Forgotten Places...

In the corner of this field lies a secret...

You could walk past it without noticing, and that's the idea.

Look on the other side of this grassy knoll and all is revealed. A 'blast wall' only recently toppled, partly obscures the entrance.

Clamber through the brambles, under the leaning edge of the wall and a dark corridor awaits you.

At the end of the passage, turn right, into a small windowless room. The only light pours through the escape hatch above.

The metal rungs of the ladder have long since gone.

In the corner is a plinth where once a stove sat.

This was the hide of the Elite Auxiliary Unit in world war two. These units were a subversive underground force formed to operate behind enemy lines if we were invaded. Trained in guerrilla tactics and armed with rifles, grenades, incendiary bombs, plastic high explosives, time delay fuses and other devices, these men were expected to target tanks, convoys, enemy camps, and ammunition dumps. Sworn to secrecy and forced to sign the Official Secrets Act, they operated outside of the Geneva Convention and if caught could be shot as spies.

The adjoining room was pitch black. Torchlight revealed a ceiling inhabited by hibernating butterflies and moths exercising an uneasy truce with the large spiders.

This room was slightly smaller, the floor dominated by two large concrete slabs. Inset to these were the remnants of metal mounting points. This was probably the location of the battery generators which would have been used to power a radio transceiver.

Three wide ventilation pipes bridged the walls. Two at floor level and one 5ft up the wall so ensuring a natural flow of air through convection. Two smaller metal pipes were probably exhaust outlets for the engines of the generators.

The hatch from the escape route was missing. This bunker doesn't appear on any civilian maps, and this is the only feature to be seen on any ariel photographs.

These bunkers were built all over the country, many were entirely underground with only a manhole cover to give away their existence. This bunker is only a couple of miles from where I live. There's probably one near you too. You could have walked over it without noticing. Is that a normal manhole cover beneath your feet, or something else?...

An Aqueduct too Far...

I was suffering badly from idle-itus, an untreatable condition that was causing my kayak paddles to go slower than normal. Luckily there was no rush, and soon enough I was at Fazeley Junction. Decisions, decisions, do I go north to Whittington, or south towards Coventry? The 10 miles to Whittington and back suddenly seemed a long way, so I instead opted to go the short distance to where the canal passes over the River Tame on a high aqueduct.

A Second World War 'pillbox' stands guard over the water here. These war relics fascinate me. This one is particularly interesting. It's a FW3 Type 26. There were less than 200 of this type built. The more common hexagonal Type 22's are dotted in their thousands across the country. This Type 26 is unusual in that it only has embrasures/ loopholes on one side rather than all four. The angle of the loophole slots would have allowed full gun coverage of both the canal and the river below all the way towards Tamworth. There are horizontal slots along the sides, with remnants of wood still in them. Many of these structures where either 'merged', or disguised, and I wonder if these wooden batons were left from some sort of cladding in an attempt to make it look more civilian in nature. For many miles this stretch of the River Tame was used as a natural 'stop line' during the war. There are pillboxes dotted all along its length as well as brick lined cutouts in the bank where patrol boats lurked ever ready under tree cover. The waterway here is only a narrowboats width, which is... narrow. The railings on the towpath side are always a worry to pedestrians with dogs or small children as there is a sheer drop down to the river.

The river looked inviting, but the thought of carrying a 20 kilo kayak laden with another 10 kilo of luggage left me feeling exhausted. It would have to wait for another day, maybe in summer when those trees are in leaf and I can tie a hammock up over the water from an overhanging branch.

Over the other side of the aqueduct was an intriguing doorway that begged to be investigated. Leaving my kayak under the protection of the pillbox, I scrambled through the undergrowth until I reached the sandstone steps.

It was a little disappointing. It was just a small storage room, fire blackened and litter strewn by local scallywags.

Back at my kayak I drank my obligatory flask of Camp coffee while contemplating the paddle home.

The Drayton footbridge was a welcome sight, although the din of the traffic wasn't. My rumbling tummy helped drown out the noise as a bacon sandwich beckoned me homeward...

Terrorist, terrorists, everywhere!!!!...

I like to listen to TalkSport Radio while I'm driving in the car. Not so much during the day because they just chat about sport, but at night it becomes a 'phone-in' station. The subjects are widely varied, current news, lively debate, and light hearted banter etc. It's the UKs largest commercial station, and as you would expect there are advert breaks. It was during one of these breaks that I heard what I thought was a tongue in cheek promotion of a future program. It sounded so ridiculous that I assumed it was over the top in order to provoke discussion. It wasn't until it reached the end, announcing a free hotline number to report your neighbours as terrorists that I realised that it was for real. I'm astounded!...



This is one of a series of like minded adverts. These broadcasts set a dangerous precedent, turning neighbour against neighbour and leading people to believe that there are 'terrorists everywhere'. There was never this level of paranoia during the height of the IRA attacks.
I'm particularly concerned because I fall into this new terrorist category. I keep myself to myself, close curtains and use cash... I'm expecting the door to be broken down by police any moment now.
You just can't win. Leave the curtains open while you're vacuuming in the nude and you get reported, close them and you get reported for being a terrorist!
I've already reported all my neighbours, as many of them have been going out after dark, one of them was holding a bag and wearing glasses... is he a terrorist in disguise? The bus stop across the road worries me too. I often see people just standing there (sometimes for ages), not talking to anyone and looking around a bit. Are they going to blow themselves up? I'm turning myself in at the end of the week because I've always thought I looked a bit suspicious anyway!...

Deer Friends are new Neighbours

As the towns sprawl ever further into the countryside, I've noticed that the wildlife is beginning to adapt, seeking refuge in the suburbs. The foxes have accustomed well to this environment often living right under our noses unnoticed. More and more I come across signs that deer too are our new neighbours. You might be unaware of their presence but the evidence is there. Food missing from bird tables, choice plants or blooms nibbled away, or the minute little hoofs marks in a soily border. The culprit? The tiny Muntjac deer. The ability to breed all year round, remain hidden in the undergrowth of the most modest garden, and to exist a solitary lifestyle causing little impact to its environment, has meant that it's spread across the country has been inconspicuous.

Although I've come across them during the day in the countryside, in the suburbs they wisely use the cover of darkness. Usually I only spot them in the distance as they cross the roads between parkland and gardens. Their eyes reflect the car headlights, and combined with the pale part of their ears, they can take on the appearance of a Hyena when viewed head on!

Fruitless attempts to film them in an urban setting have left me frustrated, so it was ironic that, after many hours of searching I managed to video this chap just a few hundred yards away from my house.

Their call is very similar to a fox and easily confused (hear it here), but it is slightly harsher, more metallic and less 'musical'. So if you hear what you think are foxes calling in the night, the roses aren't flowering too well this year, and the garden birds are looking hungry... then maybe you have a deer friend too!

Skeleton in the Woods...

It was way too cold to go kayaking, so I opted for a walk instead, choosing to visit some of my old haunts. The windchill under the leadened skies persuaded me to leave the high open ground and seek the comfort of the woods.

Amongst the trees I stumbled across an old friend. The skeletal remains of a once loved shelter. Although now bare, the framework had survived well, still able to support my full weight.

It was over three and a half years ago that I built this bivi as a bolt hole from bad weather. It had been a great place to stop for a nap or to cook a snack, but I abandoned it after it became apparent that a local Muntjac deer was using it as a rest up. There are no tracks, or signs of use, so maybe come spring I might re-thatch it and move back in.

The wind dropped and the sun emerged with a surprising warmth, luring me out onto a sunny snow covered bank.

Settled in the sunshine I felt it was definitely time for something to eat.

You can't beat Camp coffee and some of my favourite Clam Chowder soup when it's cold out.

Feeling full, I was content to stretch out and absorb as much sunshine as I could while watching the snow slowly melt off the Gorse flowers.

The blue skies departed as the lowering sun heralded the end of the day. I followed the meandering stream along the valley, homeward bound...

The Burly Bird gets the Worm...

The weather this week has been somewhat confused. You'll set off in sunshine, only to be caught out in a blizzard, shortly followed by sunshine as if nothing had happened.

The sunny weather lured me out onto the water, but after only a mile kayaking it greyed over leaving me to paddle the last 4 miles in freezing rain.

The fox hates it too, you can tell. When there is a clear starry night , he's a happy chappy, but he really isn't keen on the wet weather. His little paws get soggy and he's quick to grab his food and take it somewhere dry to hold up.

Even the Buzzards are finding it difficult. Their main prey around here are rabbits and they don't tend to come out during the day when the weather is bad.

They're having to resort to low level ambush hunting of hedgerow birds and eating worms from the newly ploughed fields. I didn't realise Buzzards ate worms, and for a long while wondered why they were sitting out in the muddy furrows. They must have to eat a lot of worms to feed a bird with a wingspan of over a metre!

The Orwellian Nightmare Unit...

The traffic snarled up and eventually came to a halt. I parked my car, grabbed my cameras and went to see what was happening. The road was blocked by police and fire engines.

More sirens rang out as a police car pulled across to block the road, while yet another fire engine arrived. I couldn't see smoke, so I assumed it must be an accident of some kind.

The air ambulance circled overhead obviously searching for a suitable landing spot.

It swung low over the rooftops, skimmed the rear gardens, and positioned itself to land at the junction of two roads.

It sunk below the outline of the suburban skyline and out of sight.

This is when the trouble started...

A policeman approached me. He asked if I was affiliated with the press, and what was I taking photographs of. I politely explained that I was just a local caught up in the traffic taking some shots of the air ambulance overhead. He then began ranting on about seizing my cameras as evidence! He was rude, aggressive and intimidating. I was shocked. I was told that I wasn't allowed to take photos. Although I was incandescent with rage, I didn't want to be arrested, or have my cameras taken, so I retreated into a side road.

With the cameras tucked under my coat I returned and attempted to blend in with the crowd. Just in time to witness another photographer suffer similar treatment. This time the police were trying to use anti-terror laws to stop him taking photos. He knew his rights, stood his ground, and informed them that they had no right to seize his camera, or prevent him from taking pictures. He was threatened with arrest for a public order offence and manhandled to a car by the policeman! Credit to the guy, he stated his case clearly, he had committed no offence and was well within his rights to take photographs on a public road. They reluctantly let him go.

Out of sight, the turbines of the helicopter whined into life. The thudding of the rotors grew louder as it emerged above the roof tiles. The police were distracted so I took the opportunity to snap a few shots...

After the helicopter left, I made conversation with the other photographer. I could tell he was very annoyed by the police. He was amazed at their ignorance of the law and of the public rights. We'd both encountered this abuse before, and I'm sure I will again.

It turned out that the incident was just a traffic accident. There was no reason to evoke anti-terror laws. I didn't hinder or obstruct anyone in any way. I didn't intrude on the casualties privacy. There was simply no reason to stop anyone from taking pictures. What was particularly hypocritical was the professional video camera crew (full size on the shoulder TV camera, plus sound man) that were shadowing the emergency services at close quarters filming the casualties from barely 6 foot away!

The police are misusing, and abusing these anti-terror laws as I suspected they would when I wrote a blog post about them when they first came into existence last year. (Read it HERE)

I will continue to take photos and strive to prevent the spread of this new branch of the police... 'The Orwellian Nightmare Unit'.

Where's my Spoon?...

It was cold (3c) and grey but at least the water wasn't frozen. Well there was the occasional mini iceberg but thankfully nothing 'Titanic'.

After about an hours paddling I hauled up on the sandy bank in the woods next to the military firing range. Apart from the sporadic bursts of machine gun fire and the odd explosion, it's generally very peaceful, the perfect place for a snack.

I was happy to wrap my cold donnies around a warm flask of coffee. When I came to eat my soup, I discovered I'd lost my spoon. It's somewhat difficult to search a kayak while it's wobbling about underneath you. Not in the for or aft hold, not sitting on it, not in the seat pocket, not in my dry bag.... where's it gone?? I had it a moment ago! I even paddled out to see if I'd dropped it in the water... GONE.

I suppose it'll turn up somewhere...

The cold weather meant I had the water to myself, and it was a joy to cruise along the mirrored surface. As the sun dropped so did the temperature, and so I headed homeward.

I'd only done 5 miles and would have been happy to carry on further. The darkness came, and I hadn't fitted the lights to the kayak, so I called it a day and loaded it onto the car. Can't wait for the return of the long days of summer...

Thwarted by the Thaw...

The day was sunny and warm (nearly 10c). I strapped the kayak to the car and set off. At first glance the canal didn't look too bad. On closer inspection I realised that the ice was still a good few inches thick.

A bit of melt water on top of the frozen surface gave the impression that the thaw was well underway, but on chatting to the narrow boat residents (who were furiously chopping wood for their heating) it transpired that they had been frozen in for weeks and didn't expect to go anywhere soon.

My search for liquid kayaking water was thwarted by flooded lanes. Infuriatingly the inviting blue always seemed to be in the next field.

The horse pasture was a tad damp too, although this horse was having a whale of a time kicking its way through the flooded patches.

The donkeys weren't in their normal air raid shelter hangout, and had been moved up to higher ground.

Eventually the lane disappeared entirely and I was forced to turn back. The flood was still rising and I didn't want to be cut off.

For a while it became confusing as to what was lane, field, or river, and I was glad to see tarmac again.

In my quest for a good kayak launching place I headed to a regular spot.

All the melting snow had made this normally peaceful stretch of river a bit rougher than expected. It was icy cold too.... I chickened out!

Maybe I'll have better luck tomorrow...