Sunday, December 05, 2010
HOY POLLOI December 2nd 2010
Doing my first volunteering since NoSAS so hardly slept, visions of making a start and then me having to abandon the work with hours until the boat back. Using the last of the OIC's transport timetables Hoy in the index only took me to the main route. Eventually found it down as Graemsay and North Hoy. Getting up at six, which is stil better than when I cleaned at the Coop, to be picked up with another volunteer opposite the cathedral by the Shapinsay warden at seven (couldn't find what boat he came on as even the Orkney Ferries website didn't list anything that early !).
Nice to be out in the stars again. Not even twilght yet. Behind Whyteford a faint sliver of crescent moon relaxed with her back to a brilliant Jupiter. Unfortunately we were stuck behind a blue car being well slow at a constant thirty, where even in this weather a peedie bit more would have been safe. Coming towards Stenness twilight edged forward as time to reach the 7:45 ferry faded away. Set the car below the RSPB's place as there as Paul knew there was no real parking to be had closer to the harbour. So a quick belt to the pier over slippery pavements and heaped snowy 'verges'. Only a few minutes over time, breathless and throat feeling funny, then the boat slipped back a few metres for Fiona to get on board. The RSPB staff and volunteers were the only passengers. At the other end the ferry wasn't quite so tight to the harbour wall. The other folk were content to step down with a crew member's assistant, but though it was only a matter of inches I wouldn't absolutely trust my legs [I don't a-light so much as flump] and so found a step a few inches up and hauled myself onto that instead using the rail alone.
After getting into the RSPB's transport our first port of call was the Hoy warden to pick up gear, then off to the White Glen Plantation - approx.HY244017. The hillside above (Haist) is amazingly steep and the one opposite (? Lang Fea) less so. Whiee Glen slides between the two, taking the road with it fo a vanishing point further along. Plantation makes me think of a forestry grid. This had been more higgledy-piggledy and in the process of being stripped of Sitka Spruce had become dodgy terrain. Walking over the heath I never felt certain whether my next step would be the base of the heather or the tops. On top of this was a near-lattice of tree branches and brush, the whole often hidden by anything from one to six inches of snow. I was delighted to find that even though my Lidl bought workshoes had a higher lip than even my catalogue walking shoes they actually felt a lot more comfortable. A few small steps cut out of a steep roadside bank took us onto the plantation.
From here, after the other Kirkwall volunteer had lit the necessary fires, we split up into smaller groups. Our task was to take out the non-native trees, make logs of the bigger sections (to become piles for insects and other wee beasties) and burn the rest apart from some brushwood. I went with Alan Leitch, the Orkney Warden, and another volunteer [I am rubbish at people's names]. Because of Health & Safety we kept out of the way while the warden took a chainsaw to the trees. He was thankful that he had a new chain rather than a blunt one like the others, but it did seem that his trees were the most difficult. Often he looked to have cut all the way through or made extra notches and still the beggars wouldn't fall. There was a partly fallen one held up by a smaller upright one, with a felled one six inches thick running down beside the base of both. Theory held that if the half-fallen one came down it would bring down the other with it. Perversely after a good deal of sawing the pair fell as a unit back over the felled tree !!
A dark wren came clockwise around us, resting in various piles and coming within two or three metres of me quite unconcerned. It might even have stayed for a photographic opportunity if I had my camera with me. Unfortunately even ultrazoom digitals only seem to come with wrist-straps, and my Casio's never stayed attached. With my SLR it would be slung round my neck ready for action even if under claes in this kind of weather, but digital cameras like to believe cold batteries are dead however much you curse under your breath and you need huge pockets for them. Anyway my bag was up the way. At one time I could hear high solitary notes from some mystery bird, the tease. Then I saw the bird itself flying downslope to tree, smaller than a wren it looked but tail no quite enough for a long-tailed tit. Alan enlightened me to its identity as a goldcrest. Later the bird flew back upslope to the north and another goldcrest crossed its path going down the way ! Another or the same wren quarter-circled us later, much lighter than the previous sighting but maybe the fitful sun had summat to do wi' that. A beauty of a jenny bringing thoughts of her time, Yuletide. On a few occasions woodcock and jack snipe were pointed out to me flying along the glen downhill. Must be an excellent birder to tell jack snipe from snipe at distance, I remember going by the supposedly distinctive movements to identify a jack snipe only for the previous bird recorder to identify a snipe from my photo. It is very hard to spot either bird and almost every time the first you know is their calls as they shoot off from literally just by your side. Did video one once though. Strange the way birds break cover when you wouldn't have seen them otherwise, even wierder the many species that choose to take a flight path straight in front of you - surely if I were a predator you would choose a direction opposite to the one I'm headed ?
Once I had settled on using work gloves instead of my warm ones the work was easy. Helps to be based around a roaring fire of course. At the second tree group we essayed I slowly realised that rather than trawling the odd one- or two-at-a-time back over obstacles it made more sense to dredge them up to the obstacle and then pass them over it into another pile for the other lad to move on or me to get when all had been piled up. Lovely crackling sounds as those branches with needles hit the fire. One tree I enjoyed picking up the branches against my arm and heaving them up by one end. As I dumped them on they all went with a whoosh, accelerated by al that sap I guess, and the remains went in no time. Unfortunately the next tree contrived to drop its end over the fire and Alan had to speed up.
There was a short break in the morning where we gathered together. Most folk had a beverage but though I had brought a drink this was only for an 'emergency' - I can hold off having a poop for hours (even if I need one to begin with) but nothing like that with fluids. I didn't really need the break for lunch, the break from work only cooling my hands down and slowing me. Of course if this had been late spring or summer I could have pottered off for a walk - Raymond Lamb found several archaeological sites in the region of the Whaness Burn and one is on hillside above the plantation, which sounds incredible. Back to work and my feet became increasingly adept at finding the holes in the ground surface. Moved some of the more slender long logs but arms not long enought for me to play with the short chunks . Didn't trust my back but still felt bad watching the other volunteer dealing with them. Came the time to bank the fire and that was mostly him too as I couldn't seem to do it right even using the same amounts of snow. A couple of times my feet sunk in amongst the heather and I spent what felt like ages reeling like a marionette to regain my balance. Finally Alan and the volunteer cast big loads of snow onto the centre of the fire as doing the edges wasn't doing so well.
Finished up about half-three and went to the warden's to wait out the 4:30 ferry back. Fiona donated a moist home-baked cake and muffins which soon went. Several folk were dubious about going to Hoy the next day so I let them know I would be absent.Parts around the ferry waiting room were like sheet ice. The state of tide made getting on board easy now. At Stromness at road level as we got off I saw a new covering of snow thin over ice so took care. The rest of the road, thankfully, was in almost the ame state as this morning. A stop-and-start race for Alan's car again, bag swinging in each hand, short of breath with a grungy throat once more. Would you credit it, we had that same small blue car in front of us again at what felt like a crawl. And again time ran short for Alan's boat back to Shapinsay. Fortunately the man beside him managed to ring the numbers for them to be informed that Alan would be a few minutes late. And that blue car followed us in. Surprisingly the driver proved to be a young chap, who made a dash for the waiting-room, presumably for the loo as this was the last ferry going now. I can only think that he has been 'done' for a driving offence and so is being a mite over-careful as a precaution.
Fortunately Cummins and Spence still open and I could get taties and so have my fish and chips a day early - the complexity of grilling bacon and tomatoes whilst boiling taties way beyond my energy levels now. Should have bought "The Orcadian" too, but didn't even feel up to stuffing that in my bag if I did. The next day it took a minute for the alarm to wake me at the time I would have been getting up to go to Hoy again. Aching sides, painful right foot and crick in the neck highlights of the 'afters' from Hoy. It wasn't the work that did for me but the terrain negotiated. After several hours and a Diclofenac my postre finally erect enough to go to the shops for my message. E-maile Lorna that though Hoy had defeated me as far as continual working on that land went I would still be up for the next task that came up otherwise.
Doing my first volunteering since NoSAS so hardly slept, visions of making a start and then me having to abandon the work with hours until the boat back. Using the last of the OIC's transport timetables Hoy in the index only took me to the main route. Eventually found it down as Graemsay and North Hoy. Getting up at six, which is stil better than when I cleaned at the Coop, to be picked up with another volunteer opposite the cathedral by the Shapinsay warden at seven (couldn't find what boat he came on as even the Orkney Ferries website didn't list anything that early !).
Nice to be out in the stars again. Not even twilght yet. Behind Whyteford a faint sliver of crescent moon relaxed with her back to a brilliant Jupiter. Unfortunately we were stuck behind a blue car being well slow at a constant thirty, where even in this weather a peedie bit more would have been safe. Coming towards Stenness twilight edged forward as time to reach the 7:45 ferry faded away. Set the car below the RSPB's place as there as Paul knew there was no real parking to be had closer to the harbour. So a quick belt to the pier over slippery pavements and heaped snowy 'verges'. Only a few minutes over time, breathless and throat feeling funny, then the boat slipped back a few metres for Fiona to get on board. The RSPB staff and volunteers were the only passengers. At the other end the ferry wasn't quite so tight to the harbour wall. The other folk were content to step down with a crew member's assistant, but though it was only a matter of inches I wouldn't absolutely trust my legs [I don't a-light so much as flump] and so found a step a few inches up and hauled myself onto that instead using the rail alone.
After getting into the RSPB's transport our first port of call was the Hoy warden to pick up gear, then off to the White Glen Plantation - approx.HY244017. The hillside above (Haist) is amazingly steep and the one opposite (? Lang Fea) less so. Whiee Glen slides between the two, taking the road with it fo a vanishing point further along. Plantation makes me think of a forestry grid. This had been more higgledy-piggledy and in the process of being stripped of Sitka Spruce had become dodgy terrain. Walking over the heath I never felt certain whether my next step would be the base of the heather or the tops. On top of this was a near-lattice of tree branches and brush, the whole often hidden by anything from one to six inches of snow. I was delighted to find that even though my Lidl bought workshoes had a higher lip than even my catalogue walking shoes they actually felt a lot more comfortable. A few small steps cut out of a steep roadside bank took us onto the plantation.
From here, after the other Kirkwall volunteer had lit the necessary fires, we split up into smaller groups. Our task was to take out the non-native trees, make logs of the bigger sections (to become piles for insects and other wee beasties) and burn the rest apart from some brushwood. I went with Alan Leitch, the Orkney Warden, and another volunteer [I am rubbish at people's names]. Because of Health & Safety we kept out of the way while the warden took a chainsaw to the trees. He was thankful that he had a new chain rather than a blunt one like the others, but it did seem that his trees were the most difficult. Often he looked to have cut all the way through or made extra notches and still the beggars wouldn't fall. There was a partly fallen one held up by a smaller upright one, with a felled one six inches thick running down beside the base of both. Theory held that if the half-fallen one came down it would bring down the other with it. Perversely after a good deal of sawing the pair fell as a unit back over the felled tree !!
A dark wren came clockwise around us, resting in various piles and coming within two or three metres of me quite unconcerned. It might even have stayed for a photographic opportunity if I had my camera with me. Unfortunately even ultrazoom digitals only seem to come with wrist-straps, and my Casio's never stayed attached. With my SLR it would be slung round my neck ready for action even if under claes in this kind of weather, but digital cameras like to believe cold batteries are dead however much you curse under your breath and you need huge pockets for them. Anyway my bag was up the way. At one time I could hear high solitary notes from some mystery bird, the tease. Then I saw the bird itself flying downslope to tree, smaller than a wren it looked but tail no quite enough for a long-tailed tit. Alan enlightened me to its identity as a goldcrest. Later the bird flew back upslope to the north and another goldcrest crossed its path going down the way ! Another or the same wren quarter-circled us later, much lighter than the previous sighting but maybe the fitful sun had summat to do wi' that. A beauty of a jenny bringing thoughts of her time, Yuletide. On a few occasions woodcock and jack snipe were pointed out to me flying along the glen downhill. Must be an excellent birder to tell jack snipe from snipe at distance, I remember going by the supposedly distinctive movements to identify a jack snipe only for the previous bird recorder to identify a snipe from my photo. It is very hard to spot either bird and almost every time the first you know is their calls as they shoot off from literally just by your side. Did video one once though. Strange the way birds break cover when you wouldn't have seen them otherwise, even wierder the many species that choose to take a flight path straight in front of you - surely if I were a predator you would choose a direction opposite to the one I'm headed ?
Once I had settled on using work gloves instead of my warm ones the work was easy. Helps to be based around a roaring fire of course. At the second tree group we essayed I slowly realised that rather than trawling the odd one- or two-at-a-time back over obstacles it made more sense to dredge them up to the obstacle and then pass them over it into another pile for the other lad to move on or me to get when all had been piled up. Lovely crackling sounds as those branches with needles hit the fire. One tree I enjoyed picking up the branches against my arm and heaving them up by one end. As I dumped them on they all went with a whoosh, accelerated by al that sap I guess, and the remains went in no time. Unfortunately the next tree contrived to drop its end over the fire and Alan had to speed up.
There was a short break in the morning where we gathered together. Most folk had a beverage but though I had brought a drink this was only for an 'emergency' - I can hold off having a poop for hours (even if I need one to begin with) but nothing like that with fluids. I didn't really need the break for lunch, the break from work only cooling my hands down and slowing me. Of course if this had been late spring or summer I could have pottered off for a walk - Raymond Lamb found several archaeological sites in the region of the Whaness Burn and one is on hillside above the plantation, which sounds incredible. Back to work and my feet became increasingly adept at finding the holes in the ground surface. Moved some of the more slender long logs but arms not long enought for me to play with the short chunks . Didn't trust my back but still felt bad watching the other volunteer dealing with them. Came the time to bank the fire and that was mostly him too as I couldn't seem to do it right even using the same amounts of snow. A couple of times my feet sunk in amongst the heather and I spent what felt like ages reeling like a marionette to regain my balance. Finally Alan and the volunteer cast big loads of snow onto the centre of the fire as doing the edges wasn't doing so well.
Finished up about half-three and went to the warden's to wait out the 4:30 ferry back. Fiona donated a moist home-baked cake and muffins which soon went. Several folk were dubious about going to Hoy the next day so I let them know I would be absent.Parts around the ferry waiting room were like sheet ice. The state of tide made getting on board easy now. At Stromness at road level as we got off I saw a new covering of snow thin over ice so took care. The rest of the road, thankfully, was in almost the ame state as this morning. A stop-and-start race for Alan's car again, bag swinging in each hand, short of breath with a grungy throat once more. Would you credit it, we had that same small blue car in front of us again at what felt like a crawl. And again time ran short for Alan's boat back to Shapinsay. Fortunately the man beside him managed to ring the numbers for them to be informed that Alan would be a few minutes late. And that blue car followed us in. Surprisingly the driver proved to be a young chap, who made a dash for the waiting-room, presumably for the loo as this was the last ferry going now. I can only think that he has been 'done' for a driving offence and so is being a mite over-careful as a precaution.
Fortunately Cummins and Spence still open and I could get taties and so have my fish and chips a day early - the complexity of grilling bacon and tomatoes whilst boiling taties way beyond my energy levels now. Should have bought "The Orcadian" too, but didn't even feel up to stuffing that in my bag if I did. The next day it took a minute for the alarm to wake me at the time I would have been getting up to go to Hoy again. Aching sides, painful right foot and crick in the neck highlights of the 'afters' from Hoy. It wasn't the work that did for me but the terrain negotiated. After several hours and a Diclofenac my postre finally erect enough to go to the shops for my message. E-maile Lorna that though Hoy had defeated me as far as continual working on that land went I would still be up for the next task that came up otherwise.
Labels: RSPB, White Glen
