Running out of time

Saturday 17th December looked like being the last day of the recent big freeze but despite that, it was also the only day of the weekend where the weather looked conducive to a bike ride. With the year list on 220, time was running out to match last year's total of 224, and I was prepared to make a significant effort to move a step closer. 

American Wigeon, Pennington

A family party of Bewick's Swans at Abbotsbury mid-week didn't linger until the weekend, so by Friday night my best option looked like a more settled target: an American Wigeon at Pennington Marshes which had been present for several days. Although this was over the border into Hampshire, and a round trip of nearly 70 miles, it was a journey I had completed twice already this year (for a Lesser Yellowlegs in July and a selection of other waders in August) so I knew it was within my range. 

Those earlier trips were, however, completed in a T-shirt and temperatures about 20-30 degrees warmer than at the peak of the cold snap. With a lot of ice still about, setting out in the dark seemed a bit reckless, and whilst I was confident the roads would have been salted, daylight would at least give me a better chance of seeing any lingering spots of black ice. In the end the roads were universally clear, but some of the off-road cycle paths were still a bit treacherous - worth bearing in mind next time you hear someone moaning about cyclists being on the road! 

I hit the road around 0745 and my route took me clockwise around Poole Harbour, through a frosty Upton Country Park, down to Baiter and onto the long sweep of the Poole Bay seafront; then past the piers of Bournemouth and Boscombe to Southbourne, from where I headed north to Christchurch via the Tuckton Bridge. From there I followed the bypass to Highcliffe before zig-zagging down to Barton-on-Sea, onwards to Milford-on-Sea and eventually, after 33 miles and about 3 hours in the saddle, joining Lower Pennington Lane at Keyhaven. News came through that the American Wigeon was still present not long after I left home, filling me with confidence that it would still be there by the time I arrived later that morning.

The 69 mile route to Pennington

At about 1045 I rolled the bike along to a gap in the hedge from where the frozen surface of Efford Lake could be seen, only to see a large flock of duck fly overhead. The frozen surface of the lake looked worrying empty, and scanning with a scope produced just the odd Eurasian Wigeon. Another Dorset birder Chris Chapleo arrived at this point, breaking the unwelcome news that although he had seen the American Wigeon shortly before I arrived, it had indeed flown off, no doubt with the flock I had seen leaving as I arrived.

A large flock of duck were on the opposite side of the track to the lake, so we moved around for a better view but there were only a few Wigeon amongst them. I parted company with Chris and headed for the coast path. Many more Wigeon were feeding there in a deep channel and on the saltmarsh beyond the seawall, and despite grilling them for over an hour, with a biting cold wind whipping at my legs, I could not relocate the rare visitor. 

Returning to the relative shelter of the lake seemed like the best option and several locals who had assembled there convinced me that it was only a matter of time before the American Wigeon reappeared at its favoured spot. Almost three hours after I arrived, it finally did so and I enjoyed decent views and even a few photos as it moved from the ice to feed on the grass just west of the lake. Although often obscured, the bird could be readily picked out when it raised its head to show the creamy blaze on the forehead and bottle green face pattern. 

I had hoped for a quick result so I could return home in daylight but it was 1400 before I packed up the camera and telescope and began the long ride home. The first hour was ok but the following breeze which had been almost imperceptible on the way there sapped my energy on the way back. I ploughed on and knew I had broken the back of the journey when I passed the midway point around Bournemouth pier. I made good use of the free water refill stations on the seafront but as darkness fell the cold returned and each turn of the pedals seemed to get harder.

By this point the cold was such that travelling at anything over 10mph seemed to induce a brain freeze as if I was eating ice cream too quickly. Fortunately, such giddy speeds could only be achieved on the limited downhill stretches and I could barely manage 8mph for the rest of the journey home. I finally made it back to Wareham around 1740 to find that the children had reprised a previous party trick of using all the hot water, depriving me of the balm of a warm shower for another painful hour. 

When it eventually came it was was gratefully received. After a shower and dinner, American Wigeon was finally added to the virtual notebook - 221 on the year list and 257 on the non-motorised life list - over a celebratory cider before I turned in for the deepest of sleeps.

Spotted Redshank, Pennington