1997 Morayshire 8 - 9 July Main Meeting
Water was a feature of this meeting in Scotland. Those of us in various parts of England who had booked lodgings and arranged travel, watched the TV news and read our papers with horror during the preceding week. We were confronted with pictures of severe Flooding to homes and countryside around Elgin where we were to be based. Then came news of road and rail closures caused by landslips. By Tuesday morning 8 July, however, everyone had arrived at the entrance to Culbin Forest to be greeted by our leader lan Green together with his brother Paul and Geraldine Crouch. By then most of the water had run off, and the sun was shining on this section of Scotland, by nature the second driest part of the UK.
The morning was spent exploring Culbin Forest - an area of sand dunes which was acquired by the Forestry Commission in the 1920s and planted with conifers to stabilise the dunes where sand storms frequently caused havoc. Planting was completed by the late 1960s, when it was noted that interesting areas of vegetation were developing in the earlier plantations. The site was designated a Site of Special Scientific Interest in 1973. We were fortunate that Ian had been given permission to take eight cars into the forest area, so the party was asked to double- up, four or five to a car, and once seating had been arranged, we set off. At our first stop in the forest, water was again to the fore. Lycopodiella inundata (Marsh Clubmoss) was present in a clearing, but still under 2ft of floodwater. If you wanted to see it, it was shoes and socks off and paddle (too deep for most wellies), so those of us who had seen the clubmoss elsewhere stood smugly on the bank and watched the antics of others!
That over, we all went to see Radiola linoides(Allseed), Filago minima (Small Cudweed), Gnaphalium sylvaticum (Heath Cudweed), Listera cordata (Lesser Twayblade), Goodyera repens (Creeping Lady's- tresses), and the (much photographed) Corallorrhiza trifida (Coralroot Orchid). Wintergreens are a feature of these pine forests and we were fortunate in being able to see and compare three species in close proximity: Pyrola minor (Common), Orthillia secunda (Serrated) and Moneses uniflora (One-flowered). The latter is a particularly beautiful, rare plant which had also been submerged but was now flowering in small quantity.
Next came my favourite plant for day one. I had for years longed to see Linnaea borealis (Linnaeus' Twinflower). I was not disappointed in the pairs of delicate pink flowers growing on fine stalks from their cushiony carpet of leaves. Our lunch break was enjoyed at the edge of the forest, on Culbin Sands, where the lighting over the water of the inlet would have delighted a landscape artist. After lunch we explored the coast and saltmarsh area to find a variety of plants including Ligusticum scoticum (Scots Lovage), Centaurium littorale (Seaside Centaury), Ruppia maritima (Beaked Tasselwood), Blysmus rufus (Saltmarsh Flat-sedge), Eleocharis quinqueflora (Few-flowered Spike-rush), Puccinellia distans ssp. horealis (Northern Saltmarsh Grass), Carex extensa (Long-bracted Sedge) in its very dwarf Scottish form (forma minor) and Juncus balticus (Baltic Rush). How strange it seemed to me to see Empetrum nigrum (Crowberry), for which I have to climb to the highest parts of Somerset, growing here on the beach side by side with Armeria maritima (Thrift).
Travelling to our next stop, Damaway Forest, masses of Giant Hogweed were marking the courses of nearly every river. The forest rides in Damaway were the only element of defeat on this memorable day. Twisting and turning in directions not given on our map we were, for a time, lost. But in truth I think everyone (except lan and Paul) rather enjoyed this adventure and I for one was delighted because it gave me two sightings of Red Squirrels which I had not seen in the west country since my childhood. Nuphar advena (Spatter Dock) with several buds and just one flower out, Neottia nidus-avis (Bird's-nest Orchid) and a hybrid Typha, T. x glauca, were found at Black Loch, and the first day concluded with a short walk along the banks of Muckle Burn at Dyke, where Campanula latifolia (Giant Bellflower) and Allium scorodoprasum (Sand Leek) were showing. The tiny burn ran serenely by but head high debris caught up in the bushes showed the height to which recent flood levels had risen and bore out Ian's words "You couldn't walk down here last week". The adjoining arable fields with carrots washed out of the ground and flattened barley crops also spelt ill for the local farmers.
Day two also dawned bright and sunny with blue cloudless sky. The starting point this time was at Easter Calcots, beside the River Lossie where some fishing produced Potamogeton x suecicus (Swedish Pondweed) and then on to Lossiemouth. The cemetery had a good amount of Hypochoeris glabra (Smooth Catsear) and then we had a pleasant walk along a disused railway to see Corynephorus canescens (Grey Hair-grass), also a hybrid between Field Mouse-ear and Snow in Summer Cerastium arvense x C. tomentosum, Trifolium striatum (Knotted Clover), Dianthus deltoides (Maiden Pink) and Rumex longifolius (Northern Dock); also its hybrids with Broad-leaved and Curled Docks.
We were glad of a shady spot for lunch, so stopped beneath some pine trees beside the chapel for Gordonstoun School. Although rather noisy, the Harrier jets and other planes continually taking off and landing on the airstrip adjoining gave an interesting diversion. The chapel graveyard yielded Festuca heterophylla (Various- leaved Fescue) and Poa chaixii (Broad-leaved Meadow-grass). After lunch, to Duffus and Roseisle where cornfield weeds were the order of the day: Centaurea cyanus (Cornflower), Chrysanthemum segetum (Corn Marigold), Anchusa arvensis(Bugloss), Descurainia sophia (Flixweed), Amsinckia micrantha (Common Fiddleneck) and Papaver dubium ssp. dubium (Long-headed Poppy) - apparently this is the usual poppy here, the Common Poppy P. rhoeus familiar to southerners is extremely rare. Ceratochloa carinata (California Brome) and Anisantha diandra(Great Brome) were on the roadside. A short walk to the Millie Burn produced Campanula rotundifolia (Harebell) and Potamogeton filiformis (Slender-leaved Pondweed).
Nearing the end of the day, we made for the coast at Burghead and it was here a most memorable occurrence took place. As we drew up to the beach, the sea became disturbed and, as if to greet us, the bay was suddenly filled with about 50 porpoises, so huge and yet so graceful, as they dived and swam by in what seemed like slow- motion, the nearest being but a few yards from the shore. A few eider ducks were also present' on the sea. It was perhaps fortunate that the porpoise did not stay long I heard at least one heretic remark "Who needs flowers when you can look at them!" - and we were able to apply ourselves to plants again. Beside the path still inches deep in floodwater was a colony of Coeloglossum viride (Frog Orchid) - actually found by Murray the dog who is named after the famous Victorian Somerset botanist, obviously following in the footsteps of his namesake! On the coastal shingle were some splendid patches of Mertensia maritima (Oyster Plant) with its sky-blue flowers.
Our final stop was at Hopeman, where there was Fumaria densiflora (Dense- flowered Fumitory) and Lamium confertum (Northern Dead-nettle), the last plants on the list so meticulously prepared and distributed by lan. Having remained dry-shod throughout all the watery ways by mighty rivers, tiny bums, bogs, lochs, marshes, seaside and flooding, I slowly sank into the mud as I gazed at these last offerings - I suppose it served me right for being smug about that initial Marsh Clubmoss! Thank you lan and your helpers for all the hard work you put into making this such a memorable and rewarding two days - well worth the 600 miles I travelled to be there.
CAROLINE GIDDENS
Another, lighter, account of the previous meeting by a participant:
OPERATION TWINFLOWER
Any climber gets used to the hazards of the game, even jokes about it once returned to terra firma. (Less terror and a lot firmer as my lady puts it.) I had not viewed her fixation with botany in similar light however and my education otherwise could not have had a more innocent beginning. We were in the Cairngorms on a mild climb called The Vent, an amusing middle-grader which need not bother us too tar. Her, "Can you hang about a bit, I think this is Curved Woodrush?" when I am struggling with the crux and being dive bombed by an irate snow bunting, seems scarcely worth the mention, except that I called back something like, "No, my sweet, could you not postpone your floral observations a little?" which somehow caused offence. In the interest of matrimonial harmony, I recklessly agreed that the next two days should be hers. I will be more circumspect in future.
The next dawn saw us in the Culbin Forest where we were welcomed by two identikit stalwarts and a dog. Intelligence reported a few enthusiasts meeting up for a quick foray. I kept out of the negotiations, recalling as a boy when my father had sent me to the ironmonger for distemper and the man's alsatian bit me. I observed a distribution of clipboards, an allocation of numbers, a synchronisation of watches and the return of my lady with two others. "Drop the silly grin," she proclaimed, "we are in car number two, be sure to keep up." Order of the day was to follow one of the two lead cars, aiming for sundry spots in the forest where we had to find precisely two varieties of flower as named on the issued list. With a plethora of pairs. Operation Twinflower was christened.
Access to the forest was gained by means of a key borrowed/filched/blackmailed from someone in the west country (Forestry Commission keys fit all their locks). Our leaders each drove raunchy road rods, four wheel drive, multigrip tyres a foot wide holding the car a yard above the ruts in the forest track and afterburners on the turbochargers. The first roared off in a cloud of dust, at the head of an eight vehicle convoy giving hot pursuit. Five minutes later we stopped in a clearing. Passengers of the first four cars went one way, those of last four another. Each sought one of the plants on the list. Ours was found four feet under water in a rocky cauldron. A marker was left for the others as we trooped off into a welter of rose, heather and gorse to regain their marker at the top of a distant mound.
"Not bad for starters," said our leader, "but keep focused on the list and don't lag behind. The schedule is very tight." We zoomed around the forest stopping at odd points to repeat action. I imagined that we were part of an advanced treasure hunt, probably in competition and scoring for flowers found and time taken. The driving was desperate. Riven and rutted, narrow, overhung tracks with sun dapple and shade in stroboscopic succession, Colin MacCrae must have cut his rally teeth on such as this. Up, down, roundabout, twist, turn, dip, dive, slip, slither and brake, brake, brake! The stops gave little time for jangled nerves to settle as we dashed off to seek out the selected bloom. What blooms they were; King Olaf's Candlesticks, Coralroot Orchid, Serrated Wintergreen and, of course, Twinflower, all gaining premium points no doubt. Eventually we emerged at the Findhorn estuary on the edge of saltmarsh. "You can eat now," confirmed the lass, "then it's the Baltic Rush for us." Alarm bells jangled, but food was more important. As she sloped off to join the throng, I set about the driftwood, cobbling together a sturdy raft and outrigger. I was still trying to improvise a spinnaker when the gang returned. "Juncus. balticus you prawn" came the distaffs caustic comment, demonstrating uncanny acceleration on the uptake.
It seemed we had done well. Our leaders' debrief was full of praise and the promise that we were ready for greater things. Out of the forest we went and off on a mad clatter across country. We turned up a lane marked "PRIVATE ROAD" before spinning into woodland by a sign saying "NO ACCESS - KEEP OUT", obviously bandit territory. At the first halt we dashed off to look for Ninebark, a tree which patently fails the Trade Descriptions Act, and Two-flowered Everlasting Pea, neither of which I had ever heard tell. Now the reason for the dog came in.' Communication could only be by sign language, the collie was used to keep us sheep all together and heading in the right direction, before returning to the shedding ring, I mean the cars and further flight. Subsequent dodgems took us out to the road by some empty crofts. I guessed the crux was near as we passed a vehicle going the other way which contained a man in camouflage dress, and when, upon rounding a turn, our leader immediately plunged off into thick jungle; diversionary tactics aimed at losing any possible chase. A high speed twist and twine uphill and down dale kept our chances alive. A quick stop to fell a tree across the route, a crafty backing out, then off on another line, demonstrated low cunning. As we emerged an hour later by the same empty crofts we had obviously made it.
Our masters, however, were not so philosophical. We had missed a checkpoint, too many penalties, we must try one more desperate throw to regain our tally. With enemy forces alerted we parked up on the public road and left the dog on guard, before setting off into the trees seeking errant water weeds. A single bark told us the cars had been found, crashings behind us indicated our route also. Escape and evasion techniques now came into play. The whole gang splashed to the middle of the loch and covered heads with the leaves of Spatter Dock. Tubes of Reedmace were passed around and as those chasing broke cover, we ducked under with our makeshift snorkels. Time passed damply and interminably, but eventually we were rescued by an impromptu air umbrella. Culicoides impunctata, the highland midge, appeared in force putting paid to paltry pursuit. We emerged warily and made our way back by a different route, approaching the cars along the highway, this to the chagrin of the enemy, now reduced to a few, face-saving fulminations. No problem, our score was safe and secured. After driving in the dark back to digs, my lady flopped out leaving me to tidy up small chores like mending punctures, re-setting steering, stiffening the suspension and checking the gearbox. By next day it all seemed a dream. I beamed as we headed to the meeting point. There would be no more chancing it today, the entire Moray Firth foresters fellowship would be on instant alert. The sun shone, larks sang and the day was douce. I laughed gaily as the whole clamjamphrey reassembled. So much for hubris, our first halt saw us up to the chest in a turbulent River Lossie seeking an aberrant pondweed. The second day was on its way ...
BILL HAWKINS