The natural Navigation: The Right Course, Naturally

I went for a short circuitous walk in the Lavington Plantation area yesterday morning. Always on the lookout for natural navigational treats, I was also secretly hoping to spot an adder – the area is known as a popular refuge for our island’s only poisonous snake. In fact there is even a marked walk known as ‘The Serpent’s Trail‘, thought by many to be named after its twists and turns, but actually in testimony to the reptiles that enjoy the mixture of sand and mud on its heathland.

The conditions were perfect, I could feel the summer heat rising up off the dust and sand and, had I been a snake myself, I would certainly have availed myself of the opportunity to do some serious basking. But sadly I met none and returned home without having dodged any venomous fangs, knowingly at least.

I did however come across a small stagnant…

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I landed back at Gatwick last night following an accidental visit to Tenerife.

The wind has been my friend on so many occasions recently, a dependable breeze helping me on my way through the woods or the clouds scudding overhead pointing the way home. It was probably time that it reminded me that it is not just in the business of helping me on my walks.

The plan was simple: I wanted to use a one week gap in the diary to get out to one of the wildest spots within five hours of home to do some natural navigation research. Days one to six went well as I walked, mainly without reference to map, compass or GPS (all were within reach), around the dramatic volcanic landscapes of La Palma in the Canary Islands. More details to follow here over the coming weeks, including photos of the incredible ‘Caldera de Taburiente‘.

Day 7…

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The snow is melting away, but not at the same speed everywhere. The warmer wind which is blowing from the southeast today is leaving green swathes wherever it reaches. In this photo, which is taken looking east, the snow in the top right corner is being sheltered by woodland, but the snow to the left is also being left relatively untouched by the same wind because it is partly in the lee of the hill, but also because the woodland to the left of the picture is forcing the airflow up over it. In aviation terms the wind appears to be performing a ‘touch-and-go‘, coming into land before taking off again straight away.

I had hoped to sail to the Isle of Wight on Saturday with some old friends. We slipped Chichester marina at eight in the morning in my Contessa 32, fully aware that the forecast was a bit spicy. The sense of foreboding increased slightly when the Chichester marina lock-keeper called down to me, ‘Have you seen the forecast?’ I said ‘Yes. Force 6 gusting 9.’ He replied, ‘OK, well when the lock gates open you will need to gun the engine full throttle and hold your line otherwise you will be blown straight onto the piles.’ I thanked him and felt a small surge of adrenaline.

We made our way out into the harbour and at times it was hard to hear each other speaking as the wind whistled past our ears. After an hour I decided that we ought to swallow our pride and return to the marina and postpone the…

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It is a pity that I didn’t have a video camera with me to capture the motion in this puddle. The wind was blowing in from the southwest, but the trees that can be seen in the reflection of this puddle were offering some shelter. The half of the puddle nearest the trees was in their lee and receiving little or no wind. The half that was further from the trees was catching a breeze as it dropped down over the trees. The net result was that the muddy bubbles were being corralled into the lee half, where they were also being pushed gently from one side. It set up a gentle, but constant gyre of bubbles in only one half of the puddle. In a very roundabout way, that has some similarities with other lee methods, the dirty bubbles in this puddle are trying to point in the direction…

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Shortest blog, but a good’ un, which way am I facing when I took this picture?

I ran a private course in the South Downs on Saturday for a group of four friends. One of them gave me a great example of using our senses and a little lateral thought to better connect with nature. Rachel lives southwest of Medway power station and said that she could tell when it was going to snow in winter because these were the only times she could smell the power station itself. The colder northeasterly winds bringing snowy weather and local smells with them.

I took this picture a week ago. It shows the lower fair-weather cumulus clouds against the upper cirrus clouds. It is not at all unusual to watch the lower clouds and upper clouds move in different directions and to feel a third wind direction on your face at the same time.

My thanks to Richard, who sent in this picture from a lad’s walking weekend along the Jurassic Coast. He was given a private course as a birthday present and was on the lookout for natural signposts. Wind and trees don’t scream direction a lot louder than this. He also spotted sand blown only over the northeastern edge of a horse training area and found Polaris, but then struggled to see it from the inside of a pub.