Temperatures are rising

The weather has been glorious for the last two weeks, and the water temperatures have been soaring.   In the East Dart at Bellever I wallowed, watching an eel, in a shallow pool where the temperature was an astonishing 17.5.  During the last week we've been swimming most nights in the SSS (swift swim solution) pool -  where the temperature has averaged between 15.5 and 16 degrees.  And in a lake on the Moor one night it was 19.5.  Plus, the chanterelles are out, with great pickings, especially for June.  And by happy coincidence, they grow near our swimming places.

Mushroom swimming

Penny buns and Chanterelles

Wood Blewitts

 Over the last week my walks to my Dartmoor swimming spots have been getting increasingly slow and meandering, as I keep getting diverted into thickets and under trees by the siren call of the mushrooms.  It seems to be a brilliant year.  Our hotter than average May, June and July, followed by a damper than normal August seems to have created the perfect conditions. In particular, I've found more Penny Buns (aka ceps and porcini) than ever before.  The Chanterelles are looking good, and thanks to Yaara's son Tom, we found the biggest haul of Wood Blewitts ever.  Each swim seems to come with a fungi bonus!

Mushroom bonanza

The mushrooms have gone mad. They are sprouting everywhere. On our walk today we found masses of goodies including chanterelles, hedgehogs, millers, ceps and wood blewitts. Of course lots of goodies also means lots of baddies: there were scores of panther caps - v poisonous. We also spotted two death caps, which as the name suggests are, ahem, deadly. To quote the great John Wright, author of the River Cottage Mushroom book (the only field guide which makes me laugh out loud), "A single specimen is quite enough to despatch you into the next world".

A strange swim

Today I wanted to find somewhere I'd never swum before, so pored over the map looking for patches of blue. I settled on the River Swincombe, in the centre of the Moor, where I saw something on the map called "Swincombe Intake Works". It was a bleak yomp under overcast skies and spots of rain to find the place, which turned out to be a forlorn-looking man-made dam of what is quite a small stream. Swimming in it I felt like the last surviving person in the whole world. On the way home I stopped off in the woods and found some chanterelles; dare we hope it might be a good year for the 'shrooms?