandinavia that are most seen, often along the coastal marshes. This year there was a good influx and several pushed further inland and at least five have set up temporary home here near the Abbey. Unlike most owls, the Shorty hunts in daylight, mostly late afternoon, today they were active from 9-11am.
Those eyes are something else, absolutely piercing!
The owl would slowly fly into the wind low to the ground, it’s long wings having an action like rowing oars. It would stop and hover, searching the ground for a vole breakfast. Suddenly it would plunge down but I never saw it make a catch. Eventually as the morning wore on it spent more time sat on the marsh and less time hunting. As for the ‘ears’, well they are actually two small tufts of feathers on the top of the head. The real ears are in the facial disc and are super efficient, slightly offset so sound is heard in 3d. With my shutter finger now absolutely frozen stiff it was time to call it a day and try and thaw out with the car heater.
Great to get over to the German capital for a few days to see the daughter before Christmas. The weather was pretty dull and cold, the snow the previous week had all gone so we wandered around the City centre taking in the sights and checking out the famous Christmas markets. In the UK we get a bit over the top with the build up to the 25th, it seems to start early October and gets earlier each year! In Berlin things seemed a bit more traditional and those markets were a feast for the eyes and stomach! So many lovely decorated stalls selling snacks I have never heard of (which I resisted) and how the locals can drink cold beer in that weather is beyond me. Let me show you some of what we saw.
Ferris wheel & Berliner DomEthnological Museum, Spreekanal, Museum IslandBerliner Dom & Fernsehturm (tv tower)Brandenburger TorAlexanderplaz. Busy, busy
The journey home was less than fun. Our scheduled flight was cancelled. Only one flight was still available to Amsterdam that day, leaving several hours earlier. We got booked on and arrived at Berlin Airport in the pouring rain. Luckily we ordered a taxi as the trains we had planned on taking were all delayed. Waiting to board and the desk announced a one hour delay. This then turned into two hours! Finally arrived at Schiphol with just enough time to get our transfer flight to Norwich. Got on board and there we sat for half an hour. All this due to a storm that had hit the area. The landings at Amsterdam and Norwich were somewhat interesting due to the strong winds. The joy didn’t end there as our taxi driver home took us on a rather convoluted route I could never had dreamed of and all the journey talked non-stop giving us his full life story! Never been so glad to shut the front door!
Sunset over Holland, we’re finally going home!
To all my blog followers and those who may read this post I wish you all a peaceful time whatever your beliefs or not.
History will show that the east coast of Britain was often a target for invaders from across the North Sea. After the Romans upped sticks and before William arrived from Normandy the 600 years between would see many a long ship pull up on the sandy beaches. The locals would then be given a good kicking and pillaged. Often these ‘tourists’ liked the area and stayed to set up their own communities, this is reflected in the names of our towns and villages. Thankfully, nowadays, the visitors from Scandinavia are far more genteel and photogenic, especially the avian variety!
Mid-week I was perusing the local bird news on-line when I saw a report of a flock of (Bohemian) Waxwings (Bombycilla garrulus) in Wiveton village 20 miles n/w around the coast. Being lovely and sunny (bit breezy), I dropped Mrs H at work and went for a look. On arriving there was no doubting where the birds were as a group of some 30 Birders were huddled beside the village inn, a variety of long lenses aimed at a berry laden bush in the rear yard.
Watching me watching you. A Waxwing in it’s lofty perch keeps an eye on the motley collection of bird watchers gathered below
Having parked the car and taking up a position among the great unwashed, it became apparent that the Waxwings were not in the bush. No, they were in the upper branches of a tall tree on the opposite side of the road! Thankfully our recent storms had rid the tree of leaves but any photographs were merely ‘record shots’. After about 15 minutes the birds flew off across the village green to a group of mature conifer and deciduous trees around 100 yards away. Some of the gathering went over to locate them and when I saw a bird flit among the trees I wandered across too.
In amongst the pines a Waxwing watches for a tasty insect
What I saw was fascinating. The Waxwings were catching insects in flight sometimes coming right over head. This is how they feed in the summer during the breeding season in the Nordic Forests, not something I have seen in this Country before. After a while I was on my own, the other observers having moved on. Photography was tricky. The light was not great and the birds didn’t sit still for too long but it was just fun watching them. A few more Birders arrived. I showed them the Waxwings but they just wandered over to join the crowd still at the pub staring at an empty bush! There is a saying in Yorkshire ‘There’s nowt so queer as folk’, very true. After an hour or so the birds headed back to where they were originally.
BIrd on a wire. No not Goldie. That eye mask and ‘hair do’ reminds me of girls at punk concerts in the late 70’s
Well guess what? Yes, a few of the Waxwings dropped down to feast on the berries much to the great whirring and clicking delight of those who didn’t want to move. Not for long though as the pub was open and bar staff kept coming and going fetching crates from the store shed putting the birds back up the tree. I managed a few shots and with cloud starting to build called it a day.
Getting closer!Bingo! A Waxwing doing what we know bestShowing off all it’s beauty. Those little red tips in the secondary wing feathers are what gives this bird their name
The appearance of Waxwings in the UK is a bit hit and miss. They do not migrate here but if there is a shortage of winter berries in their homelands they will ‘irrupt’ and some head across the North Sea. Most years only a handful are recorded, but on occasional years thousands. They mostly appear in Scotland or northern England but eventually turn up almost anywhere, right across to the West Country and Wales. Attracted to berries like Rowan and Contoneaster especially Crab Apples supermarket car parks are a good place to look as these plants are often used in their landscaping. On Wednesday I counted nine birds though up to thirty had been present. I have been fortunate to see larger flocks. Indeed my earliest birding memory was a harsh winter in the early 60’s being taken by my father to see a big group of Waxwings feeding on Hawthorn berries on our smallholding. We don’t get winters like that anymore but hopefully the Waxwings will still visit, just don’t bring any Vikings!
The first week of October was unseasonably warm with temperatures in the mid 20s c. Happily this coincided with Mrs H celebrating a milestone birthday (really not at liberty to say which one but there’s a six and zero in there). For her big surprise (after being berated for not organising anything) the daughter came home from Berlin for the week and we had a grand old time. On the Sunday we all went for a drive around the Nth Norfolk coast. Stopping, as is our tradition, at the Brancaster Staithe crab hut for a seafood sub-roll (they used to be baguettes back in the day, twice as big!) then on to the RSPB reserve at Titchwell Marsh.
A Little Egret (Egretta garzetta) emerges from a muddy creek. Strange to recall how rare these once were not that many years ago
The main path at Titchwell is raised to give good views and leads for just under a mile to the sea. The beaches on this part of the coast are wide open golden sands. Today the tide was coming in and the main feeding area of the shorebirds was already covered. There was a group of about thirty waders by the surf so we slowly made our way towards them until I was about twenty feet away. Kneeling low down on the wet sand I then set about photographing them. Ninety per cent of the birds were Knot (Calidris canutus). Love the Latin name, with the story of King Canute being deemed so mighty he could hold back the tides. I’m sure these birds think they can and give it their best shot before calling it quits and heading for dry land to roost. Speaking of roosts, a few miles further round the coast is a spot where over a hundred thousand Knot while away the time waiting for the water to recede.
First impression of winter plumage Knot is of medium sized, dumpy, grey waders. Not very exciting, but look closer to see the beauty, especially this juvenile with it’s superb mantle and wing covert feathering and lovely peachy tinge to the belly‘King Canute’ decided to leg it!
Among the Knot were a few of my favourite waders, Sanderling (Calidris alba). If the Knot think they can hold back tides the diminutive Sanderling thoroughly enjoy chasing the waves in and out. They look like clockwork toys running across the sands picking up whatever morsel the sea has left them, it always makes me smile.
A tiny Sanderling searches among the Cockle shells for something to eatTrying to sneak past unnoticed
On the way back a juvenile Great-crested Grebe (Podiceps cristatus) was spotted fishing in the shallow waters of the tidal lagoon.
The stripy head shows this Grebe to be a youngster
And so to home. A week later and a lovely dose of Covid (still not right after 17 days!). There you are Mrs H don’t say I never give you anything for your birthday!
A site reminiscing on the glory days of drag racing and hot rodding culture, the history of our sport and keeping old school traditions alive in the 21st Century.
Butterflies To Dragsters. 