Being a tourist on Horton Plains Sri Lanka

its a curious and strange thing, a day in the life of a tourist sometimes. today for example we found ourselves being driven for an hour in a tuk tuk setting out in the dark, an hour before dawn. The early start was recommended because if you set out later, when you arrive at the destination viewpoint on Horton Plains, all you see is clouds. On the drive there our tuk tuk was overtaken by dozens of vehicles all heading for the same goal and all carrying occupants in considerably more comfort than myself and Sue huddled in the noisy three wheeler. As we drew closer we could see a traffic jam of more than 100 cars. At six in the morning, all waiting to get tickets for the national park. Not very environmentally friendly is it? I couldn't believe it. It was like queuing for a concert in Thetford forest but at 6 am ffs? This doesn't even happen in the Lake District. The tuk tuk fortunately could squeeze down the side of the jam  to the front of the queue of vehicles. The next step was to join a lengthy queue for tickets, which was moving at snails pace, but even when I finally got our tickets we were stymied because the tuk tuk was blocked in by a van, and unable to proceed to the trail head a couple of miles along the road. Our tuk tuk driver simply got in the van and was able to move it out of the way because the keys were in the ignition. Smart move. Then when we did start the walk, my grumpiness went up another notch. A bag check was in operation to remove all plastic and non biodegradable items. An exception was made for water bottles but even then the labels were removed. This is in a country where litter is everywhere and makes fly tip blighted Millfield in Peterborough look like Zurich. My ironyometer was off the scale. The reason for my grumpiness was that more than half of my breakfast, as packed by our hotel, was confiscated, never to be seen again. Finally we started the walk one and a half hours after arriving at the entrance! But there was yet more cause for grumpiness. Young Chinese tourists playing music on their tinny smartphone speakers. I told them to turn it off, which they did. Bird watching along the route was somewhat challenging because of all the noisy hordes, especially the Chinese and Koreans. However I did log some new for me sightings -  four lifers along the route - three of which posed for photos. The pied bush chat, the black eagle and best of all the endemic dull blue flycatcher.

. I also saw some hill swallows but they moved too quickly to be photographed. The walk was about 4 km to the viewpoint and the same back, but on a different track. So was it worth all the hassle and lost sleep? Yes. It's a place like no other I have seen on this island. Superficially it resembles Wales or Scotland. Hopefully the photos will give some idea.

Half way through our 26 day Sri Lanka trip

Some random thoughts at halftime on my first ever Asia trip.

In nearly a fortnight I have only encountered 5 visiting birders. 4 Ausssies and a German. That might change a bit when we go to some of the endemic rich areas in the second half of our trip. I have really enjoyed the birding, especially in wetlands and forests. Every morning I have got up at dawn to be around for peak bird activity. One morning I paid about £10 to be accompanied by an in house hotel naturalist for 2 hours. His advice was to treat birding as a meditation, to watch for the shadows, to stay still for 10 minutes, and don't worry about trying to identify everything. Much of my birding has been within 200 metres of our various hotels and guest houses, sometimes lurking furtively around the air conditioning plant and compost bins. Sue is invariably having a lie in when this is happening. I haven't seen anything rare yet but the highlights have been three sightings of Indian pittas, a gorgeous 

Orange headed thrush, the bee eaters, sea eagles, a brown owl, the amazing primary school child designed stork billed kingfisher, the Asian open bills, the Indian roller, the red wattled lapwings. Brahminy kites are as frequently seen as their red cousins back in Blighty. They make the most pathetic sounding noises. Their collective name should be a whinge of Brahminy kites.

We have been to most of the major sites in the cultural triangle. This is where most of the tourists gather. But there are so many sites to visit that some are honeypots and others are very quiet. I have heard several British tourists complain about "temple overload". Hashtag first world problems. However in mitigation for these whingers, the heat can be sapping if you don't start your day trip early in the morning and the local driver guides hired by tourists  can often be heard delivering their standard patter for what must be in many cases the 100 th or more time, which can be a bit dull sounding . You can see the eyes of the tourists glaze over as they are bombarded with umpteen facts about some ancient Buddhist king from 900 years ago. As you might tell, ancient ruins ain't really my thing, but I have been impressed with what I have seen, especially the iconic giant carved in one piece stone Buddhas at Polonnawaru. When the lonely planet guide mentions the "profound spirituality" of such places, I have to say my experiences of such, in such places is easily destroyed. For me it only takes a handful of hawkers, or a snake charmer having to  tap his reluctant cobra on the head to get it to perform, to undermine my feelings of spirituality. 

We have met some lovely tourists, but of those we have spoken to in some depth, I have been particularly impressed with the Aussies, some of the Germans and French. Some nice brits too, but we do let the side down. I think it's because some of the British tourists in January are primarily chasing winter sun and don't have much of a clue about where they are visiting on their whistlestop tours. The Aussies at this time of year obviously don't need to travel to chase the sun, so they are here for the culture. Some of the brits we have met hate curry, which must be awkward for them here. Tea is served with hot milk, often uht, which is another bone of contention. A typical January British tourist here might be a retired offsted inspector from somewhere like Harrogate, ready and willing to put a hotel in "special measures" if only they had the power to do so. Sri Lanka needs the income from mass Chinese tourism, a big growth sector. Without wish to indulge in racial stereotyping, shall we just say that attending hotel buffet frequented by a coach load of 20 somethings from Beijing is quite an eye opener. 

I know some you might say "you should see India if you think Sri Lanka is rough and ready and chaotic", but I am still 

getting my head around all those corrugated iron clad buildings you see everywhere. When my son was young, we used to have a competition on Fenland car trips to see who could spot the most derelict sheds and either side of the road. Sue would be the judge whenever there was a shout of "ramshackle!".  If we did that here, e.g. on our four hour bus ride from polonnawaru To kandy the scores would be tied at 10,000 all. In fact the game should be reversed to count the substantially constructed buildings that are well maintained. The four hour bus ride by the way cost us less than the bus ride from our house in Peterborough to the city centre (3km).  

Food wise, we are very fond of the Vardies. Deep fried flying saucer shaped spiced lentil cakes the size of a flattened egg and costing about 10 p each. I call them  "Jamies" after the footballer Jamie Vardy. I have said many times that if I were president of the uk republic- Kim-Jon-Dave - I would shut down all the burger and kebab outlets and force them to reopen serving only dhall. Here I am in dhall heaven and have eaten this wholesome food every day. Here though it is served mostly cold or lukewarm, which I do not totally approve ofa

A day in Sigiriya, Sri Lanka

Sue and I are staying in the Sigiriya Hotel for three nights. It's pretty much enveloped by "jungle" and has a fine view of Sigiriya rock, one of the most famous landmarks in the country, and on almost every tourist itinerary. This is the view from the pool. Possibly even more beautiful than peterborough lido and that's saying something.

It's a good idea to start very early if you want to climb the rock to avoid the heat and the hoards. Even so, it was very busy at 8 am. there were loads of tourists from the Far East.

It cost over £20 to visit but that offers better value for money than say going to see peterborough united play. There's a lot of of stairs and railings to maintain, so we didn't begrudge paying this. The grounds at the base of the rock were also stunning

A review of 2017. Nature stuff. Part 2 of 2

At the end of the previous installment of this post, Sue and I are in Scotland heading for week in the Cairngorms with my bird watching friends, Stuart, Trevor and Fran. Let us not however forget Dorothy - the redoubtable, never-waste-a-single-thing Dorothy -  the long suffering wife of Stuart. Dorothy brought along hot cross buns aplenty from her freezer, mostly at 10p for 6. Yes thats for 6 and not just one. She also brought homemade marmalade from I think as long ago as 1989. It was as black as treacle and tasted like something that gourmets would rave about. We ate well and frugally that week. Us chaps are all of a certain age and temperament that could be described as prone to bouts of grumpiness. Think Victor Meldrew. Sue coped with us all with great patience and humour.

Birding highlights? We had a double eagle species hour up the Findhorn Valley. The first eagle, a goldie, appeared just as Fran had started to recite a dirty limerick to keep the spirits up just as our patience was beginning to run out. Ten minutes later, waiting in vain for the goldie to reappear, Fran began the limerick again. "There once was a bishop from Birmingham...".
To our astonishment the reciting of this limerick, or merely the first line of it summoned a second eagle from the same place as the goldie. This time it was a White Tailed eagle, looking huge even though it was a mile away.
We also enjoyed a breeding Slavonian Grebe on Loch Ruthven and perhaps even better, a black throated diver at a lovely spot called Lochindorb. A place name that sounds distinctly fictional if ever there was one. A days walking on the Cairngorms plateau (without Sue) gave us terrific views of Ring Ouzel, Snow Bunting and Ptarmigan. All of these birds were much more adapted to this barren windswept place than me.

I wrote various haikus inspired by the week in the Cairngorms.

White-tail and Golden drop

on unseen carrion.

Beyond the hill top.

I like my rocks,

blemished by life forms,

quartz and all.

Large capers

can be found in jars.

Also rarely in forests

Trump hair tails.

Picnic aftermath.

Red squirrel cleaners.

Shadowed corries.

White paint splash of

 snow bunting male

Artificial homes

for goldeneye ducks.

Martens' snack shacks.

Guardians fret over 

prospects for

their yellow eared Slavs.

Lochindorb depths.

Black-throated divers,

fleetingly up.

The ptarmigan has

a silent pee.

But is otherwise quite loud

The reciting of

a dirty limerick

seems to summon raptors.

The unseen capercaillies

must be hiding behind 

the unseen twinflower.

His and hers long lenses.

She wants it to be known - 

they are on a par. 

Nest cam stars.

Named fish hawks.

Tragedies exposed.

Tufts erect on

silvery heads.

Sylvestris sprites.

Superstitious finches,

mandibles always

crossed for luck.

July and August are the peak months for moths. The above photos are all from this time. Note the migrant hawker dragonfly interloping the lepidoptera. The variation in form, colour and pattern of all our moth species never ceases to amaze me. All of these moths came from my garden with the exception of the magpie moth at the top left and the garden tiger on the bottom left. Those came from the Southern Lake District in the garden of a cottage. The garden tiger moths have declined considerably in Southern Areas of England, as have cuckoos that feed on the hairy caterpillars of this species. Not sure if these two declines are linked in any way. The canary shouldered thorn is the one that looks like a fluffy baby chicken. The bottom right is the charismatic male vapourer moth, a remarkable beast that is capable of detecting a flightless female from miles away. It was the discovery and rearing of a vapourer caterpiller when I was about 14 that helped me to develop a lifelong fascination for weird and wonderful creatures. Completing the set above are the maple button (representing micro moths as opposed to macro moths) an early thorn and an arty shot of a white satin moth.

The photos above from top left moving clockwise are
1. You can see that by October (top left) that all this birdwatching had got the better of poor Sue. This is an unposed photo on Cley Beach.
2. One of my most memorable days in the whole of 2017 was going out in August with a licenced ringer of barn owls, Charles Gunn. We were both astonished at how many occupied nest boxes we found and must have seen over 30 barn owls (including at least six adults) within one afternoon. Astonishing.
3. This moth - a pale prominent, looks almost as fed up as Sue.
4. A close up of a pebble hook tip moth wing.

Grumpiness seems to be a feature of this blog post. I must admit I was a bit grumpy about the fact that although 2016 was a poor year for moths in my garden, the total number of moth species in my garden was even lower in 2017. Heres to 2018 when I hope to see 200 plus moth species in my garden. My UK birding target was also by coincidence 200 species. I fell short by 8 species - a poor effort really.

Finally a montage of winter shots from various places around Peterborough. From top left moving clockwise 1. Southey Woods (a known dogging spot), 2. Morton's Leam, 3. the ice floes of Nene Park and 4. my garden in snow.

A picture diary for 2108. Thirty years on from the last time I did this.

Exactly thirty years ago at the very start of 1988 two friends of mine announced they were going to do a small drawing or collage every day for the whole year. Each daily drawing would fit into a space the size of a business or credit card. I agreed to join them in this project, even though I had very limited aptitude in drawing. Both my friends - who happen to be brothers (Tim and Phil Knight) - were on the other hand very talented in many forms of art.

I kept this going for an entire year. Tim and Phil gave up half way through.

I still have the diary 30 years on. It is organised as 61 panels of 6 drawings (It was a leap year). During the year, as I got more experienced, my work became a bit bolder and more expressive. On the back of each drawing is a brief explanation of what the picture is about.

Here is the first panel for 1-6 January 1988.

At that time I was a callow youth in my late twenties working for the Nature Conservancy Council in Peterborough. Later that year I moved to Edinburgh, but that is another story for another day.

So the explanations (and back story) for the above panel are as follows.
top left: First footing - a lump of coal and a piece of bread. A traditional offering in the early hours of January 1st. I was in Essex (Wrabness to be precise) for the new year and it seemed like this Scottish custom was only rarely observed in this part of the world. Strangers were bemused when we knocked on their doors and offered them bread and coal.
top right: A journey across the fens from Essex to Peterborough. The "To Peterborough "sign is the luggage label on my bicycle in the Guards wagon. All bikes at that time had to have a label. I was thrown off a train once in the 80s because my bike wasnt labelled. I tried to scribble one and fasten it with my shoe lace but the guard just thought I was deranged. The leaning telegraph poles are a familiar sight in the fens due to peat shrinkage, but still fascinate me. 
centre and bottom left: I had to travel from Peterborough to the Lake District to install some Apple computers near Lake Windermere.  This is the view from the office. The picture below is of a circular light in the porchway to the office that seemed to have trapped most of the local invertebrate fauna over many years.
Centre right: I had lots of computer cables to untangle. Not my favourite pastime.
Bottom right: On the shores of Lake Windemere two dogs, probably jack russells exploded into life and fury in the back shelf of a car, nearly giving me a heart attack.

So - thirty years on exactly - I start the same project again. I have just cut out loads of bits of card. Enough to see me through to the end of the year.

A review of 2017. Nature stuff part 1 of 2. January to June

It's been my first full calendar year as a pensioner. Here are a few highlights using my photos as a memory jogger and keeping it roughly chronological.

From top left going clockwise.

1. Star Pit Peterborough, A favourite site of mine and home to some quality birds.

2. Castor Hanglands, This is the just the sort of place where you would half expect someone to position a deer skull up a tree.

3. Cley beach, three grumpy birders all moaning about something or other as per usual.

4. Sue Leeks learning the art of twitching at Willow Tree Fen in South Lincolnshire.
The latter site gave us great views of a bluethroat and equally great views of the backsides of many photographers.

In April, I found a pair of peregrines nest building on a low pylon somewhere in Peterborough. Most breeding peregrines I get to hear about are nesting in high buildings such as cathedral towers. This was much more accessible in terms of height and alongside a path where hundreds of people walk, run or cycle past every day. There are some people living locally who might consider them to be a threat to their interests, so I kept the location quiet. The pair were however very vocal and soon some locals started to take notice and expressed a wish to keep an eye on them.  Even I, inept in marksmanship, could have easily culled them with an air rifle. I resisted and took some photos using an iphone held up to my telescope.

They got as far as producing at least one hatched chick. I understand that this was however unfortunately predated by gulls. A week or two after hearing about this I heard about a (revenge?) attack by a peregrine a few miles away catching a lesser black backed gull.

The top left picture is a pretty flower called salsify growing near Harwich. You can eat the roots apparently.
In May, I made my first visit to Lake Vyrnwy in Wales with Stuart Ball (top right). It was great to see the holy trinity of Western Oakwoods - Pied Flycatcher, Redstart and Wood Warbler. The only other time I had seen this trinity together in one day was curiously enough on Autumn migration in Malta. (Buskett Gardens).

Later in May, Sue and I had a four day trip to Aarhus in Denmark (bottom two photos). I made several early morning trips to a local wetland area called Braband. This is to Aarhus what Nene Park is to Peterborough. Except that Braband has thrush nightingales and marsh warblers. These are both remarkable songsters. One morning at around 6.30 am, a cycling commuter came by and joined me in listening to the nightingale of the north. He recalled the first time he had encountered this amazing sound.  "I was cycling home drunk in Copenhagen at about 1am in June 1986 having watched Denmark beat Uruguay 6 1 in the World cup".  The sound reheard that morning triggered waves of nostalgia and national pride.

1. The Nene Washes in May (top left) gave me my one and only record of corncrake - singing at 1pm. What an amazing place that is, and right on my doorstep. Theres nowhere else in the UK that you can hear black tailed godwit with their worried sounding call, interspersed with the odd rasp of the corncrake.

2, The moth at the top right is a cypress carpet moth. It could be the rarest moth I have ever found in my garden. It might even be a first for my local area (known as a Vice County).

3. This heron looks like it might be doing some yoga or meditation. This is quite apt because it was in Cumbria right near the site of a Buddhist Festival I was attending. Actually it was sun bathing, possibly using the sun to burn off parasites. Its probably rare that a Cumbrian Heron gets a chance to do that, given the weather in that part of the world.

4. An elephant hawk moth - not uncommon in my garden.

In June, Sue and I headed north to Scotland firstly staying in mid Argyll for a week. We saw the sun for a total of 10 minutes for the entire week. I enjoyed the ospreys nesting a few minutes walk from our cottage. I understand that a couple of years ago, the lady laird was enjoying her morning tea when she heard a stooshie (commotion) coming from this pine tree. She raised her field glasses to see a pine martin grab a whole clutch of eggs despite the osprey parents attacking it.
The dreich weather put off most of the moths, but not the sturdy and stoical poplar hawkmoth. The buff tip moths were also determined not to be put off by the weather, brazenly indulging in sexual intercourse in a public place. I guess you can get away with this when most potential predators would assume that they are looking at a birch twig.

The main reason for going to Argyll was to attend a meeting of the 49 club. A truly venerable gathering of eminent nature conservationists. I did worry that Sue might struggle to cope with all of those crusty old bores, and then I remembered that she had had more than enough practice of such types having had to put up with me for 23 years. Joking aside, we both had a great time, were made to feel very welcome. The theme of "bringing back the beaver" caused hilarity when Sue mentioned it to some of her friends. Rather puerile on their part I thought.

Part two of our Scotland trip (featuring another set of crusty old bores) and the rest of 2017 will feature in part 2 of this review.  Will Sue's patience and tolerance finally wear out?
For now I will leave you with some haikus inspired our wet week in Argyll.

Still standing stones.

Still raining hard.

Still collecting redstart.

Treetop commotion.

Osprey brood lost.

Pine marten jackpot

Scarcely seen here

Five novice nuthatches

On an Argyll dead limb

The beavers are back

Said the aspen to the willow

Gnawing me, gnawing you.

Wilsons filmy fern

not much to look at.

But I'm glad it's here

A low rise home

Whinchat sings

A song of weeds

From lochan to loch

Flight croak quack

Lady Goosander 

Roadside puddles

Sandpiper echoes

from ferny walls

Yellow black sprites

Twangs and fights.

Siskin squabbles