It's a dotty old world......

      I'm currently living in a very dotty world after another injection of triamcinolone into my Rt eye.  It's a little nerve racking at the time when all I can see through that eye as the needle goes in is a mass of crystals swirling around in a milky solution.  It clears slowly. Very slowly.   After a while the Ophthalmologist will cover my left eye and ask "How many fingers am I holding up?"  "Six" I'll say jokingly before telling him there's only two.  Over a year we've got to know each other fairly well. He'll counter by asking "Will you be going for a run tomorrow?" and I'll refrain from responding with a naughty word.....

Nothing wrong with their eyes

      So I'm typing this on a spotty white screen with what look like flies dodging around the periphery as I move my head.  Birds fly across my window - except they're not birds at all but tiny black crystals that give that impression. By tomorrow or next day the crystals will disperse and I'll be OK for maybe another couple of months when the process will be repeated. I try to make the most of time between. Mostly in my Salomon shades.

Grassington Bridge route

      Saturday's five mile run to Grassington Bridge began rather ignominiously as I tripped and went crashing to the ground on a stony path before we'd even left the village.  In years gone by I'd simply have put my arms out to break the fall but as I've got older my arms seem no longer strong enough to do that.

After the fall - galloping off to Grassington

So it was my ribs and chin that bore the brunt of Saturday's trip. It stunned me briefly but I turned down my wonderful partner's suggestion to go back home and went galloping off through the fields to Grassington.  As fell runners do.

Low water by Linton Falls

      I don't know whether wandering tourists think we're mad or just part of the scenery as we dodge past in our shorts and vests. It's difficult to interpret their strange looks!  Others engrossed in conversation never even notice us, or anything else in the countryside for that matter. Dog owners regard their little beast as the most important thing in life and runners shouldn't upset them by charging about encouraging them to bite.

Passing a fallen tree by the riverbank - one of many

      By the time we reached Grassington Bridge only a slight headache reminded me of bashing it on the ground twenty minutes earlier.  The river was low and farther along, near the church, sand martins were flying in and out of their holes with bits of nesting material, preparing for their new brood.

Stepping stones by Hebden Suspension bridge - above water at last

      It was a very pleasant run in warm sunshine and slight breeze.  After arriving home I was told, in no uncertain terms, to "Get all that blood and dirt cleared up from your chin". I'd to apologise and explain I hadn't really seen it from where I was standing.  A swab of TCP and 600mg of Ibuprofen set everything right. That, and a seat in the garden, wallowing in sunshine with a chiffchaff singing up the lane.

Passing Loup Scar on the way to Appletreewick......

      On Sunday I woke up a bit stiff but after breakfast was persuaded to go for a six mile run round Appletreewick. It was sunny again and we'd hoped to photograph the last of the anemones in a wood along the road.  We were too late. They'd already been ousted by a host of bluebells interspersed with campion and lady's smock.  A fair swap!

.....under trees laden with Spring blossom

      Then, what really made our day, the sight of a swallow flying over Woodhouse farm. The first we'd seen this year. It's amazing how that tiny, happy little bird can lift our spirits and fill our hearts with a strange joy as though it was a harbinger of warmer days ahead and wonderful things to come.

      It's difficult to relate that sighting to yesterdays nasty injection and the spotty world I'm living in at present, but  I'm sure things will get better when all its friends arrive.

Hopefully tomorrow!

Good to be back....

   Yay, I'm back running again and delighted to say it felt like I'd never been away. I'd imagined I'd be panting for breath after the first ¼ mile but all went well.  

Feeling happy again running in that old vest    (Click to enlarge Pictures)

   Mind you, it was only a 4 mile jaunt along the riverbank to Burnsall and back on Saturday morning, with a few photo stops along the way, but I came home feeling really proud of myself.
Old Runningfox (85 on 6th May) is back in action.

Female goosander on the river

   Actually, with all the Easter tourists, it had been a bit of an obstacle course and I inwardly cursed a lady walking one side of the path with her dog trotting along the other side.
I hadn't seen the thin extension lead joining the two!

"Stand there a minute"  -  photo shoot by Burnsall bridge

   Later, a bull terrier type dog took a fancy to my calf muscle. I felt its teeth and warm breath and dearly wished it too had been on some sort of lead for it took a while to return to its shouting owner.

All smiles running by the river

   A duck race took place in the ghyll on Saturday afternoon and drew quite a large crowd of mainly visitors who, I believe, went home with 5 of the 6 prizes. 

£255.00 was raised for charity.

Here come the ducks. I think mine swam upstream...

   On Easter Monday, we ran another 4miles+ on a pre-breakfast run around Grimwith reservoir. 

Setting off round Grimwith

   There was a slight drizzle when we set off, the thermometer read 39ºF and a cooling breeze from the NE made for ideal running conditions. For me...

Flying past the thatched cottage

   Pewits were wheeling and diving around us, making their joyful sounds, and a redshank was calling over on the moor to our left.

Pewit enjoying itself

   A few Canada geese had returned to their old nesting sites having been missing for a couple of years.  They're handsome birds though not very well liked in our area.

Canada goose

   It was another very enjoyable run that worked up a good appetite for the steaming bowls of porridge, toast and coffee and hour later. 

Upon reflection, it was a great run

As we ate, goldfinches were breakfasting too on sunflower hearts and nyjer seeds outside our window.

Goldfinches having breakfast with us

   And we have tadpoles.  Shortly after the new pond had been filled with rainwater and various plants a small batch of frogspawn was brought from up the ghyll and plunged into its depths.  The little black dots have hatched, grown tails and are now swimming about in the sunlight.
Soon they'll be jumping around on the lawn

Tadpoles in the new pond

   We like frogs, as did a favourite Scottish poet, Norman MacCaig, who wrote an evocative poem about them,

One of the Many Days.

   Must go, I still have to log those comeback miles - and add them to the 39,514 already run.

  Where's it all going to end?

   

The time of the singing of birds is come......

      With the exception of a few short sprints on my way to the village, or back and forth across Gibraltar Farm campsite at Silverdale in search of someone who might lend us a tin-opener, nothing has yet been done in the way of serious running.  But I've been keeping reasonably fit and active so Easter should find me back in the hills wearing my trademark RUNNINGFOX vest and favourite trail shoes.

Exploring the coast path at Silverdale on arrival   (Click to enlarge)

      My Rt eye continues to be a problem and last weekend's camp at Silverdale had to be aborted when it objected to the vicious sunlight, particularly when concentrated through the prisms of powerful binoculars at Leighton Moss RSPB reserve.  It became bloodshot, blurred and stung so much I could hardly keep it open for more than a few seconds in spite of wearing polarized sunglasses for the duration of our stay.

Evening aperitif

      It was disappointing because there were so many beautiful things to see in that Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, so many footpaths to be explored, so many rare birds to spot.  Marsh harriers were performing their annual sky dances, avocets were colonising the estuary, cattle egrets were skulking in the reed beds and noisy but secretive Cettis' warblers were getting twitchers very excited.  Otters had been spotted too.

Tree in evening light

      We saw and photographed quite a lot before my stupid eye declared it had had enough.  We returned to camp, packed the tent on Sunday afternoon and returned home in hopes of getting advice or an early appointment with my Consultant ophthalmologist the following day.  I did, and glad to say, things are a little better now.

      Here are a few pictures taken before the trauma:

A heron paid us a visit

Courting mute swans

Cormorant, or shag, or something...

Coot

Little egret by the reedbed

Greylag goose

Black headed gulls eyeing the floating nest of a great crested grebe

Saturday evening sunset across Morecambe Bay

We saw many other species but such is our limited knowledge of ornithological matters we were unable to name them.  But we were lucky enough to hear and see a Cetti's warbler which, we were told, is quite rare in our region of the hemisphere.  I dearly wanted to see the avocets but in the time taken to walk to the estuary my eye would probably have given up the ghost.
I've a feeling another visit may be on the cards in the not too distant future.
Happy running everyone.