Working for the benefit of future generations

By the session leader:

The Green Gym plaque on the gateway proclaims We Woz ’Ere, and here we are again.  

This time, to do river-bank restoration (green engineering).   The aim is to restore the natural line of the water-edge on this stretch of the Thames beside Wallingford.  At two critical spots, the bank has had a bite taken out of it.  In one place, the bank was demolished by cattle walking down to the river to drink.  In the other place, it has been worn away below the water-line by the effect of inconsiderate humans (deep wash created by boats being powered too fast along this reach).

The landrover arrives with a trailer-load of “bundles”:

Bundles of willow branches, that is, aka … [we can’t say on the internet, not even if we post a disambiguation notice beside the term – Ed.]  These bundles were produced last winter at Mowbray Fields, Didcot – very probably by us – and have been kept in storage ever since, awaiting the necessary license for the work from the Environment Agency.

The first task is to unload the consignment …

then to retie the bundles, which have come apart during the long wait to be Useful:

There is a great debate about the best knot to use:

• the postman’s ‘parcel knot’
• the trucker's knot (‘the slip-one-way-but not-t’other knot’)
• a loop knot with a long tail for a reef knot
• a sailor’s bowline with a couple of hitches to finish

Meantime, some of the sturdier branches are to be made into verticals, to hold bundles in position.  To cut a point on a stake efficiently, you check which way the branch bends, and start with a cut on the inside of the largest bend …

then turn the stake over, and cut on the other side.  That way, the stake will tend to go in straight when driven into the ground, and will be easy to bash into place.

With three on the job, it is easy to keep up a good rate of production:

"Just listening to the sound, you'd think we were back in the bronze age"

The first batch of materials ready, volunteers just have to find the edge of the shoreline amid the fiery autumn colours:

Next, bank in one or two stakes to form a framework, with nature’s own hammer, aka a ‘bodger’:

By tea-time, the landie is half empty.  So there is room for the more delicious apple cake:

Finally, we can fill in – with bundles laid between the stakes – to make a substantial barrier.  This will trap the silt when the river floods, and collect lovely soil for at least some of the stakes to take root and build up the bank again:

And in a hundred years’ time, no-one will know just from looking at the river-bank that there ever had been a problem with erosion.

A familiar scene

By the session leader:

We arrived at the watercress beds today fully waterproofed, under grey skies.  But then.  Within 3 minutes of starting work, the sun blasted through the clouds, jackets and jumpers were shed, and there were calls for sunglasses.

This dashing pair of wellies sparkled in the sun with its inset cats’ eyes.

Today’s task was an old favourite: making a 2-metre-wide channel through the water cress:

Cut stuff was floated/dragged downstream …

and forked up on to the bank ...

where a wheelbarrower waited in eager anticipation:

After tea, our task was to attack and seriously reduce a clump of reeds, slashing at its feet and hauling its roots out. 

“This was what turned a great session into a really great session.”

Our last 15 minutes involved nearly everyone, clearing up the roots and rhizomes, forking and barrowing the heavy soggy rooty mats up to the compost. 

When we had finally finished clearing up after ourselves, counted all the tools back, and turned for home, this was the now tranquil scene – with smoothly flowing stream – we were leaving behind:

In the sunny uplands

By the session leader:

We left our homes shrouded in mist, so what was the day going to be like on the top of the Chilterns scarp?  Would the sun be out when we got there?

Answer was YES:

Looking out over the valley, we could see the ominous bank of mist that we had left behind:

Getting to the work-site itself, however, was not going to be easy.  Our target was the ‘goat enclosure’, where we were to tackle banks of brambles.  (The goats, who were previous residents of the enclosure, gave up on the job some years ago, leaving it to madcap humans, such as Green-Gymmers, to carry on.)  The slope may have been fine for goats, but it was too steep, wet, and slippery for us to get down by the most direct route.  The brambles which had been cut back in previous years – and have since embarked on a determined regrowth project – also made for an interesting trip hazard.  So, slowly and carefully, we had to take the long way round:

It was only when we had arrived that we appreciated the scale of the task ahead.  In front of us lay a formidable bank of brambles still to be cut – some of them defended by hawthorn and wild-rose.  We spread out, some to the right …

one in the middle …

and others on the left:

Those were the Green-Gymmers who could still be seen.  Others rather disappeared from view, as they followed the instruction to cut “channels” through the bramble-banks, to open up the way for those who will follow on after with brush-cutters:

After tea-break, a short sharp shock of a bonfire rapidly disposed of the brash …

while other volunteers battled on against the bramble fortresses:

By the end of the morning, the view into the distance looked much clearer:

Behind, the sun through the trees and smoke created a quite magical effect:

To round off – because I can’t think of any way of introducing the subject, but it’s a cute photo – here is a picture of my friend Mickey, whose agility rivals that of squirrels in running across a clothes line and stealing food from the bird feeder: