dash and splash

 

16-06-23

Mary suggested a walk in the Gullane area and then a sea swim. I was not thrilled at the prospect, feeling there were butterflies to be chased somewhere exotic. Not sure where, but Gullane seemed a bit pedestrian, and I wasn't bothered about the swim part. Sometimes the sea calls for a swim, sometimes it seems like a place you struggle to dry between toes and end up with socks and shoes filled with sand. Also Mary doesn't mind the public (like I do) and is happy to swim right there among them, the nearest possible distance from where the car is parked, moving elbows to walk into the heavily human infested sea, despite the deserted beautiful bay less than a mile away. I want to be able to dry myself afterwards as god intended, balls out and not giving a damn.

admiral in Gullane car park

She won me over by saying we could check out the bush by the propeller cone, where there might be DGFs. And look for blues along the way. (She had me at propeller cone.) Iain had photoed the first DGF(s) of the season in the borders and there was a slim chance, just a slim chance mind don't get your hopes up, there might be DGFs near Gullane. I used to think of them emerging during the first 2 weeks of July, but hey let's throw the swim gear in the Berlingo and go have a look. Won't even need wetsuits in this heat.

whitethroat

look at that!

We used to drive to Gullane every weekend and run round Aberlady reserve or along the coast towards North Berwick. I had forgotten just how fabulous it can be, and not long out of the car park I was feeling very enthusiastic about the surroundings and doing a complete u-turn on the idea of being there. We had brought sandwiches but due to some extended car maintenance we were running late and I ate my sandwich during the drive and Mary ate hers in the car park before the walk.

The maintenance was a slight downer on the day: an indicator bulb was blown and we tried and failed to fix it. We actually had 2 spare indicator bulbs in the car. How together are we? Neither sorted the problem and neither did the spare fuses we used to replace what we now thought must be a fuse problem. When it went to the garage they replaced the bulb and it worked fine. So in answer to that question how together are we, I think the answer is, well not very. But there is not a good space on the small bulbs to write "blown" and the wee connecting wires in both bulbs weren't broken. I think we must have kept them to match to similar in Halfords. Note to self: buy more and throw those ones out. The garage didn't charge by the way (for the bulb) although they usually make holiday pay when we get the mot done so you know, swings and roundabouts. We should probably get a new car now that we live in a Low Emission Zone and that diesel cars are about as cool as workplace sexual harassment.

small skipper

Isle of May behind Fidra lighthouse

museum cordon
although the pigeon-based security is sub-optimal

Ever since Dave of East Coast Gardens built the Propeller Cone memorial just above Eyebroughy Beach in 2018 it had not crossed my mind to google to thing and find out what it meant and why. (And also to find out that it is Eyebroughy Beach not Archerfields Beach like I had been calling it for about 20 years.) Which gives me another chance to do my Eyebroughy joke. 

I have seen Eyebroughy written, usually next to the long thin island the cormorants perch on, drying their wings. But never heard it said. And wondered if it is pronounced Eyebrowy? As in: Frida Kahlo is my favourite eyebrowy artist. 

Okay, well recently I found out all about the propeller cone memorial, who it is in remembrance of, (three wives, four children, five drunk driving convictions) and why a propeller. But since I didn't take a photo of it on this occasion you'll have to wait until I return around the 26th June when there are DGFs and photos of the memorial. In 5 blogs time. You'll have mostly forgotten about this trailer and get a wooshy kind of deja vu feeling with any luck. I might even do my Eyebroughy joke again.

spyhole

When you look through the spyhole that runs through the memorial, it lines up nicely with Fidra lighthouse. Congrats to Dave and the stiffness of his mortar. Unfortunately the amount of folk stepping up to the cairn-like structure has worn away all the grass surrounding it so someone put museum cords and posts round it and a sign saying please do not walk on the grass. There has grown a small 8 yard squared-off meadow of wildflowers and grasses that will be trampled to death soon as they remove the cordons. It is much harder to get a photo through the spyhole to the lighthouse now (behind the scene-of-crime barrier) but it was never particularly easy if your device is auto-focus as you have to focus on a very small part of what is right there and not the other 99% giant right-in-front-of-you bricks and mortar. (Top tip: focus on Fife and then while keeping your finger half-down on the shutter release sweep round to the spyhole.) (What do you mean your phone doesn't work like that, I said camera, not phone. Who takes photos with a phone?! 😄)

I think maybe one fritillary blew past the Chinese privet while we were there. The flowers were just beginning to open but not quite full bloom. In full bloom there is a heady thick perfume that attracts the orange butterflies. Much better to stand and have them come to you, as they are strong fliers and Usain Bolt would struggle to keep up with them in full flight. He probably doesn't run anymore does he? Rather than wait ages on butterflies maybe appearing or not, we decided to head back and maybe we'd find some thistles they liked. We had seen one or 2 fly past at 30mph (2mph faster than Usain Bolt) but not even looking remotely like landing. There was more privet at the Driftwood bench/patio we could check out and a good corner near there for common blues none of which we'd seen so far today.

I can't help it but I love this driftwood structure built by Ava + Dad (also) 2018 much more than the cone memorial. I wonder if they were being built at the same time. It came about after the cargo vessel Frisian Lady lost around 200 timber bundles during severe weather on March 2nd off the South Shields coast. There were planks washed ashore from Eyemouth to St Andrews. There was a sluggish rush to recover the timber and some may have eventually been piled into stacks and removed. You could tell there was no financial incentive and the wood had already been paid for by insurance or whatever. Most of it has since disappeared but the best 30 or so planks were built into a rather handsome deck and bench just off the coastal path. The positioning is genius as it is not always easily come across as you go along the coastal trail. And so it becomes a little Brigadoon-ish in its reluctance to reveal itself every visit. There are no signs pointing towards it and sometimes it seems nearer to Gullane, sometimes nearer Archerfields. And sometimes you just can't find it at all.

But it is a joy to sit on, to lie on, to take selfies on. It is guarded by a pair of stonechats and just yesterday I took a selfie and tried to send it to Mary saying "where am I?" with nothing much more than a plank or 2 in the background for clues. It didn't actually send and I'm hoping it was because you can't get a signal there, rather than the more likely reason that I didn't have enough remaining credit in my payg phone account. The place inspires me to bivvy out overnight there with a flask of strong drink and the camera taking time lapse movies of the stars. 

It is a bit ramshackle but has yet to blow over in any gale since it was built. And is a great spot to take your shoes off and empty out the sand and that little bit of jaggy marram grass that has been annoying for the last mile, and re-tie laces. There is a large patch of Chinese privet which often hosts DGFs admirals and meadow browns (though only had yellow shell moths yesterday, but hey, early days!) just over there, and there is that small corner of wild thyme and low growing wildlfowers that often has a common blue moving around it. Either there or over on the steep slope of jaggy grass full of meadow browns, ringlets and micro moths.

"driftwood"

Mary said she wanted to head inland and walked off. I took the coastal path and was annoyed because I knew the common blue (first of the day) could be flushed out but it would take 3~7 minutes to do that and to get it to stop dashing about. That happened exactly as predicted and I made an abortion of the only chance of an open wing shot. I possibly even blamed Mary who was now 2 dunes away; what was her hurry??? She had taken a route that looked flatter. Her perma-injury knee prefers flatter. And I'd be a Nazi to not concede to (almost) every knee-based request. 

common abortion

I reluctantly left the common blue, ran over the dunes to see Mary now a waveable but no longer shoutable distance away. I ran some more but didn't catch her by the time I got along to what we'll call Plan B. Plan B is an unspecified flat area with lots of Viper's Bugloss where I once found an extremely beautiful common blue female. The males are pretty much all the same. The females are pretty much unique and all variations based on a theme. They mostly stay at home doing the dishes and laying eggs rather than flying about going to the pub. Rarer and more highly prized and each one slightly different. But harder to find. I almost always remember where I find treasures and Mary was about to walk through this treasure palace and possibly back to the car. I was about to run through the area and catch up with her but I saw 2 or more fritillary flying round the viper's bugloss and landing! Somewhere between a dream and a nightmare I had to do something. I got my mobile out and phoned Mary. Let there be a signal, let there be credit in my account! Mary answered and I explained the situation like I'd just come across an open suitcase with bundles of £20 notes. 

She replied she was in no hurry and once she'd got photos of the stonechats and common blue (male, pfiff) she'd come back along. I said I'd need 20 mins. She seemed unfazed. Excellent! I expected as soon as the call was finished everything would vanish like waking from a fever dream. However if anything it got better and better. Red admirals blew by every 5 minutes but alas, didn't stop. There was a blue (male,) that leapt up and chased the fritillaries as they swooped past. One fritillary seemed based near the coastal trail, the other was doing a hunting circuit of 400 yards. It would rest every third circuit atop a thistle or better still on the Viper's Bugloss which contrasting blue made the orange frits look fantastic.

Occasionally the 2 frits would catch a glimpse of each other and fly in circles at 80mph, until they ascertained they were both male and not up for a shag, but enjoyed a roller coaster cat and mouse chase at top speed mixing metaphors without caring. Then they would return to this corner where the small dune to the East blocked the stiff breeze. That rise accounted for quite a bit of butterfly activity and after Mary sauntered back, even a humming-bird hawk-moth swished through the butterfly portal for a magical 3 minutes.

DGF on Viper's Bugloss - a triumph!

look at those colours sing in harmony!

woolly vest on

When the hummer turned up I thought it was in better condition than the one(s) in Holyrood because I could see more colour. It was only later the photos showed the patches to be scuffed off fur and the skin of the thing was tanned to an unlikely red! It still moved faster than a ferrari though!

common blue fairy on a christmas tree

going in head first

where the magic happened

overheating meadow brown hides in the shade

windshade rise (blocking the East wind)

unusual shade of viper's bugloss

reed bunting with caterpillar

another common blue male

juvenile starlings

Eventually, our cups overflowing, we returned to Gullane Bay and the car park. We were now hot and sticky and the idea of a swim was greatly appealing. Would we swim at Mary's preference - slap bang in the middle of the costa del sol or walk a little way to the empty beautiful bay round the corner? Well, both! We collected our swim kit from the car, she went her way (down to the horribly public main drag) and I ran about a km West to a beautiful bay that was absolutely empty of tourist trash and where I could have swum naked and nobody would have noticed. I didn't because I am not an exhibitionist. I just don't like crowds, and feel a landscape deteriorates as soon as it fills with humans. But don't take my word for it, have a look at the photos and see what looks better - the (okay only slightly) mobbed seafront below the car park - or the exquisite empty bay along and round the corner. Which had a nice dry warm non-sandy rock on which to put clothes and bag where they wouldn't be nicked or sandy-trampled by passing dogs, where you could strip naked after swimming and get your socks on without filling them with sand. I rest my case! I win. 

The water wasn't Baltic freezing but did take 5 minutes to get acclimatised, while I splashed about breathing heavily. After that it was fine and didn't require a wetsuit or even swim cap. There was only a solitary jellyfish and I didn't get stung - I was photographing it because it was prettily floating about the shallows and took my mind off the cold-ish immersion. I didn't swim much and was probably in the water less than 20 minutes. It was really refreshing and worth the hassle. I didn't want to have Mary wait - we had a rough agreement to meet back at the Berlingo and I think I was just 2 or 3 minutes behind herself. Both of us were much revived by the swim although she admitted my venue was far superior. Did she hell! Wild horses couldn't have dragged out such an admission. But I think we all know the truth!

the better bet - an empty bay to swim and change