A walk in foreign parts.....

Passport? Tick! Visa? Tick! Injections? Tick! Travel insurance? Tick! Pith helmet? Tick! Then it's off across the border to have a walk in Devon.

This walk started and ended at the station in Bere Ferrers, one of the two villages on the Bere Peninsular, 'twixt the Tavy and Tamar Rivers. Between 1972 and 1974, we lived in the other village, Bere Alston. The 5 mile route we followed was taken from a leaflet entitled 'Heralds of Spring - Discovering Daffodils'. This part of the world was, for many years, a centre of the daffodil growing industry. This has now declined significantly but reminders of it can be seen everywhere in the hedgerows and the margins of fields. The leaflet described the walk as 'moderate with some steep uphill sections and long climbs but well worth it'. And so it proved.

Bere Ferrers station, a stop on the Tamar Line which runs from Plymouth to Gunnislake. It's a very picturesque route and well worth taking. Two things to notice in the image. Firstly the way the track curves sharply just past the bridge. Secondly, the sign on the right hand side of the post about the New Zealanders 1917 Memorial.

The Bere Ferrers Rail Accident occurred at this station on 24th September 1917 when ten soldiers from New Zealand alighted from their troop train on the wrong side of the train, having assumed they should leave by the same side they had entered, and were struck and killed by an oncoming express.
Two troopships of the New Zealand Expeditionary Force, the Ulimaroa and the Norman, had just arrived at Plymouth Sound from New Zealand, and the soldiers were en route to Sling Camp on Salisbury Plain. Their train left Plymouth Friary railway station at 15:00, the soldiers had not eaten since 06:00 that morning and had been told that at the train's first stop, Exeter, two men from each carriage could collect provisions from the brake van.
In response to a signal the train made an unscheduled stop at Bere Ferrers station at 15:52. The length of the train meant that the end carriages were outside the station and those aboard assumed that this must be Exeter station. Eager to break their ten-hour fast and ignoring the 'two from each carriage' rule, many jumped down, some onto the down-line track.
The London Waterloo to Plymouth express train had left Exeter on time at 14:12 and had made its previous stop at Tavistock. As it approached Bere Ferrers the driver noticed the stationary train and gave a prolonged blast on his whistle, but there is a sharp turn on the approach to the station and the driver was unable to see the soldiers on the track ahead until it was too late.
The express was travelling at 40 mph and nine soldiers were killed instantly before the express managed to come to a halt a quarter of a mile beyond the station. A tenth died later in Tavistock Hospital. One of the survivors said "We never thought of an express travelling at 40 miles per hour. They don't travel at that rate in New Zealand. It was a wonder more of us were not killed." The inquest revealed that the men instinctively exited the train from the same side they had entered, placing them on the railway's other track.

 

On the banks of the Tavy looking down the estuary to its confluence with the Tamar. Mud, glorious mud.

The small creek at Gnatham Quay. At one time this would have been used to load produce destined for the markets in Devonport and Plymouth. Nowadays, a pleasant place to stop for a drink.

A view down the Tavy from a higher elevation than the previous one.

A little higher still and the Tamar is clearly visible coming in from the right. There are three bridges in this image.

And here they are. The railway bridge over the Tavy in the foreground and the two bridges spanning the Tamar at Saltash in the midground. The zoom lens I used compresses the perspective somewhat, making the bridges appear closer together than they actually are.

Looking back to the Tavy from near Collytown Manor through a natural arch formed by the hedgerows.

A footbridge in Holes Wood. A place to return to when the bluebells are out.

And these are trees in nearby Rapes Wood.

A gate at Colleytown Forge. The meaning behind the figures is open to interpretation. An innocent depiction of the owner's hobbies? Or, perhaps, showing some antagonism between the two sports? 

Just a few of the various types of daffodil we saw as we walked around.

A fairly typical bank of mixed types that we encountered as we walked around. This one was at Hole Farm.. Many of the displays such as these originate from daffodil farmers discarding bulbs when fields were put to other uses or, perhaps, when older varieties were replaced by newer ones. Whatever the reason, they really make for spectacular walking at this time of year.

We came across just a few clumps of the native daffodil (Narcissus pseudonarcissus). So small and delicate compared to the much larger variants and hybrids we saw more often.

The male flowers (catkins) on hazel trees are blindingly obvious - and this year seems to be a good year for them. But where are the girls? Without female flowers there will be no nuts…. The catkins are opening out to release their pollen and the much smaller female flowers are appearing. You have to look closely to spot them as they’re just a wisp of red or cream peeking out from the tip of a bud. What you see is just a part of the flower, the styles, that will receive the pollen. The rest of the flower is inside the bud. The more female flowers there are, the more chance there is of a good crop of nuts at the end of the summer. And it looks as if that will be the case for 2019. Here's a botanical fact for you: In hazel, the male and female flowers grow on the same tree: so-called monoecious, from the Greek for one house. Guess what 'dioecious' means?

One of the earliest flowering tree is the Blackthorn (Prunus spinose), commonly known as the sloe. Blackthorn blossom comes out before its leaves and Hawthorn is the other way around, leaves appear first then the flowers. I love the way Blackthorn blossom cheers up the most dismal grey wet days of March.

Odd things by the wayside: Part XXV. I've no idea what it is.