Ovingham Bridge re-opens

There is a rumour that Ovingham Bridge, which was closed for refurbishment in June 2014, is to re-open on Monday 5th September 2016 at midday.  We must hope that this time it stays open, unlike the so called opening on 3rd December 2015, which lasted a day before Storm Desmond closed it again.

We are lucky that we live in an area with a 3,000 square mile catchment area so we have never yet experienced the drought conditions that so regularly affect the south of England. The water in the South Tyne takes five hours to travel from Alston to Newcastle, which is not a great deal of time to prepare for flood conditions, and the North Tyne is now partly controlled by the Keilder dam. The usual thing is overnight rain,  then a swift rise in water levels that lasts for perhaps half a day and then subsides. But the December 2015 floods were something else again - sixteen feet of flood water smashed into the bridge and knocked the hell out of the scaffolding that was still in place.

The Victorian bridge between Ovingham and Prudhoe was built in 1883. It is one carriage width wide and causes traffic queues even when it is open.  With eighteen months of work completed, plus eighteen months of frustration and lost business for the residents on either side of the river, everyone breathed a sigh of relief as the bridge opened  on 3rd December.

When Storm Desmond hit, it was surprising that the bridge was still there when the water subsided days later. Then came the checks for damage/safety.  At the peak of past floods, traffic has been forbidden, but when the waters recede the bridge has been ready for business again. This time the workmen had the dismal job of removing the scaffolding boards around the struts plus all the accumulated rubbish that comes with a flood - twigs, branches, tree trunks, doors, plastic buckets, tents, tables, picnic chairs, feed bags, and a dead sheep or two. Then they found the flood water had scoured the river bottom around the foundations. The bridge has been closed ever since - two years and three months. 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ovingham_Bridge

It's a strange world.

It's all over now. (Wasn't that  a Rolling Stones hit once upon a time?)
Christmas is a very strange time of year when the days are short, dark and dismal so we fill the place with bright, twinkling lights almost as if we're afraid of the dark. Sunrise is around 8.30  and sunset about 3.30 thanks to Summer Time fiddling with the clocks. We need the surge of energy that Christmas brings - the rush to buy presents, to fill the fridge, freezer and store cupboard so we can eat and survive the freezing weather, to keep ourselves busy doing energetic, happy things. It's an instinct to come together, to herd together instead of trying to survive on our own. In ancient days, it would have been vital for survival. Today, with electricity and abundant food, it is a psychological need for bright lights and companionship. The urge that strikes people to rush out and buy "bargains" in the post-Christmas sales - which used to be "January sales" - could be considered as relief and affirmation that we're still alive.

The shortest day has crept by, almost submerged in the floods that afflict the north of England. Those who live on flood plains must now be counting the cost as rivers, delightful in summer, now metamorphose into raging torrents of brown, muddy water. Trees that soak up gallons of water a day have been ruthlessly felled to provide grazing. Streams clog up with debris, branches and leaf litter and no one clears them. Water has soaked into the land all through autumn, and now runs straight off the hills and into the river systems. The river Tyne was rising again yesterday for the third or fourth time this month. So much rain has fallen in so short a time there is little anyone can do. News bulletins tell me the same is happening in South America, while Australia suffers bush fires. It's a strange world we have today.

Ovingham bridge

Water is an amazing thing. It comes out of our taps and showers under our control and at whatever temperature we want. It changes form - from liquid to ice to snow, fog and mist. In our summer streams it trickles over stones and forms golden pools and sometimes, if the weather is very warm for an extended period, the supply dries up and disappears. But too much of it is devastating. Click on the pics to the right and see the devastation the flood leaves behind in its wake once it has roared by.

We are lucky that we live in an area with a 

3,000 square mile catchment area so we have never yet experienced the drought conditions that so regularly affect the south of England. The water takes five hours to travel from Alston to Newcastle, which is not a great deal of time to prepare for flood conditions. Usually it is a swift rise in levels, lasts for perhaps half a day and then subsides. But by then it has done its terrible work.

On the right you see the Victorian bridge between Ovingham and Prudhoe. Built in 1883, it is one carriage width wide and causes traffic queues even when it is open. It has been closed for refurbishment since June 2014 so that the iron structure can be repaired if necessary.

Eighteen months of work completed, coupled with eighteen months of frustration and lost business for the residents on either side of the river, it opened briefly on 3rd December and then closed again because the floods knocked the hell out of the scaffolding. They're waiting for normal river levels before they'll check for damage/safety.  £3 million has been spent on the bridge - so far. I expect the bridge itself is OK. At the peak of past floods, traffic has been forbidden, but when the waters recede the bridge has been ready for business again. The workmen now have a dismal job of removing the scaffolding, boards around the struts and all the accumulated rubbish. Twigs, branches, tree trunks, doors, plastic buckets and probably a dead sheep or two.

Whose to say it won't happen again if it keeps on raining? We had snow for three or four hours yesterday....

Spring?

It really seems like Spring is here. Clumps of snowdrops are blooming on the riverside walk I do most days, and gorse has been in bloom for a week or two. Usually it flowers in May! Bulbs are three inches high in the garden even though the lawn squelches when Tim runs across it.

All we need is for it to stop raining and the wind will dry everything up nicely. Down south it may be different, but here the river is flowing fast enough to take all that water way out to sea. The Tyne was back up to flood levels again today, and bringing more and more rubbish with it as it comes. I took a picture yesterday of one of the the new bank levels where previous floods have deposited all the debris. It doesn't look good, but I suppose one day it will either be swept away again, or soil will be deposited around it and a new bank will come into being.

I think this picture shows that we have green grass through the winter, even under snow. Not that we've had any so far. I know some of my American friends doubt me when I say we have green grass through the winter, but we do. The paths are wide and muddy and the grass is getting pretty worn, but it is there, and it's started growing again.

It would be really cruel now if winter came and creates a big freeze. It's happened before, but I hope it doesn't happen this year.

I'm getting close to the end of my Viking story, and once I've read it through I'll put it up on Amazon. I shall have to start thinking of a cover.

Floods and country walks

One of the joys of walking the dog is getting out and about in the countryside. Even in the cold days of January, there is greenery around here in the north and this year we've had a lot of sunshine and days well above freezing. When the trees have lost their leaves there is so much more to see for those like me, who are essentially nosy. I'm well aware we are the lucky ones, and that for those who live near the coast in the south and west of the UK, flooding seems to be a constant threat.
Our local river - the Tyne - is high and has been high for weeks, but so far I have not heard of actual floods. It's running fast and it's a dirty brown colour with all the mud and silt it carries. Every time the water level drops, there are vast pile-ups of dead wood, branches, and mud left behind, and in among the debris plastic pails, paint tins, plant pots and just plain old plastic drinks bottles poke out of the mound. Heaven knows what else is lurking there unseen. The air stinks as the unsightly mass dries out. Paths we walk every day bear evidence of being underwater overnight - logs stranded by the water block our path. One day all this rubbish is going to be swept downriver on the next flood and it will end up in Newcastle and, eventually, the sea. Once there, the tides will no doubt wash it up on our beaches.

Two months rain

Our trip out for groceries yesterday was a little more adventurous than usual due to having a month's rain fall in two days. I drove the mini through several "puddles" that covered the entire width of the road and stretched twenty or thirty feet long - and this was up on the ridge, a hundred foot or more above the river. Twice we came up on a "road closed" sign and there was nothing to do but turn around and back track.
On the way home we tried a different route and though we passed plenty of flooded fields, we thought we'd got off Scot-free. Then we saw the car that had just nose-dived into the hedge row above a drop into a flooded field, turned the corner and had to drive through a huge swathe of water where the road dipped down the hill. Take two or three minutes and watch the video click taken in July -  it gives a good idea of life in the region at the moment!

Received a post card this morning from a friend holidaying in Venice - they had to trudge through a foot of water to cross St Mark's Square to get to a concert they'd booked. Seems the whole world is awash.

On a brighter note, this is only my third review for Reluctance: http://romantichistoricallovers.wordpress.com/2012/09/26/reluctance-by-jen-black/
so I have no shame in publishing it here in the hope you'll all read it.

Floods

While Cumbria drowns we on the east of the Pennines suffer no more than a few rainy days. I suppose the east had it last year, when several places like Morpeth and Rothbury were almost washed away. It beggars belief how complacent we have become, building so close to waterways and rivers. Fine maybe in drought years, but what about the wet years? And the UK is predominantly a wet country, strung with rivers and canals, with a climate that is temperate and given to generous rainfall.
People talk of unprecedented levels of rain in 24 hours, but had there not been rain for days beforehand, the land would have soaked it up and drained it away. May as well blame the land, already full of water and unable to soak up more. Seems to me it's our old friend multiple causality again. The lesson to be learned?
Do not buy a house built on a flood plain. We seem to have forgotten what flood plains are, or why they were there. Better by far, if faced with a choice, to buy a house on higher land, out of reach of the river. The thought of sour-smelling river mud and worse creeping up through drains and catflaps while I sleep, coating every surface of my home, sends shudders through me. I don't know how the people caught this time will recover and begin again. I hope they will, with help from agencies and donations, and hope it will be somewhere safer.

Floods

After 48 hours of torrential rain, not only our back garden is flooded. This is the bridge at Corbridge

and this is the right hand extension of the bridge with

the debris marking the highest point of the flood which I imagine was after midnight last night.

Morpeth, on the River Wansbeck, was the worst hit with 1000 people flooded out between two and four am.

It must have been a worrying night for the house in the middle of the picture!

Standing on the same spot and swinging the camera to the left, and you can see the pools of standing water left behind when the river retreated to its proper banks. Normally in summer we would walk by the river's edge and look down five or six feet to the water. Not all the bridge arches would have water flowing through them and the poor trees now in the middle of the river would be standing proud on a long island. We found several drowned rabbits that cannot have moved fast enough last night - or they moved the wrong way.