Something I hadn't anticipated about Chasing Spring was that travelling with the season makes it more difficult to spot the signs of spring. You spend your whole time drinking in so much new scenery that you don't, and can't, notice what's been growing and changing - to the casual traveller everything is new. So I've had to force myself to see the little signs that spring is developing.
The last couple of days have been spent cycling through the forests of the Northumberland National Park. I've always been fascinated by forests, which promise mystery, magic and danger. I think they still pervade our cultural mentality, despite so few forested areas actually remaining.
But although Kielder Forest is the largest in England, there is no real sense of danger here. It is a working forest and most of the spruce and pine trees are planted row upon row, equally spaced and unthreatening. The only real threats are decidedly human: the gravelly paths desperate to displace our bikes or the possibility of getting crushed by a runaway log. There are adders, apparently, but we didn't see any. That isn't to say the landscape isn't stunning; it truly is, with the dramatic Cheviot hills, the sheer unalloyed joy of Kielder Lake and the endless near-empty dust roads that seem American in scope and ambition.
Even the uniform trees are beautiful in their sheer number, like an army during peacetime waiting to be called up but never really believing it will happen. But what thrills me is seeing nature creeping its way back; the fir tree seedlings poking gamely through the gravel where they're not supposed to be; the unruly daffodils spread by pollen from manicured lawns onto the roadside to make drivers smile.
Because the park is relatively high above sea level, spring takes slightly longer to reach this area, bringing us Spring Chasers roughly back level with the season. Which is why I've been gawping at lambs so newborn that they're being licked clean by their mothers and still have blood-red umbilical cords dangling from their bellies. On the other hand, the swallows have been accompanying us for much of the last few days and they're a relatively recent addition to the springtime repertoire.
I've also been following the appearance of bluebells throughout the country on Twitter (#bluebellwatch) and seeing the beautiful photos being posted. I'm in two minds about this; I'd love to get some footage of springtime bluebells in the woods but that would mean the season has definitely overtaken us. But if we get to John o'Groats in May it's possible I won't get to see any this year at all!
Amid all this visual drama, I have started to worry about the lack of formal interviews we've done over the past few days. I've had to remind myself how much great footage we've already got, and that sometimes just getting to our hostel for the night is a real achievement, but sometimes it's difficult to see the larger picture when you're struggling to get through each day in a haze of exhaustion.
Yesterday it all got a bit too much me and I almost collapsed (see Matt's blog for an alternative retelling), which has given us some real 'gritty Bafta' footage (not that I was so pleased at the time). I am mentally and physically drained, and l know the next few days will be hard. But it's hard to stay in that mood when you're in such a gob-smackingly beautiful place.
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