From early childhood to the 1960’s, either to get to school, or visit my Gran’s house, meet with friends or get to the heaths and beaches at Fishcombe, I and my family had to climb the many, many steps and hills on this side of Brixham.
And there are a lot of very steep flights of steps, plus several long winding steep hills, to reach the hidden roads and old houses that link the town and harbour together.
My Dad worked at Upham’s Yard, close to Berryhead road. He took me with him often, on Saturday mornings, when he worked half days. I watched the men use the old hand tools such as Adze and saws, or caulking the planks , watching rope being made, and many other crafts used in the building of the ship “Mayflower 11” .
Having just re-visited Brixham, and made the effort to climb most of these steps, I am amazed just how many times we must have skipped, ran and jumped up and down these incredibly ancient ways that make up a large part of the Town I knew and loved.
Words: Hazel Brown; Vid: Ian Nisbet
A few pictures from yesterdays ‘enchantment’ on the Dart river.
I was too intent on looking for Beautiful Demoiselles to have much time or attention for anything else.
I noticed the Red Devons in the river but only got to them as they were coming out. But one obliging chap stayed in
He stood in the water for well over 10 minutes obviously enjoying the river cooling him down (not that it was a particularly sweltering day)
And now he’s having another drink of river Dart sparkling champagne.
I was seeing quite a few butterflies flitting about but felt I had to keep my attention focused on finding those Demoiselles
Here’s a fairly common butterfly (but new, and therefore uncommon, to me)
That’s called a ‘Gatekeeper’. He seemed to be guarding those flowers there (help! what are they called Haze?!)
I could hear a buzzards high pitched keening call from above but he was too high and too far away for me to get a clear image of.
But I could get decent (or indecently) close pics of these Demoiselles. This is the male (far more beautiful than the plainer female)
These Beautiful Demoiselles have made my summer they have.
Well, so far. Until some other marvel magics the moment I happen to be sauntering into next.
Out for a walk down the river Dart yesterday afternoon. Shock! Horror! It actually felt like a summer day for a change (we’re not seeing enough sun, feeling enough heat this year down in Devon)
I wasn’t expected much.
But then I got everything I wanted.
That’s the actual name of these damselflies: “Beautiful Demoiselles”
How lucky am I?! The afternoon was transformed.
I got into my zone of intent absorption looking for these ‘beauties’ with my camera.
First there was a bronze green female. Then a bigger blue black male fluttered up.
I was having to be patient, use stealth, to get close enough up to them to get good vid.
And meanwhile the steam train was tootle tootling back and forth.
And the buzzard was up there above hunting and swooping.
And a little herd of Red Devon cows descended into the water to drink a refreshing bellyful of river.
My mood moved out of neutral into slightly enthralled.
A bit of Thursday afternoon enchantment on the Dart river with the Beautiful Demoiselles.
Boodiful! (as they say down here)
Vid & Words: Ian Nisbet
Dreary Newton Abbot has a quay.
And a limpid little Lemon river.
And a lovely Little Egret.
Looked like the Little Egret was stabbing out flat fish.
Could have been lemon sole (buh bum)
A nicer way to spend Easter Sunday afternoon could not have been envisaged.
Words & Vid: Ian Nisbet.
A walk up onto the cliffs above Babbacombe to collect some Xmas greenery.
A solitary crow watched us as we went.
Two squirrels were bouncing about in the little hawthorn, nibbling away at the red berries, enjoying a good pre-Xmas feast.
Unseasonably warm. Hardly felt like winter at all.
Words & Vid: Ian Nisbet
Scuffling about the autumn leaves nr Maidencombe beach and Tessier Gardens.
With the Sunday sun doing a great job of lighting up the flittering trees.
Dawlish Warren on a sunny Saturday autumn afternoon.
We walk out to The Hide, but a low tide means we don’t see many wading birdies: a solitary curlew, a solitary little egret; a flocket of linnets, a couple of crows – and that’s about it.
But it feels snuggly being in this hide drinking homemade lentil and ginger soup looking out on the soggy mudflats of the estuary.
I’m doing my customary clips of films, trying to capture a Golden Medal moment that isn’t quite happening due to lack of bird activity. But it’s feeling ok enough – more Bronze than Gold.
The quiet of the hide hiding us from the exposed basin of The Bight feels becalming.
On the limp back we snapple a few tall reeds for the reed boat Haze wants to make for her Unicorn box.
I’m stroking the noses of docile Shetland ponies.
A pair of swans yap lap green algae off the top of a reedy pond next to the visitor centre.
By 4 it’s just turned towards dimpsy and the day feels done; time to be heading back for buttered crumpets.