‘Wild and Ancient Sardinia’ – 1

08 Wednesday Apr 2026

Posted by Musiewild in Cats, Photography

Tags

Cabras, Olbia Airport, Sardinia, Villa Canu

This is the name of a tour I am currently on, on Day 2, 8th April 2026. But for once, and only once, this time anyway, I am posting while still away. I shall recount here Day 1, and this is possible because all the (three only!) photos relevant to it are on my phone. Hereafter they are on my camera and will only be discovered when I am home, on 15th.

In fact Day 0 was the most difficult, when I had to round up and take the three cats to their prison, sorry cattery. Guilt, and missing them for the next 22 hours until I left home pn Day 1, Tuesday 7thApril.

Day 1 will be heavily text, for which apologies in advance.

A morning, after a characteristally disturbed night, given that: I was worrying about travel the next day; I was ahring my bed with suitcase, backpack and small bag instead of cats; and I had no said felines to reach out to for relaxing reassurance.

But the journey went very smoothly, and timing, including charging the car at Fleet Services on the M3, was optimal, such that I arrived at Gatwick Airport three and a half hours becore takoff, and the prospect of having to wait 90 minutes even before bagdrop. But a,word with an Easyjet official led to my being invited to try a vacant speedy boarding drop-off terminal to see if it would work. It did, and all I had then to worry about was my baggage getting misdirected because in the system so early. (Spoiler alert: it wasn’t.)

The flight took off and landed 15 minutes early.

But Olbia Airport’s machines were for handling the new passport checking system had so many glitches that we lost all that and double it getting through. (They never did manage to capture my fingerprints!)

But no matter, we still had to wait another 10 minutes because of the coach driver’s tachograph.

Followed a two-hour drive south- west across the island to Cabras. We arrived at our hotel, the Villa Canu, at 10.25 pm, very happy to reach our rooms and settle in. I took so long that my light was not out until 1.00, though at least it only felt like midnight.

But here we have arrived at Day 2, recounting which will have to wait until at least another fortnight…

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Apologies for glitches. I’ve not done a post on my phone before and I can’t see how to correct them.

Opening day for an Iron Age roundhouse

27 Friday Mar 2026

Posted by Musiewild in Geology, History, Industrial archeology, Photography

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Arthur Bulleid, Avalon Archeology, Avalon Marshes, Avalon Marshes Centre, Excavation hut, Glastonbury Antiquarian Society, Iceman, Iron Age roundhouse, Otsi, Peat Moors Centre, Richard Brunning, roundhouse, South West Heritage Trust

(About three millennia later.)

I posted almost exactly three years ago about my first visit to Avalon Archeology‘s site at the Avalon Marshes Centre. (The Avalon Marshes themselves are very extensive, including, as I have just seen from the map, my own home. The areas used to be known as the Somerset Levels, which, for geomorphological reasons, are strictly just a strip at the western edge of the county, between the sea and roughly the M5.) Since then I had been following progress via their blog site.

At that visit, the roundhouse had been in its very early stages. Even complete, in the Iron Age these houses only lasted some ten years or so anyway. This ‘modern’ one had been neglected, with other works taking priority, and the volunteers taking part every Wednesday in this experimental archeology project had had to start again, and on a somewhat different design. (As Richard Brunning said, if this one lasted more than ten years, their experimental archeology had gone wrong!)

Fortunately last Saturday the weather was quite unlike that of my previous visit, when it had been very cold indeed: the sun was shining and I was actually overdressed. I was there for the official opening of the project’s second* version of the Iron Age roundhouse, by a celebrity from BBC Radio Somerset. I was handed this very well-thumbed guide to the site when I arrived, but in the event did not look at it much at all. However the cover usefully serves to show what is to be seen there: the roundhouse, the dining room of a Roman villa, a Viking trading ship, a Saxon nobleman’s longhall, and an excavation hut. All, bar the ship and the hut, were created by volunteer enthusiasts, experimenting, under South West Heritage Trust supervision, with various construction techniques and materials, to find out what might have been used originally.

I arrived 20 minutes or so before the official opening time, so went inside the Roman dining hall, keen to see in particular the finished mosaic floor.

I did sit on the couch, intending to read the booklet, but soon got chatting, most serendipitously, with a woman there already. She turned out to be on the committee of the Glastonbury Antiquarian Society (a local history society, with its roots in the 19th century) from which I had not heard for a very long time, while still paying my sub by standing order. I now realise that I had changed my email, the old one dying the moment I had changed. I think she was even more delighted than I was that we had met, because she recognised my email as one of two that had kept bouncing!

The crowds were gathering to watch the opening. The Viking ship had acquired a mast since I was there last.

A woman was inviting any onlooker to make a pinch pot, into which soil and a bean would be planted, to take home. I declined.

After a few short speeches, the celebrity, Charlie I think his name was, hacked the rope asunder. This following picture looks posed, but is not. I thought I had caught the precise micro-second when his (French, mediaeval!) axe hit the rope, but I was a smidgeon out. And for once I regretted the sun. The light was too bright to get the necessary blurriness to capture the movement. (I know, I could have thought in advance about camera settings, …)

An earlier version of this gathering of some of the volunteers and others involved in the project did not have one single woman in it!

I think this woman was spinning wool.

In two of the last three photos, there are people in the background to the right taking not the slightest interest in these proceedings, but taking an intense interest in the trees in front of them. I went over to find out why. They were, they told me, hoping to see a brambling known to be in the vicinity, and a couple of redpolls.

It was time to explore the roundhouse.

Outside was an ancient axe enthusiast. He had made several experimental ones, and and had concluded that the almost unchanged axe design over the millennia was one of the oldest and most successful in the history of toolmaking. In response to my question, he said that there was no evidence that axe heads had ever been made of bone, but they had turned out to be extremely sharp – if not long-lasting!

This was just lying against the roundhouse. I asked him what it was. He said it was his attempted replica of the back pack beside the Iceman, Ötsi, by whom I remember being fascinated when he was discovered in 1991.

We were invited unto the Saxon longhall to hear a story. Some of us accepted.

I looked round the building afterwards and found that, unsurprisingly, the hall had many more accoutrements than before, all made by the volunteers.

Finally I went into the tin shack, sorry Excavation Hut, believed to be the oldest such in the world, and spent a few minutes there looking at a video about one of the local lake villages. The principal ones are Glastonbury and Meare.

Another pleasant way of passing a morning.

* ‘second attempt’. There had actually been previous roundhouses on the site. When I arrived in Somerset, nearly 15 years ago, I had passed the dilapidated constructions and wondered what they were. I have since learned about the Peat Moors Centre, closed in 2009.

Heal Somerset, March 2026

18 Wednesday Mar 2026

Posted by Musiewild in Countryside views, Industrial archeology, Photography, Wildlife

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Beaver dam, beavers, ground drainage, Heal Rewilding, Heal Somerset, King Alfred's Tower, Tamworth pig

Having visited this project for the first time last August, I was curious to see what changes had come about since then, so when they were offering a guided tour last Saturday, with the theme of ‘Wet, wet, wet’ I suggested to my friend Zoe that we make this our monthly ‘first Friday’ walk for March. She happily agreed, and her husband came too. Sadly a further friend had to cancel because of last-minute illness.

What a difference in the weather from two days previous and my trip to Catcott Lows! Brilliant sunshine throughout the visit, and no wind.

We started by visiting the wetland work done by non-humans. Last August, beavers, ‘natural’ not imported, had made half a dozen very small dams, of which we had been shown one, across a very narrow stream. Now……!

They had also produced three kits, caught on video. (More by searching on ‘heal somerset beaver video’.)

Humans had planted (if that’s the right word for just sticking twigs in the ground) young willows in the area.

Dan, who had taken us just as far as the beaver dam last August and then left us to wander at will, accompanied us for two hours this time. A great deal of work had been carried to create wetlands last October. Much of that was taking out parts of a very extensive ground drainage systems put from Victorian times onwards by the various farmers. The present aim is to restore the natural bogginess of some areas, and to let water run where it wants to, facilitated by a certain amount of digging work.

This was natural valley area.

And here we are looking back down towards it.

The experimental Great crested newt test area was still there,

as was King Alfred’s Tower (National Trust, near Stourhead).

The deer fence, of which I had previously seen the beginnings, was now completed, but there were still about half a dozen of the unwanted creatures inside it. Dan said the most they would really welcome was two for this amount of land. I seem to remember that they had been asking for volunteers a few months ago to help round them up – and out. This one was off in the far distance at one point, and I think it is the same one that can been seen – just – in the header picture.

We went into a field I had not explored last August, where a channel had been dug, and water flowed slowly.

Several scrapes had been dug in another field. They were filling because some of the old pottery ground drainage pipes and more modern plastic ones have been dug out. I took two pictures of this one because I liked the reflections from different angles.

This scrape had ‘failed’ because the water in it had found its way to pipes not removed. Dan gave the impression that in fact the entire property was riddled with drainage pipes, and they had been able to remove, hopefully judiciously, only relatively few of them. They they would hope to be removing more in due course.

And here he is with a section of modern drainage piping.

I can’t remember what the story of this area was.

Perhaps because in the distance behind Dan’s back I had spotted these two, Ticket and Tailor, the Tamworths, released some time back from the pen in which I had seen them previously, and now finding their own food.

They had grown! Now 18 months or so, (same as my ‘kittens’) and weighing perhaps 130-odd kg. They came running towards us. We had been told that they were still extremely friendly, but not to scratch them – I think so as not to encourage their attentions. They had a habit of picking one person and ‘nudging’ them. That person this time was me. I felt privileged. It was rather fun, though I failed to get a picture of the head of whichever ‘T’ it was rubbing against my calf. I was just concentrating on keeping upright!

This is the guilty one.

This is ‘Stage Zero’, the first stage in the evolution of a river. I think Dan said there were ten stages, but I’ve not been able to find out what they are, most sources mentioning just three or four.

Our time was coming to an end, and we returned, via the information room, to our starting point, enjoying a quick coffee in the sun before dispersing.

Heal Rewilding is a national charity, with the aim of having a project in each county. Their second, perhaps in Yorkshire, is currently at the planning stage.

Catcott Lows, March 2026

14 Saturday Mar 2026

Posted by Musiewild in Countryside views, Photography, Wildlife

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

Avalon Marshes, Canada geese, Catcott Lows, Glastonbury Tor, Glossy ibis, lapwing, Marsh Harrier, Mute swan, shoveler, Somerset Wildlife Trust, teal, tufted duck, wigeon

Having been invited by the Somerset Wildlife Trust to visit their Catcott Lows hide on the Avalon Marshes towards the end of last year, I recently received, along with others who had responded to a recent appeal, a further invitation, and spent the best part of an hour there a couple of days ago, in the expert company of the man on this linked video. There was the most horrendous gale all the time, as some of these photos will show, and at one point there was driving, almost sideways, rain. However, given the wind direction, we were snug as bugs in a rug, despite the open viewing windows, though were almost deafened by the shifting roofing, which fortunately stayed in place throughout our visit. (Part of the appeal is to replace this ageing hide with a new and considerably larger one.)

The light was not the best, but here is an impression of what we could see. A few general views to begin with. Grasses which should be upright, and birds facing into the wind, which will give them lift if they choose to fly off. (And I imagine they also prefer not to have the wind – how can I put this delicately? – not ruffling their tail feathers.)

Glastonbury Tor disappeared from time to time.

A glossy ibis, or rather the glossy ibis, came into view. It is thought to be a juvenile, and has been hanging around for a few weeks. There is a group of them in the Weymouth area, and this one will probably join it before long.

The vast majority of ducks to be seen were Wigeon.

The light improved briefly, and the wind dropped somewhat.

It was not easy to get a picture of the teal. It seemed that they were constantly doing this.

The best I could do.

A very distant marsh harrier kept low, dropping even lower into the long grass from time to time. Here it was battling the driving rain.

It was time to go, and let the next group take our places. Strangely, no-one took up the suggestion of a walk in the reserve. But we all agreed that it had been a fine way to spend a Thursday morning.

A museum and a walk in Bath

07 Saturday Mar 2026

Posted by Musiewild in History, Industrial archeology, Music-making, Photography

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Bath, Bath Avon, Bath River Line, Bath Rugby, Cyprus, Don McCullin, Hadrian's Wall, Holburne Museum, LS Lowry, New Schroder Gallery, Pulteney Weir, Somerset Levels, Zandra Rhodes

The Don McCullin exhibition at the Holburne Museum had been on my list for a while, and although it is on until May, I reckoned I’d better not leave it much longer, not least because I have a busy April in view.. Sadly the day I alighted on, yesterday, did not offer the best of weather, but it was a most enjoyable day out nevertheless.

Leaving my car at the Odd Down Park and Ride, I only had to wait a couple of minutes for the shuttle bus to depart for its terminus, at Southgate, near Bath Spa railway and bus stations. From there, avoiding the shopping area, the most direct route took me only about 15-minutes to walk to the museum. That said, I was pleased enough to get there. The weather was chillier than I had anticipated, and I regretted the lack of another layer of clothing and a hat.

Finding myself downstairs near the New Schroder Gallery, I deferred coffee and was surrounded by a roomful of Renaissance treasures, of which these are just two photos.

Even the those shown in my header picture are just a small part of the collection.

At coffee, I shared a table with a lovely couple from Marlborough. They were in Bath to pick up a dinner suit which he had had altered in order to wear it in a choral concert this weekend. This led to a great exchange of choral singing experiences.

Next was the exhibition of works by the renowned hard-hitting photographer, Don McCullin. [e.g.”In 1982, the British government refused to grant McCullin a press pass to cover the Falklands War, claiming the boat was full.^{[13][14][15][16][17]} At the time, he believed it was because the Thatcher government felt his images might be too disturbing politically.”]

All the photos were as dark as this, even if the background whites and creams have not come out true. My personal selection:

*Crowther’s Reclamation Yard, Isleworth, 1983*

These two photos both relate to the troubles in Cyprus in the 1960s. The island, where I was on holiday last Christmas, is sadly in the news again and you cannot get holiday insurance tor visit there now.

This next made me think of LS Lowry.

*Early shift, West Hartlepool Steelworks, County Durham, 1983.*

*Lalique vase with Indonesian figures, 1989*

McCullin has chronicled the Somerset Levels, where he lives, over four decades.

*The Somerset Levels near Glastonbury, 1990. (I think I recognise the path and rhyne.)*

The photographer is 90 this year.

A bonus at the Holburne was a Zandra Rhodes exhibition, models grouped by theme. All the colours were more vibrant than this.

Lovely to look at; I wish I had the courage to wear such outrageous clothes – even had I the means!

Lunch, a quiche, in the café was next on the menu, as it were.

Rather than walk back to Southgate the same way for my shuttle bus, I had noticed on the map that there appeared to be a somewhat longer route back, a footpath along the other side of the River Avon (one of many of that name in England). I would need to walk back along Great Pulteney Street,

with a tiny detour to take a quick peek at Bath Rugby ground. The temperature had risen by now, so I was no longer distracted by the cold. But the very dull day did not make for crisp photos.

To get onto the path, I was looking out for a gap between the shops, and almost missed this.

It was the advert at the bottom of these stairs for the restaurant (it turned out there were many more steps to the the bottom) that caught my eye, and then I also noticed this.

The Bath River Line. Great Pulteney Street actually forms part of the route.

*A less commonly seen view of the Pulteney Weir*

The Pulteney Radial Gate, seemingly scheduled for removal, which I think would be a shame. I love seeing relics of our industrial past. But if there is to be a hydroelectric scheme in its place, I suppose it’s to the good.

To my left somewhere along here were exits from the rugby ground.

An information panel said to look out for peregrine falcons at the spire of St John’s church from March to September. No luck, but then it is very early March. I did see a blackbird.

*Railway bridge and Post Office, sorting of that ilk I presume.*

*Another railway bridge, same line. It’s the river, not the track, that has taken a sharp bend!* *And Bath Spa station is between the two.*

*Looking back – this is a pedestrian bridge*. The building that looks as if it could be an old mill is actually a Travelodge. Perhaps it used to be.

Thank you for the tip about how to avoid wet feet, but this is where I leave the Bath River Line. The whole Line is noted for the future.

*This broad crossing is only for pedestrians and cyclists*

Two minutes later I was back at the bus stop, near The Forum, whose Art Deco interior I posted on four years ago – along with other views of Bath and the museum – where I had to wait just seven minutes for the shuttle bus back to the Park and Ride.

‘Ocean in Concert’

25 Wednesday Feb 2026

Posted by Musiewild in History, Photography

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Bristol, Bristol Beacon, Bristol City Council, Colston Hall, David Attenborough, Edward Colston, Joe Cornish, Lantern Hall, London Voices, Millennium Square, Ocean film, Ocean in Concert, Robert Ziegler, Steven Price, Welsh National Opera

David Attenborough’s film ‘Ocean‘ was released on 8th May, 2025, his 99th birthday. In his latter years he has gone no holds barred on the damage we are doing to the natural world, and this production was no exception, quite the opposite. We need sea life for our very existence. The film does, however, end on a positive note: just how quickly the sea recovers – if we will let it. I saw the film very shortly after it came out.

When, months ago, I learned that it was to be shown in the Bristol Beacon, as part of a very short tour, with a live orchestra and vocal ensemble, under the name ‘Ocean in Concert’, I was intrigued, and booked myself a place. The accompanying score was written by Steven Price, whose scoring debut was in 2011 to Joe Cornish’s ‘Attack the Block’. Last night’s performance was the first of five around the UK and Ireland. The orchestra was that of the Welsh National Opera, and the singers were the London Voices.

It looked to be a sellout. I had an interesting seat, not that I knew it would be when I booked.

It was a very interesting experience, neither concert not film, and I’m really really glad I was there. And yes, I did enjoy it, but I could have enjoyed it more. I confess that, like many, I am not normally very aware of the musical score to nature films, and I am sometimes annoyed at its intrusiveness. I have been persuaded however in the past of its desirability. But here, one was both at an orchestral concert and at a film, subtitled at that. I didn’t know where to look – at the orchestra, as I would at concert, and I wanted to, or at the visuals. Mostly of course I looked at the film, distracted sometimes by the subtitles, which I think were unnecessary. Perfect for sale to foreign audiences, but Attenborough has perfect diction. As they had clearly been able to strip the film of its score, the subtitles could have been removed as well – I don’t recall there being any last May.

It felt like sensory overload, but I cannot be sure that this wasn’t because it was so, so LOUD. Each player was miked up, I learned later, as were the six singers. The need for the latter I can understand, but it would have been so good to hear the orchestra naked, as it were, as orchestras at the venue are normally of course. As a result, Attenborough’s commentary was also very, very LOUD. So I can’t tell whether my less-than-perfect pleasure was because of the intense volume or because of trying to split my brain between music and vision.

I marvelled at the perfect co-ordination between music and vision, thinking that the conductor, Robert Ziegler, must have rehearsed a great deal to get his tempi correct, and have all text cues and clues very clearly indicated in his score.

There was a 25-minute interval, plenty of time for both a chocolate ice cream (Marshfield is an excellent local maker) and wandering around a bit. The Bristol Beacon is the recently refurbished former Colston Hall, renamed very belatedly after local protests that it had retained so long the name of a local slave trader.

I took a look from the doorway into the smaller Lantern Hall, which I’d never seen before, but didn’t go further or take a photo as there was some kind of exhibition going on, with stalls of people selling not wares but ideas.

I did take a few other desultory photos (transferred epithet, I know!) I’d like to have taken more, but there were – literally – hundreds of people milling around the more expansive views.

On returning to my place, I took the opportunity to ask the young man on the right in my first picture what he was doing. It was fascinating. He pointed out a screen at the conductor’s podium, and said that he was transmitting instructions to the him to ensure that co-ordination I had so wondered at. I do wish I had had time to ask many more detailed questions as to precisely how! As it was, I learned from him that the person on the left was the sound engineer. How I wish I’d had the courage to say that I was finding the whole thing very LOUD!

The remaining four performances are: this Saturday, 28th February, at the Royal Festival Hall, Sunday at Birmingham’s Symphony Hall, each of those with the CBSO, then 7th March in the Dublin 3Arena, (Ulster Orchestra) and finally in the Edinburgh Usher Hall on March 12th with the Scottish Ensemble. All conducted by Robert Ziegler, and with, basically, the same singers. I would urge anyone who has to chance to go, despite my comments. It was an amazing experience – and who knows, after this premiere last night, others’ comments may cause them to turn the volume down a bit.

Finally, a Bristol coda. I was in the city just two days earlier on what turned out to be a self-inflicted wild goose chase. While I was in the Millennium Square I saw, this. No, I have no idea. I’ll check next time.

Cyprus, December 2025 – 8

28 Wednesday Jan 2026

Posted by Musiewild in Cats, Countryside views, History, Museums, Photography, Travel

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

Cyprus, Moustakallis, Pafos, Polis, Polis Museum, protome, Red Arrows, Soli gin

Saturday, 27th. Officially the trip ended after breakfast, leaving just the journey home. But for most of us, our flights were not until mid-evening. The tour leaders were not obliged to lay on anything for the day, but, (as much for their own pleasure, no doubt!) they offered to lead those, who wanted to, back west, by the local bus, (€2 to anywhere on the island) Aphrodite’s ‘bathing place’ for further wildlife explorations. They would return for a hotel lunch early enough for those who had afternoon flights to get variously by taxi to Pafos and Larnaka Airports.

As I arrived at a luxuriously late breakfast, (i.e at my normal time at home!) I waved off that half-dozen intrepid explorers. I was one of four who had arranged to go west, also by the local bus, to explore Polis, aided by a sketch map of the town and a recommendation for a lunch place provided by Paul and Barbara, who had already ‘done’ the town before the tour started.

On my way to the bus stop, I sought out the hotel cats’ accommodation in the grounds.

The bus stop was not 100 metres from the hotel. I love any map, so couldn’t resist taking a photo of this plan of bus routes, covering just about the same area as this map in the first episode of this series. ‘Our’ corner is top left, Pafos at 7 o’clock, and Polis completely obliterated, perhaps by countless fingers over the years. Interestingly, there was no version in Cypriot (which, my taxi-driver a week earlier had told me, was the proper name of the language of ‘Greek’ speakers.)

Arrived in Polis, we decided first to check out the recommended restaurant, especially since many seemed to be closed. Having done so, we made our way back to the small pedestrian area,

found a table away from the very noisy locals enjoying themselves there, and sat down for a leisurely coffee.

*Shirley, our waiter, in the photo at my request, Marilyn amd Miriam*

Although my internet researches had just mentioned a particular church and a museum as being the only things now of real interest in Polis – it’s a very small town – the sketch map showed a amphitheatre. We found it on the edge of a municipal park!:

The centre of Polis is raised from the surrounding countryside.

As we continued to wander, not entirely aimlessly, we spotted the side of our restaurant in the distance – the photo is zoomed.

But we were making for the museum. Some regretted that this gin place nearby was closed. I’ve just found out that the brand was founded and run by (British presumably) expats.

It may be small, but Polis, previously known as both Marion and Arsinoe, has a very long history.

Entry was free for all. (We had not had to pay even the modest fee at the various sites earlier in the week – the only people owning up to being under 60 were our two leaders, one of whom jestingly bemoaned the fact that she just had two weeks to go!)

The museum was small but beautifully formed, and beautifully garnished. And gave me an intense desire to find out more about the history of Cyprus. My school history had told me it was of great importance during the Crusades, but beyond that… Its geographical position makes it clearly of strategic importance. When I had been there in 2009 I had had the enormous pleasure of seeing the Red Arrows, based in Akrotiri, practising.

I see that the British Foreign Office has, for the last two weeks, been saying “There is a heightened risk of regional tension. Escalation could lead to travel disruption and other unanticipated impacts “. And when I took out insurance a few days ago for my next holiday (April…) the company was excluding Cyprus from its European cover.

Anyway, back to more pleasant things. The exhibits were superb, and SO old.

*Attic imported, 6th to 4th Century BCE*

*Funeral statuettes, found only at Marion. Classical Period, 5th to 4th Centuries BCE*

Protome of a lion, end of 5th Century BCE Classical period, probably part of a funerary monument. [Wikipedia: “A **protome** (Greek: προτομή) is a type of adornment that takes the form of the head and upper torso of either a human or an animal.^[1][2] ..Protomes were often used to decorate ancient Greek architecture, sculpture, and pottery.]

And that is where my photos ended. After an excellent lunch, we returned to the hotel well before the time requested by our leaders. All those headed for the main flight back to Heathrow, (at 20.20) and we three for Bristol (21.05 local time theoretically, 21.35 in fact but still landing early) did a great deal of hanging around. I got to bed at 2.30 GMT (4.30 Cyprus time), on the Sunday morning, was up at 7.00 in order to collect my cats from the cattery, and was singing at 2.15 in the afternoon, an hour away from home.

A good holiday, lovely to be away from the very cold weather, in the UK, in good company, with excellent leaders, at a comfortable and very welcoming hotel and with really good food, including for vegetarians and vegans. What better way of spending Christmas?

Here are the links I promised to: the album of 283 amazing photos taken by Sarah, and the official account of the trip by the two leaders:

Cyprus, December 2025 – 7

25 Sunday Jan 2026

Posted by Musiewild in Countryside views, Geology, History, Photography, Plants, Travel

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

Akamas, Akamas Peninsula, Aphrodite Beach HOtel, Cyprus, Neo Chorio

Friday 26th. It was beautifully sunny at breakfast-time, and while, like most, I was not hardy enough to take my meal out on the restaurant terrace, I did take a few photos there afterwards.

*Well, it had started beautifully sunny.*

*There were nine small piles of cat food along the wall*. *Only three cats were feeding when I was there and two of them declined to allow me to post their photos.*

Our last official day started with Andreas driving us up, up to the top of the Akamas ridge. We had seen this on our walk the day before, when we had learnt thankfully that we would not have to walk up – though we would be invited to return under our own steam. Andreas was released at this point.

*The top panel says ‘Neo Chorio [our lunchtime target] 3 km’.*

By now, the weather had fulfilled the promise of those post-breakfast dark clouds, threatening rain, though not quite carrying through, damp, dull and pretty gloomy. We walked for a while along a very wide and claggy forest path, our shoes heavier and heavier. At one point, I noticed that Barbara was 3 inches/7 centimetres taller than she had started out. Much foot scraping occurred.

*Serpentinite, which had figured much in my geology course in 2007, and in the Cyprus geology field trip I had been on in 2009.*

After a while walking along the ridge, we went back to the signpost, and our destination was now downwards, the village of Neo Chorio. A few of us had a tendency to wander on ahead, so missed the many species found by and much lingered over by the keenest botanists (there didn’t seem to be many birds around) and were told to stop and gather at various forward points on the way.

The sun was now out again, the threat of rain over for the day, and it was even getting a little warm. I was attracted by the myriad backlit sparkling rain droplets on this tree, sadly not well reproduced here.

Two of us, well ahead of the others, came across a crowd of people from another group (friendly rivals from the huge company Naturetrek to our group with the very small company, Wildlife Travel, staying at the same hotel for half of the week) peering at a bank. They kindly pointed out an orchid which we two certainly would have missed, and perhaps even our ‘lagging’ colleagues. We stood and stood and stood, waiting for them in order to ensure they saw it. The official report explains why they had been so long – they had been seeing so many things of interest to them. (I think that some of us were just about flower-brain-fogged by now, especially by so much minute detail.)

Meanwhile I tried to get a decent photo of the orchid. But despite in theory knowing how to focus my camera manually, this is the best I could do. I was not prepared to clamber up the steep bank to get nearer, and even less to risk the hasards involved in clambering down, unlike some of the more intrepid (and younger) ones when they had caught up.

*Ophrys omegaifera subsp. israelitica*, a subspecies of the Bee orchid.

At one point, when all together, we were instructed to continue very carefully and quietly, before reaching some ponds, so as not to disturb a rare crab. In the event, it was indifferent to our presence.

*Levant Freshwater Crab* Potamon potamios

Those of us suffering from mammal starvation were delighted to see these,

and this baby donkey was, I’m sure, the most photographed creature of the day.

After what seemed a very long walk indeed, not least because of all the stops, we arrived at the village centre, where we sat down to enjoy a very copious meze meal at a taverna, which had opened especially for us. This was no light lunch!

After lunch, the choice was a walk of several kilometres downhill, with more botanising, etc, back to the hotel, or a taxi. Three of us chose the latter. All took a short walk though the village to the church, where the taxi would meet us.

*Cyprus did not gain independence from the UK until 1960*

A group photo taken there is in the album of fantastic photos taken by Sarah, to which I will provide a link at the end of the last post in this series.

We three headed for the hotel bar on return to take delayed post-prandial beverages.

I wandered round the extensive hotel grounds for the first time.

The explanation for the chapel is here.

Well content with my stroll (and occasional sits on the well-placed seats) I went back to my room and took photos from its north-facing terrace: to the east,

and towards the setting sun in the west.

Despite the very large meal we had had a few hours earlier, we managed to fit in an excellent dinner.

Strictly the trip was due to finish after breakfast the following day, but, for most of us, our flights were timed for the evening, so there is a short eighth and final chapter to come…

Cyprus, December 2025 – 6

22 Thursday Jan 2026

Posted by Musiewild in Cats, Countryside views, Photography, Wildlife

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

Aphrodite Beach HOtel, Cyprus, Laksi, Latchi, laughing dove, Narcissus tazetta, Troodos lizard

Thursday, 25th. Driver Andreas had Christmas Day off, of course, and we set off on foot. But not before observing these three Laughing doves on the roof of one of hotel buildings.

Having turned right, westwards, along the road on Sunday, this time we turned left,

but soon went inland (south) into the hills, following a large arc, eventually back to the road.

*I have no explanation of this formation. Part of an old castle? Not another sign of it so. A geological erratic? No idea*.

*Growing at the roadside at the edge of a property. I enjoyed the sunlight though the flowers.*

Stella, the hotel dog, (who seemed to get on well with the nine cats) chose to accompany us. This troubled the leaders, though I didn’t understand why – clearly she knew her way around very well. It turned out it was for fear she would flush out creatures we might hope to see.

I looked back towards the location of the hotel. Is that a storm on the horizon?

*Someone’s eagle eyes spotted a Troodos lizard on the trunk of this carob tree.*

*The zoom on my camera helped me find it.*

*Fan-lipped orchid about to burst into flower*

We started to feel the odd spot of rain.

We made our way down the hillside, crossed the main road, and started to make our way down the the beach, via more rocky pools. The intention was to walk back to the hotel along the beach. But the rain was too much for some of us, and we decided just to walk back along the road to the hotel. I had a brolly with me, fortunately. Less fortunately, about half way back (in total about a mile) the ankle that had played me up near Fort Augustus in May started playing me up again. Once home from that trip, I had bought some ankle-strengtheners, but after a few weeks had had no more problems with it, so it hadn’t crossed my mind to pack them for Cyprus. My walking pole was a boon, as I limped along the road. (No photos – pole and umbrella occupied my hands!) I lagged behind as the others overtook me, and was very happy indeed when I made it back to my room, where I had my packed lunch.

The rest of the party was not, as I gathered later, much further behind.

The rain stopped, the sun came out, my ankle had recovered somewhat after a couple of hours’ rest, and I felt very deprived of the beach walk to which I had been much looking forward. So I set off mid-afternoon, quite gingerly, from the hotel, to treat myself on my own. (A few of the others, I understand, caught the bus – running on Christmas Day – back to Aphrodite’s pool, and continued their explorations of the Akamas peninsula that had been foiled by Sunday’s thunderstorms.)

Down to the beach was quite a steep slope.

I looked down and noticed I had one of the cats for company.

Surely he would leave one I got to the wet sand, I thought. But no. In fact he left me at what appeared to be the exact boundary between the hotel and the next property.

I didn’t go far, but was out for about an hour. Not only was walking not easy on the loose, coarse sand, on a steeply sloping beach, but I was mesmerised by the surf and just stood there watching for ages. I took dozens of photos, and a few videos, much thinned out here, the Troodos Mountains to the east for backdrop. The noise!

As aften happens when I am solitary on a beach, the lovely ‘On the beach at night alone‘, from Vaughan Williams’s Sea Symphony, words by Walt Whitman, came to mind.

I climbed back up the slope to the hotel, made for the bar, and had a hot chocolate. I had grown a little chilly standing around with the sun going down.

For our dinner, a few of us had brought Christmassy wear. I had knitted mine, a dress in fact, and was very gratified at comments, including from a Dutch woman who jumped up from her group’s table to compliment me on it as I was passing. As for the meal, among the many choices, including vegetarian, were the elements of a full British traditional Christmas dinner, as there had been the night for the benefit of those who have their main festive meal on the 24th. There was also a huge Christmas cake, spicy and rather lighter in texture than we are used to.

As I walked back to my room, in a separate building, I puzzled at how it was, just a few days after the winter solstice, the sun should hit the moon at a lower angle in a country so much further south than the UK, given that both countries are north of the Tropic of Cancer. I’m still puzzling.

Cyprus, December 2025 – 5

19 Monday Jan 2026

Posted by Musiewild in Countryside views, Photography, Plants, Travel, Wildlife

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Agios Georgios, Aphrodite's dandelion, Blue rock thrush, Cape Drepanon, common darter, Cyprus, hyacinthella millingenii, lacertid lizard, Magic Oak, monk's cowl, necropolis, Pafos, Pegeia, Pegia, Polis, Polis Chrysochou, Quercus infectoria, Troodos lizard

Wednesday 24th. Very pleasant weather all day, who would have believed it was Christmas Eve?

Not so far to travel today. First we stopped in the local town, Polis (Polis Chrysochou to give it its full name), to admire a Very Old Oak. Touristically called locally the Magic Oak, it was a:

It was huge! Impossible to get it all in one view, unless one went a long way away, having crossed a very busy road, which we didn’t.

Leader Sarah showed us fallen acorns, to prove that, whatever its leaf shape, this tree was indeed an oak.

Best of all was just standing under it and looking up.

We moved on to Pegia Forest (about half way down and a little inland on the map). I had been regretting that on this lovely day we were to be spending time in a forest, but I had not envisaged this airy space.

We spent the morning being guided around this large area. The cognoscenti were well pleased, and I was well pleased to be with them. (By the way, the last post in this series will hopefully contain links to the formal trip report, including the names of all the species, animate and other, that we saw, and to an album of more than 250 amazing photos taken by joint leader Sarah.

All these – and much, much more of interest – were in one small area, near where driver Andreas had dropped us. We moved on to examine the edges of a rather sticky forest path, and in due course some rock pools.

I did not venture onto the rocks, fearing for both my balance and my ankles.

*I’m pretty sure that it is Paul, inveterate rock-turner, in the distance.*

Phil, joint official leader, came back from his expedition to the other side of the rocks with this photo of a tarantula. There had been a whole colony of them. This variety was not dangerous, they said.

(I found it interesting how many of my companions used phones to take very close-up pictures of, particularly, plants, with no settings to be worried about, as far as I could see.)

We arrived at a picnic area, a little early for lunch, but sat and refreshed ourselves for a while – it was by now quite hot. Andreas later said that the following day, 25th December, it would be absolutely packed with locals.

We found this Troodos (‘Troh-ohdos’) lizard on the low perimeter wall. It posed beautifully for photos.

We followed another wide forest path for perhaps half a mile…

… to a viewpoint on a cliff edge.

Most ate their picnic lunches (provided by the hotel) here. I couldn’t find anywhere to sit comfortably, short of dangling my legs over the cliff edge which I didn’t fancy, so I made my way back to the picnic area, finding that fellow traveller Wendy had returned there some time earlier. We ate companiably, and I chatted with Andreas, who had by now brought the minibus here, for a short while. “What do you do all the time you’re hanging around for us, Andreas?” “TikTok – but there’s no internet here!”

In due course, Andreas drove us to the coast, to the small town of Agios Georgios – St George – where our next visit was meant to be to:

– but it was closed.

We were encouraged to visit the eponymous church, which I found much more beautiful on the outside than the inside.

*No dragon for England’s patron saint …*

With, now, time to spare, we took advantage of a café on the very sunny square, overlooking the small harbour. Ice-creams were the favourite refreshment.

In the very far distance was spotted a blue rock thrush. (I daren’t crop and enlarge this photo any more – it will become even fuzzier.)

Down at the harbour, we observed a Roman necropolis.

But the main purpose of our being there was to search for Aphrodite’s dandelion, with no certainty of finding it. We (they, to great excitement) did! Taraxacum aphrogenes, also known as the Pafos dandelion, is unique to Cyprus, and to the Pafos district.