Winter 9

Taking time to stand and stare . . .

Sunday 21st February, 2016

Monday

Winter and spring are overlapping this week.  There are mixed signals.  It was 1 degree C (feels like minus 2 allegedly) when I checked the Ramsey weather on the computer this morning - but patches of sunlight were reaching the top of the garden before nine o’clock and there was a chaffinch singing lustily in the white flowering cherry.  We are waiting until it warms up before walking.  It will probably be a case of getting less cold rather than warming up because we are only expecting a maximum of four degrees.

Later: We left under the bluest of blue skies that it is possible to imagine.  We decided to do an extended Ramsey route, walking up past the hospital and then down the footpath to the Mooragh Park.   It was still cold but there was very little wind so it was comfortable walking weather.  We noticed ice on the puddles in the glen road and from the top of the Mooragh brooghs we could see that there was snow on the fells in the Lake District . . .  and the camera could see the distant fells far better than we could.  I don’t know the Lake District well enough to be sure, but I think the closest mountain may be Scafell Pike - the highest mountain in England.

According to the Isle of Man Guide “Mooragh Park was not always a park for it was built, but then its lake was not always a lake. In 1881, the Ramsey Town Commissioners bought a 200 acre tidal swamp. The Land was purchased for 1,200 pounds with the intent to build the site into a pleasure park. Six years later the site was opened to the public . . .”   

The lawns were decorated with scattered clumps of crocuses.

The water level was so low that we assumed the lake had been emptied for cleaning.

Wading birds, nearly all oystercatchers, were taking advantage of the shallow water.

The original tidal swamp was fed by one branch of the Sulby River, which used to have access to the sea in two places before the present entrance to the harbour was dredged and protected by piers. The water level in the lake is still controlled by opening the sluice gates (at the end of  a tunnel - under the road - which connects the lake to the old river} during high or low tides.

We walked down the path along the side of the old river.  The tide was out and small boats at their moorings were sitting on the mud waiting for the water to return.  The shipyard is on the right and the swing bridge is ahead just downstream from the point where the old and “new” river courses go their separate ways.

I stopped near the bridge to take a photo of this curious structure.

There is another one upstream of the bridge and I wondered whether they were used for securing the bridge in an open position. After doing some research on the internet, I discovered a possible additional purpose.   They may also mark the edge of the shoal on which  the north side of the bridge is constructed.  This extract from a sailing website explains:

Ramsey harbour is entered between two long piers, again marked by light towers.  The channel bears round to the left and there is a lit dolphin in the middle of the harbour which marks a shoal extending out from the north side of the harbour; this mark should be left to starboard. There is a swing bridge over the harbour beyond which is a shallow inner harbour suitable only for small boats and unlikely to be of any use to the visiting boat.  

This smaller structure must be the lit dolphin.

The name amused me because I always assumed that the only dolphins were the swimming variety.  But apparently harbour dolphins should not be confused with harbour porpoises.  Thanks to Wikipedia, I now know that “A dolphin is a man-made marine structure that extends above the water level and is not connected to shore”.

We walked along the west quay.  As well as numerous ducks and gulls, we saw five adult swans in the upper harbour but no juveniles.  There were far more swans last winter. Then we returned home along usual route from Ramsey through the revamped Ponderosa and Lezayre Park.

Tuesday brought a sudden change in the weather.  A turbulent day was ushered in by this dramatic sunrise.

Our day started early with a trip to the hospital for Tim’s routine blood test.  There was a gusty wind which strengthened during the day.  The rain was only supposed to start in the afternoon but there were already a few sparse drops when we did the shopping.  Back home for a quick cup of tea and then a short walk in the glen before the serious rain was due.  We were buffeted by the strong gusts in our road but the Fern Glen branch of our drunken V shaped walk was more sheltered. (PS  We were perfectly sober - but the V shape of the walk is decidedly wobbly.).

After lunch I noticed that another old holly had been blown down in the back garden.  It was growing half way up the bank behind the hawthorns.  

I went up to check and it looked as though the roots had rotted and snapped off so there wasn’t much damage to the bank.  I will have to wait for drier weather before dealing with it because I need to use the electric saw.

Wednesday morning.

It is still raining but the wind has dropped.  We had 57 mls (about 2 ¼ ins) of rain yesterday afternoon and overnight.

 

Later:  After the rain stopped I went out with the hand saw and cut some of the smaller branches off the fallen holly to disentangle it from neighbouring plants..  It has only caused minor damage to one hawthorn branch and a self-sown shrub near the stream (I think it is a Chilean myrtle).  I should be able to finish working on the holly tomorrow.

After lunch we did our three mile Whitebridge walk.  There were three ducks near the river bank by the footbridge - one female and her two male admirers.  The male mallards follow their chosen females around in spring and are remarkably patient.

Earlier this week I was scrolling through old blogs trying to find out the date of our first daff in 2015 and I came across this snippet of information which I had recorded about seasonal lag - in England the coldest day of the year, judged by average recorded temperatures, is February 17th.  It has average minimum and maximum temperatures of 0.8C and 6.7C.  We are not in England but we are just across the Irish Sea and our temperature today matches those averages fairly well - Min. Air 1°C and Max. Air 6°C.  So statistically we should start warming up tomorrow.   

Our robin will be pleased if the statistics prove to be correct.   After looking sleek during the mostly warm winter weather, he had his feathers puffed up against the cold yesterday morning.

Thursday.

The statistics lied.  To celebrate passing the coldest day of the year, we woke to a frosty morning with white grass and ice on top of any containers full of rain water.

It soon warmed up though and there was hardly any wind -  an ideal day for working outside - and walking.  I did a session of holly cutting with the electric saw  before tea and then we went for a six mile walk. Our route was an extended version of Monday’s walk. Instead of walking up Richmond Road towards the hospital, we turned left down the Jurby Road and then right up Clifton Drive and then continued up the Andreas Road and Bride Road, turning down to the shore at the Vollan and returning through the park.

We finally located an active rookery near the Bride Road but all the birds departed as we approached.  Perhaps they thought my camera was a type of gun because they flew off cawing furiously.

We passed major infrastructure works under way in the north end of the Mooragh Park.  It is something to do with a pumping station which will be connected with the sewage treatment plant out at Balladoole.  Once it is completed the Ramsey beach should have much cleaner water.

This little playground always  brings back memories of visiting grandchildren - especially Emily, the youngest of our six granddaughters.

The water level in the lake was a little higher than it was on Monday and the wading oystercatchers had departed and been replaced by swimming gulls.

We crossed the swing bridge again and I stopped to take a last dolphin photograph.  This is the one upstream from the bridge on the edge of the shoal between the old and new rivers.  

The old river is behind the dolphin and the shipyard is on the left.  The most famous ship to be built there was The Star of India, a full-rigged iron windjammer ship, which was launched in 1863 (originally named the Euterpe). She now resides in the San Diego Maritime Museum.  According to the museum website she “became an "American" ship by Act of Congress” and “Still sails in the ocean by a volunteer crew”. The Ramsey shipyard is still active although its glory days are long past.

Friday

The usual shopping was followed by a brisk walk in the glen.  It wasn’t raining hard but it wasn’t a dry walk so I didn’t risk taking the camera.  

Saturday brought more of the same weather - light patchy rain.  We walked down to the Whitebridge and on the way down the glen I noticed some signs of approaching spring.  The blossom was starting to open on this tree . . .

. . . and there were buds on a magnolia.

The magpie’s nest in Gardeners Lane has survived all the gales.  We hadn’t seen the occupants for a couple of weeks but one emerged from the nest when we walked past on our way home.

Sunday was even wetter than the previous two days, so we completed our walking week with a short and very wet glen walk.  It brought our total mileage for the week up to 23.7 miles - our highest total so far.

It is often the simplest poetry that strikes a chord in our emotions.  Like the following extract from the poem "Leisure" which I stumbled across while reading a Country Diary article on the Guardian website.

What is this life if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs

And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,

Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,

Streams full of stars, like skies at night . . . . .

WH Davies

From Songs Of Joy and Others (1911)

I go to the other extreme and spend too much time standing and staring.  Sadly, I can’t stare at squirrels.  There are none on the Island . . . but there is no shortage of streams and trees.