The Power of Water

I ventured down to the weir today, while the weather was still good and heavy rain hadn't put an end to my plans to run tonight.

The noise it makes, the ferocity of it, is something I always find quite awe inspiring at close quarters. If you get trapped in it, I always feel you've had it, but then I have seen folk practicing their canoeing in it, and even scene folk walking across the top of it when you would think that one slip would mean certain death.

Admittedly today, the high water levels you can see in the photographs would have added to its primal power.

There's plenty of himalayan balsam growing down there to add colour, and ivy is now in flower providing feeding stations for late season pollinators. The best think I saw today though, was something I haven't seen in town for a while.

Grey wagtails used to nest under the castle wall a few years ago, but I haven't seen one of these lovely colourful birds since. However, today I came across one on the calm waters the other side of the river wall from the weir.

Typically it flew off before I could get a photo!

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 30.09.19

They Unlocked the Lock

Today has been such a dire, windy day, that it was difficult for me to motivate myself to go running, and as soon as I started to cycle, I felt that the wind was blowing me backwards. I went to the park to have a cup of tea and indulge in some photography, but the light was so grim that it would have been pointless.

There weren't even any striking skies like yesterday. Everything was a uniform dark grey, like a tank needing a lick of paint. It was awful.

However, it wasn't a total dead loss of a day. Twitter reminded me that there was an open day on the town locks today, midway through the replacement of the gates. I came hurtling along on my bike, only to be told by the guy on the gate I had to get off it. So I locked it to his gate.

It's the first time I've ever been able to walk through the boatyard, and they had opened up the dry dock, once the largest inland one in Europe, for folk to walk through and be towered over by the dredgers that were parked there. For once, there were no dire warnings about not looking at the acetylene lamps.

From there, you entered the sensory garden next to the river, and then down into the lock itself, down a metal staircase that made you feel like you were entering an archaeological dig. If it had been, collectors of decaying bicycles and shopping trollies would have been excited, but no-one else. The muddy stench that had been present a few weeks ago had gone, and I was excited - weirdly - to see a little stream winding its way along the mud. It reminded me of those beaches in Scotland.

Rust decorated the metal sides, and there was the strange thrill of being below ground level. I was reminded of J.G. Ballard's "The Drowned World" and the horror the protagonists had when a flooded London was drained, exposing that which should not be exposed.

There is also frisson of being where you aren't supposed to be normally I think. As many people would say, bicycle studded mud shouldn't normally be exciting, but many are the urban explorers who might disagree.

Si

Drydock

Tugboat

Dredger

Dry info for a dry dock

Rust

Tea was welcome on a windy day!

Crane at work

Into the deep

Possibly rideable

This one comes with its own spare tire

Undersize trolly must have aroused disgust

Some sort of Hemingway figure has edged into shot

Gate replacement

The empty river

Muddy stream

The Cycles in the Sludge

My back is aching less today, so I risked a gentle run about in the rain. Needed to burn the calories from yet another excellent tin of Baxter's soup for lunch.

Baxters and Barrs - the two greatest UK food and drink companies!

What I really wanted to do during this little trot-about was visit the stretch of the Newark Trent that has been drained to enable the town lock gates to be replaced. Last time they did this, in the late 1980s, all sorts of stuff was discovered in the mud, including reputedly an automatic handgun.

No such excitement this year; the riverine bounty this time around seems to consist mainly of bicycles, shopping trolleys and car exhaust pipes. There is an umistakable iodine smell of tainted mud, amid the waft of which the ghosts of those the river has taken are liberated to make mischief this All Hallows Eve.

Si

All text and images are copyright CreamCrackeredNature 29.10.15

Dredgers sucking up the water and mud

Inspecting the walls. Or "refilling" the canal

Marooned barge

River bounty

This is where some of the stolen bikes end up

Barge aground

Looking towards the castle

Now, my Barnby Adventure!

I did my Barnby run today, on a crisp morning with a chill Northerly keeping hungry kestrFor once, I was glad of my windproof.

The run to Barnby in the Willows is a long flat deceptive drag after the crossroads. Fields of cabbages keep a clear horizon and you can see all the way across to Claypole and beyond.

Horse liveries are everywhere, complete with old school road mirrors.

Runner reflection not included

As I approached the village, a big echelon of probably pink footed geese, perhaps a hundred strong, went overhead on a southerly heading. Many of these birds have been seen on the move today; perhaps these birds are the same as some seen over Mansfield Wodehouse earlier in the morning.

A kestrel too was on view, hunting in the wind, absolutely effortless.

I ran through the village, and paused in the churchyard for photographs.

Barnby Church

The entrance under the sun

The tower

An old grave stone

A Barnby in the Willows willow

I then crossed the River With an, into unknown lands. Hell, a sign told me I was now in a different county.

River Witham

I'd run into a different county!

I ran along the Witham a little way to the next bridge. I paused to photograph a pair of mute swans, and as I did so I was thrilled to see a kingfisher fly out from
me, quite a cold blue in the bright light and easily seen against the dark, clear water.

The Witham is full of pike, but I saw none today.

Swans. And somewhere in this view is a kingfisher

Instead of trying to follow the river and getting lost in the tangled muddy banks, I headed along farm tracks to haybarns, disappointed to see no redwing or fieldfare around.

Haybarn

I was going to turn round here, but kept on after spotting blue flowers through the low hedge line. This was chicory, and a very late honeybee was having a feed. Is this the last bee I'll see this year?

Chicory flower

I hate retracing steps, but I had to turn round to avoid ending up in Claypole or Brant Broughton. I did get lost in the manor house grounds. Terribly sorry!

In all, by the time I was back in Newark I'd covered 15.97km. And my legs felt every one of them!