Avalon Marshes, Somerset 40km ride 15th March 2022 - podcast
Our planned ride from Somerton is almost put aside for another day as the skies are grey, but at eleven
o’clock the sun decides to grace us with her presence, and we set off along the tiny Somerset lanes we
are becoming quite familiar with.
Last summer the hedges were thick, and I found these lanes a little claustrophobic, but today they are
just waking from their winter slumber and tiny buds adorn the branches and twigs. We can see
through to the fields, orchards, and smallholdings which adorn the sides of the lanes.
A merlin swoops down across the hedges and into a tree, and we hear the distinctive call of a chiff
chaff while admiring daffodils brightening the edge of the green-grey hedge bottoms. Blackbirds sing
and some tell us off for disturbing their world. The air is full of hope and new beginnings.
We pass the duck pond, but it is empty today. The lanes are quiet, and any traffic is gracious to the
two brightly coloured cyclists wending their way at a relaxed pace across this vast flat landscape. We
continue through High Ham and Henley towards Ashcott where a hill surprises us, and our legs enjoy
the change of pace.
The views from the top of the hill are far reaching, we can see the cliffs of cheddar gorge and the
stretches of the Somerset levels, and if there was not a haze, we’d be able to see the coast.
We continue to Shapwick, cross a busier road, and then along a quiet road with ditches and drains on
either side, some have been recently dredged and the soil is dark with peaty goodness and our noses
twitch at the dank, wet, aroma. Green weed covers the surface of this still water.
Some fields are tufted with marsh grasses and others are speckled with white, slender necks, there
are at least fifty swans, two are dabbling in a side ditch and do not mind me taking a photo.
Sadly, many of the ditches are decorated with rubbish, some debris from winter flooding but there
are also many plastic bottles and drink cans which make us sad. There is no excuse for anyone to litter
the countryside especially when this is a nature reserve. No-one can plead ignorance anymore. But
we concentrate on the good, the beauty, the straight lines, the clear clean water in the larger drains
and enjoy the warmth of the sun.
I stop to take a photo of a lamb, proof spring has arrived, and a passing cyclist asks if all is okay? I thank
him and smile. I love the camaraderie of cyclists.
Two smiling men in camouflage gear and cameras with long lenses walk along the edge of the road,
they smile and say hello, obviously enjoying the delights of the marshes. I’m sure they will see and
identify many more birds than we will.
There are parking areas and signposts for walks and hides on both sides of the road, but we turn into
the Avalon Marshes centre where picnic tables invite us to sit. There are several people, many who
also have their bicycles with them.
We enjoy a jacket potato and a cup of tea while sitting in the sunshine. It’s warm enough to remove a
couple of layers. We are content.
We visit the craft gallery and are impressed with the quality of the crafts on sale, information, and the
friendly staff before leaving and taking a different route back. This time we turn off the road and onto
a cycle track along the south drain. This track goes all the way to Glastonbury, but we are not going
that far, not today. The sun has hidden behind clouds and there is a slight wind but it’s not cold. We
are so enjoying this ride.
We don’t get far before we stop to take photos of the marshes. Water bird calls fill the air and there
are numerous walks and hides and information boards. Many people walk and cycle along with us,
smiling, relaxed, enjoying the day.
We stop to read about the peat industry and how this tranquil setting was once an industrial area with
trains. It’s hard to believe as we pass a peaceful scene of highland cattle grazing the opposite edge of
the water. They are using these cattle and goats to graze and fertilise the land. Really nice to see.
The marshes stretch away, wild, and full of life, water and reeds providing a wonderful habitat and we
stop to take several photos
What is that?’ I say with a frown, was it a twisted piece of wood or a black bird. Maybe a cormorant?
We stop and cycle back to look again and the twisted wood stretches it’s wings before resuming its
statuesque pose. It is a cormorant, but then we are not too far from the sea.
Recently, we discovered there are cormorants where we live in the Jura mountains of France, far from
the sea. These are Great Cormorants and they have been migrating into Switzerland for years butsince
2001 they are breeding on the lakes. The first nests were found at Lac de Neuchatel and now they fly
through our skies. I’ve yet to see one.
We stay on this easy to ride compacted earth track, until we reach the RSPB Ham Wall reserve, and
we turn back onto the lanes which take us back to Ashcott.
A flock of small white birds following cattle in a field catch our interest and we stop to try and identify
them. They look like egrets but are too small. A car pulls up alongside us and the occupants inform us
that they are cattle egrets, the smallest of the three types of egrets in the UK. These birds migrate to
the UK, and the Somerset levels are one of their favourite places. They follow cattle, snatching up
worms and bugs disturbed by the cattle’s feet.
Cattle egrets were rare visitors to the UK until the winter of 2007/2008 when over 200 of them were
recorded and the first breeding pair was sighted in Somerset. Since then they have become
increasingly common although they are still a rare breeding bird in the UK.
We love learning more about the creatures we share this land with.
A flock of goldfinches dive in and out of the hedges, blue tits swoop up and down in front of us, and a
tiny wren darts and scolds as we pass. This has turned into a bird appreciation ride.
As we turn back onto familiar lanes, I look out for a tree I spotted on the way.
An old ash tree which has been kept short and created a wonderful, tangled haven for birds. It reminds
me of a cupped hand. A blackbird looks down at me as I stop to take a photo, but I’m not scolded. A
little further along the lane and Martin warns me to slow down as a light brown and white speckled
duck waddles across from one hedge to the other, she takes her time, maybe she is laden with eggs.
We approach the hill which takes us into Somerton and spy an elderly gentleman pushing his elderly
bicycle. We stop to make sure he is okay, that he doesn’t have a puncture. He smiles and says he’s just
taking his time as hills are harder than they used to be. He’s grateful we have stopped to ask, and we
have a nice little chat about cycle rides and where we have been before we climb the hill and arrive
back to where we set out from.
There has been a huge change in the UK cycling world since we left to live in France. There are
hundreds of miles of dedicated cycle ways, a greater awareness and courtesy from other road users,
and a general caring friendship from fellow cyclists.
We feel lucky and happy, although our butts disagree, that’s the longest ride we’ve done this year.
It’s left us wanting more.
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