The Flow Country: a year’s work in four days
When I first read that the Flow Country was Europe’s largest blanket bog, I remember thinking, rather unkindly, “Big deal.” An enormous amount of wet ground did not strike me as something to celebrate, and I understand why guests sometimes look across it and wonder what deserves their attention. Beyond the windows lie pools, grasses and distant hills, with little obvious evidence of anything happening. Yet beneath that surface sits an estimated 400 million tonnes of carbon, accumulated over thousands of years by plants whose successors are still growing around us. My appreciation grew as I began to understand what I was seeing, although the numbers need a little translating before they mean very much.
The Flow Country Partnership estimates an accumulation rate of around 0.2 tonnes of carbon per hectare each year. As a rough guide, that would mean retaining carbon equivalent to around 300,000 tonnes of carbon dioxide a year across the wider Flow Country. Put London alongside it and we have something more recognisable, because that is about one per cent of the capital’s annual greenhouse gas emissions, or roughly four days’ worth. Picture its homes, offices and traffic, then look back across the peatlands. A year’s accumulation here beside four days of London’s emissions gives us a rather different way of appreciating the view, even allowing for the varying condition of the ground.
What is already underground makes the comparison more unsettling. The Flow Country’s estimated carbon store corresponds to roughly two weeks of global fossil carbon dioxide emissions at recent rates. Thousands of years of accumulation sit alongside a fortnight of our emissions, which tells us something uncomfortable about the speed at which we release carbon. It also explains why protecting the existing peat matters so much. The living surface can continue adding to that store, but if the ground dries and deteriorates, carbon retained for centuries can begin returning to the atmosphere.
That is why the restoration sites we pass deserve more than a glance at the machinery. We once drained wet ground to make it productive, particularly for timber, and now spend money repairing damage to something whose value was poorly understood. I explain this from a diesel-powered Land Rover, so I have little opportunity to pretend that the consequences of our decisions belong entirely to somebody else. In the audio blogcast, we look beneath the annual figures to explore why keeping old carbon underground matters, what restoration can achieve, and why paying to help does not make the emissions from our own journeys disappear.
To learn more, listen to the blogcast or book one of our North Coast Explorer tours.