A sunny interval!....

I gave Jenny a lift to work today, and as it was near Sutton Park and remarkably not raining, (It's rained pretty much everyday for over a month, wheres my summer?) I decided to go for a walk. I headed for this little tree overlooking Longmoor valley. It's quite open here, and when the weather's like this, likely to shower at anytime this fir makes a great regular bolt hole. Surveying the sky, I thought I'd venture further and ambled downhill, past the old world war 1 zig zag practice trenches and on to Rowtons Well.

Rowtons well is a natural spring. It is reputed to have been regularly used by the Romans who camped near here up on the hill. The wells waters were famous for curing 'inveterate, cutaneous and chronic ailments' in 1762. In Victorian days it was known for its purity and water was collected daily to be taken to Birmingham eye hospital. You can still see the rut marks left across one stretch of the moors from the wagon used. Ladies of the time believed it was good for the 'constitution' to bathe in its cold waters, and a flag pole was erected to warn when it was in use. The stream below this is full of wild watercress and was often taken by the locals to sell. Nowadays the water isn't so clean. I still use it to make a cup of tea while I'm out, but I give it a good boil first!

Further on I came across the old 'shooting butts'. This is where the targets were held up by soldiers hiding in the trench. This continued until well after the first world war, but ceased after complaints from members of the public suffering near misses!

This whole valley is rich with history. First world war prisoners of war were held here and discovered flint arrowheads, post holes and an ancient wooden trackway across the marshes while digging peat. The Romans built a road and a section of it has become encompassed in the park. When the Romans left, this road was ignored and not used by locals as it only went from one old fort to another and served no useful route. Because of the unique nature of the park, (given to the people of Sutton Coldfield in a Royal charter for use as agistment, pannage and estover etc) this area was never built on, and so the road survives intact. As you can see the road presents itself as a raised strip, proceeding straight as a die all the way to the still remaining fort at the village of Wall.

In some places the surface stones are still in place. 1600 years on and this is still a good dry track across the marshes of Longmoor and in better condition than some of the local modern roads!

To each side of this are lines of Sweet Chestnut trees. These were introduced by the Romans as a food source but were cultivated extensively in Sutton not only as food but for the wood which was particularly suitable for splitting into fencing pales. These fences were used to top the mounds above the ditches around the deer park and royal chase from the 1100's onwards.

I was uncertain what the weather had in mind, and the cows were being no help. Lying down is supposed to mean rain. Some were standing, some lying, one stood up (hooray, sunshine), but then lay down again (boo). I surmised rain with sunny intervals!

The railway line cuts straight across the northern part of the park. It should never have come this way, but was pushed through by surrounding rich land owners hoping to make a quick buck. The poorer locals were promised cheap coal, which did come, and then continued on past in order to supply the industrial revolution in nearby Birmingham!

I waited ages for a goods train to come so that I could take a photo, but nothing. As soon as I stood on the level crossing to take this shot I became paranoid that I was going to be run down.

On this side of the park there is a herd of wild ponies. They are the same breed as found on Exmoor. At weekends they hide away from people in the less accessible areas, but during the week they venture out closer to the fence line where the ground is dryer and the grass greener.

Sleepy and relaxed they let me get quite close. I love these chaps, their coats change season to season. In winter they go pretty fluffy and much darker.

You might think they're dozing, but they've always got an eye on you!

I ended the walk with a flask of coffee while swinging in my small hammock. Gosh I look severe in this photo.....I'm having fun, honestly!

Just a walk in the woods.....

Nature was calling..No, I don't mean that way, (I went before I came out!). It was sunny and I had not had chance to get out into the greenery for a while.

This is the old mill site near the village of Hints. I love the sign on the way into the village, "Hints, please drive carefully", I took the 'hint' as there were lots of Gatsos.

The main dam still survives, one of the few features not too overgrown. Many of the leats and courses don't reveal themselves until you're up to your waist in mud!

Black brook used to feed the mill, but now meanders unimpeded. The banks are lined with Himalayan Balsam (a foreign invader), the bees and damsel flies seem to like it, but it swamps everything else out and when it dies back in winter leaves the banks bare and open to erosion.

A flash of blue! A small bird flies low to the water along the length of the stream and perches on a branch right next to me. It's a Kingfisher! I'd just switched my camera off and tucked it away safe in my rucksack. Scrabbling at my bag I found the camera. The brightly coloured chap sat there gently bobbing on his perch looking amused at my frantic antics. Got my camera....starting up...'Welcome'....don't welcome me, just switch on! On, zoom in, focus,..press button. Got it!

Yes! I'd got it. This perfectly framed, close up picture of where a Kingfisher once sat.

I took a step back to see where it had gone, (((Crunch))) I hadn't noticed my picnic falling out of my bag and now I'd stomped it into the mud! This chap knew what he was doing, I reckon he'd played this trick before. He's going on the list!

Knowing that Kingfishers tend to use the same fishing post regularly, I hung around for a while. In the meantime I contented myself by taking some pics of Emerald Damsel flies on the far bank.

These made a nice change from the blue ones that I see when kayaking. Often they end up in the water while 'fighting' with their reflections. It is always a race to save them before a Chubb gives them a nasty suck. I say suck, because they never get eaten, they must taste bad as they get spat out almost immediately. The nose of the kayak is employed as drying area and recovery room.

The farmer and his dog....How many times has this fooled me? It's just a couple of tree stumps! The first time had been in winter, late afternoon and it was going dark. I had wandered off the path and didn't want a remonstration with an irate farmer telling me to get off his land. I waited ages for him to go, what the hell is he doing? Why can't he go away? Eventually I could wait no longer. I felt such a berk when I realised my mistake.

What I thought was his waist, is an iron band left over from a protective cage. Ironic, that the cage that was put there to save damage from livestock, 150 years later probably killed it!

I remembered to take the high ground. The lower meadow looks beautiful, but beware! This must have been the mill pool at one time. Skipping merrily among the wild flowers, I once found myself stranded on a small tussock, an island among what seemed a minefield of peaty bog holes. Unable to quite remember the route in, (too busy skipping) it took me ages to pick my way out.

This once used to be part of the Canwell estate. At the turn of time there used to be a priory, secreted amongst the trees in a huge hollow, (I found the ruins a while ago, they're creepy, posting in the off!) this was superseded by a great hall. Eventually this developed into a farming estate, and in the 1800's in the land grab of the enclosures, much of the previous 'common land' was fenced off. Many of the richest estates had this distinctive iron fencing. Inheritance tax, designed to bring about the demise and unfairness of these big estates, led to the Canwell lands being distributed as small holdings to deserving returning first world war soldiers. Grandeur's such as stone gate posts, mills and this railing are gradually being consumed by nature.

The sun was fierce and the incline tiring as I completed the arduous final leg to my picnic destination. The hill steepened (as often they do as you get older), but just when I'd had enough, the path levelled out and the soft grass invited me to sit a while....

A lovely spot that photos can never do justice, (especially when your camera battery has gone flat!). Rolling hills to the east, firs and fields as far as 'crows castle' (a hill topped with a mound and a circle of Scots pines where the buzzards now roost) to the west.

Now, where's that food....Oh look, really thin sandwiches, and lots of tiny, tiny crisps!