Silver Dancers
27th June 2018
Silver Dancers
On the eastern fringes of the Lake District can be found a long, but particularly quiet and beautiful valley. This is Longsledale and high up on rounded hills that form the valley’s eastern wall is a lonely and boggy wilderness. Wainwright felt that this area was where "Lakeland maybe said to start and moorland country to end". He also felt this area was where "the quiet beauty gives the place to romantic beauty".
In my mind, these parameters are 180 degrees out. Here Lakeland ends and the wild, lonely Moorland begins. Here dramatic, but busy beauty gives way to quiet, romantic beauty in the form of acres of wild, barren nothingness. Here the mind and body can wander as it is not overwhelmed by the extreme geology of the mountains. Here, too, the mind can wonder at the wild, bleakness of the landscape.
Or so you may think, as the land is full of wildlife, the unfamiliar and constant surprise.
One particular representation of this phenomenon is seen during mid summer. Here the wet places, that are plentiful, are covered by a display of fluffy, cotton-like buds - dizzily dancing in the wind. These inhabitants of the wet moorland are commonly known as Bogcotton, but can also be called Common Cottongrass or Common Cottonsedge and Hares Tails in Western Scotland.
Here, covering vast area, surrounded by a wild, open fellside and in the company of skylarks, the dancing bogcotton makes a statement on the wild, boggy nature of the hillside. In amongst its lint like tufts can also be found Common Butterwort, Bog Asphodel, and wide variety of mosses, like sphagnum and starmoss, plus many varieties of liverworts. These plants, just like the bogcotton are a natural indicators of wet and swampy ground. However, it is the bogcotton, due to its almost comic appearance, waving around like the discarded contents of a beauticians handbag, that makes the most obvious proclamation - it says “beware, boggy ground!”
However, due to the bogcotton’s attraction to wet places it often accidentally betrays itself. All too often a route can be detected through the bogs, like the puzzle of a maze, by linking up the sections of ground between the Bogcotton. As you seek a dry passage the bogcotton forms the walls of the maze, so steering the walker onwards. However, head down the wrong section of the hillside you are quickly led towards confusion and frustration. All too soon boot height is compromised, as the sulphurous smelling bog water pours over and legs plunge into a calf hugging quagmire. The monster at the heart of the maze has been encountered.
Then, from afar the distinctive, though plaintive “Kia” call of a buzzard is heard overhead. The bird, with wings outstretched, 'floats' higher, turning in wide circles in an attempt to effortlessly avoid a mob of Ravens. These jet black corvids are the true master of the skies and as they croak and caw they dive bomb the solitary buzzard in an attempt to clear the buzzard from their territory and to give up any food it might be carrying. The cries of the birds resonates through the valley; a primitive, elemental cry that emphasises the remoteness of these hills.
Looking across the valley, to the white speck of bogcotton that shimmer against the green of the distant hillside, a possible new route up to Kentmere pike is suddenly revealed. From here it seems a natural and obvious ridge leads direct to the summit.
Though the Kentmere Pike side of the valley is harder, rockier and drier, bogcotton is found in the wet creases of Wren Gill and wet recesses of the hillside. The fairy dancers, as the sun pass over, also reveal a hidden valley. Though now quiet it can be seen, from the remains of mining, once a place busy with industry.
The white heads of the grasses reveal new routes, as long as you don't mind grassy tufts and the boggy terrain..........but you are also accompanied by a troupe of fluffy, silver dancers to entertain and direct as you pass by. What could be more romantic and beautiful than that(?)
On the eastern fringes of the Lake District can be found a long, but particularly quiet and beautiful valley. This is Longsledale and high up on rounded hills that form the valley’s eastern wall is a lonely and boggy wilderness. Wainwright felt that this area was where "Lakeland maybe said to start and moorland country to end". He also felt this area was where "the quiet beauty gives the place to romantic beauty".
In my mind, these parameters are 180 degrees out. Here Lakeland ends and the wild, lonely Moorland begins. Here dramatic, but busy beauty gives way to quiet, romantic beauty in the form of acres of wild, barren nothingness. Here the mind and body can wander as it is not overwhelmed by the extreme geology of the mountains. Here, too, the mind can wonder at the wild, bleakness of the landscape.
Or so you may think, as the land is full of wildlife, the unfamiliar and constant surprise.
One particular representation of this phenomenon is seen during mid summer. Here the wet places, that are plentiful, are covered by a display of fluffy, cotton-like buds - dizzily dancing in the wind. These inhabitants of the wet moorland are commonly known as Bogcotton, but can also be called Common Cottongrass or Common Cottonsedge and Hares Tails in Western Scotland.
Here, covering vast area, surrounded by a wild, open fellside and in the company of skylarks, the dancing bogcotton makes a statement on the wild, boggy nature of the hillside. In amongst its lint like tufts can also be found Common Butterwort, Bog Asphodel, and wide variety of mosses, like sphagnum and starmoss, plus many varieties of liverworts. These plants, just like the bogcotton are a natural indicators of wet and swampy ground. However, it is the bogcotton, due to its almost comic appearance, waving around like the discarded contents of a beauticians handbag, that makes the most obvious proclamation - it says “beware, boggy ground!”
However, due to the bogcotton’s attraction to wet places it often accidentally betrays itself. All too often a route can be detected through the bogs, like the puzzle of a maze, by linking up the sections of ground between the Bogcotton. As you seek a dry passage the bogcotton forms the walls of the maze, so steering the walker onwards. However, head down the wrong section of the hillside you are quickly led towards confusion and frustration. All too soon boot height is compromised, as the sulphurous smelling bog water pours over and legs plunge into a calf hugging quagmire. The monster at the heart of the maze has been encountered.
Then, from afar the distinctive, though plaintive “Kia” call of a buzzard is heard overhead. The bird, with wings outstretched, 'floats' higher, turning in wide circles in an attempt to effortlessly avoid a mob of Ravens. These jet black corvids are the true master of the skies and as they croak and caw they dive bomb the solitary buzzard in an attempt to clear the buzzard from their territory and to give up any food it might be carrying. The cries of the birds resonates through the valley; a primitive, elemental cry that emphasises the remoteness of these hills.
Looking across the valley, to the white speck of bogcotton that shimmer against the green of the distant hillside, a possible new route up to Kentmere pike is suddenly revealed. From here it seems a natural and obvious ridge leads direct to the summit.
Though the Kentmere Pike side of the valley is harder, rockier and drier, bogcotton is found in the wet creases of Wren Gill and wet recesses of the hillside. The fairy dancers, as the sun pass over, also reveal a hidden valley. Though now quiet it can be seen, from the remains of mining, once a place busy with industry.
The white heads of the grasses reveal new routes, as long as you don't mind grassy tufts and the boggy terrain..........but you are also accompanied by a troupe of fluffy, silver dancers to entertain and direct as you pass by. What could be more romantic and beautiful than that(?)