Butterfly walk and runners on the common

28 July 2015

The butterflies have been conspicuous in their absence this year for some reason. Although I’ve seen the odd one fluttering over the garden or when I’ve been out walking, there haven’t been nearly as many as usual. The bees have been buzzing around all the flowers in my garden since spring, but I’ve missed the colour of delicate wings drifting from plant to plant. On Tuesday, I thought I’d go and seek them out in their own habitat, the Butterfly Walk.

It was one of those days that couldn’t quite make up its mind whether to be wet or not and, after all the rain on Sunday, I wasn’t sure how boggy the trail would be but it was worth a try. The first stop on the walk was in the garden I discovered at the top of the hill last time I came this way. It was only a few weeks ago but the rhododendrons and bright drifts of thrift in the triangular beds were just a distant memory. Nothing but seed heads remained. A gardener was busy working on the long bed so I left him to it and made my way back down the hill to the start of the butterfly trail.

When I set off I told myself I’d just walk a little way along the path and turn back as soon as it got muddy. My boots were at home and walking sandals don’t mix too well with mud. At first the path was reassuringly dry, tall hemp agrimony and arching spikes of buddleia added colour and brought the hope of butterflies to come. Crunching along the gravelly path I looked all around, waiting for the flutter of wings. It didn’t come.

In fact the first sign of insect life was a volucella zonaria, sitting on the hemp agrimony trying to pretend it was a fierce hornet. These hoverflies were once considered rare in Britain but I’ve seen them before and they are increasing in numbers here in the South.  Once you get over their slightly alarming resemblance to hornets and their gigantic size (for a hoverfly) they’re actually quite attractive things. Like the others I’ve seen this one was quite docile and sat, happily sipping away at nectar while I took several photos. He may have been watching me with his giant brown eyes but he didn’t seem to mind me being there at all.

He may not have been one of the butterflies I came to see but he was certainly more cooperative and I was glad I stumbled upon him. There was purple loosestrife along the path and tiny St John’s wort. A little further on another kind of hoverfly was also enjoying the hemp agrimony. Hunched over the flowers with its curious diamond shaped brown eyes and sticking out tongue it was an alien looking thing. Although I couldn’t identify it, I knew it was a hoverfly by its wings sticking out to the side. Close by a honey bee was also taking advantage of the heads of pink flowers with long white stamens. Surely, if there were butterflies about they’d be getting on on the act?

Pretty soon I’d reached the point where I meant to turn back. Here the path dips down towards a small bridge and carries on along the edge of the stream that originates at Millers Pond. If there was mud this would be where I’d meet it. Standing on the bridge though, the path looked dry so I thought I’d go a little further. Maybe the butterflies were all hiding out near the water?

It was pleasant with the water trickling beside me, the speckles of sunlight on the path and the sound of birdsong, but there were no butterflies at all. Even so, I kept going. The light had that hazy green quality you get deep in a wood and I hadn’t seen a single soul since I started along the trail. This is the kind of walking I like, so peaceful it’s almost a kind of meditation. Totally lost in my thoughts I turned a corner and caught sight of a fox. He’d obviously been as startled by me as I was by him because, no sooner had I realised what I was looking at, he’d turned tail and disappeared into the trees, leaving me wondering if I imagined him.

There was a little mud when I reached the deepest part of the wood so I decided to make my way up into the park and give up my search for illusive butterflies. Where they have all gone is a mystery. Perhaps it’s down to the odd, cold spring and the humid, rainy non summer weather but I do hope they come back soon because I miss them.

The walk back home was hot and sticky. When I got in I sank gratefully into the chair with a well earned coffee thinking my six mile trek would be the end of my walking for the day. Commando had other ideas though. When he got up he told me he was off to The Common for a Magic Mile event, a little like the Gosport Golden Mile he ran earlier in the year. Did I want to come along and watch? Of course I did.

As all the local running clubs would be taking part we left early in case there were no parking spaces nearby. As it turned out there were still plenty when we arrived at Cemetary Road so we had a little time to wander around before everyone else arrived. we hadn’t even left the car park when I stopped for my first photo. In the undergrowth amongst the leaf litter I’d spotted some large mushrooms. What they were is a mystery but they were so perfect they looked as if they’re been made of glazed clay. Nearby there were many more, not quite as unmarked but still a surprise in the middle of summer.

We we took a looping stroll past the paddling pool, which has been rejuvenated since I last came this way and now has fancy wrought iron gates decorated with colourful seagulls and fish. Then it was back down a sloping trail through the grass to the Hawthorn Centre where everyone was meeting. We were the first ones there so Commando went off for a short warm up run while I stood around taking pictures of what I thought was spirea but I now believe to be sorbaria, often called false spirea and peering up the road looking for runners.

Commando reappeared, running down the slope, at more or less the same time as the first runners came into view at the end of the road. Pretty soon there were little groups of people in Lycra dotted over the grass, different colours denoting different running clubs. There was a lot of nervous pacing and talk of PB’s and injuries until the call came for the prerace briefing.

While all this was going on I stood about feeling a little surplus to requirements. The briefing was of no interest to me as I wasn’t running anywhere (ever!) and the race would be starting soon so I couldn’t go wandering off anywhere. Soon enough it was time to walk back up the slope to the start. The sun was beginning to sink and I stood back on the grass watching the runners stretching, checking laces and chips and generally standing about. The time before the start of a race, no matter the distance or importance, always seems filled with nervous tension, all those muscles, like coiled springs, waiting for the off. The low sun slanting through the trees and the long shadows seemed to add to the air of anticipation and the minutes stretched out like hours.

Finally, when I thought it was never going to start, everyone began to line up. The first group had were the fast runners, Commando amongst them, once the whistle blew I knew I wouldn’t have much time to get back to the finish line before they did. Then, with a sudden burst, they were off, a blur of legs and arms disappearing into the distance.

Commando’s PB for a mile was just over six minutes and it had taken four to walk from the gathering point at the finish to the start. There was no need to rush but no time to waste either. With one quick stop to take a picture of what I think was a hemlock polypore at the base of a tree, I marched back down the slope and found a good place to get photos of the runners coming in.

There wasn’t long to wait before the front runners appeared. I took a few practice shots in readiness for the moment Commando zoomed past. The runners were sprinting so fast, reaching for PB’s, they were blurred streaks of colour in those first photos. When I spotted Commando, I tried a different tack, moved the phone to focus on him. It worked and I ended with a relatively sharp shot of my runner and a blurry background.

When he pulled up after the finish line and checked his watch I could see from his face he was pleased with himself for once. He’d beaten his PB and broken the six minute barrier too, finishing  the mile in 5:57. Unlike some of the other runners he’d done it without laying exhausted and pale on the grass at the end too.