Dunlin in breeding plumage The adventure begins in the clouds, in Cumbria’s eastern fells. Up on Mallerstang Edge, vistas are lost in mist on a late March day filled with birdsong. Seeing little, other senses become fine-tuned to the world close about us. Here and now, the mist blots out beyond. Skylark, curlew and golden plover are come for the breeding season, settling in. Listening through the wind, we spy a ghostly golden plover through the mist. In the heather there are mystery feathers and bird droppings. Not the weather we might choose, but it made a day which resonates long after the experience is passed.
For a nature writer, personal experience is the inspiration. That’s where I begin. With all the elements of that magical day: strong wind and thick mist, birdsong of heather moorland, elusive shapes looming out of low cloud. And a frisson of danger. The escarpment edge was concealed in mist. We walked watershed, saturated peat bog over trackless moorland. And our steep descent from Mallerstang Edge led over rough and friable ground, through disused quarries and all with a powerful wind at our backs. An unforgettable day. How might I recreate the essence of that day, give it shape and make it resonate within the wider story? I love to explore the craft of writing, finding the voice to share experience.
I knew Mallerstang long before that day in March but now it would be a key chapter in a new book and I approached it afresh. To immerse myself in Mallerstang I went there whenever I could, other days, other seasons. One brilliant late November day a low sun gave fresh perspectives and from Wild Boar Fell I saw Mallerstang in a new light, a marvellous winter’s light. At home, I installed OS maps on my computer and pored over them, tracing each exploration, plotting flora and fauna at each new discovery. There were Viking place names and I discovered strongholds of the lovely cloudberry flower scattered across the map. I’m still finding them and they’re irresistible. I have a date with Knoutberry Currack for next summer's cloudberry flowers. Cloudberry, Knoutberry, it's the same plant. I like this sense of a book's continuing to grow as I discover and share discovery.
There were various occasions when I found golden plover in the eastern fells, on Fountains Fell and at Nine Standard Rigg but to photograph them is a dedicated study and the weather has to be conducive. In the end, I secured my golden plover images on the Harris on the Outer Hebrides.
I knew Mallerstang long before that day in March but now it would be a key chapter in a new book and I approached it afresh. To immerse myself in Mallerstang I went there whenever I could, other days, other seasons. One brilliant late November day a low sun gave fresh perspectives and from Wild Boar Fell I saw Mallerstang in a new light, a marvellous winter’s light. At home, I installed OS maps on my computer and pored over them, tracing each exploration, plotting flora and fauna at each new discovery. There were Viking place names and I discovered strongholds of the lovely cloudberry flower scattered across the map. I’m still finding them and they’re irresistible. I have a date with Knoutberry Currack for next summer's cloudberry flowers. Cloudberry, Knoutberry, it's the same plant. I like this sense of a book's continuing to grow as I discover and share discovery.
There were various occasions when I found golden plover in the eastern fells, on Fountains Fell and at Nine Standard Rigg but to photograph them is a dedicated study and the weather has to be conducive. In the end, I secured my golden plover images on the Harris on the Outer Hebrides.
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