Brambles, Balsam and Bindweed

Regular readers of this drivel blog will no doubt wince each time at the grammatical errors and unwise punctuation that so contaminate our postings. Happily, H.M. Government is aware of the falling standards in general, and the newly re-issued Rees-Mogg style manual will be your correspondent’s constant muse from now on. Whether you notice any improvement is entirely a matter for you, dear reader.

One of the problems with trying to look after a wet area is that even in times of low rainfall, plants grow strongly. Add a few downpours and scorching heat, and you begin to understand what tropical vegetation looks like.

That’s fine in a nature reserve, but even here there are places where it’s not welcome. Walking the boardwalk had become an exercise to test the adventurous spirit; you could begin to wonder if you were going to make it out alive, or at least by tea-time.

Our very own exotic and invasive plant, the Himalayan Balsam of which we have blogged so much before, had also taken the opportunity to reach for the sky and was beginning to set seed; the very thing we try hard to prevent.  So although this was still July and we were therefore not able to start the official cutting programme, there was still plenty requiring our attention. The day was dull and a little drizzly at first, and still rather humid, but at least that intense heat had dropped. Perhaps it was this that encouraged an exceptional turnout of 20 volunteers to arrive at the earlier than usual time of 9.00.

The plan was to have a couple of our recently qualified superstar brush cutter operators trimming back the vegetation overhanging the boardwalk, supported by a crack team of sweepers clearing the cut stuff to the side. That plan had as a pre-condition that there were two working brush cutters: they were checked the evening before and one was found to be unusable, but the other worked well when tested. So at the start of the working party we were already down by 50%. At that point, the ‘working’ one refused to start too. Now I’m not too good at sums, but I reckon that took our deficit to 100%. To at least partially mitigate the situation the trusty Grizzly was fired up and pressed into service. Meanwhile, the superstar brush cutter operators tugged at the starter cord; they fiddled with various controls; they muttered strange and obscene incantations; in desperation they even consulted the manual. All to no avail; how many men does it take to start a brush cutter?

Everyone dispersed to the various areas still hosting Balsam plants, little white sacks in hand to contain the pernicious seed heads.

Himalayan Balsam thrives particularly well where the ground is wettest, such as along Fox’s Beck. It especially enjoys growing on the far bank, presenting the greatest challenge to the pluckiest of volunteers.

Or perhaps they just love a chance to dance…

Eventually, from the far-flung regions of the reedbed we heard the throaty roar, stuttering at first but gradually gaining strength, of the single brush cutter coming to life. Maybe it was just persistence; maybe it was the use of strong language, or perhaps it was looking at the manual, but at last the plan was at least partially back on course. Now those boys could use their toys!

An hour in, and the Balsam was still not giving in. It has always been good at hiding in brambles and nettles, but this year it seemed to seasoned old hands that it has taken to keeping close company with bindweed. Is this evolution in action? It certainly makes pulling the wretched stuff out even harder. Incidentally, the most satisfying bit of the Balsam Bashing Process is when you fold up the pulled-up stem prior to chucking it onto a pile of earlier victims; it makes the most satisfying ‘phlock’ sound. It’s things like that that give you the motivation to go on.

Such was the size of the turnout, there were not enough sacks for every one of the plucky band of Flower Head Pluckers to have one of their own to put the plucked flower heads in. Those without sacks had to find other places to hold those plucked heads, for periodic decanting into someone else’s sack. At least, I think that’s what’s going on here…

Anyway, an hour in also marked the half way point of the working party, so we struggled back across the watercourse and retraced our steps through the towering reeds to the welcoming storage container for a well-deserved drink and custard cream. There is an expression ‘fill your boots’, but some of us had already done that in crossing the watercourse. Soggy socks are never fun.

That done, it was once more unto the breach dear friends. There was still plenty of Balsam to be found, and we lit upon an area where they had reached gigantic proportions.

This is a rich vein for further exploration; watch this space!

Meanwhile, back on the boardwalk, sterling work had been done and the result is clear for all to see.

Despite everyone having had such fun, a halt had eventually to be called. The worst section had been dealt with, but the rest is waiting.

Update 31^st July:

A small but finely-honed crew returned on Wednesday to strim some more, reaching the bridge over the Beck. To our great joy, both brush cutters roared into life, achieving 100% capacity, as the statisticians might say. With two superstar brush cutter operators backed up by two moderately capable rake and broom operators, we got on really rather well. So well indeed, that your correspondent unwisely recycled his ancient quip about the rake’s progress. There’s still plenty more to do, but the worst sections are now beautifully clear. Passing pilgrims taking their ease on the seat can now contemplate the scene untroubled by the risk of missing tea.