Meteors & Lighthouses

My one meteor photograph of the morning... room for improvement!

It's late on a freezing December night in the mid 1990's. A young boy and his dad give up trying to put up their tent at a friends farm in rural Wales. The ground is frozen solid - without a hammer there is no way they are getting those pegs in the ground. The alternative is the car, which seems like a poor option at first. Wrapped up in all his clothes and his sleeping bag the boy reclines in the passenger seat and hopes he will be able to sleep. But soon sleep is the last thing on his mind because the sky is falling!

Little did my dad and I know all those years ago that by pure chance we had picked the peak of the Geminids meteor shower for our winter camping excursion. The frosty temperatures resulted from a perfectly clear night which revealed a stunningly starry sky. As we relaxed - well, settled at least - into our cold but well windowed accommodation we realised that the 'stars' were a whole lot more active than usual. Meteors were falling, by the hundred. Or so it seemed to my little boys imagination nearly a quarter of a century ago (wow, I am getting old!). 

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Not meteors, but the planes still look pretty
cool in photos! 

As a result of that experience as a youngster, the chance to watch a meteor shower will always grab my attention. I even took my girlfriend to watch the Perseids shower as one of our first dates just over 10 years ago... given that she has now been my wife for 9 years that worked out pretty well. 

Knowing that this year the peak of the Perseids meteor shower coincided with a break to visit family in rural Suffolk, where light pollution is less of a concern than urban Stoke (who'd have guessed it?!) we planned to try and watch the shooting stars again, this time sharing them with our children. That was the plan anyway. The night before the peak we sat out in the back garden for a few minutes and caught sight of a handful of meteors before retiring for bed, keeping our fingers crossed that the forecast of clear skies the following night would hold true. 

The next night the alarm was set for 2:15 am. Thank goodness I don't do that too often! I got up to check the skies were clear and then returned to help my wife wake up the children... except they would not be woken! Our 7 year old rolled over, pulled the covers over her head and told us to go away. The 3 year old didn't even stir despite extended shaking and repeatedly calling his name. Oh well, maybe next time.

The first of the dawn light competing with the last of
the stars. 

Laid on camping mats in the garden to take in as much of the sky as possible, we watched the 'show' for a while - the best kind of outdoor theatre. We probably saw a dozen or so in the 20 minutes we watched for, but the light spilling over from surrounding houses marred it a little. Emily very sensibly returned to a warm and comfy bed but I, sucker for punishment that I am, wanted to make a little more of the opportunity. I drove the 10 minutes out to the coast where I hoped there would be less light pollution to watch for a bit longer. It was worth the drive!

I also wanted to try to take some photo's, hoping to catch a shooting star or two. My previous attempts at astrophotography have been amateurish at best, and I didn't think these would be much better, but you've got to start somewhere. I set the camera up and took some test shots then set the camera running taking continuous shots hoping that a meteor would coincide with one of the images. The results were not great, but it was a chance to practice the technique at least. I caught one shooting star, a tiny smudge of a meteor - I think I picked the wrong bit of sky to point the camera at. Never mind, lessons learned. 

While laying on the ground looking up at the sky listening to the camera shutter repeatedly opening and closing, I became aware that the footpath sign just beyond my feet had changed shape. Confused and assuming I had dozed off and that my eyes were playing tricks on me, I stared harder at the sign. It moved. It took me another second or two to realise that the new shape was that of a Barn Owl which must have silently alighted while my gaze was directed elsewhere. It sat for a moment before going on its way with scarcely a sound - I think it heard me shift position for a better view. Having an owl, or any other wild animal for that matter, approach to within 10 feet of you is a pretty good way to start any day. And my day really was only just starting, it still wasn't even 5 am at this point!

I probably saw another 30 or so meteors before dawn started to colour and brighten the eastern sky, fading the stars until only the very brightest were still visible. Given my location on the east coast it would have been rude not to hang around for a bit longer to watch the sun rise out of the North Sea, a sight I don't get to enjoy all too often. I wandered north along the shingle for a few minutes until Orford Ness Lighthouse was more or less in line with where the sun would rise and waited. I figured the lighthouse would be a worthwhile addition to any photo's I may take. While completely alone, I was not without company. Hundreds of sea birds were waking up and flying off. Many of them had clearly roosted in the safety offered by the single spit of Orford Ness. The fisherman were up too - several trawlers chugged past me heading for deeper waters and pushing a wave after wave along the shore as I waited, each peeling off a cloud of gulls as it passed.

With half an hour or more until the sun was due to rise I played about with a few time lapses of the rolling clouds and brightening sky until the sun poked out from behind a large cloud on the distant horizon. It wasn't the most dramatic sunrise I've ever seen, but there is something about being witness to the birth of a new day which never gets old. Heading back towards the car, there was a lot more light to see what I had unwittingly passed earlier. Brown hares and curlews sat in the pastures reclaimed from the surrounding salt marsh. Reed buntings and other small birds sat atop the swaying reeds which lined the ditches. A lone seal, lounging on the shingle, stirred lazily as the day brightened, clearly contemplating the right moment to go in search of breakfast. I had been making a similar decision and was hoping that I'd be back in time to grab not only breakfast, but also 40 winks before the rest of the household woke up too!

Richard

The first peek of the sun rising behind the Orford Ness light house. 

Wild Moments: The UK Cat Conundrum

** 'Wild Moments' posts are going to be a new thing for me in 2018 and will be 

mini-posts (perhaps written during a lunch break) on pretty much anything (relevant 
to the things I write about) which has caught my eye. There is a risk they will 
contain opinions (insert dramatic music here), but I hope they will mostly be 
balanced and well considered and maybe even educational - I live in hope! **

Wild cats in the UK. A divisive but popular topic at the minute and something which has been bugging me for a while. 

The debates on this subject at present focus on the very high profile and quite popular (in some circles) campaign to re-introduce Lynx to the UK. I've read quite a lot of material, from both sides of the argument - although I think there are more than 2 sides to this particular argument to be honest. I've even gone back to cited source material and read scientific papers about other reintroduction schemes else where in Europe to get the true context of the claims being made. I love the natural history of the British Isles and anything which aims to preserve or enhance the 'wildness' of my home countries is as far as I am considered a worthy venture. Further more as an adventurous sort of chap I would welcome the chance to catch of a glimpse of a lynx or for that matter a bear, or wolves or a moose wild in the UK.  

BUT - I do not agree with the sentiment below. It is not time to bring them home... not yet.

The reason for this is nothing to do with the issues surrounding predation of livestock (although I think this a valid concern which I do not think is being taken seriously enough by those advocating the reintroduction). Nor is it due to concerns about the plans, locations (although I was staggered that Thetford Forest was considered as an option! I'm glad that was withdrawn from the final proposals) or poor attempts at cooperation with 'the other side' - the farming community.

It isn't even to do with a certain level of naivety which I feel has been displayed at various levels of the campaign - my biggest bug bear of which was what seemed to me like a deep seated lack of understanding of the importance of range sizes, population densities and the importance of a genetically sustainable population, but which also included the closed minded disregard of the potential threat, however small they deem it to be, to other peoples livelihoods. 

No, the reason I am against it is that while all this effort (and money!) is being poured into the proposed reintroduction of a species which we as a civilization have already failed, we are STILL failing its closest surviving relative in the UK - the Scottish Wildcat. Depending on which report you read (or believe) there are as few as 25 pure Wildcats left (now solely in Scotland) of a species which used to be far more wide spread throughout the UK. And the story is very similar to that of the Lynx - persecuted as a perceived threat to what is deemed more important. Of course with the Wildcat you also have the added complication and threat of hybridization from domestic cats which are allowed to roam free. Yet another example of humans ability to ignore the consequences of their actions and 'we've been doing it for years and we'll keep doing it'.

So there you have it, my reason for not currently supporting the Lynx reintroduction campaign is that I would much, MUCH rather see the vast expense that will inevitably be poured into the plans if they go ahead go into the pre-existing efforts into saving the wild cat we still have, because otherwise we will be in a position where we've lost that too!

Richard

Working in Conservation: Moors for the Future Partnership - My Day Job

I have often mentioned 'work' and posted images I've taken while out working or on my way to work or some variation on those themes. I've been asked by several people what on earth it is that I do for work! So I wanted to answer that question in some detail. I'd also like to use this to kick start an ongoing series on working in conservation in the UK. 

In later posts I'll talk about my work at The Riddy Wood Project and give my perspective on the good, the bad and the ugly (and the beautiful) of working in the conservation sector in one way or another over the last 7 or so years (wow, it has been that long!). I have no doubt there will be other posts to come after that too.

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Since June 2016 I've been working for the Moors for the Future Partnership full time as a Conservation Works Officer. You could say it is my first proper job in the conservation sector as prior to that I had only done part time, seasonal or voluntary jobs. Moors for the Future are a partnership organisation headed up by the Peak District National Park Authority but also including the National Trust, the RSPB and several water companies. As the name suggests the focus of the partnership is protecting moorlands (in the Peak District and South Pennines) for future generations.

Edale Valley, Derbyshire
Not quite the view from my office, but my
office is in this valley, just out of frame (left) 

There is plenty of information on the Moors for the Future website (linked above) but to give a quick run down: the peatlands of the South Pennines are (or were at any rate) some of the most degraded anywhere in the world as a result of years of atmospheric pollution, drainage and wildfire. This came about largely as a result of the industrial centres surrounding the moors and the air pollution that resulted from those industries, but also from short sighted agricultural policies and unsympathetic management practices. This damage resulted in large scale loss of critical plant species from the moors and eventually led to complete vegetation loss over large areas and the associated erosion of the peat soils. This causes problems down stream as well as up on the moors as the peat soil washed off the hills, silted up reservoirs and increased the cost of water treatment among other things.

In about 2003, what was to become Moors for the Future (MFF) started work to address these issues. Fast forward 13 years through several rounds of funding from various sources and of various sizes and we get to 2016 when I joined the team. The year before a new funding stream had been secured, a second EU LIFE funded project called MoorLIFE2020. At the time it was the largest grant from the LIFE programme for a environmental conservation project in the UK - €12 million. The increase in work resulting from this new funding stream required extra capacity and I was in the right place at the right time - often the way jobs in conservation come about - and got one of the two roles being offered.

On this occasion the 'right place' happened to be working with a conservation works contractor - Aitch Conservation - building a footpath across Brown Knoll, an exposed ridge to the south-west of Kinder Scout in the Peak District. The 'right time' was the winter and early spring and it didn't always feel like the 'right time' to be working up there to be honest! The footpath project was being run by MFF and during my time working on the path I got to know a few of the staff a little who tipped me off to the upcoming recruitment and suggested I may want to apply. I did and here I am.

But what do I actually do? I work in the CaLM team (Countryside and Land Management - there is a certain irony in the acronym I have to say!) which is responsible for the physical 'on the ground' conservation and restoration work such as bare peat re-vegetation, gully blocking and sphagnum reintroduction. (There are also Science and Communication teams within MFF which do pretty much what they say on the tin.) We work as a project management company when it comes to our works delivery and as such we don't actually do any of the works ourselves, rather we contract it out to specialist contractors. 

I am one of a team of 6 Conservation Works Officers (CWO's) although we are soon to be expanding that number. Our day to day job includes land owner engagement, site surveys, writing work proposals, tendering for conservation work contracts and supervising contractors. Throw in the odd bit of preparing funding bids, working with Natural England as moorland restoration experts and occasionally assisting other teams with public presentations and you have a fairly comprehensive idea of what I do. 

Moving heather brash for a bare peat re-vegetation
contract in the Peak District National Park. 

Oh, and helicopters - nearly forgot. Understandably that catches a lot of peoples attention. As so much of the work we coordinate takes place miles from any sort of road, and often requires transporting tonnes of material (literally - often hundreds, and in some rare cases even thousands of tonnes) the only way to get those materials to the site is by helicopter - and yes, I do occasionally get to have a ride! Yes, it is cool. No, the novelty hasn't worn off yet. One of the better perks of the job for sure!  

So I do spend a fair bit of time outdoors 'in the line of duty', certainly more than most office dwelling folks. And because of the nature of the work, when I am out doors, it's normally in some pretty scenic places. Predominantly at the minute in the northern half of the Peak District National Park, but also further north into the South Pennines on occasion and for some recent projects short spells into the South West Peak too. But it certainly isn't always in good weather. In fact between April and August, so certainly the best 2 or 3 months of the three, we're not really allowed up on the hills at all on account of that being the breeding season of the ground nesting birds which breed in the uplands. This and other time restrictions means that the majority of our conservation works contracts run over the autumn and winter months, which is always when we spend the largest proportion of our time out and about. BUT - I subscribe to the philosophy that even a bad day out of doors is better than a good one stuck inside, so I can live with that.

It's not all helicopters and hill walking of course - writing contracts and managing budgets doesn't exactly get my heart racing and that type of task makes up a pretty big chunk of my day to day work. And while the scenery of my commute through the UK's original National Park takes some beating, at least on the days when you can see it through the fog and low cloud (as hopefully my photo's regularly illustrate - take a look at my hash tag #aconservationistscommute on Instagram) nothing makes the 70 mile a day round trip commute any shorter.

So that's what I do for work - is it a perfect job? Not for me perhaps, because I tend towards being a hands on kind of person. In an ideal world I'd prefer to get my own hands dirty and do at least some of the work myself. Is it a good job? Definitely. Because the changes which are made through the work we do (or coordinate and facilitate) make real, noticeable and measureable differences to the habitats we are working on, and by doing so, provide significant benefits to local communities.

Next time I'll fill you in on my work on The Riddy Wood Project which is how I get my needed fix of hands on conservation work and hard, outdoors manual labour!

Richard

  

Who doesn't love Autumn?

Surely even the most resolute townie can't look at the warm spectrum of colours in the UK's woods, hedgerows, parks and gardens at this time of year and not be moved, somewhere deep inside, to smile.

Is there any better type of day to explore the British countryside than a bright, crisp, autumn day where the chill of winter round the corner is tangible, but the memory of summers warmth on your back has yet to fade?

The vibrance of summer is gradually consumed by the slow-starting, but all encompassing fire of autumn until the trees and woods blaze into colour fore one last unified hurrah before dying with dignity, awaiting their phoenix like rebirth a few months ahead in spring. 

Even the difficult to love features of the countryside demonstrate a softer side, and become a little more lovable. Non-native, straight-lined, opinion-dividing blocks of commercial conifer forestry can look easier on the eye at this time of year. It depends on whether they contain some Larch, a conflicted species whose needles turn yellow-orange and fall, more like a deciduous species. Large, sprawling beds of bracken, the bane of upland land owners and managers turn a mottled, rusty brown which adds a subtle undertone to the last vestiges of the purple heather on the high moorlands.

I've been particularly lucky this year to have many opportunities to be out soaking in the autumn colours: all round the Peak District 'in the line of duty' for work, down in Riddy Wood on the handful of occasions I've been able to get there so far this season, and as a family we've taken the chance to get out and about.  We put in some effort and made quite a few opportunities - its not like they're difficult to find if you look for them - even your local canal towpath, city park or country lane holds coloured treasures not present at any other time of year.

Of course you can head further afield to make the most of it, and a few weeks ago we visited the Forest of Dean for the first time. It was fortuitous timing as much as anything that took us there at this time of years, and the good fortune favoured us again as we had a beautiful day to enjoy while we were there. The golden autumn colours were positively glowing, and we followed our children and their cousins (who we were visiting with) round the muddy paths, splashing in puddles, being fascinated by deer slots and wild boar rooting, and calling out the mushrooms which were making the most of the warm, humid woods and adding to the kaleidoscope of colour and texture on the woodland floor. It was great!

Did I mention that Autumn is my favourite season? I hope you're enjoying it as much as me! 

Richard

Finally made it to the Forest of Dean

We all have places we've wanted to visit or activities we've wanted to do 'forever'. Some of those wishes are realistic and others less so. For example, I'd love to go to New Zealand - and one day I might, but it won't be just yet. On the other hand, I've wanted to go to the Forest of Dean for a long time, and that is readily achievable, but I just haven't made the time or prioritised it over other opportunities.

But recently one of my brothers moved to Gloucestershire, right on the edge of the Forest of Dean. Last weekend we went to visit him and his family to get to see their new home and neighbourhood. It would have been a shame to miss out on a joint family walk, especially with the autumn colours at their best and the beautiful weather we had during our short stay.

One of the reasons I'd wanted to visit the Forest of Dean are the now infamous wild boar. I knew the boar themselves were likely to be illusive and didn't really hold out that much hope that we'd see one. But the evidence of their presence was certainly more conspicuous! The boars rooting around had turned the road verges over as effectively as the most diligent gardener. And then out of the blue and on route to our selected walking spot, there one was! As bold as brass rooting away right next to a public car park and attracting quite the crowd (including us). Having never seen a boar in England before it was quite the treat and the children enjoyed seeing the 'hairy piggy' too.

It had rained heavily overnight and the paths we walked were suitably muddy - muddy paths are always a bonus when you're walking with children. Even when, like our little lad, you often fall over in it. He spent a noticeable portion of our outing on his backside or face in the mud. We spent a happy couple of hours splashing in puddles, enjoying the autumn colours and foraging mushrooms for a late lunch (my brother is something of an expert so I feel comfortable picking them with him) before retracing our steps back to the car and heading home for a late lunch, bonfire and fireworks. Happy days!

The weather for our drive home through the midlands was as beautiful as the scenery and I was reminded yet again just what a beautiful country England is and how much we take our natural world for granted! We will continue to get our outdoors time as a family regardless of the cold and the mud as we get into Autumn and Winter.

Richard

Archive: Rivers - Supermarket, Highway, Inspiration

** I'm cheating a bit here - It's been a busy few weeks and I haven't had a chance to 

write any new blog posts, although there is stuff to write about! To keep material 

coming I thought I'd share this blog post from a blog I contribute to occasionally, 

originally written a few years back it is still as relevant now as when I wrote it. **

When I am out and about, whether it be for a gentle countryside walk with my family, a solo adventure, dedicated photography trip or a foraging session, I am always drawn to certain features in the landscape . Rivers are one of those features, particular smaller rivers in deep cut, wooded valleys. There is something about these valleys that never gets old to me. As a teenager on the North Devon coast I had plenty of opportunities to explore these sort of valleys, including in and around Exmoor, to this day one of my favourite parts of the UK. 

Me, contemplating life alongside the River Spey in Scotland.  

You may ask why, and I don't really know the definitive answer to that question but I have a few ideas. The first revolves around the concept of mental maps (something I had written about previously and will probably do so again for this blog), particularly resource maps. Rivers are a phenomenally rich resource (I originally wrote this for a bushcraft blog - www.bushcrafteducation.co.uk - and so it was originally aimed at foraging and that sort of topic):

First and foremost they are a readily available source of water. In the higher reaches of rivers where they run fast and clear it is also likely to be clean water which you can drink straight from the river. Even these days in areas where agricultural run off may have sullied the water, or in its lower reaches where it runs slow and silty, with simple techniques it can be filtered and purified to be made safe to drink.

They were to our hunter-gatherer ancestors an important source of protein, and still are today albeit one which is far less used than it once would have been, in the shape of water birds*, fish* and crayfish (although sadly these days an invasive species, the American Signal Crayfish which has driven our native White-clawed Crayfish to the edge of extinction). If you know where to look there may also be freshwater mussels or as you get closer to the coast and into the brackish and tidal zones of the river there may be other salt-water shellfish to harvest. 

With a constant source of water and, further down the river at least, nutrient rich silts, river valleys are often a great source of plant food as well. To name a few, wetland areas associated with rivers are often home to sedges (Carex spp.), some of which have seeds which can be eaten; Bulrush or Greater Reedmace (Typha latifolia) can be found which has edible rhizomes as well as being a useful tinder. These days in the UK several very common edible plants found along rivers are non-native species, certainly not something our hunter-gatherer forebears would have been familiar with - Himalayan Balsam (Impatiens glandulifera) and Japanese Knotweed (Fallopia japonica). And by eating either of these you are also doing your bit for conservation by reducing the population of an invasive plant. 

Some of the trees often found in close association with water are Willow species. Willow is an extremely useful plant to a bushcrafter providing bark for cordage & withies for basket making. In addition its bark contains Salicylic acid (in fact 'Salicylic' is derived from Salix, the Latin name for the Willow family) which is a component of aspirin and it has been known for centuries that chewing on willow bark could ease aches and pains and reduce fevers. 

Having established that rivers are useful for resources I think that part of my fondness for rivers stems from an instinctive draw to a landscape feature which is of use to me. But I don't think that's the whole story. 

Rivers are also beneficial for moving through the landscape. In a very modern sense we can see this based on how many roads or railway lines follow the course of rivers. In many circumstances the river bed itself will be the path through a landscape which experiences the least severe changes in elevation - waterfalls being a fairly obvious exception! By following these ready made paths modern engineers have saved themselves time and effort but also created for themselves different issues by placing their projects in the path of an immense erosive power - but that's another story.

I don't think this benefit would have been unappreciated by the people who roamed the land when roads weren't even a futuristic dream. Especially during the summer, when vegetation was at its highest and most impenetrable, and the water level was lower likely exposing a portion of the river bed, using these natural routes to move inland from the coast or the opposite would have saved effort and ensured that food to fuel your travels was never far away. Certainly in dense woodland I have followed small rivers or streams, sometimes alongside them and sometimes by necessity in them to aid my movements and help me to move more quickly or easily. It has long been a goal of mine to follow a river from its source to the sea - I think it would be a fascinating journey! 

In all this I have skirted around the potential of travel on the water itself. While not a expert in water travel I have been lucky enough to do a bit of kayaking and rafting both on rivers and the sea and it is a great way to travel. Early inhabitants of the UK may not have cashed in on this opportunity as much as those in other parts of the world, the effort required to manufacture water-borne vessels perhaps outweighing the advantages in many situations on a relatively small island. It is however well documented that early civilisations in other parts of the world focused their travel on waterways with variations on the theme of dug out canoes and later in the northern hemisphere with bark canoes. 

If you are referring back to the title you'll notice we are two thirds of the way through this tale. There will be those who read 'inspiration' in relation to 'river' and think I have lost it - city folks perhaps for whom rivers are places for stolen bikes and shopping trolleys, pollution outflows and perhaps if your lucky, the odd gull or duck. Luckily in Britain today even this inner city image of rivers is largely a thing of the past with tighter controls on pollution and water cleanliness but still the Thames in London or the Mersey in Liverpool are not the sort of rivers I look to for inspiration. 

The picture that comes to my mind when I think of inspiring rivers is a small river, wooded valley sides rising steeply above, clear water trickling quickly through a jumble of moss-covered rocks and woody debris. A Dipper rushing past or watching you from a half-submerged rock. Perhaps a little further downstream a whistle and a flash of blue alerting you to what has got to be the UK's most colourful bird, the Kingfisher, going about its business. If you're lucky some muddy footprints indicate a Otter isn't far away, and if your even luckier a glimpse of these now thankfully returning mammals. In the early morning mist a Roe deer perhaps, tentatively crossing from its shelter on one side to prime feeding ground on the other. As the sun gets higher, the dragonflies, the birds of prey of the insect world start to come to life. I could watch their aerial battles for territory and bright colours for hours before I got even a little bit bored. At the right time of year mayflies provide a spectacle, both as they 'dance' above the water and as they are fed on by every valley dweller you can imagine. I could go on... so I shall.

As a teenager I was lucky enough to work on a nature reserve for a week in Scotland. (On a side note, to any young person reading this, I cannot recommend highly enough this experience.) One day having been to check a hide over looking a large marshy flood plain alongside the river Spey, I spotted a family of fox cubs playing on a 'island' in the marsh, their earth was obviously located on the slightly higher and therefore drier ground above the wetland, among the gorse. On my return journey to my accommodation that evening, a gorgeous summer evening, I cut across the reserve - cresting a ridge having climbed up steeply through birch woodland I looked up to see an Osprey flying over, fish held tightly in its talons. Standing on the ridge transfixed by this spectacle I had never witnessed before I became aware of movement in the valley meadow below - a Roe buck, summer coat radiant red in the low evening sun had moved out of the woodland to browse. What a day! Not all strictly river associated but all within a stones throw.

The view from the hide I mention. The 'island' where I saw the foxes is in the middle ground on the left, the meadow where I saw the Roebuck a mile or so up the valley to the North (right in this picture). I have also seen Roe deer browsing through the marshland here - one doe in particular was selecting only umbellifer flower heads to eat, the only time I have seen this behaviour and a perfect example of the selective feeding style of Roe Deer. 

I know of no sound more relaxing and calming than the gentle trickle of a river to lull me off to sleep in an evening after a strenuous day out of doors. And in the same way I could sit, and have done on many occasions, and stare at a fire burning for hours, I could sit and watch a river flowing past, listening to its gurgles and trickles just as I listen to the pops and crackles of my fire. With the calls of Kingfishers or Dippers replacing the Tawny Owls I so often hear when sat by a fire in woodland.  

Beyond the river itself the landscapes they have created can be awe inspiring all on their own, dramatic landscapes all over the UK have been carved over many millennia by the rivers which now seem like a side show in the valley bottom. Caves and tunnels, stacks and caves and water falls all indicate the sheer power of water in the landscape and can be as spectacular as their coastal counterparts. 

We all I dare say have 'favourite landscapes' - I would certainly have to say that rivers and the associated valleys and wetlands are well up there for me. They provide food and fun, mental relaxation and the ability to move through the landscapes we love. What's not to like!

Richard

* - It needs to be remembered that the taking of certain fish and all water birds, and the methods of taking or catching them are restricted by law in the UK. In certain circumstances you may just need landowners permission, in other it is far more complicated.