Bog Myrtle & Peat

Having recently moved house to an area near the far end of the Chayne, I set out this morning with stick in hand and camera on back to explore the surrounding scenery. To the south of the farm, a high crag overlooks our entire property, and never having climbed it before, I set off onto the hillside to recieve a short, sharp shock.

Natural masculine pride prevents me from comparing what I found too closely with the land on the Chayne, but it was clear almost as soon as I had got out of the car that I had entered the big leagues. Crossing two well drained grazing fields, I jumped over the dyke into what Victorian and Edwardian sporting writers popularised as the “moorland fringe”. Grazed heather still glowed purple, but it was slightly subdued beneath the browsing powers of a group of black faced sheep who stared at me malevolently from a low rise nearby. Molinia grass initially seemed totally absent, but I soon found that it was only present in short, controllable green tufts. Small mossy patches were interspersed with a wide selection of flowers and rowan trees, and it was consequently packed with bird and insect life.

As I crossed over a style on the final ascent, I was suddenly in grouse country. Thick heather had been burned and maintained to create a patchwork of old and young plants, but in miniature compared to what can be seen in Teesdale. Nevertheless, the undergrowth was alive with meadow pipits, skylarks and, most importantly, red grouse. Over the last few yards before reaching the summit, I startled a tremendous old cock bird from his couch, and he took off over the hillside with a furious cackle.

I gathered my breath at the cairn amidst a cloud of flies, looking down at the Chayne with an element of despair. Within a mile of the farm, grouse and heather were prospering. By comparison, the Chayne looked like a vast, bare creamy coloured void. At least I now have an idea of where my black grouse are coming from.

Work has clearly gone in to managing the hill overlooking the Chayne, and several areas had been burned in the last year. I was just staggered to see how well the hillside looked in the bright sunlight, and after the original sinking despair, my competitive bile started to rise. Even if it kills me, the Chayne is one day going to look like those purple crags. Every time I look up from the farm, I will see that hill and be reminded of what it will one day look like.