Down by the boardwalk – in November

By ‘C’:

A game of musical cars was how our morning began: fitting in a slightly larger number of vehicles than we had been expecting into a remarkably small space.

Having resolved the problems of the temporary car-park (and noted that C was the only driver who needed to be ‘marshalled in’ to get through the only-just-wide-enough entrance: well done, everyone else), most of the group proceeded to a game of musical barrows.  This was all in aid of moving rotting logs from one area (fen), which is a good habitat in its own right, to a place where they could be good beetle-habitat.

Here the barrows are lined up ready for action – except that one is facing the other way:

Which way was the right direction, was something which was not entirely clear.  The problem was that, by the most direct route, the distance was only a short one, but cumbersome.  A bridge-widening scheme would be welcome:

That to avoid loading, unloading, and reloading, the barrows would need to be wheeled in the opposite direction, was not something which many of the volunteers heeded until after the first batch of wood had been loaded:

At that point, a practical time-and-motion experiment was launched.  Some Green-Gymmers moved towards the narrow bridge.  While others turned their barrows round, and set off on the long walk around the boardwalk:

It was a slightly eerie landscape to be working in.  The cold light of a grey late-November day did not greatly enhance the charm of our surroundings:

Volunteers were nevertheless heard to comment that it was their “favourite job”, manhandling bits of wood, so they seemed happy enough.  And the result of the transport experiment was that those who took the shortcut via the bridge arrived first.

Meanwhile, down by the river, a pair of Green-Gymmers was also happily engaged. 
They were happy because they were doing a job which was quite unusual for us – something literally constructive for a change:

That is the latest in innovative housing in rural Southern Oxfordshire, lovingly designed and handcrafted, to meet the requirements of highly discerning customers: Sandmartins.

The task for our volunteers was to put in an extra layer of intruder-proofing: what they described as ‘skirts’.  As one of the site staff cheerfully explained, the idea was to avoid this development becoming “the McDonalds for rats”.  Extra timber panels were cut to size, then glued and screwed in place, with an 2” drop all round:

My own place in all this was principally as bringer of additional wheelbarrows, extra tools, etc to order, beginning with a hammer.  As the volunteers explained:

You’re gopher-in-chief today really.

– Yeah, go for it, Chief!

Duly going for it (in the sense of cheerfully walking over to the tool-shed), I wondered what kind of hammer was required.  Not a silver hammer, obviously; or a toffee hammer.  “An ordinary carpentry hammer,” they had said; but the only one I could find was more of a lump hammer.  I decided to take it along anyway, and then undertake a further search for a regular hammer.  As it happened, to knock in timbers into their respective slots, a lump hammer was precisely what they required.

Tea-break was enlivened by an extremely chocolaty chocolate-cake for a volunteer’s birthday, discussion of a date for our ‘Christmas’ social (as in previous years, a Tuesday late in January), and the showing off of our latest piece of kit.  Most groups would have a fire-box (containing matches, kindling, etc) that is red.  Ours is green – a model chosen for its waterproof properties:

After the break, the housing team continued with their improvements to the new Sandmartin block.  Some of us stayed beside what would have been the fireside, had we had a bonfire today, to help with moving items connected with the restoration of the winch.  The winch itself needed to be lowered to a horizontal position, and secured.  Other items, awaiting assembly, were sorted into storage spaces.  These two bearing-caps had been through the restoration process:

The one on the left has just been cleaned.  The one on the right has been cleaned and re-painted.  Eventually – in about two years’ time – the whole winch mechanism will be gleaming in fresh black paint, and the bearing-caps will be in their proper position:

The rest of the volunteers moved straight on to clearing cut reeds.  These had been ‘shaved’ off by heavy machinery in the area overhung by the willows, which had presented such a hazard the previous week.  The reeds had to be raked, pitch-forked into barrows, and wheeled to the bonfire site.

Transporting the cut stuff was not so easy with barrows almost overflowing.  The wheelbarrow-wheelers concentrated ever so hard:

But no matter how hard they tried (and it was very trying: I know, I had several turns myself), even so they would often have to stop to re-position the load …

and they left a trail of reeds along the footpath:

We must be sure, the present site staff said, to return to the spot in April.  For where we had been working, should by then be a carpet of white. – Witness the first small shoots of the famous Thames-side Loddon Lilies:

Get word to April

To rescue me