“Right you ‘orrible lot!”, cries the sergeant-major at the back. “This is the tidal limit of the Ribble right here and we will take no prisoners! Keep an eye out for that tidal bore which is due any minute now…. YOU! At the end! Wake up laddie!”
Hey, I’m sure gulls are as attuned to the hydrodynamics of their local area way more than any human. I had to look that stuff up on Wikipedia, but they knew it already — food is on its way upriver.
Weirs are the creation of engineers, and this one, on the River Dee in Chester, is nearly a thousand years old, built by the Normans. On the downstream side, the tidal estuary begins. The main beneficiaries of this are those upstream who are thus defended from tidal flooding, and the local birdlife, who find in it a very convenient place to go fishing. The one at the top has just eaten, in fact, but is still hanging around for more.
These three looked like they were having an amiable little chat while nibbling on the foliage that is exposed on the weir in the centre of town. Why shouldn’t they get together for lunch? Like humans, Canada geese seem a sociable enough species — at least, with each other. (World Cup reference: Go Canada!)
I don’t think the police will be called for this one, although somewhere there may well be a small person distraught over the loss of their soulmate and demanding major investigations. To those who want to know, then, this morning it was in the Hebden Water, just upstream from the weir by the White Lion. If retrieved and given some tumble dryer attention there might even be a reunion.
I am back in London for another stint rooting around the National Archives. So, as with the last time I was there in February 2023, I get to walk to work along the banks of the Thames. This particular stretch seems very popular with rowers. Personally I doubt I could comfortably adopt this form of exercise due to freaking out about the travelling backwards, not seeing where I was going thing, but obviously they don’t care about things like bridges.
When I realised the weather forecast was going to stay much the same — that is, warm and sunny — throughout our visit to Scotland, a walk became by far the best choice for a Saturday activity. It wasn’t too hard to rearrange things accordingly, and I did not regret doing so. Below, the River Clyde, winding its way from Glasgow, over in the distance, to the sea, and crossed here by the Erskine Bridge. More photos and details of the day are on my County Tops blog.
The Thames breaks up into a number of channels as it flows through Oxford. This one isn’t marked on the map as the main river, but the water, flowing in the direction seen ahead, will be back there, and heading down to London, fairly soon. An unscheduled morning here, but I am home now.
Though we have been staying in London over the weekend, this part of the Thames is further upstream, just past Marlow, where the river forms the Buckinghamshire/Berkshire border for a while. I am very happy with this shot, as it turned out just as was hoped when I pressed the shutter. It seems to sum up two things about the Thames at this point — the wildlife and natural qualities are pretty good, and there’s certainly a lot of blatant displays of wealth around.
Took myself on a day out into the countryside, specifically to the little town of Lübben, which lies about an hour’s train journey south of Berlin, further up the River Spree. Here, the river breaks into a series of creeks and canals, on which, today, a substantial number of tourists were floating around in either a self-propelled manner or on Venice-style gondolas, only piloted by gruff-looking East German types. But let’s go with this person-free shot, instead. One has to be pleased with the colour contrast here.
This is the second time the River Tyne has been depicted on this blog, but the first time I saw it, it was considerably smaller: this was on my walk up Burnhope Seat in 2020, where I passed the farm of ‘Tynehead’ at the other end of the river. By Newcastle the Tyne has grown fat, big enough to have what is, reputedly, the largest wooden construction in Europe built out in the middle of it — Dunston Staiths, a former coalport. And there it is. I like the lamp-posts on this one, too.
Being 42 