Reed bed

I cant remember the last time I took the track through the reed bed between Stanpit Marsh and the River Avon. It must be over 20 years. Even though you're on the edge of a sprawling conurbation once surrounded by the reeds it feels wild and isolated.

The dump

I've seen Christchurch grow and change over the years, in some respects beyond recognition as time and unrestrained urban sprawl marches on relentlessly. Often the changes feel negative, as if something is being lost, which is usually true as pockets of nature are nibbled, bitten off and consumed. This afternoon I cycled into town, along the coast, past Mudeford Quay and over Stanpit. When I was a child Stanpit was the site of the dump, an open council rubbish tip. I remember grubbing about amongst the rubbish like 'Stig of the dump', finding all manner of curiosities, well, it was the 70's. Years later the whole site was buried and landscaped, and subsequently turned into a 9 hole golf course. That golf course has now gone, and the landscape turned into a wildlife area, only in it's infancy the area has massive potential and is a fantastic addition the natural character of the harbour. From the former golf course's raised position you've got great views over the reed flanked rivers of the Stour and Avon, across the marshes, and over the tidal harbour to Hengistbury Head, and all around you nature has already begun to exert dominion, reclaiming what's rightfully hers. This is a positive change I can happily embrace.

Up on the hill

Up St Catherine's Hill early this morning, and it was lovely. A beautifully rich and warm orange hue flooded the Avon Valley and lit the trees and slopes of the hill. Nice way to start the day.

Avon causeway

This evenings light gave the River Avon at the causeway a beautiful golden hue. I stopped and stared, transfixed by the sumptuous scene before me, it really was beautiful. We used to swim in this section of the river, the corners were deep, though for the most part the river in shallow here, only waist high. Then people got grumpy with us swimming there, so that was that. What's wrong with folk? We moan and whinge about the unimportant, whilst simultaneously ignoring the glaringly important. I think it comes from feeling powerless to effect the big stuff and a need to feel empowered. Still, lovely evening for a cycle.