Rutherfordland, almost, had to be worth a visit. I had been once before ... vague memories of a wedding party with German guests telling me that singing 'Deutschland Uber Alles' was not quite the done thing. Sheepish winces at the memory reminded me that this what not a scene of former glory. However, I had Oakham on my mind, only a clip down the M6 and up a bit.
It was the rutting season but old deers were few on the ground. It was more bottoms up as this is wading bird heaven, the largest reservoir in England serving Anglian Water to the East Midlands. With a flat track around the perimeter it draws cyclists with its endless changing vistas and relative ease. Just enough for the Strava seekers looking for a time bounded challenge and a breath of fresh air to a whole range of intrepid bipeds.
It is no surprise that on both North and South shores there are two cycling hubs offering cycle hire and encouraging penury with a range of bike porn unmatched in the UK. The 'Giant' retail site on the South Shore offers branded American fare, mostly mountain bikes and over priced American gear that you don't need but almost certainly want. On the Northern shore there is a more eclectic mix of bikes at Rutland Cycling with a nod toward the increasingly popular electric bike scene. I swore I wouldn't be tempted with one until I was at least 50 but I am intrigued and there was a deal on a
Cube road bike with a 250 watt electric motor with Ultegra groupset.
Reduced by £2000! The web-site is even more damaging. It is nearly Black Friday too...I don't need another bike..Do I?
I got out of there relatively unscathed with only a pair of cycling gloves. Bike shops are like IKEA, you cannot leave empty handed. There is always something you think you need. Like another bike.
I wasn't here for retail therapy though and such dalliances were kept brief with goals in mind. I was here to conquer the lake and at 8am it was all a mist, soon to slough off the dawn to reveal its wonders. I started at Barnsdale and asked a fly fisherman which way to go. He was from Poland and had left his wife sleeping and the kids with Grandma. He was in his element and looking forward to going out on a boat later. He told me that the reservoir is well stocked with trout and is a bit of mecca for fly fishing. Predator fishing for Zander and Pike is also touted but the many lightly powered boats chugging about are for the serene and noble fly fishers. Like freshwater artists, they spin their gossamer threads across the mutable surface.
I came across many fly guys during the day casting into kaleidoscopic Autumn light. It looked the most meditative hobby one can imagine, particularly when the golden hues framed their endeavours. A blissful pre-occupation, studying the minutiae of nature, drifting in a wooden boat, an idyllic and peaceful pastime.
As the day warmed up I hugged the shoreline and came across a monolith silhouetted against the wintery sky. What did it behold? Was this totem symbolising human dominance over the landscape? Or simply to induce awe and ask the visitor to ponder awhile? Rutland Water is a monument to engineering and a symbol of the great flood in the 1970's. Villages once stood where water now fills nature's bowl, slaking the thirst of an ever increasing population. Like Derwent Water in Derbyshire the land still lives in local memory. Church spires and cottages visible in drought remind locals of the land that time forgot.
The great dam at the eastern edge only hints at the feats of engineering that were engendered here and it is hard for the layman to understand how it all works. A myriad of pipes and sunken boreholes are sensitively landscaped and hide ingenuity that would perplex the gods. Man still has the capacity to keep the tides at bay and while counties to the North battle with floods, Rutland is a controlled picture of managed order.
The Northern section offered trails through beechwood and far too many seats offering views across the lake that beckoned me to stand and stare. Dotted with bird hides and facilities this was a hike that everyone could enjoy at their own pace and it would be a shame to rush things.
I did have a goal though and I wished I had started here in the mist for some eerie shots of the floating church that draws most visitors to the South shore. I hoped the camera could capture the stillness, stark against the flood. There are some incredible images of the russet coloured stone backed by burning skies but one cannot fail to find a view to impress.
Saved from the waters the church evokes the atmosphere of Rutland water and hints at what has been lost, inducing meditative thoughts as the waves gently lap.
As the circumnavigation continued the gifts just kept on giving as the skies turned the afternoon azure, belying the month. Nature trails and bird hides became more evident and I passed an idyllic spot for a summer campsite at Lyndon Top, essentially a sloping field looking out across the water where Ospreys takes up residence in the summer. My interest piqued as the trail segued into a haven for birdlife. I spotted an owl and egrets and a young cormorant taking advantage of the last few rays of warmth, stretching his wingspan gloriously. I think I was actually trespassing as I got lost amongst the lagoons, popping out discombobulated at the excellent Anglian bird watching centre. Here I got hooked and vowed to return. A full day was needed to twitch and I was convinced of the need for a decent pair of binoculars. I must admit I have identified a pair of Opticron Savanna 10x33s, my ex-army fogged up boot sale relics would no longer suffice. A good pair are a revelation, or maybe I just need glasses. Volunteering here is what I would do if I had all the time in the world and it was obvious in shiny eyes and enthusiastic advice that this was twitcher heaven. I counted 35 hides on the map but didn't have time to count the 20,000 water fowl this time.
I only had time to wonder at the huge ' cover' of coots. I thought I was clever in calling them a 'coterie' but was shot down like the pheasant I was. I had also disturbed the peace as they headed skyward a thousand strong at my heavy footed approach, much to the dismay of Bill Oddie and pals.
The Hambleton peninsula juts out into the middle of the lake and adds several miles to the walk. However, it is the prettiest and most atmospheric part of Rutland Water especially when topped off with an excellent pub perched high above in Hambleton village called 'The Finches', where a frothy pint and a warm welcome awaits by a toasty fire just at the point of the day where you feel you may have to have a hip replacement.
