chasing rainbows

15 November 2014

Despite it being the first day of my holiday, there was no let up in the rain on Saturday morning. Unfortunately, there was no chance of staying inside in the dry and warm because I’d been invited to my granddaughter Bea’s birthday party. As Commando had an appointment at Commando Senior’s little crooked house this meant a six mile walk for me. Another walk in the rain.

At least the walk would be one of my favourite routes, across Riverside Park, and, as on Tuesday, I was wrapped up well in my padded jacket topped with my waterproof mac. It was raining gently as I made my way to the park but, by the time I got there, it had almost stopped and I caught the end of a rainbow from the top of the slope. The light had that ethereal quality that follows rain but the rainbow was fading too fast for me and all I captured was a colourful smudge between the trees, the ghost of a rainbow.

Behind me dark clouds turned Cobden Bridge to monochrome and a few raindrops still rippled the water. Following me along the path, two cygnets swam on water that looked like beaten lead. Further along more swans gathered expecting bread and gulls perched all along the rails of the jetty. Now the rain had stopped noisily churning up the river it seemed strangely quiet, a peaceful scene.

On the other side of the jetty two cygnets, one almost fully white, the other a patchwork of fawn and white, stood at the edge of the water preening. At the river bend a few bright leaves clung to the trees while others were whisked into the air to fall in a gentle shower around me. Then, beneath a bough, the autumnal reed beds came into view. The reeds have turned to gold.

The sky darkened and rain began again as I turned the corner and, thinking to escape it a little, I took the leaf strewn, slippery trail behind the reed beds, sticking close to the trees. With many rotting fallen trees it had the added possibility of fungi so, as I slid and squelched, I tried my best to keep my eyes peeled. As a reward, I found some jelly ear fungi looking plump and rather surreal growing on the trunk of a small tree.

As I came back to the path I slowed to watch a group of squirrels. Taking creeping, hesitant steps to stop them scurrying away I tried to snap a photo. Of the five I captured two, one on the ground one climbing but you’d have to know they were there to spot them. Then the rain got harder. For a while I stood on the edge of the path, sheltering as much as I could under the trees looking towards blue sky while rain pounded all around. The raindrops glittered as they fell and the edge of the park was hidden behind a misty haze of falling water. For once I welcomed the storm, if not the getting wet, perhaps there’d be another rainbow.

When it eased a little I broke my cover and carried on past Woodmill and across the road to the second half of the park. The river was lapping at the edge of the path and the water was pitted with rain drops as I hurried along, chasing rainbows. Around the next bend I got my wish. An arc of colour slashed the sky in front of me and I smiled as the water dripped from my hat and ran down my face.

All the way to Mansbridge I walked towards the rainbow, stopping occasionally to take another photo. By the time I got to the penultimate bend the rain had stopped. The row of bright maples on the bank were reflected in the puddles and the rainbow in the river. The world seemed full of colour and I stopped again and again to capture the changing reflections as I wound my way along the path. Wet trousers and the dampness slowly seeping its way from my hood down through my padded jacket seemed a small price to pay for such a view.

Just before the old stone bridge came into view the rainbow formed a perfect arc above trees that seemed to glow in the golden light. The bridge, when I reached it, echoed the arch of the fading rainbow almost perfectly. As expected, the path here was flooded and, as it slowly disappeared under water, I paused. My boots have proved themselves up to the task of wading through in the past, but I didn’t want to disturb the puddle rainbow. When I crouched at the edge to take a photo heavy drops falling from the trees formed a series of circular ripples which spread across the image.

Like the Cheshire Cat grin, the rainbow slowly faded as I crossed the bridge. With all the standing water about I was in two minds about taking the trail through Monks Brook. The deciding factor was a view of silver lined clouds and crepuscular rays so beautiful I was loathe to leave them behind even if it meant muddy boots and turning back.

There was a good deal of wading, slipping and almost falling on the muddy, puddle filled trail. There were probably interesting fungi beside the path if I hadn’t had to pay so much attention to my feet. The new, improved gravel path from the Green Bridge towards the Blue was puddle strewn but firm underfoot. There are no fungi here though because all the fallen branches and stumps were cleared when they built the path.

There’s another problem with the new path, it stops about two thirds of the way to the Blue Bridge without any warning. One minute there’s a nice firm gravel path, the next slippery deep mud and water, the kind that sucks at your boots as you pull them out. Gingerly I squelched across, somehow coming out the other side with both boots still on my feet and no actual falling over. From there it was easy, the old gravel path rises above the marsh on either side and I could enjoy the skeletal trees and bulrushes as I went.

Now it was back to flooded roads with nothing much of interest except the spitfire on the airport roundabout. The rain had started up again too so I didn’t dawdle. My original plan had been to walk through Lakeside but the mud at Monks Brook made me think again. There’s only so much mud a girl can take in one walk. Instead I kept to the road.

The spray from cars and lorries made me anxious to get off the main road and this, in turn, led me to a mistake. Rather than walk half a mile to the turning I knew, I decided to take a short cut along a footpath skirting the edge of Lakeside. It was a path I’d noticed but never walked before. WalkJogRun, told me it would take me where I wanted to go and it started well enough. On one side grass glittered beside the hedges of Lakeside and little paths ran off into the misty park.

On the other side there were new houses, too new to show on the satellite map and, unlike all the other grid like streets in Eastleigh where every one leads to the same place, these were a rabbit warren of dead ends and turnings. With no satellite assistance I was hopelessly lost and ended up walking in circles trying to find a way out. All this turned the final mile into two.

Finally I reached the pretty thatched cottage I’ve always admired and knew where I was. I arrived wet, hot and late but just in time to see a very special eight year old blow out her birthday candles. All’s well that ends well I guess and, as Commando turned up about half an hour later, I didn’t have to walk home.