10 volunteers and leader Paul met
at Gate Bridge Watermill for a second week of pulling balsam in a most
beautiful location near Galphay. Those
of us who, for a variety of reasons, had been unable to partake of the
hospitality of the Brindleys last week waited with baited breath to be offered
the freshly baked goodies served with afternoon tea that the other volunteers
had told us about. We were not disappointed and 2pm became the
"target" of the day as the invitation was kindly extended by Bronwyn
Brindley to go for a cup of tea etc!
We set off for the balsam, armed
with a "flotation" device that Joanne had requested last week.
Paul had brought a small polystyrene surf board (was this a joke?) which seemed
woefully inadequate to aid a safe crossing to the other
side of the stream. Far more suitable to get to that elusive balsam were the most stylish and elegant waders that he produced from
his van, and which some of the more fashion conscious volunteers eagerly
offered to wear. Ropes and a couple of skinny looking life jackets were also
taken with us in the name of health and safety.
Waderless, Laura has to content herself with the
less exciting job of counting blades of grass.
Oi! You without the waders. Out of the water. Now!
Joanne is happy in her work.
Paul struggles to remain upright in the raging torrent.
To ensure the safety of the intrepid (stupid?) folk, who squelched their way into the muddy waters to pull the balsam
along the banks of the stream, some of us remained
on the strip of land between the stream and the mill race to keep an eye on
them. Our task was to pull any remaining balsam from this strip between the 2
water courses that had been missed last week. Easy Peasy - except it wasn't. Where does all this stuff come from?!
I've found some here.
I've found some more over here. And here. Oh - and here too.
John takes a break to straighten up.
The sheer enormity of the task up the slope ahead causes
one NCV to make a bid for freedom under the wire.
We stopped for lunch, waders off (waders on gave to much of the effect of a beached whale!) Only an hour to go to
that all important 2pm date with tea and cakes. And we were not disappointed.
Civilisation with a capital C. Suitably fortified and grateful we returned to
do another hour's "pulling", before, with aching backs, we admired our day's
work and the piles of stacked balsam we'd shifted.
The best kind of balsam is a heap of dead balsam.
We collected up the
equipment and on the way back Joanne just had to pull up some mammoth plants
that were coming into flower. Balsam's like that - you just can't leave it
alone! Or can you?
Ros K.
No comments:
Post a Comment