Imagine you are walking through the country on a route you've never taken before and you see a wooden signpost pointing to 'The Valley of Stones'. Well you have to follow the path don't you?
Exactly. So over I went and through the kissing gate and along by mountains of gorse. Plants and trees seem a bit all over the place this year. Last weekend I watched the London Marathon on television. I have no idea why I find this interesting. It's a whole load of people I don't know hurrying along through emptied city streets for hours on end - thousands of them! It's a bit like horse racing. I sometimes watch that on the television too. Perhaps it's the predictability of it. Everyone starts at A and tries to get to B as fast as they can. Then un-threatenting people who didn't do the hurrying talk to those who did - and that's it. When the news is otherwise full of bombs and earthquakes, things which burst terrifyingly out of the blue, perhaps I like to be reassured by events with no surprises. But the thing which stood out specially with the Marathon this year was how green were the trees in London compared with the trees in Dorset. A week later and everything here is lushing up. Some places are almost unrecognisable because the rain-inspired green-ness is so sudden - and tall.
Hang on - I think I've got lost. Why am I talking about horse racing and marathons and the trees in London? - oh yes - it's about gorse. Our trees may seem a tad slow in comparison this year and the blackthorn blossom may not be as impressive as usual - but the gorse? Oh the gorse! Roads are lined with it in brilliant yellow. It's all over the place and on the hills there's so much in flower it looks as if great billows of golden clouds have come to land in the grass. And there it was on my way to The Valley of Stones.
And a pond too; murky and mysterious. Brilliant! Sometimes it's like living in a children's story book.
Think England and you think thatched cottages. Maybe you think of crumpets and UKIP too. Maybe football in cities and cricket on village greens. Red buses? Late trains? We don't have red buses round here but I've seen quite a few UKIP signs in the last few weeks. They come - and will hopefully go. But thatched cottages are abundantly present - and comfortingly old. Why am I going on about cottages now? Um . . . oh yes. The cottages are tucked in valleys and folds between great big green hills. I mean really big. They aren't mountains. They don't go sheer up and sheer down. They go in great waves through the land. There are villages (and thatched, stone cottages) hidden in some of their folds but in other places there are no dwellings - just gorse and trees and cattle or sheep . . .
In the picture, we are part way down the hill. We will walk a bit to our right, then down, then left again behind the tree and continue further down still. It's not hard walking - just a bit steep in places.
Until we reach this place - The Valley of Stones.
Scale is hard to convey in photographs. I don't want to exaggerate how high are the hills on either side of this valley - but they are higher than they appear in the photo; so the presence of boulders at the bottom when the slopes on either side of them are smooth comes as a surprise. They snake along like a wide path. It's better seen when you are standing there among them or looking down from a distance. (Distance is hard to get right on blogs.) And don't be put off by the telegraph poles either. It's
because we are out in the country that wires have to be supported above the ground instead of expensively under it. This place is is not remote in the way some of the wilds in Scotland are remote - but there are no houses nearby (only ruins); and when I was there, no walkers apart from the friend who came with me. The silence is tremendous.
Nor would I like to suggest I'm terribly genned up on science and geology so I'll simply copy the
Natural England notice at the top of the path.
'This National Nature Reserve is named after the distinctive boulders that tumble down this dry valley in the downs. These sarsen stones, of tightly cemented gravels and sands, derive from the former capping above the chalk that became fragmented during the freeze/thaw conditions after the last ice age 10,000 years ago.
'This Reserve is also notable for its fine chalk grassland and the associated insects and flowers. Scarce lichens and mosses grow on the sarsens, The downland and heathy grassland is maintained by cattle and sheep grazing.
'This is part of a working farm, managed in partnership with the landowner, the Bridehead Estate, and a tenant. Stock are present all year so please keep dogs on a lead.'
Some of the rocks are smooth, but others, as mentioned on the notice, are made up of smaller stones stuck together and some of the flints are so polished by the weather (or so compressed?) they have glass-like qualities . . . (anyone know what causes this?) . . . and their broken faces shine as if they have been consciously cut for the sake of reflecting light just as windows and car mirrors do - or binoculars in the distance . And in this I am
not exaggerating. They are pretty and special.
The notice mentions wild flowers. Most noticeable when I visited were violets clustered around one of the rocks but there were the beginnings of bluebells here and there too - for all that it wasn't woodland. You know what violets look like. You know what bluebells look like. And I
posted about Oil Beetles last year . . . So in the spirit of bringing you pictures you might not often find on other blogs - I spent a little while moving from cow-pat to cow-pat taking photogaphs of these beautiful Yellow Dung Flies (
Scathophaga stercoraria) who were mating en masse in the sunshine. They may be called 'Yellow' but if I have named them I would have said they are gold. I'm a fan.
Thinking of bright colours - what do you think of my new shoes? They may not look much good for walking in but they are so supple they give an excellent grip on rough (dry) ground and are extraordinarily comfortable. (I haven't tried them in the wet yet.)
And remember - It's only a week before our next
Tree Following Festival. THURSDAY 7TH MAY!
Some of the rocks are smooth, but others, as mentioned on the notice, are made up of smaller stones stuck together and some of the flints are so polished by the weather (or so compressed?) they have glass-like qualities . . . (anyone know what causes this?) . . . and their broken faces shine as if they have been consciously cut for the sake of reflecting light just as windows and car mirrors do - or binoculars in the distance . And in this I am not exaggerating. They are pretty and special.
The notice mentions wild flowers. Most noticeable when I visited were violets clustered around one of the rocks but there were the beginnings of bluebells here and there too - for all that it wasn't woodland. You know what violets look like. You know what bluebells look like. And I posted about Oil Beetles last year . . . So in the spirit of bringing you pictures you might not often find on other blogs - I spent a little while moving from cow-pat to cow-pat taking photogaphs of these beautiful Yellow Dung Flies (Scathophaga stercoraria) who were mating en masse in the sunshine. They may be called 'Yellow' but if I have named them I would have said they are gold. I'm a fan.
