The Cronk

The butterflies are back - but they are camera-shy!

 

Tuesday, 7th May, 2013.

 

I had such good intentions about not interfering in the organising of the walks when I handed over to Trevor and Dorothy.  But I had just been reading the weather forecasts when I got the weekend email from Dorothy "Trevor would like to walk North Barrule on Tuesday.      The weather forecast isn't good for Tuesday, but as usual it could be a better day when we get there."  The forecast most certainly wasn't good.  They predicted extensive hill fog, strong winds and heavy rain.  I couldn't resist replying "I am not sure whether North Barrule on Tuesday will be a good idea.  Great exercise . . . but it might be a better idea to go up there when we can enjoy the views.  As you say, the weather might be better when we get there - but it might also be a good idea to have another option in mind in case it isn't!"

 

Trevor phoned later and said they had decided to change to a beach walk from Ballaugh.

 

On Tuesday morning I thought of phoning Trevor and saying "Let's do North Barrule."  There was barely a cloud in the sky, just a gentle breeze, and we could see the top of North Barrule from our front windows.  The earlier forecasts couldn't have been more wrong.  But I thought of Dorothy, recovering from a bad cold . . . and my poor legs, recovering from a day in the garden on Monday, mowing and weeding.   The lazy option was too tempting and I decided not to interfere again.

 

It turned out to be the hottest day of the year.  We set out from the parking place at The Cronk and there was dog drama before we even left the car park.  A couple of large unruly dogs came running up from the beach and decided to play rather roughly with Danny.   Poor Danny was horrified and ran for his life but the big dogs were too fast for him, knocked him over and pinned him down.  I fended them off with my walking stick and Tim managed to rescue our poor little old man and carried him down the beach until we were a safe distance from the over-boisterous dogs.

 

We strolled down the beach discussing whether the tide was coming in or going out until I got left behind.  I get distracted by too many insignificant details . . .  like the cross stitch footprints of the oystercatchers on the damp sand.

 

 

. . . and trying to see whether the birds swooping over these wind-sculpted sand cliffs were swallows or sand martins.  They were too high to see clearly and impossible to photograph but they appeared to be taking an interest in some small holes at the top of the cliffs - so they were probably sand martins, back from wintering in equatorial West Africa. 

 

 

 

. . . and admiring some colourful seaweed left on the beach at the last high tide.

 

 

 

. . . and also admiring the tenacity of the coltsfoot (Tussilago farfara) which manages to survive in the most arid of conditions on the cliffs.  I was disappointed that there were only seed heads and buds on display and wondered whether the flowers would open later in the day when they were no longer in dense shade.

 

 

 

Then I wasted some more time trying to decipher some gull activity.  They were gathered in a couple of large groups, too far from the shore to see clearly.  They may have been attracted by fish in those areas - or perhaps they were just resting on the water waiting for the tide to turn. 

 

Closer to shore were three birds which looked rather like ducks.  It took me ages to identify them positively when we got home.  I eventually discovered that they are juvenile male eider ducks.  The adult males are quite different - with spectacular glossy black and white feathers.  But these juveniles are probably in the process of moulting. Tim suggested that we just call them "Scruffy ducks."

 

 

 

Just before we reached the footpath up through Glen Trunk, I stopped to photograph the beach with Peel Hill in the background. 

 

And there was a second dog incident.  I didn't notice that Tim was pointing down the beach.  He was trying to direct my attention to Danny who was acting in a rather confused way - running up and down by the cliffs.  Danny's eyesight isn't as good as it used to be and he hadn't seen me standing in the shadows - and thought he had lost me.  After taking the photo, I looked around for Danny and called him - but he appeared not to hear and suddenly panicked and started running back down the beach in the direction of The Cronk.  He must have decided that I had returned to the car.  I pursued shouting at the top of my voice.  I had a dreadful vision of chasing him all the way back to the car park but he did eventually hear and looked back and saw me.  I kept him on the lead for the rest of the walk.

 

 

 

At the beginning of the path up to Glen Trunk, I found a nice little coltsfoot flower.  Trevor was busy photographing some of its distant relatives - dandelions.  They were very pretty, growing amongst the bright green grass but I ignored them because I have more than enough dandelions trying to invade the garden.

 

 

 

The path through Glen Trunk was lined with banks of gorse and the day was hot enough to release the heady, coconut scent.  I saw a couple of small white butterflies, the first I have seen on a walk this year, although I have also seen one or two in the garden.  I couldn't identify them because they were flying and I can't tell one small white from another unless I can see the underside of the wing.  Tim said that Trevor had seen a peacock - which put my small white sightings into perspective.  But later in the walk I saw another white butterfly and small tortoiseshell at the side of the road from Orrisdale to the Cronk.

 

 

 

From the road to Orrisdale we could see the last of the snow in a deep gulley on the side of Sartfell.

 

 

 

. . . and then it was a long walk in the warm sunshine back to The Cronk.  The fields are emerald green now.  A patchwork of green divided in places by golden gorse hedges.  As we approached the group of houses at The Cronk I took a photo over one of the hedges, which was growing at the top of a grassy bank sprinkled with white stitchwort.  The Jurby church is on the right and I think the building on the left at the top of the cliffs is a disused Coastguard lookout - but it may be something left over from WW2.

 

 

 

I wanted to take a photo of the crooked gateposts at Ballaugh Old Church but we had fallen rather a long way behind  Dorothy and Trevor on account of my fruitless butterfly stalking.  I did my best to get a photo - but the butterflies didn't cooperate.  So we walked back to the car to say goodbye to the others and then Tim stopped by the church on the way home.  I was rather flustered because the road outside the church is rather narrow and there wasn't much room to park.  I didn't get the gateposts from the best angle and also cut off the top of the bell tower.  I shall have to try again.  But this is a slightly better photo of the church.  The big nests in the trees behind the church belong to some very noisy rooks.

 

 

 

Danny is the last dog standing as far as long walks are concerned.  Leo retired after developing trachea problems and Alex had digestive problems after his last long walk.  It may have had nothing to do with the walk but I am getting neurotic about old dogs and their health problems - so Alex has been excused from the hikes in future. 

 

I usually make my bed before I let Danny out of the study in the morning because I know what he is like.  On Wednesday morning I didn't keep to the usual routine because I intended changing the bed linen.  When I went to give Danny his breakfast he was comfortably stretched out on my bed with his head on the pillow.  I rushed to get the camera but of course he moved before I got back.  He was in a silly, playful mood - burrowing under the top sheet and rolling around.  He doesn't seem to have suffered any ill effects from the drama yesterday.