the Lost Coast

back to basics = mat surfing at HM

2011-07-03T15:28:00.001+01:00

what with everything else I need to be doing, I've had no chance to actually get in the water this year, as opposed to being on it.

So today, no wind, tides all wrong for the boat, too hot to sit in the garden, fed up of doing plumbing/painting/masonry I decided to just 'go to the beach'

A quick look at West Coast surfs daily web grab and it would be a trip to Hells Mouth with the mat.

Ok it really was only 2foot dribble, and with a load of guys out, but it was warm,windless and hey it's July - usually flatter than a hedgehog in the middle of the road.

So, in the hour or so window of opportunity as the tide dropped I had what passes for a decent sesh for me these days. I'll keep an eye out and maybe tomorrow will get another visit if anything is building [the + side of not currently working]

another year gone by.........

2011-05-15T22:34:00.003+01:00

... and I've written nothing in this blog. You could consider it moribund, or that absolutely nothing has happened in my life over the last year.

Welllll... that's not true. Quite a lot has happened actually, but sibrwd is still sitting in the shed, a stalled project. But things have changed, since I have now retired from work - or more accurately, I have taken voluntary redundancy from the job I stopped loving several years ago.

So what now? There's sibrwd to finish, a mast to build, another dinghy to refurbish, my house to work on, that shed to build. then there's repainting my mothers house, refitting her bathroom. So lot's to do - none of it paying though.

Oh and a bit more time to add to this blog

hurrah!

Moving along

2010-05-02T10:10:00.002+01:00

Well, as they say, never look a gift horse in the mouth. However any of you that have ever been given the aforesaid horse will know that what with vet’s bill, feeding the thing and generally seeing to it’s well being, you quickly appreciate that you go from a position of maybe having money in the bank to definitely not.

In some way’s this is what has transpired with Sibrwd. Not that I’m complaining exactly, since I was looking for a reasonably cheap project to begin with and this fulfils that rather nicely. It’s cost a little more than I had envisaged – the biggest item being the sails but there again, I suppose I could have taken her back to a bog-standard 18 instead of trying something different.

So here we are, the boat is coming along well, decks are on, cockpit coaming is on, ash gunnels ready to fabricate and put on, various bits of trim roughed out and ready to go, and lots of sandpaper ready to start sanding down the exterior of the hull preparatory to painting.

There’s still a load to do, like finishing off the new rudder, fettling the heavy cast metal plate and then there’s the elephant in the corner – a whole new mast and all the spars needed to finish the rig off.

So…. It was’nt something I was looking for when I received an email from someone on the Classic dinghy website, wanting / asking me to go and look at another old Merlin Rocket a few miles away. Seems a Lady’s late father had stuck it in a shed when his dinghy sailing days were over – around 30 years ago apparently and there it had languished, until now. They wanted it out and away since the house was being sold, and if they could’nt get rid of it then it would go as scrap.

Anyway it was’nt far so I took a look. There it was in this open fronted shed looking a little forlorn under a tatty old canvas cover. It was pulled out and the cover literally torn off – to reveal a piece of furniture in mahogany and varnish. It looked as though it had been last used yesterday.

After taking some photos and heading off home with the promise to put the word out, I duly did that and posted them up on the board and sent them to the MR association. Cue absolute disinterest from everyone, mainly due to the boat being distant to those who might want a go.

A few days later and the lady contacted me again by now in a bit of a tizz since she had heard nothing from anyone and she wanted rid asap. She’d give it to me. Well I said, that’s nice but I can’t afford to buy it off you, all my available funds are going towards Sibrwd. No she said – it’s yours, just come and pick it up.

So I did.

This was one occasion when looking a gift horse in the mouth would be a bad thing.

Madeira floods

2010-03-08T19:15:00.003Z

Madeira

The news from Madeira lately has been shocking, but maybe not so surprising. Given the way the island was deforested shortly after it was discovered, the Maderenese have been paying for it ever since. Friable volcanic rock and steep unstable slopes in a semi-tropical oceanic position, flash floods like this appear to be a seasonal occurrence, although in most years these floods, although devastating, are fairly localised and small scale in their effects. I saw many landslips whilst walking on the Levadas last November, and they were all being fixed by the resident workforce the Levaredos within hours of being reported. This time it is’nt going to be so easy to sort things out.

From the photos and video reports I have seen so far the flood appears to have come from the area to the east of Monte in the Barbosas /Curral das Freitas area, where a huge bowl in the escarpment funnels much of the seasonal rains into the two main Levadas, which on this occasion were probably overwhelmed and destroyed.

When I was there last November, the locals were already complaining that it was the wettest Autumn they could recall and one of the guides on a walk I did thought that it would’nt take much to cause a significant event, although I think he expected it to take place in Ribero Brava [which in any event was hit quite badly] but not in Funchal with it’s pretty wide and efficient flood channels. As it was the flash flood was so ferocious it just overwhelmed the defences and as usual the debris brought down the slope blocked up against the bridges linking the old and new towns.

I found this photo on one of the News sites and it shows the channel that ran down the middle of the main drag into downtown Funchal. That channel is at least 3 or 4 metres deep at this point and at least 10 wide – so that’s a lot of water heading down to the sea.

The hotel I stayed in is just behind the red roofed building and the trees on the left of the picture, so I’m hoping they got away with little damage. This channel leads right down into the old town, the market, bus station, and lots of small local shops and cafes, restaurants which make this part of the town the best part of Funchal especially if like me, you are a low cost frugal traveller.

So what now? I guess it’s going to depend on how quickly they can get things cleared and repair the damage, although the tourist trade – which the island depends on to get by- will have inevitably taken a hell of a knock.

Was I intending to go back? Well yes, but I had’nt really put a date on it. I like the place and there is something good about acquiring a familiarity for somewhere else, where you can go and relax in your favourite harbour front café and watch the world go by without having to discover something new, because it’s your first trip there. I can still ‘explore’ as I’ve not been to the neighbouring island of Porto Santo yet and there places on Madeira that I’d like to take a look at.

Having said that, for this year I was actually intending to go exploring – in the western Canaries- which are largely free of the lager/family type of tourists, and probably worth a look, before mass tourism takes hold.

Fat Man Goes Walkabout

2009-11-16T10:55:00.003Z

Well here I am in sunny Madeira, or rather in a wet and windy Funchal.

having left the UK just as a rather nasty low pressure system brought in the real Autumn with rain and howling winds, I felt rather smug when I arrived in a sunny and warm Madeira.

The smug feeling did´nt last that long though when I discovered that I had left all my short-sleeved shirts at home and that- apart from the shirt I was wearing, everything else was aimed at high level walking in cool conditions - this should have been OK since it was the reason for my being here in the first place.

The purchase of a couple of shirts has moved up the priority scale though, after a guided walk I went on started out badly and got worse.

I´d signed up for the trip back in the UK, it promised the lakes of Madeira - somewhere near to Rabçal on the Paul da serra, the western plateau which gathers all Madeira´s waters and channels them into the numerous ponds, falls and rivulets before being diverted into the Levada system.

On the morning of the walk it was´nt promising, clouds covered the tops and since the wind was in the west it was likely there would be rain at some point. By the time we reached Urze - the meeting point for the walk - the rain had reached biblical proportions, more Capel Curig on a bad day than a semi tropical island. We as a group decided that it was´nt a good idea and that a lower level walk would be more suitable, so we headed down slope a few miles to the Levada do Norte for a pleasant if misty and somewhat windy walk of around 10k. All went well, until the last 15 minutes or so when the rain that had been lashing down at Urze decided that it might as well give us a seeing to as well and within minutes we were soaked through. Even my super-duper new Marmot raintop gave up the ghost, although it might have been the fact I was pretty warm anyway.

By the time we reached the bus I was wet through, everything was sodden, and now not only am I short of shirts - but I was short of trousers, pants, socks - you name it, it´s drying on the balcony.

The forecast is for more rain, with some bright spells. Oh well it´s just like home but at least it´s warm.

Well, I’ve really gone and done it now.

2009-10-23T17:43:00.005+01:00

Well, I’ve really gone and done it now.

I tried to put it off until next year, but it’s something that has to be done and whenever it happens it’s going to cost money – quite a bit really.

I prevaricated about it and no matter how I cut the cake, there was no shortcuts, no utilising cheaper materials, or doing it myself. No I was going to have to spend and let an expert do the job.

So yesterday I gritted my teeth and went to see JKA and ordered a new engine for Sibrwd.

I already have an engine, two actually – a 3 hp evinrude which although working is’nt a the best looking thing around, is heavyish and does’nt really set her off at her best. I also have a 1.5hp seagull of uncertain vintage, but has bags of character and is just so for a modern trad boat like Sibrwd.

No this was for the real engine in any sailing boat, the massive expanse of cream coloured cloth forming the lugsail – the main driving engine, the bit that makes it go, as silent as an albatross gliding over the sea in a zephyr with just the sound of the ripple from the cut of the bow in the water or the exhilarating hissssssss as she planes down the face of a wave in a broad reach.

Surprise’s rig

This also has other implications, not just financial. Although I had gone down the route of having an unstayed lugsail rig in the eyes of the boat, I had also taken steps in the design to allow for a more conventional rig if everything else turned sour. Now it’s too late. The deed is done. It will be a lugsail for Sibrwd, nothing else

So over the next few months, in addition to finishing off the hull, sanding down and repainting the exterior, rebuilding the rudder and stock, I will have a 20’ mast to build, a 12’ mast to build, 8’ of bumkin to build and install and joy of joys 14’ of ultralight, ultrastiff carbonfibre yard to shape and glass up – all to hang a large hankerchief off.

The timber for the mast is here already 20’ of 5”x 4” Douglas fir to be sawn up into thin lengths for me to shape and glue back together.

Well it will keep me out of mischief until next summer.

Oh and the car really could do with being replaced. It’s done over 200k miles, but you know, it really does’nt strike me as being a priority right now ;).

the cars of Walmart

2009-10-10T09:30:00.006+01:00

Another of those gems of the wierd and wonderful that you find on the web

http://jalopnik.com/5359761/the-cars-of-walmart/gallery

Can't help thinking that if this was the UK the vast majority would'nt get more than a mile from the house before being pulled and taken to the crusher

Well, I'm still building!

2009-10-03T23:31:00.005+01:00

Things are moving along slowly but surely. The cockpit sole is down all sealed and proper like, and the side deck framing has at last been finished - just a couple more bearers to install, but those can wait until the ply deck is glued in so that I can make sure that I have a decent landing for the joint on the quarter.

of course like all boats, glass or not, there is a bit of assymetrically to the hull, nothing extreme, but enough to ensure that you need to measure both sides and not assume what fits one side will automatically do for the other.

The next bit is sanding bck all those drips and smears, applying another coat of eposeal, installing the c/plate case top, painting everything that needs painting inside the boat, and then turning everything over so I can get to the underside.
I had intended to do that as the first job, but I thought that the shell was too flimsy to do that and decided to add some stiffness. I got sort of carried away and now have to possibly resort to 'plan B' careening her over far enough to do one side and the bottom and then shifting her the other way to do t'other side. It's no biggie really.

Sibrwd - still at it

2009-08-14T22:21:00.005+01:00

The 18 project is still puttering gently along since I decided that an all out, one-hit rebuild was'nt on.

the realisation that given that the time available to me was'nt going to be enough to get the job done before the end of the summer, I might as well just take my time, do the job methodically and think things through before applying saw to wood or even glue to hull. as someone said 'measure once, curse twice'.

So from getting the boat undercover last winter, I have spent my time acquiring wood, sawing it, measuring up, buying epoxy and sealer, measuring more wood and ply and just generally feeling my way forward, essential when you have few plans to go by and have to make it up as you go along.

So today was a bit of a milestone, the cockpit floor has gone in, and has been glued and nailed down, edges sealed and sikaflex applied to make it nice and watertight.

The hatches are cut out and when the ordered stuff arrives [3 weeks and waiting]I can bond them in and that part of the build will be done- for now. i am reasonably happy with the outcome; it's not perfect but it's ok, and to the cursory glance you would'nt know that it's ever so slightly twisted.

The next and more difficult secion is about to start - building the decks.

THE 18 PROJECT

2009-03-11T22:36:00.005Z

My new project is running somewhat behind the schedule I had set myself.

After picking up the boat – hereafter renamed ‘Sibrwd’ , which is welsh for ‘Whisper’ and getting it back to Sian’s house in one piece I started on the takedown. The cockpit floors were just so much weetabix and had to be shovelled out. The ply had completely degenerated, ditto the bearers holding it up, the centreboard cheeks, the decks and the carlins. Once all that was removed, it was the turn of the outer and inner gunnels which although not rotten, were suspect enough to warrant replacement. What I had left was essentially a glass fibre shell.

Sibrwd gutted

I decided against leaving Sibrwd at Sian’s some 8 miles away and after we returned from holidays in October, I carted her home where she sat on the trailer for the next couple of months whilst I made abortive attempts to grind away all the loose and suspect glass fibre inside her.

Whilst this was happening I was also vainly looking for a suitable building to use as a workshop, so she could dried out and worked upon in somewhat more comfy surroundings than the parking area opposite the house. After a couple of weeks of looking, I stumbled upon a building barely a mile from where I lived, in a place I had long known about but had completely overlooked.

The garage

There was room aplenty at the new site – an old stable/garage attached to the outbuildings of a large house, now a restaurant. The range was still owned by the original family and although in a state of some disrepair would do nicely. The rent at a mere £10 a week swung it. I spent Christmas clearing the ivy off the roof and trying to push some of the looser slates back into place. Then I lined the interior with the tarp that was covering the boat; tacking it to the principal rafters with battens. This would ensure that any rain getting in would run down the tarp and then the stone walls, not that much would. Once summer is here I can do a better job of it. The place was a bit damp, a brick floor ensured that, but I can warm it up courtesy of a gas fire donated by my sister. Once I’ve salvaged the decent workbench which I found in the ruins next door, I’ll be ready to go.

The boat was duly installed, sliding of the trailer and onto wooden bearers without much bother. Now I could start work in earnest; grinding back the nasties being the first job, followed by prepping the floors and cockpit sole, turning the boat over using the already installed Large Piece of Timber up above to attach my block and tackle to. I fired up the generator and prepared to do battle, only for it to die some minutes later. The engine was running lovely like, it just wasn’t pumping out any juice. So it will be off to the repairers and I guess I’ll be hiring one in for the w/end.

Sibrwd ensconsed, ready to go

I’ve been quietly amassing the timber needed for the rebuild and seem to have most of what I require for the first part. Now I have to go and be nice to an old guy who has a nearby timberyard and sawmill.

The rebuild brief is simple: put in a new cockpit sole on new floors, seal the edges to make a watertight compartment so that in the event of a capsize the boat won’t sink – easier said than done I suspect given the ease by which water can get into things – especially boat shaped things. For years I was pumping out rainwater from the Soling, and wondering where it all got in. I eventually traced it to a tiny screw hole in the deck that had’nt been sealed properly.

Once the sole is down and the gunnels, inside and out are renewed I can start on re-building the deck: again this is reasonably straightforward on paper, or would be if I had plans. No, I’ll be doing it ‘by eye’ where things will sort of *hang* where I want them to be, whilst I make up bearers and wedges and whatnot to make them permanent.

Then, once all that is completed and the bright work done and everything painted and varnished, and all the hardware installed, I can start thinking about building two masts, various spars and then acquiring sails…

But that’s a way off yet so I’ll just have to entertain you with all the trials and tribulations I meet along the way.

I HATE ORGANISED SPORT!

2009-03-02T13:08:00.003Z

Ok maybe a little OTT but this rant is aimed at the tv orientated, big money and egos end of the the scale band I have to admit that I’m not a huge fan of this.

So, the recent news that the recession and semi-demise of some of our major financial players has resulted in the cutting back and even the curtailment of sponsorship deals is music to my ears.

Sure I love rugby and will watch most televised matches, but the sports I want to do involve a more non-competitive slant even to the extent that I abhor surf contests – believing that getting money for how well you can zip up and down a wave goes against the whole ethos of the sport/ pastime/ experience or whatever you wish to call it.

The usual organised sports, by and large pass me by; either I’m not interested in them or if I am they are things that cannot really be televised in the normal way. For example I enjoyed a series of programmes on the Iditarod dog sled race which transcends the usual idea of a race – in that it takes around 10 days over several hundreds of miles in extremely inhospitable conditions – ‘match of the day’ it surely aint, but it's an event that cannot be televised in a way a football match can be, and does require a level of interest that transcends the usual 90 minutes of either running around kicking something or sitting on your bum eating sweets.

Maybe that’s what it is – I don’t like the way things are neatly packaged up to conform to tv schedules and the attention spans of the more ‘slow’ in society – believe it or not there was a serious move to try and split international rugby matches into 4 quarters not so long ago, in order to appease the advertisers. They were rightly told to go take a run.

So what if the lack of advertisers sponsors etc mean that some sporting events are downscaled or even become extinct.

I’ve always thought football is alive and well and taking place on myriad muddy fields every Saturday and Sunday followed by a pint and a pie for all the players.
.

Get a Grip!

2009-02-14T10:47:00.004Z

as a trained environmental scientist I was aware that there was something seriously amiss with both the way we as a species 'conduct our business' and the long term impications of this: overuse of resources; an exploding population; pollution; imbalances in wealth; and underlying all this - those impossible to measure things which only become apparent when the whole process is in train and getting harder and harder to sort out - the whole climate change/global warming is a case in point.

I'm afraid I'm a cynic when it comes to mankind's actual ability to do something about the man made elements of this process - not the practicalities - stop driving cars, use less co2 producing energy.

No, the difficulties lie in the business-as-usual mindset of most governments, be they western capitalist economies, centrally organised dictaorships or emerging third world powerhouses.

The rows between those who believe that climate change aka global warming is a done deal and those who deny it's existence or think we might as well carry on as we are because it's a natural event we can do nothing about are unhelpful in the scheme of things and just give ammo to the real blowhards like Jeremy 'big car' Clarkson; who are making a great living from rubbishing the environmental community as yougurt eating beardies... a stance made easier by some of the deep green crusties out there who see the environmental field as a lifestyle choice rather than a field where hard science, together with it's proofs must reign supreme if we are to move along with the major problem we have ahead [a similar argument is occuring within the homeopathic/alleopathic medicinal field]

So it was with some surprise and relief that i was sent this little nugget which emenates from the UK Met office which [BBC weather forecasts aside!] are not noted for their sensationalising of facts.

http://www.metoffice.gov.uk/corporate/pressoffice/2009/pr20090211.html

Go take a read and then take a deep breath stahnd back and look at the situation rationally and then take appropiate action.

RIP John Martyn

2009-01-30T23:42:00.003Z

One of my favourite singers/guitarists died on Thursday; it's a sad day, even though all his fans knew he was on borrowed time and had been for a while.

John Martyn was a gentleman, a pain in the arse,a brilliant and sensitive songwriter, a man of principle, a pisshead, and someone who could reduce 3000 people in a concerthall to tears with an extraordinary rendition of somewhere over the rainbow, and the next minute have everyone stand openmouthed as he fought with his band over something the bass player said.

Some gigs were superb, some rather less, all were memorable.

If you have never heard John Martyn then I urge you to pick up the double album 'Sweet little Mysteries- An Island anthology' which will turn you on to this hidden gem.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Sweet-Little-Mysteries-Island-Anthology/dp/B000001E4I/ref=sr_1_24?ie=UTF8&s=music&qid=1233359346&sr=1-24

Carry on raging against the night John

.

acronym challenged?

2008-11-26T13:18:00.002Z

Are you one of those who does't know their LOL from their ROTFL?

don't know the meaning of YMMV?

or are you always getting the correct wording of NASA and OPEC wrong?

Then go take a look at the latest of my weird sites on the interweb thingy:

http://www.urbandictionary.com/

enjoy

another weird and wonderful place

2008-11-18T12:27:00.001Z

number 233535 in an occasional series

http://strangemaps.wordpress.com/

go take a look.. most interesting [well it is to me anyway :) ]

A New Project or Making a Rod for My Own Back?

2008-09-15T13:34:00.002+01:00

Well, it looks like I’ve gone and done it again.

Regular readers of this Blogg [are there any left out there?] will no doubt remember my attempts at de-cluttering and downsizing that took place a couple of years back. This was largely successful in that I disposed of a stack of things I was unlikely ever to have use for again, but they were replaced to a certain degree by new stuff which to be fair is being used.

However having sold Inside Out and being left with just a catamaran which to put it bluntly I was too fat and unfit to sail without making myself ill, so it hasn’t been used for a couple of years – I found myself missing going on the water in a boat. Sure the Canadian was good fun, either solo or tandem, but the days one could get out onto the sea in this part of the world are fairly rare and anything over a force 3 and 2’ chop stops being fun after a while.

So when Ted [at Helen’s prompting] offered me the tatty old 18 in the field for a ‘small consideration’, I decided it was a worthwhile project and said yes. The getting it back from Oxford was an epic in itself since sourcing a trailer at a reasonable price proved well nigh impossible and I ended up re-vamping the old catamaran trailer I never used. New wheels, new suspension, new rollers and a new spine later I essentially had a new trailer which I hoped would be man enough to do the job required [it was]

Once the inevitable problems with the lighting board were sorted out I was ready to go, and last weekend I set out on the 200 mile drive to fetch the boat, on a day notable for it’s storminess even for this washout summer. All around rivers were in flood and spray and rain were everywhere. The words ‘is your journey really necessary’ kept on coming back at me as the empty trailer bounced along behind the car. Keeping to the motorway I made reasonable time considering the conditions and arrived to find Ted already working on getting the boat off the trailer.

Now the situation as was is that the boat weighing some 250 kg sat on a massively heavy launching trailer which in turn sat upon and equally heavy bilge keel trailer. The question now was how we could get the boat off this rig and onto my much lighter set up. Ted wanted to sort of get it back to a balance point and then sort of waggle it onto my trailer and slew it round to fit, so for a while this is what we did. It wasn’t long before we realised that this wasn’t going to work and that a plan B was required. Eventually we did what I had envisaged our doing all along; we dropped the boat off the back and onto the grass, with the bow propped up on logs and my trailer in front. Suitably blocked, wedged, braced and stropped back to my car the trailer was as solid as we could make it and with Ted’s 4x4 pulling the boat it rolled up and on. It did’nt actually fit that well, but we chocked and braced anew until it was on ok and not liable to drop off anywhere between Oxford and Wales.

All this had taken a couple of hours so when the rain started falling again we retreated to the house for tea and toast. It was agreed that since the weather was still abysmal, and that better was promised for the next day, it would be best to stay overnight; a much more sensible idea than my go-for-it return that same day.

Next morning dawned reasonably clear and dry, so a hasty breakfast and I was off. I stopped twice during the first ten miles, in order to check the tyre pressures and to make adjustments to the load. Six hours 230 miles and a largely uneventful journey later I had the boat tucked up at home, with the solid aluminium centreplate locked away.

The next day I started on the task of clearing out all the muck and rubbish from inside the cockpit, whilst trying to salvage what I could.

The main problem was that whoever had last done any work on the boat had used ordinary ply, which is fine if a] it is maintained properly and b] all the edges are well sealed. Unfortunately neither of these applied and the glue bonding the layers together had dissolved away turning the once tough ply into the texture of a digestive biscuit, and a soggy one at that. I literally had to shovel out the contents of the cockpit floor- it was more like gardening than woodwork.

Three hours later the enormity of the task ahead became more obvious. Not only would the cockpit floor need replacing but so would all the bearers, the wood around the centreboard casing, the coaming and the all the woodwork around the mast area. At least the decks were ok – so far as I could see but I’m prepared for more nasty news as I delve further and rip out more manky rotten wood. There’s still a load of badly fitted buoyancy to rip out as well as some weird bits and bobs. I have no idea what significance they have, but they’re gone. The more I look at it the more I think that trying to ‘make good’ just about anything except the deck and the hull is a non starter so it will be rip and replace.

So I’m back to my original question – Have I made a rod for my own back? Funnily enough I don’t think so. Once the rubbish is out and all the remaining woodwork and glass can be ok’d the next stage- that of rebuilding is well within my capabilities. It will cost for sure, but the potential for coming up with something well finished is quite high. And I have plans for that something to be a little different to what went before, but I’ll leave that for future postings.

Now, where’s that wrecking bar?

.

the upper Thames and the most expensive baguette ever

2008-07-17T15:56:00.011+01:00

Having to try and get some time off during July in order to use up my holiday allowance before September [don't ask - it's a new rule] I thought I espied a window of good weather in this somewhat disappointing summer so I decided to bring forward my long planned but never done trip down the Thames from Cricclade to Oxford. I thought four days should do it as a crew of fellow SoTPers had recently done something similar. So following in their wake I would head out and do the same....

My timing was off... I did'nt know that the air show at Fairford was on, and even though it got cancelled because of the rain the previous week, there were still throngs of people making the drop off a slow affair. Since time was slipping by we decided to ditch Cricclade as a start point and try and launch at Castle Eaton. The nice lady at the Red Lion was more than happy to let me launch so we had a pint to say 'Thanks'. The river was running higher than usual because of the rain, so high in fact that I simply stepped into the canoe off the front lawn and off I shot, into a maze of downed trees and a green slalom course.

Helen and Ted who were minding the car and picking me up later on lost sight of me within seconds and wonderd if I'd make it to St Johns, let alone Oxford.

into the green

After a couple of hourse of avoiding branches and pushing through and in several places, getting the saw out I made it through into clearer water near Inglesham. The current was still running fast and it was some relief to get to St Johns without any problems. I had a chat with the lock keeper, who told me that the Trout was no longer accepting camping unless by prior arrangement - which left me scuppered as it was a fair old paddle down to Rushey lock where there was a camp. Anyhow he phoned the pub and sorted it for me.....

all safe and sound at St Johns

The next morning, after a not so special sleep, the campsite is close to Lechlade bridge and the traffic noise kept me awake, I made a brew on the the woodgas stove and toasted a [proper] muffin on the embers for breakfast and off I went on the long haul down to Shifford all of 15 miles downriver.

Stopping off at Buscot I had a chat with the lock-keeper as we waited for a narrow boat to enter the lock, apparently the groundswell against selling off the houses is gaining and the 'management' might be having second thoughts.

tied up at Buscot

Heading down to Grafton Lock I was was ready for the grumpy advice from the Lock-keeper who wanted to know where my licence was - stuck on the bow like everone else, except of course he was on the other side of the lock. I was warned about Radcot bridge... which I heeded- basically by going down the right hand stream where it said no entry and floated serenely through the old bridge arches.

the killer bridge at Radcot

Unfortuately this knackered any plan I might have had for heading back upstream to the Swan pub for an early lunch, since the flow was just to much to paddle against, so I had to settle for a trip downstream to the Trout at Tadpole Bridge and The Most Expensive Baguette Ever.

I should have guessed when I got there really... there were 'reserved' notices all along the bank and gin palaces and jags all around the place.. but I was hungry and just wanted a pint and a toasty, or a ploughmans or just a sarnie. Why the cost did'nt register I don't know but there was'nt much change from a tenner, but I sat outside with my pint and waited. When it arrived I did'nt dive in immediately, I probably thought there would be more.. like some chips or a decent salad... but no this was it.

that baguette

A retired colonel type and his wife were sitting nearby and exclaimed that they would never eat here 'too damned expensive for very little' was his opinion. They only came for the pleasant setting and a decent pint.

The worst thing was that I was somewhat- unwell - later on so I was hit twice as it were....;(

After the shock at Tadpole Bridge it was some relief to reach the tranquility of Shifford Lock and I set up camp in the orchard and had a pleasant time of it, the only sounds being the weir and the wildlife, and the growling of my upset stomach.

The next day was going to take me to Eysham, but I was making such good time I realised I could make it to Godstow in one hit, but I needed to call Helen to get her to pick me up a day early. Despite the modern advances in telecom technology, mobile phones are pretty damn useless unless you turn them on, which Helen had'nt. Since I could'nt be sure whether the message would be read I decided to stick with plan A and camp at Eynsham after all. With a stong current and brisk wind from behind I made Bablock Hythe in very quick time, only to find that the pub was shut and that the rest of the place consisted of a massive caravan site... so I pressed on.

The day was glorious, the only problem being the plethora of large and larger planes spoiling the tranquility..

plane. big. noisy.

I was at Eynsham Lock by 2pm and was glad I had decided to stop over. The tent was up in no time and lunch was ready. I spent the rest of the day wandering around and reading, then had a reasonably priced meal up at the Talbot.

Eynsham camp- tranquility base

Since I only had a few miles to go the next day I lingered the next morning and then literally floated down stream, letting the current do the work, and picking up the obligatory SotP water shot-

All too soon Godstow Lock was up ahead and once through that It was a hard and fast pull up against the still fast weir current into the backwaters under one of the arches of the old Godstow/Wolvercote bridge for an exit into the watermeadow park

journey's end

So was it worth it.. yes, since it was my first multiday trip on a river of any consequence, and I wanted to solo it, so that when I take S down in a few weeks it won't be a complete trip into the unknown.

Next time I'll take a lot less gear, camp at the quietest of the lock sites, and make sure I bypass The Trout at Tadpole Bridge!

canoeing at trefor

2008-06-04T17:27:00.003+01:00

It was a bit of a shock that I realised that I had not been out once this year, in fact the Clipper had’nt touched water since the Symposium in Bala last October!

Life had got in the way again and what with every weekend seemingly being taken up with work, house matters or the flu, any chance I had to get out was restricted to last minute plans for heading out on coastal walks.

But this last weekend dawned bright and sunny and for once there was no wind to speak of. Ditching the south coast as being too full of idiots on jetskis [the last gasp of the whitsun half-term was still in full swing] I opted for the rather more craggy and less frequented north. The tide would be out during the day, but it was neapy so it was’nt a huge problem; if anything it would be more fun as I could get into some of the sea caves and in amongst the rocks.

I wrote a blog on just this a couple of years back, but that was back when I had the 13’ boat, the 16’ Clipper had’nt been out here before. Also in favour was the fact that Trefor beach is hard pack sand, so the car can be driven right down to the waters edge for unloading, a fact not lost on half a dozen sit on top users already there when I arrived.

I got some ‘you must be crazy taking that in the sea’ looks from a few, but one old guy spent a a couple of minutes looking my canoe over – it transpired that he had used one identical in Canada years ago.

I quickly loaded up with the usual gear, plus the wood gas stove, which I wanted to ‘field test’ at some point.

It was approaching low water slack tide as I exited the harbour and what was left of the ebb wafted me along to the west. I was trying out my ‘new’ grey owl paddle, bought at the symposium last year and only now getting wet for the first time. It was some 6” longer than the Langford otter tails I like and has a spade blade which grabs the water really well. The first few minutes went well, then I began to realise that it was just too long as a solo paddle. I changed to the Langford and the difference was immediately noticeable. The paddle was much easier to use, the shaft length being just right for a paddler in the middle of the boat. OK it did’nt shift as much water on each stroke, but once up to speed you forgot it was in your hands. The best £15 I’ve ever spent on fleabay, and for that I got a matched pair in maple and black walnut!

Ahead of me was a stack called ynys cachu [guano island] where large numbers of cormorants used to nest, now though it seemed to be the sole preserve of gulls

I couldn’t get to the inside gap of the largest stack so moved around it where I espied a sea cave, only accessible at this low state of tide. It was calm enough to risk going in and it was then I realised that the sea cave had outlets either side and I was in fact inside the stack – literally! All that stone above me and the beginnings of a little swell made me back out of there in a hurry!

I continued along a pretty forlorn bit of coast, all boulder beach and scree from Yr Eifl, heading for Trwyn y Gorlech and then the beach at Porth y Nant where I hoped I’d have it to myself since it’s quite difficult to reach. Porth y Nant would be my turnaround point, some 4.5 k from where I set out.

Beaching the canoe on the coarse sand beach, I found a handy driftwood log and set about firing up the stove. I got a handy rolling boil in the kettle in around 5 minutes, having charged up the stove with offcuts of softwood stacked vertically and lit up with a fragment of firelighter. This one charge boiled water for my coffee and then did my noodles, with enough left over I reckon to do a fry up and boil a litre of water to sterilise it.

As I contemplated starting back a SoT hove into view, with the same idea as me I’m sure and I vacated the beach so he could have it to himself…….. not for long though as I encountered a couple more SoTs and a Klepper Aerius heading in the same direction.

The northgoing tide was just starting up and I had a great paddle back to Trwyn y Tal, where I got back right into the rocks for a spot of pretend rock dodging and thence back to the beach…. 9km 4 hours, lovely.

__________________

Pie Charts!

2008-05-23T13:32:00.001+01:00

have fun with these charts, graphs and pies:

http://graphjam.com/

good clean fun for a Friday afternoon!

the great fig roll shortage

2008-04-24T13:33:00.002+01:00

The national fig roll crisis: how will we cope?
Martin WainwrightMonday April 21, 2008The Guardian

If the flap of a butterfly's wings in Brazil can trigger a tornado in Texas, then it is perhaps no wonder that Britain's current fig roll shortage can be traced back to wasp problems in Turkey.
We were alerted to the absence of the legendary biscuit by a concerned reader. Further investigation revealed that supermarket shelves are indeed empty. Some branches of Sainsbury's have even put up notices, informing customers of the current crisis, which began with hard times for the pollinating fig wasp of Anatolia.

"It's been so exceptionally hot and dry there that the fig harvest is down by half from previous years," says Christine Welberry of the Food and Drink Federation. The wasps are wilting, while in the background the internet buzzes with frustrated roll seekers.
"Just got back from Waitrose - the man told me that two weeks ago he'd been told to take the price ticket off the shelf ... seems like fig rolls are no more (well for the foreseeable future anyway)," says A Lot Ment on Digital Spy's food forum. "I order online from Asda at the minute and I have noticed you haven't been able to buy these for the past few weeks," responds Louismum.

The crunch came because the heat coincided with the discovery of contamination. At the end of March, Paula Waldron, head of the food incidents unit at the Foods Standards Agency, wrote to all British companies importing Turkish dried figs. Eurolaw-busting levels of a poison called aflatoxin had been found in consignments, she said, and everyone needed to carry out their own additional anti-toxin tests. The poison comes from a natural mould that is a parasite of figs, and has been linked with cancer.

Such crises aren't uncommon in foods, but the disappearance of a line as venerable as the fig roll is. As Welberry warns: "Buffer stocks have been used up and so the continuity of fig supplies has been affected."

Rolls should be back on the shelves in a month or so, but if you can't wait that long, you could always grow your own figs. This is perfectly possible, even in the north of England, where mass concern about fig rolls first surfaced. In Victorian Sheffield, steelworkers' lunchtime figs ended up in the city's river Don whose water was heated by factory effluent. Hence the fig trees growing along the riverbanks near the M1 viaduct. If the summer's nice, get harvesting.

so if you are down the co-op looking for your favourite fig rolls and can't find any - you now know why.

Personally I prefer Jaffacakes
.

alternative medicines

2008-04-07T13:32:00.002+01:00

Here's a cracking site devoted to debunking all these weird alternative therapies that regularly pass us by in our daily lives:

www.quackometer.net

Not that I'm totally anti alternative thereapy though. Acupuncture certainly sorted out my painful frozen shoulders a few years back and herbal medicines have a long history and form the basis of many modern cures.... it's the strange things that, hand in hand with medieaval methods such as burying a piece of bacon to cure warts or other such idiotic quackery... reduce the ones that really do work into the same tarpot.

MADEIRA – The 2008 island visit

2008-03-27T13:28:00.001Z

The day before the day before we went

So it’s Saturday and I’m in Whitney Oxford, and my feet are killing me. Why? Because I bought a pair of walking boots, no make that two pairs of walking boots, that don’t do what they are supposed to do. Let me explain. My old Zamberlan trek-lites, although serviceable had worn soles, no good on the slippery clay paths I would find in Madeira’s rainforest. So I bought a nice new pair of Contour trail shoes in Joe Browns and very nice they were too….. until I spent a day walking round London on the Friday. I got back to our hotel and I was footsore, with hot damp smelly feet. What is good a thousand feet up Snowdon on a cold winters day – lined and waterproof, just does’nt hack it in the muggy conditions of a city. So on our way back to the hotel we took a look at the sales in Covent Garden, spending a tidy wad on the side, where I picked up a pair of non waterproof KSB shoes. The sole was quite hard and the toe a tad narrow, but they were Ok and worth a punt for £20. And they were great, on grass. On concrete that sole was just too hard. So it was back to the start – but this was’nt the main reason I was in Whitney.

We would be stopping Saturday night at Helen's, a friend of mine, and we were there ostensibly to buy some supper and what have you. I also wanted to get a new inhaler, and some bits and bobs…. As chance would have it there was a sale of trainers going on at the local hall, and since I did’nt fancy wearing either a pair of deckies or my mega-hot Contours for the whole trip I took a look. Half an hour later and I was decked out in an excellent pair of well fitting, comfy and best of all non smelly/non waterproof approach shoes, for less than £20 – basically what I actually wanted to buy [but could’nt] for £60 a fortnight earlier.

Arriving at Helens we found the key she had left [they were out and would’nt be back until late evening]. I watched Wales trounce France for the rugby Grand Slam and went to bed much happier, even though I still had sore feet.

The next day we drove down to Gatwick, stopping en-route for Sunday lunch and checked into the hotel prior to our early departure the following Monday morning.

The following day we duly presented ourselves at the Airport and were checked through in no time at all. The flight was packed and as usual there was little space for each of us. We sat on the tarmac for a while, being late when all of a sudden there was a bump and……… nothing happened. We sat there some more until we actually started moving in a purposeful way towards the runway. Nothing could stop us now and hurrah we were up and away on an uneventful but somewhat uncomfortable 4 hour trip to our destination, the Isle of Madeiria, semitropical , green and although we did’nt know it at the time – full of germans.

The approach to Madeira was quite spectacular, all clouds, greenery, precipitous cliffs and mountain peaks. The approach to the airport for landing was also quite spectacular, but in a more scary way. The cheery pilot asked us to ‘hang on’, as the runway was ‘a bit short’ and therefore braking would be ‘quite hard’. Blimey, I’ve had softer car crashes than that landing. First off the plane weaves and banks all over the place on it’s approach, then you get a sudden view of cars, houses above you, a vision of green cliffs and red rooftops flashes across your view and suddenly you are down, careering down the too-short runway towards the sea at umpteen miles an hour, braking hard and being thrown forwards in your seatbelt. A small cheer and a scatter of applause confirms we have made it down in one piece. I find out later that they extended the runway out over the sea on stilts and that it’s nicknamed the aircraft carrier for very good reasons.

A slight argument occurred a little later as we attempted to get our hire car. S bristled somewhat at the information that the excess insurance [fully comp to you and I] would be an extra £60 thus hitching the deal up to the heights of potential absurdity. Why so expensive? I figured there must be a reason, so it might be better having the cover than not, regardless of the expense. Later on, although we did’nt ever need the excess, I figured that it was a good thing we paid, as the amount of blind bends, potholes and things [mostly rocks] that seemed to fall from above made me grateful that we stumped up.

Funchal was nice, the hotel apartment was nice, the view was very nice – mostly of the sea right below and in front of us, framed by the harbour on one side and the famous Reids Hotel on the other. We sat back and soaked it all in prior to kicking off our shoes, having a beer and relaxing.

.

Duffy - Rockferry

2008-03-05T13:44:00.002Z

Well it's not often I'm moved to writing a record review, but in the case of our local pride and joy, bridesmaid to my goddaughter, Chloe and all round singing sensation that is Aimee Duffy, well it's a first...........

So. Duffy: the long awaited album. I was led to expect by both the tracks that have been released already and the superb live performances that have been variously screened on youtube and on the box that this would be something very special.

What we get is essentially a box of chocolates, a curates egg; something for everyone but not everything for all. There are some superb tracks: Rockferry just builds and builds; Warwick Avenue could have come from it’s namesake [Dionne]; Stepping Stone is a grower; Mercy we all know about! Distant Dreamer is a slice of pure Spector meets Scott Walker and is another grower.

The other tracks might just get to me but on first hearing don’t do much.

The exception to this is Syrup and Honey which is awesome, stripped back to guitar and emotion, even with a little intake of breath at the beginning. For me this is the best song on the album and is a pointer to the direction [to me at any rate] she should take her craft.

As a work in progress Duffy has made an excellent start, and with experience in refining that incredible instrument that is her voice and writing good songs with the right production crew there is no reason for her second album being every bit as good as that other Amy’s second album was.

If I was coming to this cold I’d probably give it 3* but based on our Duffy’s powerful live performances to date I give it 4* and hope that the next one lives up to the potential shown here.

So there. now you know.

.

2008-02-29T13:39:00.003Z

Quickly following on from the earlier post [since I appear to be on a roll] my roadtrip for mid March was precipitated by all the hassle I'd been having earlier in the year. The choice of dates was predicated by a sale that travelodge was having. C'mon you can't grumble at a room at Kew Bridge, London for two nights at 25 notes a night! I asked Sian if she wanted to come along, yes please she said a couple of days away will be nice. So there we were.

Then Sian called and told me she had to use up a [paid for already] week before the end of March on her holiday timeshare club thing and how did a week in Madeira sound. It sounded excellent to me and if it was tagged onto the two days in London then we could make a real holiday of it. All fine and dandy. I checked out free flights. Sian did the money bit and got a night at a Gatwick hotel and paid for it all [yes I'd be paying for my whack] and so I ordered some guide books and got ready for a marvellous holiday.

A couple of days later I popped in to see here on my way back from a job and found here looking somewhat pensive. After weeks of avoiding contact, ignoring texts and emails, some plaintive, some abusive fom 'He who shall never be named' aka the 'friend' of last summers trauma she'd given in an allowed him back into her life, and the odds were that he would be going to Madeira not me....

I was incandesant with rage. It was all I could do to keep a lid on things and get out of there before I really blew up. To be given a load of shit from someone you regard as one of your best friends is bad, but can be repaired, as we had done previously. But to them be subjected to it again, after all the crap that had been taking place for the last 18 months was too much.

I sent an email, in which I treid to be constructive and decent, pointing out the why's and wherefore's of what had happened before, and asking why she was treating me like this

No anwer. So I sent another copying what she had said only a few days before. Still no answer. By now I was getting more and more angry again. so it was another email-

No answer. But late on the following Sunday I got a call from her. A little voice, basically saying sorry and I was right all along, because he's more or less arrived, stayed and then sought to dominate every aspect of her life, which was'nt good. When he resorted to force, she suddenly saw the light and saw him as the manipulative manevoelent force he was. Luckily he went and comparitive peace now reigns.

We're off to Madeira again and things between us are as good as they will ever be. But she's not forgiven, and any repeat of this ort of thing again, she'll have lost a good friend, and she knows this.

Hopefully the Madeira report will be sweetness and light...phew.

It’s not quite March 1st

2008-02-29T12:07:00.000Z

As usual I’ve been somewhat tardy in keeping this blog, this diary, this stream of consciousness up to date in any meaningful way. Last autumn I ended an entry with these words:

I have the Snowshoe to finish/finesse, a sailing kit to build for the Prospector, the rear garden to clear prior to my next Big Project.. the building of the shed/summerhouse/guest accommodation/ office.

Well guess what?

True to form none of these things have come to pass. Yet for once I have an excuse!

In early January I awoke to a horrible sulphurous smell which seemed to be coming from the fireplace. I could’nt track this until I brushed my hand across the chimney plate. Wow, was it hot. With care and a pair of ovengloves I managed to remove the cast iron chimney piece from the woodburner and had a look inside the stone chimney. There was a large burning mass of something horrible. I hooked it out into an iron bucket and dumped it outside where it continued to smoulder and burn for hours.

I concluded that this was tar and particulates condensing in the chimney and burning up. I was lucky not to have a full scale chimney fire. Cleaning it to a full day and I’m not 100% happy. So it looks like I’m going to have to spend a few hundred on lining the chimney. However doing without heat through the coldest winter months is’nt an option either. So for now it’s going to be small fires and a closer look come summer.

If that was’nt enough hassle, the toilet blocked, and I had to have the septic tank pumped out. The kindly farmer who owned the field refused to allow the tanker to go in, so a smaller towed unit was required, which, perversely, cost a lot more. Said tanker arrived and was refused access. I was at home , recovering from a dose of the V&D bought on by eating some seafood, and so had to help the tanker guy run 70 odd foot of large bore pipe over and around my neighbours back garden, rather than the 15 it would have taken. In the process we discovered that the garden decking bearers were no longer doing their job, so all these will need replacing…………

Basically, all within a week of each other I have amassed a bill, both potential and actual of around a £1K, which has effectively ended my plans for the shed, at least for now.

I was so fed up that I decided that the only recourse was to indulge in a ‘ROADTRIP!’ before Easter, but even this was to turn into a nightmare of angst and recrimination, and it has’nt even happened yet!

Christmas mutterings

2008-01-02T13:16:00.000Z

I've held off on this until now, not wanting to appear curmudgeonly, but now it's all over I feel that I'm free to vent with a stream of consciousness style post.

It's being quite a few years since I felt Christmassy in the way we are all expected to be... either in the traditional festive 'christian' manner or in the modern display of excess that is now the norm. Probably the fact that I dont have children, a young family or a live in partner means that I don't get that feeling that others plainly do.

I can't abide the holier than thou platitudes of the theolgians who keep on insisting that the true meaning of Christmas is being lost, neither do I hold with the gluttoness and material excess of the secular holiday.

I suppose I lie, as usual, somewhere in the middle, enjoying the spiritual aspects of the season, without feeling the need to celebrate a dead Jews birthday [which is several months out] and also enjoying the idea that the mid-winter solstice involves a bit bit of gratuitous consumption.

The whole hijacking by the Christian religion of the winter solstice a pagan festival steeped in the history of humankind, from the shores of the Mediteranean and the middle east up into the northern and western reaches of Europe, quite frankly annoys me. The only thing that has helped it survive is the obstinacy and suspicion of us ordinary folk who hedged our bets by keeping many of it's traditions alive 'just in case'. Thus holly, ivy and mistletoe are all part of the festival, as are robins, yule logs, carols - 'in the bleak mid-winter' - stands out, and yes the consumption of too much rich food and drink together with partying with family and friends...

It's ironic really is'nt it, that the conspicuous consumpion that the Church [both high and low] rails against is actually the true meaning and message of Christmas, rather than the false premise they would actually have us believe in.

Happy New Year [or is that sometime later in January?]

the shed the shed!!!

2007-12-11T13:41:00.000Z

He uttered for the umpteenth time.

However this winter I am determined to make a start at the very least on the next project on my seemingly unending list of things to do. The collapse of the boundary fence and my log store has been the catalyst for this new endeavour. In about an hour, I dismantled and sawed up the wreckage and was left with a nice clean hole into which I threw about a ton of breezeblock and cement rubble from the remains of the bathroom build.This still leaves me with the rapidly disintegrating bulk of the existing shed, the one that I proudly stood before some 18 month ago on my expose in the Grand Designs Magazine. The shed is still full of ‘stuff’ which need removing to the garage or skip.

Also to be removed is a 15 year old birch tree which is getting a bit too big for the garden and is in the wrong place. Also the neighbours are beginning to comment on it’s presence. They are of course able to cut back to the boundary, but I haven’t told them that. There’s nothing worse than a lopsided tree. So out it will have to come.

What then? Well the traditional shiplap shed doesn’t really do it for me I’m afraid. It’s ok for putting ‘stuff’ into, but I really want to have something more like a summerhouse, that can be used as ‘guest’ accommodation or a home office, or a bit of both. So I have designed my own – to be built from sheet ply – 2 sheets of thin stuff sandwiching a piece of insulation foam. . I can pre-fabricate these panels in the garage, and then assemble them on site in due course. The basic structure will be of 4x 2’s or something similar, supporting a curved roof made in the same way as the panels.A decent door and windows that actually are weatherproof completes the build, and I have 10liters of woodstain in a very fetching blue to finish it all off.

The ‘stuff’ will be consigned to a ‘garden cupboard’ opposite. Size? Well I am really constrained with this. I suppose if I used the whole width here I could go as far as 15’ by around 10’ but in all honesty this would be: 1. too big for the garden and 2. too expensive. I would also lose anywhere to store my ‘stuff’. I’m more likely to turn the long axis through 90* and put it along the fence line with next door and lower the dimensions to around 10’ x 8’.

Not as big as I would like, but at least it’s attainable and doesn’t rob the garden of space. .

Reading....and thoughts about books

2007-12-11T13:32:00.000Z

Ok, maybe a tenuous link, but one of my favourite SF authors is Kim Stanley Robinson, who wrote several novels dealing with environmental change and how man adapts to these.

This is what Wikipedia says:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kim_Stanley_Robinson

The interesting bit is down in the middle bit in Science in the Capital where the writer lists things which KSR suggests we should get back in touch with.

For those not wanting to go there here's the list:

In Fifty Degrees Below (page 99) Robinson discusses neolithic activities that we, as humans, should return to in order to give us happiness, as our brains are hard-wired to enjoy such things:
walking
throwing things at things
having sex
dealing with the opposite sex
looking at fire
talking
running
dancing
singing
stalking animals
gathering plants to eat
cooking and eating
killing animals for food
experiencing terror
making your bed
looking at the moon

There's plenty there I can put a tick against .

I'll expand on this when I have time.

.
__________________

2007-11-02T13:52:00.000Z

Good lord 3 posts in two days!

No, make that 4 with this one, and possibly another on the way before the weekend is over.

And no, I don't understand this new enthusiasm either.

whiskering

2007-11-02T13:46:00.000Z

Or a beard growing competition ………… online!

http://www.whiskerino.org/2007/

shall I? shall I?

Probably not

Will have a think about it, but the idea of shaving just seems wrong in any event.

And what about the itching? I get 'the itch' around week three from any trim and it's the signal to get the scissors out.

I have reached 'Grizzly Adams' proportions before, as well as 'Ancient Mariner' but I suspect my employers would have major issues with unfettered beard growing, since they already are in major-strop-mode because of my refusal to wear a tie - on medical grounds, as I keep on saying. I'm using the old 'I had neck burn when someone ripped my tie off when I was in school and now I cannot stand having anything tight around my neck - well it's worked so far :)

.

another year.and another crisis :)

2007-10-31T13:26:00.001Z

Well what a year it has been!

Sometime towards the end of last year I wrote a piece for this blogg, entitled ‘Looking back’ and sort of encapsulating the quite hectic year that had taken place, even though at the time I was thinking ‘have’nt done much this year’

So this year was going to be different. I was going to change things.

S and I were continuing with our on off on relationship, settling slowly into a sort of Friends+ situation. I was happy with this on one level since it allowed me to do what I do best…… be solo. Unfortunately it soon transpired that S decided that she wanted a partner, and it was’nt going to be me. However we rubbed along with myself not acknowledging the situation, but even with my limited skills it soon became apparent that the + bit of the friends+ was rapidly decreasing.

Once I came to terms with the fact that we’d just be friends, mates, pals, whatever, it suddenly became easier and we spent some quality time with one another.

We continued to rub along like this for a while, then in mid May I caught a particularly nasty virus which put me in hospital for a few days, but the consequential convalescence had me off work for nearly 3 months. In that time we carried on as before, except I was being kept an eye on by S, who wanted me to stay with her. For a few days it was Ok but after a while I needed my space. So it was off home with me and a lazy few weeks.

I should have updated the blog, but there was a lot I did’nt do, like small jobs around the house and what have you. Truth is I was tired all the time, a bit low and quite weak. Even going for a walk was hard work.

By the middle of June I was improving and a return to work was mooted for early July, but the week before I was due to go back I had renewed pains and the doc had no hesitation in keeping me off for another month.

The why’s and wherefores of my relapse, I put down to an incident with S. We were invited to a party. She would pick me up at 7, There was no show, so I walked down , only to find her leaving with a ‘friend’. To say I was upset would be incorrect, I had come to accept that the relationship was over and that we were just friends but this just smacked of rubbing my face in it. I supposed I was bemused more than anything.

So that was it. The final nail in the coffin lid containing the remains of our relationship. The next day I went round to her house and played hell with her, by then I was feeling very let down. It ended up with my telling her that she needed to decide whether she wanted me as a friend or not.

By and large, once the fallout had settled I was ok with the situation, and in fact took great delight in telling her that I thought the ‘new guy’ was an asshole, after she regaled me with some of the things he had said.

But we sorted it out and remain friends, even though this new relationship of her’s seemed to stagger from crisis to crisis, she being an independently minded woman and he a domineering sort.

By September the new man in her life was no more. Turns out he was a bit like that character in ‘the League of Gentlemen’ who gets his metaphorical feet under the table in various houses of lonely single women and then takes over uttering the immortal lines ‘your my wife now’ in some weird New Orleans patois. Unfortunately it appears that he has a problem with the word ‘No’ and Sian keeps getting plaintive text messages from him followed by the less plaintive, nasty and the downright dangerous. To say it’s put her on edge is something of an understatement.

Through all this angst she still says it’s a shame cos she really liked him. Me? I say good riddance.

Another consequence of this virus is that for the second year running, my plans for canoeing the Wye, Thames and Scotland were put on hold…… not necessarily a bad thing in retrospect, considering the summer we ended up with, most the places I had marked down for going to were totally flooded out. I did manage several trips away…firstly to Windermere in April where a cracking day’s paddling turned into a wet and soggy following morning. I also headed down to Pembroke in early September, in gorgeous weather, but was so ill the first night I headed home the very next day.

However in early October some 200 open canoes and their owners converged on Bala and I had a great weekend getting coached and improving my skills. This w/e was probably the highpoint of the year so far.

So what’s in store from now until the new year/ or more precisely from now until next easter. Well not a lot to be honest. Unless someone gives me a sack of money soon, I ‘ll be heading into hibernation mode, and generally ..mooching…… I have the Snowshoe to finish/finesse, a sailing kit to build for the Prospector, the rear garden to clear prior to my next Big Project.. the building of the shed/summerhouse/guest accommodation/ office.

the canoe thing

2007-10-30T13:33:00.000Z

Some of you are aware of my recent infatuation with doing the open canoe thing a la Ray Mears. The floating down the river was always the main theme, to which end I’ve bought/obtained/made all the bits and bobs one needs to undertake such a trip, but of course with my customary lack of money it won’t be Canada, rather a more sedate journey as benefits my status as an over 50 – down the upper reaches of the Thames, or if I’m feeling particularly adventurous – the Wye. These as you will have noticed are both ‘rivers’ ie moving water on which I have no experience worth noting. However on more open bits of water like the sea, I’m more at home so as well as these river trips I’ll probably head off to Scotland during May to ‘go exploring’ on some of the more accessible lochs. It also needs to be May in order to avoid two specific irritants – midges and kids.

Kids are reasonably easy to avoid – just go somewhere mid week and out of the school holiday period. Midges are less easy to time and therefore steer clear of. Now everyone knows about the infamous Scottish midge which can ruin a holiday on the west coast in about ten minutes. Some people are more susceptible than others, and there’s around a million quid or so coming to the person who comes up with a guaranteed 100% successful way of keeping them at bay, without resorting to mozzie nets, deet or going to Spain instead of Mull.

The situation is now further muddied by my usual ideas about adapting/ tinkering/ rebuilding what I already have or in this case the building of a new canoe for solo use. The new canoe will be lightweight and somewhat experimental and space age-ey but is essentially a modern take on the traditional wood and canvas canoes [which were a then modern take on the traditional birchbark canoes]. Construction is in lightweight pieces of pine, forming a frame not unlike the way old time aircraft were built. The frame is then stiffened by using Kevlar yarn placed in a sort of cats cradle way, tension being placed on the Kevlar which then places compression on the struts. The whole is then skinned with sailcloth and heat shrunk into place with a smoothing iron. A couple of coats of paint to seal the Dacron and job’s a good’un.

The canoe goes by the name of a ‘geodesic aerolite’ construction- design Snowshoe 14/ and apparently it will take me and all my gear. So that’s ok then.

I’ve got the plans, the kevlar, the stickums and the Dacron, now all I need is the wood to build the frame and the strongback, the mouldings and the ribs. The ribs and some of the framing will need a little bit of getting, since they need to be made from ash, and green ash at that. Luckily there is loads of ash in the vicinity and the job will likely entail finding a suitable sapling, felling and cleaving to the 30 or so ribs I need.

I'll update on this soon since I'm well into the build, yes I know I should've posted this much earlier

ho hum

2007-03-28T13:59:00.001+01:00

As ever I'm stuck for something to write, apart from either sort-of-apologising for the lack of material to place on said blog, or to bemoan the lack of any comments to what is here already. It's entirely possible that no-one else in the entire universe bothers reading this blog as there are other more exciting, more interesting and more Now! bits of writing to be had out there in etherland

However this is all mine, and it's the only bit of creative writing I do, unless one regards my tree reports in the same light. A lack of anything to write about would indicate a level of boringness on my part that would be approaching grey and uninteresting in a Reginald Poosey kind of way.
RP if you care to remember was the character played by Michael Palin as the lead in to the lumberjack song - so grey and boring was he that even accountancy was a little bit too stimulating.

So here I am, and instead of writing reports on all the exciting trees and boudary issues I usually have, I'm just waffling along with my little blog. Nothing of much import has taken place since I was last here, well nothing of much import anyway.

S and I are still wafting along in a sort of of* friends+ * way, and having the odd bit of summer now and again... but this w/e we are making a dash for the continent, for a bit of a break and to stock up on wine and nice french foods - but mainly to get away before the madness that is Easter descends on the peninsula.

If there's anything to report I'm sure I'l remember to write it down here - or not.

THE LITTLE OLD LADY INCIDENT

2007-01-22T13:37:00.000Z

More roadworks. The Cob in Porthmadog always seems to have some sort of hold up on it so it was to be expected. What was’nt expected was my passenger door being opened as I sat there at the lights and a little old lady jumping in.. I just sort of sat there open mouthed thinking….. I don’t know what… maybe she thought she was getting into a car she recognised or her son’s car which just happened to be red………. Whatever!

Any thoughts along these lines quickly dissolved away when she asked me where I was going…errr Dolgellau I stammered still too surprised to say anything other than to answer her. O good you can drop me off in Mallwyd, I’m going to the institute.

Traffic was now moving ahead of me and I found I had 3 options, order her out, go out and drag her bodily from the car or give her a lift. Cars were behind me so I did’nt think options one or two would be desirable… I could just see the headlines if I dragged her from my car, so it was going to be hobson’s choice for me ie no choice at all. Off we went.

At least she did’nt smell, even though she was a bit scruffy.. in a sort of bag lady kind of way. Before I knew it she had winkled out my name, antecedents and most other things and then wanted to give me a bible, of which she seemed to have a fair number in a voluminous bag.

She kept up a non stop gable all the way there, her eyes twinkling as she regaled me with tales of other lifts she’d been ‘given’ over the years. I asked her if it would be better if she hitched or thumbed for a lift like everyone else. Oh she’d thought about it, but this way was better. You were guaranteed a lift, she reckoned that she’d never been kicked out of a car and people often went out of their way to get her to where she wanted to go… all in all quite a quick witted little old lady, not to be trifled with I thought.

Looking back.

2006-12-22T11:37:00.000Z

Well It’s that time of year again, where we look forward to the coming year, and at the same time look back at all that happened in the year gone by.

Ok we’re still a week or so short of the end but here’s a quick summary of all that’s gone before.

The year started quietly and got quieter, with nothing much at all going on. I had’nt been anywhere, seen anyone or done anything special over the festive season… business as usual then.

There was a little fillip early in January with my decision to declutter my life a bit [yeah yeah yeah, you’ve heard it all before] Since I’ve long fallen out of love with hillwalking and mountaineering in it’s more extreme forms, and biking just is’nt my thing, I needed something to keep me in some sort of shape, and my acquisition of an open canoe was designed to do just that. It got a lot of use too, but only around here. Circumstances later in the year more or less put a block on the planned trips into remote bits of Scotland.

The big thing happened in early April when the love of my life, Sian entered my err…life. How this came about has been catalogued elsewhere on this blog, but what has’nt been recorded was what happened afterwards.. Basically from May onwards Sian was one very sick girlie, totally exhausted, stressed and just generally going downhill. With a bit of hassling from meself she went to a doc and then a specialist and then in a matter of days into hospital for an op to remove cancer in her breast….which was all successful. Oh I have’nt mentioned the court case either…and I wont, but that had it’s moments too, but at least she won. But that’s another story.

By the middle of June she was home and in convalescence, ready to start the next traumatic stage – radiotherapy. It all meant that she was home on sick pay that would’nt support a anorexic mouse and ultimately no job to go back to, not that this last bit was bad since we are in no doubt that the stresses and strains of that was a prime cause of the illness to begin with.

Thankfully the radiotherapy went without a hitch, the only real problem was a case of nasty ‘sunburn’ to her boob… not so the tamoxifen that was recommended that came with all sorts of weird side-effects. Sian only lasted 3 weeks on this before deciding it was’nt needed [the consultant agreed] but it’s taken months from that point to get it out of her system.

Between all this and my abortive attempts to get going on the bathroom, all my proposed canoeing trips away were put on abeyance, the boat was hardly used - so little I hoiked her out of the water early August, reclaimed the mooring fees and put her up for sale. Holidays have been confined to long weekends, firstly in Plymouth where I went to fetch sian back from Brittany and then a couple of impulse trips over to France, because we happened to be in the bottom left hand corner of Britain anyway… and that’s it really

.

Ahhh...bliss! at last

2006-12-20T13:52:00.000Z

the Lost Coast

After 3 months of being without a proper bathroom, and having to rely on Sian’s shower 7 miles away every now and again, it was utter bliss to be able to have a bath at home once more…

Yes, at last the bathroom project is nearing completion.

I’ve been going on about sorting the bathroom from hell out for at least 18 months on this blog, if not since the begining . At last some time earlier this summer, I can’t even remember when, I ripped out the manky old window and replaced it with a nice piece of polythene. It stayed like this throughout the hot weather we had, so taking a bath or shower in the open air was’nt a problem.

By the middle of the summer though we had a cold snap and it was kinda uncomfortable, so I decided to grab it with both hands and sort it all out. Anyway Sian was giving me grief. So I ordered a load of stuff from Screwfix and started pulling things out. First to go was the avocado bath, pan and sink.. out and off to the skips, followed by the bit of block wall that made the place that much smaller. Then all the tiles were taken off, this was’nt too bad, they had to go. I mean, who puts kitchen tiles on a bathroom wall? Then I thought that maybe taking down the t&g boarded ceiling might not be a bad idea either, since the leaky roof [now replaced] had made the boards all black and mildewed in places… so down it came, together with the less than stable plasterboard…

The end result… was an empty cube of concrete blocks… but as I then discovered it was’nt a proper cube. No a proper cube has right angles, straight lines and does’nt have a floor that drops an inch and a half in 8 feet. So as usual it was rethink time again.

Then another problem manifested itself…. Because of the need to really really sort out the place I would now be stuck for a while [read weeks] without a toilet. Every day had to be approached like a military operation. As long as the routine was up and running and I was errr……… routine myself then I had things sorted. But if there was any glitches at all, like when I was out of sorts, then things quickly unravelled. Luckily it was all ok, apart from one night when I awoke with the pretty urgent need to get to a toilet, and had to jump into the car at 1 am and drive the mile or so to the marina where I knew there would be a toilet…….. thank goodness it was just that one time.

I toyed with putting the ceiling back up in the form of thin ply sheets, painted white but when I offered them up it was’nt very clever. So I cleaned up the t&g and re fixed it up and painted in several coats of white paint.. it worked. Thus emboldened I set about the window with the intention of blocking it up completely and having artificial light only, but I had 12 glass blocks left over from the kitchen phase, so in they went instead. The end result was a bit jail cell – ish but once everything else is done it will be ok, much better than that horrible obscured glass you see in other houses.

Of course the bath, when installed did’nt fit – being too short, so I had to put an infill piece at the ends, and the legs were useless, so I had to support the rim all round with battens nailed to the wall, and the plumbing was somewhat nightmarish [and continues to be, but all in all it could be considered that we were getting there.

Then came the wiring. I thought ok install electric shower. I took one look at the wiring diagram and knew I was out of my depth. So I called in an electrician who, amidst much shaking of the head and sharp intakes of breath told me what I already had an idea of….. a total rewiring of the bathroom, the existing feed, a new one, just for the shower etc etc. ……. Phew. At least the bill did’nt break the bank, but it was close

So, now the bath is in, the pan is in… the walls are straight - ish the ceiling is up the wiring is 95% done…now comes the part I’ve been dreading…. putting the tiles up. Just getting the tiles was something of a marathon. Sian had convinced me that things were much cheaper in France, and since we were to go down to Sussex soon to look at a job, it might be a good occasion and a bit of an adventure to nip across to France on her already-paid-but-not-used ferry ticket, get some goodies, stop the night and then come back in time for her interview. This we did, but not before a great deal of umming and ahhing about the colour/size of the tiles. I liked a nice deep blue tile, but there was little else around to complement it. In the end I settled on a mid blue mottled effect tile, but at 10” x 13” would they be difficult to fit over the irregularities of the walls? Worse still, there was now a window in the middle of one wall, and since cutting tile was’nt my forte I was left wondering how to deal with it. The judicious application of some small mosaic tiles to break up the courses so that they intersect with the upper and lower parts of the window would seem to sort that out…. But we’ll see.

I started on the tiling, and it was every bit as traumatic as I expected. Unlike most men I do read the instructions on things so when I read that the adhesive I was to use had ‘excellent grab qualities, no need for supporting battens’ I thought ok, here goes. Within 10 minutes and the whole lower course of tiles I was busy readjusting the damn things, and I hastily installed a batten wedged up under the tiles. It worked, after a fashion, but the lower edge had dropped by around a cm, and I couldn’t move them back up without wrecking everything…….. which meant I might have problems with the mosaic edge later on…….
Once the first course and vertical edges were lined up and plumbed another problem became more defined… the walls sloped inward ever so slightly which meant that by the time I was at the top level I would be having to trim the vertical edges in the corner, just to make them fit. Fine, I know I could have taken my plumb line from the top inside corners and worked outwards, but that would have left me with a very obvious gap at the lower edge, where it gets all wet. I’d rather keep things tight[ish] and cut than have huge areas of grout showing. I’ll run a bead of sealant down each corner and fair it in when all is done. Yet another problem I could do without..

Fast forward a couple of weeks and all the tiles are now up. I had hoped that using the large tiles would enable me to level up and over the subtle irregularities in the walls but the converse has been the case. Getting a single plane has been difficult, to say the least. But it looks ok to a cursory look, only my wanting it to be perfect is disappointing. The mosaic tiles were a disaster, so much so I ended up taking a lot of them off and gluing a painted wooden board over the ones adjacent to the ceiling. I also ran out of the matching blue grout, and could I find any more? No of course not.

But I perservered and now it’s done I’m pretty happy. As long as you don’t look too closely.

I decided that getting the walls emulsioned would be the next job, so that it would at least have an air of finish – ness about it. Since the overall scheme was a mid to dark blue and white, my preferred option of a pale apple green was’nt really going to work and I thought pale blues would be cold, so I opted for a duck egg blue, mainly because it was marked down 50% in the olde painte shoppe. Big mistake. It was just too blue; the blue 1950’s kitchens were painted in. So it was off the olde painte shoppe again to buy some cheap compatible white. I mixed about 20% of the blue into the white and bingo a very pale blue, which was just about perfect. Several coats of this later and I decided that it would do nicely, even if all the imperfections I thought I had got rid of in the walls were still painfully obvious.

Then it was the floor’s turn. A similar predicament was to be expected. I was originally going to re-screed the floor with a self levelling mix, but my dislike of all things cement-y dissuaded me from going down this route. Battening was the next option, but the way the floor was laid meant that I would be trying to work out a 3 dimensional jigsaw. It was’nt as if the unevenness was gross. It was just a quarter inch here and there and a slope down to one corner. The more I thought about it, the more it came down to a sprung floor, laid directly onto the existing one with the unevenness taken up by the foam underlay. The t&g bamboo was an engineered layer and would be rigid enough to span the little depressions and flexible enough to take in the ‘slope’. It all came down then to the orientation of the glued layer.

In the end it seems to have gone in pretty well, with the floor laid in two separate bits to accommodate the slopes, and everything glued together. Ok some of the joints are a little open, but once sanded back and re-varnished the whole will have a water resistant surface and the tiny seams will be filled. Some mastic around the edges and some stickums in certain spots and voila…bamboo floor.

I spent most of last night getting the basin in. It will be so good to be able to wash in the bathroom and not in the kitchen sink. However, as usual there are elements I really do not like about it. The basin is ok, but it sits on this pedestal which is miles away from the wall. I need to enclose this somehow, and the only thing that I can think of that will work is an enclosure in wood slats to match the cherry surrounds to the bath.

More work and more things to think about. I can’t leave well alone can I?

An interlude……….. return to rainy Plymouth and beyond

2006-10-11T13:37:00.000+01:00

Wow! Words failed me. I knew it would be somewhat impressive, but I had’nt expected this.

Sian and I parked up in the designated car park and strolled down the gravel paths to the entrance, where a large area of trees screened the visitor centre, by now thronging with people. As I had thoughtfully bought tickets beforehand we fast tracked it through and onto a balcony where we had our first sight of the EDEN PROJECT.

It was gob-smackingly huge and impressive, and not an American or McDonalds in sight. What spoilt it though were the throngs of people everywhere. Oh well, it was only to be expected on a dampish day in the middle of August. The Eden project itself sits at the bottom of a huge hole – an old clay pit some 60m deep [around 200’ for us oldies]. So the effect was not unlike what I would imagine coming over the lip of a huge crater and peering down into the murky depths, hoping to see a pool of lava, or a meteor or alien spaceship….and what you get is far closer to the latter than any pool of lava….

Some of you might already have noted my penchant for modern architecture, and what confronted us at the bottom of the hole was just that. Very modern and futuristic domes with a flying connection between them, roofed with turf. Over to the right hand side was another building, again pretty modern looking with lots of wood……

We walked down the zigzag paths and across the terraced slopes to the first dome, which contained the tropical biome. Once inside, despite the throngs of people you really did feel that you were in a tropical rainforest. The area was split into the main world rainforest areas.. south east Asia, south America, Africa and Oceania. What was at first surprising, was that all the plants growing there had a commercial value, either to those living in such areas, or globally. Whilst I first thought that this would lead to a degree of sameness or even problems with getting enough variety, it soon became obvious that this was a stroke of genius on the part of the development team. I mean- sure seeing all sorts of bryophytes and orchids is an experience, especially if you are into such things, but as I’m sure the Eden team would say, they’re not trying to recreate Kew [mind you- why not?] but to provide an insight to joe public as to how dependent the human world is on so many plants.

The throngs were still a pain and we had to allow ourselves to be pushed along with the flow. A brief respite was had at a high section of the south American section where an incredible view was to be had over the top of the forest towards the ingress point. By the time we reached the exit we were well damp and the blast of cool air that was blowing against us as we left was invigorating. By now it was lunchtime and most people were busy filling their faces in the restaurants/cafes/coffee shop… so the mediteranean biome was a little less crowded. Lots of plants quite familiar to us all, especially things like thyme and rosemary, whose scent pervaded the dome…..

After our stroll around here we wandered over to the…… and had a quick sarnie and a glass of cider, and then sat back and enjoyed the vista… we ended up walking around the discovery dome, where Sian announced that she now knew more about bananas than she ever thought possible

So, what were my lasting impressions of the Eden project? The biggest theme-park in the south west? Certainly. A worthy attempt to educate the GBP on the ehics and usage of global plants? Yes, I’d say so. Force feeding a green ethic on the same GBP? Probably not, unless you were a rabid rightwing free marketeer.

Would I go back there again? Definitely, but I’d want to go in November or February when there are no crowds and I could take my time.

bathroom

2006-10-04T22:23:00.000+01:00

Sometime around the begining of summer I realised that the bathroom from hell had to be sorted out, and since I'd been putting it off for ever, sooner rather than later seemed to be a good move.......

So I started off by ripping out the now rotting window and consigning it to the skip. Then I did nothing for a month or so whilst I thought about what to do next, and more importantly, where the money was going to come from.

Anyways, with the judicious use of a low interest credit card and 'screwfix' I bought a new suite and all the various bits that I needed. That was in August and now it's October. At least I now have a toilet. For a while, between old pan out and new pan in, I was commuting down to the marina just for a crap, or trying to time my communing with nature to when I was within a few yards of a comfy seat. But I still need to finish the plumbing, put in a new ceiling, tile the shower, instal the shower and I have'nt even started on the sink, or the floor. Oh and I still have no window. I suspect I'll be done by christmas. Hopefully.

Argh!... no!.... stress!

2006-07-28T12:26:00.000+01:00

It’s my own fault I suppose.

I had’nt heard from an old friend of mine for some time. Christine was someone who I had once had a holiday fling with way back, some 25 years ago. We got on well, but she returned to Paris and I returned to being a surfbum, and then a few years later into a full time student, work etcetc. You know – life.

But throughout all this time we had stayed in touch, with our tortured franglais having to suffice, and once in a while meeting up, either here in Wales or over there in Paris.

Anyways, as I say we had’nt been in touch for a long time, in fact I had’nt seen her in over 10 years, ever since I stared going out with Louise in 1994… But that’s another story. Our contacts had been reduced to the traditional exchange of Christmas cards and the odd email.

However in January this year I got an email saying she’d moved outside Paris and the inference was that things had moved on in her life. As usual when I replied I added that if she wanted to come over for a week she was more than welcome…

A week or so later another email, followed by a phone call asking if the first week in august was Ok. Yes it was. I got an airline agenda.. she’d got her ticket and would be here early August. All well and good.

Then I met Sian and we have been pretty much inseparable ever since. Now I have Christine coming over, with who-knows-what agenda in her own head. So she’ll need to be told that Yes, I was in a relationship and yes Chris and I could still be friends if that’s what she wanted, but I’d understand if not. It’s too late to tell her now it will have to be when she’s here. Luckily I told Sian that Christine was coming and she’s Ok with it. She can’t really be anything else since she’s off to Brittany with a couple of men on Sunday next for 3 weeks so she’s away when Chris is around.

If this sounds like a lot of juggling around, then you’d be right, it’s something one would expect from a 20 year old not one of a ‘mature’ age….. Oh well so much for trying to keep things simple.

another strange site

2006-05-21T14:54:00.000+01:00

I have pleasure in presenting another in my wierd and wonderfull internet sites series. Form the why-be-normal internet vaults I give you:

http://www.snopes.com/

hours of endless fun chasing up those urban legends.

enjoy

a tale of two lakes

2006-05-04T12:32:00.000+01:00

Following my non arrival at the Loch Lomond meet- up with other open canoe-ists last week I decided to make amends to myself by taking a look at one of the large reservoirs up here in North Wales. Being only an hour or so away, Llyn Brenig looked the perfect place to get some Scottish flavour, being high, windy and with moorland and coniferous forest to it's sides, together with lots of nooks and crannies.
The WCU website stated that there was an informal agreement to canoe the lake, owned by Welsh Water and built in the 70's. The Llyn Brenig website said nothing to the contrary so an early start saw me at the lake around 0830 Saturday morning. Deciding to check out the place to make sure, I came across an official notice board and there it was... watersports area, canoeing, about 2 miles round the shoreline.I arrived at the somewhat derelict 'watersports centre' and off loaded the canoe and got all the stuff into it. I had all the gear I was going to have had at LL to get a feel for it so this took some time. I got the stove going and had a 'panad' and locked the car. Just as I took a photo the Ranger hove into view and apologetically told me 'No canoeing'.To say I vented my spleen was an understatement. A long discussion ensued, which ended with my demanding that the ambiguous signage was sorted and that WW contacted the WCU to sort out the false claims being made. The Ranger was most apologetic [an open canoe'er himself he fully understood the situation.]

all dressed up with nowhere to go

Anyways there was no shifting the situation there and then and so, still fuming, I decided that since I was over this side of the County I'd go down to Llyn Tegid [Bala], even though I knew there was two regattas on [one of which was for high performance catamarans, which you don't want to be tangling with in a canoe. they do 30knots +] and the place would be swarming with tourists with it being a bank holiday w/e too.

So I took another photo of Brenig so you can see what I missed and then drove the 20 miles down to Bala.

Of course at Bala it was heaving, and it appeared that the whole of the north west motorcycle population had arrived. The problem with Bala, apart from it's popularity is that there is a busy main road running down it's whole length so it's impossible to get any of the tranquility present at Brenig. Nevertheless, I was here so a paddle would'nt be amiss.

Llyn Tegid. Aran Fawddwy in the background

A nice paddle was had, and I had a chance to try the sail out for the first time...

So intent was I to get it right I ended up down opposite Llangower point, almost at the far end of the bay and was faced with a fairly long paddle back into a now increasing headwind.

It took a good hour of hard work, where any steering stroke just seemed to stop me dead, but powering up just made me veer off. I ended up hugging the shoreline to get some shelter.I soon found that powering up and then switching sides enabled me to go upwind much more effectively, but I suspect that an investment in a kayak paddle might need to be made.I got back to the carpark as the place became full up.. I packed the gear but sat and had a bite whilst the canoe dried out. It quite a few looks from various bods but no-one asked me about it. I beat a hasty retreat soon after, the crowds were begining to get to me.

Thus ended a somewhat frustrating day out and about. I am still annoyed with WW attitude on the Brenig. It's OK to stand up to your waist in water to fish, or stand up in a boat, but a fully equiped canoe is far too risky. There are double standards there and I intend to make some noise. Chances are it will have no effect on the bean counters and shysters who are running scared of potential lawsuits, but c'mon people, canoeing is a risk sport [in the Uk at least] and those who undertake it accept the risks thereon.

Well it will make me feel better anyway

Das Boot

2006-04-24T13:26:00.002+01:00

Had a curious phone call late morning last week. A foreign sounding chap had heard [from who I don’t know] that I was wanting to sell my boat. Since this was technically correct I could’nt really say no. I told him that I might be open to offers.

It’s all to do with my downsizing. I have so much stuff that I want, no need – to get rid of that I will consider any decent offers on just about all of my stuff. Definitely up for grabs is the catamaran, since lugging it up and down the beach is such hard work by myself, that any enjoyment I might be getting whilst out on the water is tempered by the realisation that I will be totally spent by the time it’s back in the compound.

I’ve already started shedding stuff like surfboards, in that I know I only really need the longboard and mat to have as much fun as I want in the waves.

The boat though. That’s another issue. We’ve been together a long time, 15 years now and I’ve put a lot of work into keeping her going. Having said that it is quite an expense and taking a decent holiday abroad and having the boat on the water is almost more than I can afford in any one year. So she might be for sale, but not at any old price.

Well I met this character at lunchtime, and we rowed out to the boat. Turned out he was german, living locally and wanted something to potter around in. I pointed out that a Soling was’nt really a pottering about sort of boat, and took a bit of skill to sail. He reckoned it was ok. I told him that the boat had been on the water all winter and so would look a little frayed round the edges, there were all sorts of little non-essential jobs to be done…

He looked her over and then turned to me and said, in a very firm sounding way “I’ll give you £200 for her. Not worth more”… If he’d offered £2000 I might have taken it, but £200 was just plain insulting and I told him so. His reply was [more or less] “take it or leave it”. We rowed ashore in silence. I returned to the office. An hour later he phoned again and reiterated his offer. £200. Same answer from me. Half an hour later another call, with the same offer. I asked him what bit of ‘No’ was he having problems with. Unfortunately such wit completely passed over his head, but this time he said “£250”.

Now he genuinely wants the boat, I can see that. Only problem is that he’s not willing to pay for it. I might want to sell, sometime and maybe at a lower price than the £2K that would be my absolute rock bottom at the moment… but £250 is just taking the piss.

I await the next call upping his offer by a dizzying 75 pence!

It’s happened again!

2006-04-12T12:03:00.000+01:00

A couple or so weeks ago someone came in to look at some microfilm fiches of old planning permissions. No-one I knew. A little later I was walking past where she was and I suddenly realised that I did know her, and she was in the same year as my friend Sarah when they were in school. I did remember her. Sort of. I remembered who she was friends with. And I remembered, somewhat hazily [well it was a while ago] that she suddenly was’nt at the various parties and pub gatherings wher you’d find me and her friends. Not that I really knew her at all really. I’m not sure if I ever spoke to her even. I was a callow youth in those days, so she just dissolved away into the mists of my mind. Anyway, I was doing other things, getting involved with other people, surfing a lot, finding my place in society. Working hard at being a total surf-bum and ne’er do well.

Anyway back to the point……..

So I said hello, and after she was done with her search we got to talking [I even tried to get her to take that rayburn away!!!]. Anyways she said she ‘might’ just be interested and she’d call me if she was. [the rayburn! Nothing else]

A couple of weeks went by and no word and of course in the meantime the rayburn problem had sorted itself out [check the mega clearout thread]. I didn’t think anything more about it at the time, but I did mention it to Sarah, who remembered her from school although she said that she’d heard nothing for years, apart from the odd snippet via acquaintances. Anyways I bought her up to date from what Sian had told me and, Sarah, as I left asked if I was going to be in contact with her again? My response was a shrugged ‘I dunno’ . I had given her my card and my home number but had’nt the temerity to ask her for her’s [doh!]. No. It just had’nt occurred to me to ask for her number………

……..Jeez how totally oblivious to opportunities had I become? Easy question to answer. Unless she had a large neon sign above her head saying ‘shag me now’ I was unconscious of any interest from the other person. Sad eh? Or even worse, someone might be friendly towards me [because people can be, even in this day and age] and I totally misread it as being ‘a little bit more than interested’. Yep you guessed.. I’ve become one of that band of inept geeks, acne ridden youth, model train collectors and sad middle aged men with no dress sense and an unhealthy interest in silicon enhanced ‘models’……- a social inadequate ……………….

But I digress.

Sarah’s response: ‘Oh, you’d like her. She’s interesting’

Sooo…… anyways it’s a couple of weeks later and I came home from doing the garage clearing thing, and checked my phone [1471] cos I’d forgotten to put the ansafone on….. I was selling the pinkfish and the guy was due soon to fetch it, and he might have called whilst I was out. The number that came up was’nt what I expected ………in fact it was’nt a number I recognised at all…. so I dialled it out of curiosity more than anything, I had’nt a clue as to who’d be on the other end. Lo and behold it was Sian, who had just phoned to say hello, but of course I thought it was about the stove which was now somewhere else. Turned out she was’nt so much interested in the stove, but me. A fact I missed, due my total inability to see the obvious.
But with my lightning fast reflexes and quick thinking I phoned her back about 30 minutes later to see if she fancied heading up to the Vic for a pint. She did. And for once I also had the wits to write down her number so that I could contact her again……just in case we hit it off. [yeah right]

Fast forward a few hours…..Well we arrived at the Vic and it was busy. Very busy. Before long it could have been described as ‘heaving’…….. yep, it was band night, a fact that should have registered a bit earlier due to the mound of guitars and ‘band gear’ in the corner. Since I was driving I was rationed to a single pint for the evening. We decided that a retreat to Sian’s for coffee would be the best and so with raised eyebrows and an enquiring look from my god-daughter Chloe [who ran the Vic] we departed.

Now all of the above had taken place through the medium of Welsh, a language I speak pretty well, up to a point. Work and dealing with the public is one thing, putting over my thoughts, desires and opinions is another entirely. If I’m all tongue-tied and somewhat monosylabic in English when I’m trying to communicate with someone I like, then just imagine what it’s like in another language. It’s my natural shyness. Now I know there will be those who might just read this and think ‘what a load of bollocks’ but it’s true. I find it quite difficult to get to know people. I do get tongue-tied and reticent, unless I’m getting enough feedback from the other person. If I’m not I put it down to disinterest by them and then – horror of horrors -I overcompensate and go into babble mode. When that glazed look comes upon them I know all is lost and I might as well get me coat.

But once the ice has been broken and conversation flows freely then I get comfortable and things progress apace. But this just kicks in problem no.2 – the ‘I like you but I’d rather we were just friends’ bombshell………. You know, the bit where you had been thinking that maybe this might head into more-than-friends territory and then you realise that you will forever be lusting after this person only to have to stand on the sidelines whilst others get the glory, but you will always be there to pick up the shattered pieces of her life after the dog that he is buggers off with her best mate [who you also failed with]….. [!!!!]

But I was’nt getting this from Sian. For a start I had’nt had any great expectations of a fine romance [well she did say she phoned me because she was bored]. So as a result we talked freely about ourselves, in an almost abstract way and got on really well, like we were old friends that had found one-another again after many years………then I went home, with Sian saying she might pop round sometime the following day.

I was kinda hopeful I suppose and as Sian’s life revolved around working for a fortnight and then having a fortnight off, any future relationship [nooo! not the R word! Not yet. Too early, too conformist, too sad] would probably suit me. Take it easy, take it slow. Keep it uncomplicated and free from demands and compromises. I had a life that I was pretty OK with… just check out my musings on the subject elsewhere in this Blog.[click on February 2005 - going solo] Yes, it would be good to enrich it with someone else, but I’d seen too many abject failures - some of them mine, for me to want to do the whole ‘R’ thing. And I never take rejection very well. Not that I get mad or violent or anything dramatic like that, I just withdraw into my shell and wonder what it was that I had done, or not done, to deserve being discarded yet again [sniff]

Best scenario – for the time being anyway…. We enjoy ourselves whilst we are together, be honest with one another, lead our separate lives otherwise and if and when it runs out of steam, then we revert to being friends or strangers.

Sian will probably read this now and have a fit…………………. :)

MEGA MAJOR CLEAR OUT of STUFF

2006-04-07T13:00:00.000+01:00

Stuff, loads of it. I collect it

I had been aware of it for some time and I had to do something about it. What I did was rent another garage to store more stuff.

Now as I may have intimated earlier I have a lot of stuff, acquired over the years and usually for nowt. Stuff that might come in useful. Stuff that has filled my house and one garage to the proverbial rafters.

So when I got word that the tin garage in which I stored 90% of this surplus was to be demolished to make room for much needed starter homes, I made sure I had somewhere to store the stuff I really wanted to keep. This was in August 2005. I moved some stuff over in dribs and drabs and then, just before Christmas I got the notice to quit. It was’nt all bad, I had until the end of March so I simply moved the moving up a notch. Loads of stuff went to the skip, new owners and the other garage etc.

But some stuff was going for sale, like the rayburn range, the antique dealers roofrack and the 1898 mortising machine. I was’nt going to use them, but I sure as hell was’nt going to consign them to a scrap heap either. They were also big, heavy and awkward so I was’nt going to move them to the new place, just to have to move them again.

January February and March came and went and everything else was chucked, moved and otherwise disposed of, but the ‘big 3’ did’nt go. Now we are into april and essentially I am squatting, but hope is on the horizon. The local recycling / refurbishment group have agreed to take the rayburn and I’m hoping they’ll move the rest too.

So here’s hoping that I can report shortly that I have managed to reduce my personal mound of stuff to something approaching manageable size. I tell you it will be a major relief.

Then all I have to do is start on the next lot! .........................................

Well they came and took the Rayburn and some of the old furniture, but not the mortiser or the doors. So it’s a trip to the waste collection point for me, tomorrow most probably.

Is’nt life exciting!

California – the last bit.

2006-04-04T13:51:00.000+01:00

It’s been a while since I was there, but I did promise I would complete the saga, so here it is. Better late than never as they say…….

Sitting at my table having my fries and burger at Capitola Beach I had decided that I did’nt want to go surfing ……..

“Strangely enough I did’nt really want to go in, I’d come all this way to travel, and do a bit of surfing , and now I was’nt bothered. It was as if all the motivation had dissipated into the Californian sun.”

I had obviously reached that point in my trip that I always seem to get… a sort of ennui, a wanting to lie back and be lazy, or to have people I knew around me, or to get a move on and get on that flight home, back to routine and security, or just to friends and family or maybe I was just suffering bthe pangs of loneliness in a foreign land… I’ve thought about this oft-time and put it down as being the point where you stop ‘being on holiday’ and start ‘living there’. It usually happens to me around day 16 of any extended trip. You’ve been there, done that, and now you are counting down to going home. It was a feeling I’d had before whilst in Utah, the others were out at work and I was left to my own devices, but no car, therefore nothing much to do except chill out and read. What I should have done was set up some sort of excursion for the last day or so, such as a side trip to Yosemite or up to the Napa valley….. but I had’nt, just a date to meet up with Daniele and to help her sort out her exhibition.

So.. I made some rearrangements, and decided to stay at San Luis Osbiso for a night so, and then head south to Jalama and maybe to Santa Barbara….. On the way I called in at Morro Bay which I liked, a lot. It had an honesty about it that I found refreshing. It had a ‘proper’ harbour - tourists notwithstanding, where real seafood was being unloaded. It also had a decent small surf shop where I bought a new pair of slaps, my old ones being close on 30 years old [yes, they last that long!]

The surf was running strongly and I still had no urge whatsoever to go in. I wandered around Moro Bay for a while and had some lunch, and then set off towards SLO [or Slow as everyone else called it] only 20 miles distant. Booked into the nice little HI hostel [$10 a night]. It was warm in SLO and so I wandered down the street looking for a cold beer which I found in a quietish pub. But not for long. SLO is a College Town, and as such the evenings were student orientated, even on a Sunday like this……… so after a while I moved on……..to the Firestone Grill which everyone said was ‘amazing’.

Well amazing I’m not sure of, but busy…….. it was thronging with peeps all queuing for their meals. It did’nt take long for me to ascertain that this was another burger and fries place, but following the first rule of eating in a foreign land ie ‘eat where you see a lot of locals eating’ I joined the happy throng. Ordering a plain burger and fries with a side of onion rings and garlic mushrooms, I waited. 10 minutes later I was handed a large sack, which contained on inspection - a burger, and 3 mountains of the other items. I could have fed a family on what I had here. Finding a quiet corner I opened stuff up and it only took a few bites for me to realise I had ignored the codicil to rule 1 “ excepting in the the US of A where joe public would’nt recognise good food even if it was fed to him for free”

I could’nt eat more than a bit of each, greasy and tasteless all in one go. I mean what do you have to do to garlic mushrooms for them to a] not taste of mushroom or have a mushroom texture and b] not taste of garlic either! I’ve never eaten a MacDonalds [ever] and if they are sub par compared to this place they must be very bad indeed. I binned the lot and was alarmed to see a homeless guy dive right in, rescue the sack intact and make off with a gleeful look on his face. He must have had me under surveillance just knowing I was a Brit who would be unable to eat a smidgeon of my mega supersized portioned meal.

On returning to the HI I received pitying looks from the resident staff, who gave me a ‘we’d have told you about that place if only you’d asked’ sort of look and offered home brewed root beer [ghastly] and carrot cake, [very nice] in recompense.

The following day [a Monday] was to have been taken up with driving down to Avila and Jalama, but the ennui was back [if it had gone at all] and I felt down, and a little depressed. I decided there and then to abort my exploration of the middle coast and head back to the bits I knew and liked around Monterey.

Calling in at Morro Bay one last time, I decided that this was one place I’d return to if I had the chance, and maybe spend longer in the area [there were some places further out I should have taken a look at, they would have cured me, but I missed out on them] using Morro as a base…

Driving back down Lighthouse Avenue in Monterey was just like coming home and I stayed for a day or so, taking in another trip around the bay, looking for whales [without success, again] before moving up to Santa Cruz and negotiating the road system from hell like a pro.

I stopped in SC for another couple of days, and met up with Peter Capaldi from Swaylocks, whom I’d met in Big Sur. Had supper with him and his wife Pat, and very nice it was too. That night it rained, the first of the trip but I was zonked out at the SC HI… in a room of my own! The following day dawned bright and rain washed and I went and spent an interesting morning/lunch at the University field museum on the outskirts of the City, looking at sea urchins, abalone, sea otters and dolphins. This is where a lot of the Monterey aquarium work is done, away from the hordes.

Wednesday night came around and I found I had various others sharing my penthouse with me, including a penniless surfer who’d been sleeping rough around SC for weeks, but needed some quality shut eye. Transpires the local constabulary had been having one of their periodic clear outs of all the whackos, winos, wierdos and bums [of which there were many it had to be said] out from SC. Many had moved down from SF, presumably for the sea air and invigorating atmosphere. Actually SC is much sunnier and warmer than SF or Monterey. Unfortunately they hoovered up homeless students, surfers and people just passing through too. A couple of Swedes turned up and then a lady in her 50’s who seemed ok, until around 1 am when she suddenly decided to fire up a laptop and start rehearsing her song and dance routine. Ethel Merman she was’nt or rather she almost was…….. she was a ‘performance’ artiste… a term which to me usually equates with pretentious and crap. We managed to persuade her that 1am was’nt a good time to rehearse and would she please ‘Shut the fuck up!’ cos some of us wanted to sleep please. Luckily she went off and annoyed someone else, who and where I don’t know, because she did’nt come back until around 8.30 the next morning.

Have you ever noticed that with some people of an ‘artistic’ streak [singers mostly] are wont to break into their art at the mere mention of it. This one was no exception. One of the Swedes, no doubt trying to mend fences after giving her the bums rush the night before, made the mistake of what her act was. Without hesitation she launched into a rendition of – what? I don’t know, but as I watched my companions eyes glaze over, I made my escape.

Coming back into SF I called by Daniele’s studio, only to be told she’d gone over to the east bay and would’nt be back until tomorrow. Great. I’d come back early to help out and she’d buggered off for the day. Muttering dark threats I went and booked in at the HI at Fort Mason overlooking SF harbour and bay and spent the day wandering… something I’m good at. I was back in the ennui state again, and I found myself getting ready to leave, ditching stuff I did’nt want or need, packing the board away, having to buy another carrybag, because mine was’nt large enough. Friday came and went, but I caught up with Daniele and had supper with her where she gave me a charcoal sketch she had done and that I’d coveted the last time I was there. This was a large piece 5’x2’ and so we had to roll it up [in a Chinese restaurant no less] and find a tube. It was typical D.

Saturday morning was my last day and I was going to be flying out that evening, car back around 4pm. I spent the early part of the day out at Baker beach and then Ocean beach, just hangin…….. then after lunch over at the open house exhibition at D’s studio. She was on a high having sold a few paintings for several hundred dollars apiece. I wandered around and decided D’s stuff was among the best there, which pleased her. Then 3pm came round and it was time for me to make my goodbyes once again.

I ditched the car at the airport and staggered into the international departure area with my now not inconsiderable gear. Preparing for the worst I approached the desk only to find no queues and a surf dood to take my board off me. ‘I’ll take care of it dude. And I’ll make sure my mate takes it off the plane at the other end’ Wow! [and he did too!]

The flight was on time, the food was Ok, the films were ok, and I fell asleep somewhere over Canada and woke up just as we came in over the Outer Hebrides. Magic!

Checkout went ok, customs did’nt bother me, I even found my bus, eventually. It was 1pm Sunday 23rd of October, and I was’nt going to get home until around 10.30 that night, because of railway timetables, line working and all the other things that make travelling by rail on a Sunday in the UK such a long drawn out event.

I was back at work the following day, sort of. Rolled in around 11am and spent the rest of the day going through stuff. Around 3pm I crashed but made it home before I fell over.

Thus ended my fourth California trip [my third since 2001]. Will I go back. I’m not sure. Other places beckon, such as New Zealand and Patagonia. Both require a different MO I reckon.

NZ is so far away that if I go I want to be able to make the transition from tourist to live-about. So that means 6 weeks to two months, at least. Maybe even a whole year and do it properly. That means packing in work [no problem in itself, I’m ready to retire tomorrow J] Maybe I’ll leave it a while until I rearrange my life, off load all my acquisitions and downsize materialistically.

Patagonia has other problems and I suspect doing the independent traveller thing is going to be nigh on impossible what with my total lack of spanish and all. Although they do speak welsh there. Maybe a group trip would be the best way, although it will probably double the cost.

I would also like to take a look at Alaska, and at the other end, Antarctica…… whilst there is still time. India, the far east, Oz, Africa don’t really interest me any more. Not that I’d turn down a chance of a free trip though.

Also one has to face up to the reality that confronts us. Air travel is artificially cheap and causes great damage from an environmental standpoint. One can offset this by carbon banking ie planting trees that in time will sequester carbon dioxide, thus keeping things carbon neutral [having planted or caused to be planted some 200K trees over the years I suspect I’m ahead of the game. In my opinion, the cost of long haul is going to go up dramatically over the next ten years, short haul where there are alternatives such as the train will be taxed out of existence.

So the message is – get your travelling in soon, otherwise it may be unaffordable.

Yay Me! I'm in Grand Designs Magazine

2006-03-05T23:43:00.000Z

It all started around Christmas. I had been doing some research around the net looking for some home build sheds, mainly because mine is falling down and I need another, but as usual decided to do something more ambitious and create a summerhouse / guest area / storage facility.......

Anyways I came across a website called readers sheds and posted a shot of shed there and told them what I was thinking of doing. The long and short of it was that they were contacted by Grand Designs Mag, who were doing a featurette on The Great British Shed, and would I mind sending them a photo [with me in it, and my surfboards] and a little bit on the why's and wherefores of that particular shed . I told them that it was recycled , that I 'hated to see waste' being an environmental scientist and all that [all true], and bits were of a shipwreck, and all sorts of flotsam [partially true]....... and they printed it.........

So there I am with pinkyfishywishie and kneelo, posing for the camera....... I'm wearing dark glasses and a silly hat in an effort to disguise meself somewhat.......

open canoe

2006-02-17T13:54:00.000Z

Just taken another look at my Blog and realised I had’nt made an entry since the middle of November. That is very lax of me. So a quick update is in order. What has happened since that time. Well I still need to finish off my account of my trip to California, if anyone is interested.

November through February, Christmas notwithstanding is a fairly low key, hibernation time for me. I tend to run [even more] to fat and watch tv a lot. This winters been no exception. But I have come to a couple of decisions, or should I say choices. First off my explorations into surfcraft need to stop, not so much because of the cost although that is a factor, but more because I have couple of boards that I am too stiff and unfit to ride.. so a bit of rationalisation is required.

Secondly, … I have too much stuff. I have to offload some of the things I have, like cameras, fishing gear and the like, as well as sundry books clothes and other bits of tat I’ve acquired over the years. At the same time I’m still looking at staying mobile in the outdoors and since Ray Mears seems to be cropping up on the Discovery Channel with regularity, paddling down a Canadian river I thought it would be a pleasant gentle way to stay reasonably fit, without always having to take the boat out.

I could also take it off to Scotland or wherever and go exploring. So I went and bought a Canadian canoe. And the bits one needs, like a cag, bouancy aid and most importantly, a paddle… so more ‘stuff’.

The birchcreek 13’ Solo

Since I wanted to avoid the shame of capsizing in front of people I know I launched from a quite deserted cove near to where I live for my first foray into the Big Blue. In fact the real reason was that a light north westerly was forecast, which would make this place completely flat and placid, perfect for my getting used to the canoe.

When I arrived it was totally calm, but a small swell started up, surprising since this beach never gets a swell. From the long period I surmised it had come a long way, leftovers from a storm way down south earlier in the week. Whilst it was’nt much of a problem in itself It would make beaching the canoe around the point a little harder if I was forced to go ashore for any reason.

I launched from one of the swales on the beach floating off on the waves inrush up the hollow and allowing the back surge to carry me out beyond the next wave. Although only small, around a foot or so in height, I had to be careful since I’m still quite *wobbly* in the craft. This brings up a serious question though, one I keep asking myself…. Am I too big for this canoe?

As I paddled carefully across the bay, I was finding that trim on this canoe is finely balance. Just a half inch here or there was enough to turn the craft from something reasonably stable to a tippy thing. I tried keeping it flat. OK’ish. I tried leaning it over, kneeling differently, facing forward, facing obliquely, even turned everything around and paddled it from the cross thwart. The results were almost uniform, and the conclusions pretty much so too. Either I would eventually get used to it, or this canoe was not the one I should be using, regardless of expertise. For now I’ll have to go with the former!

Paddling back the wind was fine on the port bow, meaning that I should not have to do loads of corrective steering. By taking a wide upright kneeling stance I found I could take my first draw with the paddle from way forward, incidentally moving my weight forward enough to weathercock the stern a little. The paddle kept on clattering the side of the boat which was annoying, but moving it outwards just made it want to turn to port.

I rode a small breaker back into the swale I had departed from an hour before, and hopped out dry footed as the wave receded and deposited me there. I took a quick photo and loaded up the canoe, and went to check the boat at the harbour. After I had pumped it out I took a long high water paddle around the harbour, which went well, not too many wobbles, and still no swimming.

So, lessons learned:

I need to give it plenty of time. Even so it’s frustrating. Given my experience with other unstable craft [surfboards, paddleboards] I had hoped I would get the hang of this quickly. Not so.
I need some training.
Trim is very important, small changes in your position can have big effects
Big bloke in small canoe…. A wise choice of craft? [given I weigh over 220lb on 5’8” frame]
Footwear is important. Lightweight walking boots are too rigid, resulting in lots of pain. I wore neoprene beach shoes on the harbour paddle and was much more comfy.
You have to trim bow down in any cross wind, it’s a nightmare otherwise.
An old thermarest [3/4] fits in nicely between the gunwales and kneeling, even for an hour is no hardship
Practice, practice, practice

I hate this bloody blog format.......

2005-11-18T19:17:00.000Z

........... I try and set it up for normal size and Times font, but Oh no, it just goes and does it any old how. Bloody thing.........

.

Part Deux…the deep south

2005-11-18T17:39:00.000Z

The Sunday night after the trip to the Farallons I stayed down in Montara, some 40 miles south of San Fran, in a place I had always wanted to stay at, but never had. Initially I was the only one there apart from a very nice lady, who was having problems with here two girls, so what started out as a pleasant chat soon ended as she retired to her room with the brats………

Earlier that day, well very early that morning to be exact I presented myself at the Marina, ready to head on out to the Farallon Islands with a load of other would-be naturalists, hoping to view some whales and maybe a Great White Shark or two

We spent a largely fruitless day looking for the bloody things, to be rewarded mid afternoon with more Humpback whales than you could shake a stick at. Unfortunately not many of them came that close, so if you’re expecting ‘Blue Planet’ style shots you are going to be sorely disappointed. The best I could manage was the odd tail fluke.

Neither were the GWS willing to put in an appearance, unlike on my previous trip where we had one swim right by us, and rolling to give us a long hard stare from it’s unblinking eye…. At that time I was glad to be in a 50’ steel hulled boat rather than sharing an 11’ dory with 3 shark biologists built like rugby forwards.

Coming back in under the Golden Gate Bridge, we found ourselves in the middle of Day 2 of the Fleet show, so had a grandstand view of everything… some people thought we were part of the show and clapped us ashore…….. strange.

Back at Montara, I sat out with a well hidden beer [it was a no-alchohol zone] and watched the sun go down in the west. In an attempt to get a night in a room to myself I told the guy on the desk that I was a snorrrrrer and it might be best if anyone else came in to put them in another room. Much later the idiot boy stuck someone in with me, and he insisted in taking the bunk above me, because that was what he had been issued. I moved to another bunk. The new person went out like a lamp and, yep you guessed it..snored all night. I moved to another room.

montara sunset

Next morning I took a look at the beach, where big swells were building to big surf in the Cove. I wondered what Big Sur would yield when I got there later in the week. But for today I had planned a leisurely drive down the coast to Monterey, calling in at Santa Cruz. Arriving there around lunchtime I managed to find my way through SC’s legendary impenetrable road system and non existent signage to reach Steamer Lane, the magna cum lauda of Surfing in Central California, the place where surfing arrived on the US mainland from Hawaii when George Freeth was employed one summer as a tourist attraction.

Just an aside….. if you want to find your way around SC then there are two methods… 1] buy a map or 2] when coming down from the north take the first SC junction you come across…head as far down to the seafront as is possible and then head along it. Eventually you will reach Steamer Lane, Lighthouse Point, Cowell beach and the boardwalk, which puts you adjacent to where it’s all happening. Coming from the south is another matter, and it’s waaaay to complicated to report here, but it involves groping around the hideous one way system until you have a eureka moment, and finding yourself on the sea front.

Anyways, I found myself at Steamer Lane car park, having my sarnie, drinking a by-now-cold Mocha from Starbucks [up in Half Moon Bay] and watching the action unfold in the line up. It was about 4 –6’ and it was a set up to die for…. Paddling time was in minutes to get to the line up, and mostly dry haired. If you smoked you could take your lighted ciggy with you and it would only go out if you fluffed the take off:

Santa Cruz set up....Steamer Lane.... a piece of piss really..at this size

The wave was so regular, you just had to sit there and it came to you. Even the outside sets could be timed, so that the guys on longboards further over all had their share. It was quite wonderfull and honestly quite annoying.

I wandered over looking for a surfshop, I wanted to pick up a couple of t shirts. Things like t’s are so cheap over there I had’nt brought any, so I ended up over at the eastern side, past the harbour at Pleasure Point. I succumbed to retail therapy in Paradise Surf Shop where there was a very nice 6’2 fish with keel fins up as a special sale item. My credit card took a big hit but now I had a board to use. Ok I had the mat, but I had no fins, since I was picking up a set of udt’s and duckfeet in Big Sur. In hindsight I should have bought a set of neofins whilst I was there.

pinkyfishy

I spent an hour in the water at Shark Cove, getting to know the board, but not having much success, and I have’nt had a chance to use it since!!

I spent 3 nights in Monterey, doing touristy things, and apparently pissing off some guy in the Hostel one evening because I was snoring, allegedly…. He kept on shouting at me ‘ stop snoring!’….. which I argued I was’nt, because I was being kept awake by some idiot shouting ‘stop snoring’ It escalated into a serious argument, until I decided to move out to a handy settee… at which point we realised it was someone else not me. I moved back into my own bed and he buggered off muttering about it being 5am [it was actually 7]…….. so by the time I arrived at Big Sur I was well tired.

Now Big Sur is a state of mind, rather than a particular place [well that’s what people say]. Actually it is a place, and rather a big place at that, but like LA you can’t honestly stop at any particular place and say ‘this is it’. Anyway I have to say that to a landscape starved person coming up from LaLa land or somewhere like Bakersfield, Big Sur must be pretty spectacular, and I suppose it is, but compared to Scotlands west coast, Irelands west coast or even my own bit of coast on the Llyn, it’s fairly ordinary. True there are landslips aplenty, and the coast sweeps majestically out of the sea, but I saw better north of the Golden Gate.

One thing that is true of Big Sur, and was recited to me by everyone I spoke to in Monterey was that everything along that stretch of coast would be very expensive, if you could get it at all, so stock up with everything and anything you think you might want whilst you’re there. As a consequence I had 2 polystyrene coolers full of frozen water and food for a week, even though I would only be there for a few days….. I had planned on checking out some more wild areas beyond Morro Bay in the following week, so a surfeit of food would’nt go amiss.

After an uneventful if slow cruise down Hwy 1 I arrived at at the camp site at sand dollar beach, or rather I drove right past it without realising that it was there. I found a pitch with some rather manky Monterey cypress and put my hammock up.

the eventual pitch, Plaskett Creek, Big Sur

As I settled in I was approached by a total acid casualty of a park attendant who demanded $20 dollars from me for the evening. When I told him I was with the ‘Swaylocks’ crew he sent me round to the group site… so I packed everything away, went round to the other site and eventually found a place to hang my hammock. A little later and I was dozing away when I had this strange feeling of a presence. Opening one eye I was shocked to see the acid casualty park keeper [hereafter known as the ACPK] standing there peering at me. He demanded $20 ‘right now, or get out of here’. I protested that I had already paid which put him off a bit but he rallied and said I had to pay full whack since I was on the group site .

The fact that he’d already sent me round here, because I said I was part of the crew, which I reminded him about seemed to faze him for a second, then he returned to the $20 mantra. This was getting absurd, I was paying more for parking my car for one night and slinging a hammock between two trees than I had been in a nice warm hostel with bed, shower and free breakfast. All I got back was “$20”. Then, a brainwave. I told him my car was actually on another pitch [where there was room for 8 people for $20] but no trees, and I was’nt going to sleep in the open. At this he suddenly went “$5”, which I gave him quickly and off he went. However this was not the end of ACPK demands for money as we will see.

The new pitch was a little close to the compost toilets, but not too bad. In fact it was just about the only place I could have slung it on this site, and it was out of the way in the corner, with no poisonous oak in evidence. I took a photo of my hammock, and then one of my new fish. Then I wandered down to where some surfer types had gathered, wondering if they were part of the crew. I recognised a board and so knew I’d found them. And so I was introduced to Jeff and Paige Chamberlin, Lee V and eventually John Mellor who had bought fins for me. They also fed me and we swapped tales. I don’t think they’d ever met anyone welsh before so I had so say a few phrases in Welsh to convince them we spoke a different language here.

By 9pm I was knackered and I stumbled off to my hammock, which performed pretty damned well, apart from some cold spots that my sleeping bag could’nt handle. I’ll need to do a bit of work on insulating the bottom for the future. I woke up the following morning feeling quite comfy, not the usual hideous awakening that features stiff joints, sore shoulders or whatever. Ok I think hammocks do have their limitations, a bit of a bugger where there are no trees [although there is a way round that] and you need to sort out an insulating system for yourself but for comfort, they can’t be beat. And they take up no room at all.

Later that morning peeps started arriving, and the fog had rolled in. The sound of the Pacific surf had been loud all night and John Mellor and I walked down to the lookout in the hope of gauging the size. It took seconds for me to realise I was’nt going to get in this w/e. It was monstrous… well overhead. None of the guys who attempted it made it outside. It was going to be a beer and laughs weekend after all.

As the weekend progressed, various peeps came and went. The surf was too big for me, in fact it was too big for just about everyone. A couple of the San Diego guys tried to sneak out along a line of rocks during a lull and made it ouside, only to find that the waves had 20’ faces, with a drop of up to 10’ at the back! Both guys made the drop and rode the wave, but then got caught by the next set, so it was back to shore, cold and a little battered.

The rest of the day involved sitting around talking surfboards. Some went off sightseeing, I’d done a lot of driving over the preceding week so I was quite happy just to hang out and get some chill time in my hammock. The peace was not to last though as ACPK came round muttering about how he was turning peeps away because the camp was full, but since we had booked two extra sites he wanted the money. After a lot of argument in which he stood there talking to himself whilst everyone ignored him, one of the San Diego lads paid him off just to get rid of him, so it could be sorted out later. [they had already been paid for, it transpired] .

That done we all settled down to some serious beer drinking and yarn spinning, each one trying to outdo the others in telling tall tales of surfing prowess/disasters. The party wound up around I don’t know when. I had already succumbed to the combined effects of tiredness and beer and was safely ensconced in my hammock and out of it.

Early the next morning there was quite a lot of departing, some people had a long way to go. I hung around for a while and made plans to meet up down the coast with John Mellor and Jeff Chamberlin at Los Osos. I made my goodbyes and cruised down the coast to the ‘capital’ of Big Sur at Cambria, where I was somewhat shocked and bemused by the touristy feel for the place and the prices to match. I was kinda glad that I had decided not to stop there. Further along I came to Capitola beach with it’s pier and had my first burger and fries of the trip. I sat and watched the surf, by now a far more manageable 6’. Strangely enough I did’nt really want to go in, I’d come all this way to travel, and do a bit of surfing , and now I was’nt bothered. It was as if all the motivation had dissipated into the Californian sun.

so what happened?

2005-11-14T13:58:00.001Z

earlier this year I put up a set of 'New year resolutions' and wondered if I would hold to any of them. Well since we are but a few weeks short of putting another set up for your perusal here are the results:

get the boat sorted out and on the water by Easter [do-able]
and done! boat went into the water early june, but was'nt used a great deal. Still on the water where it will remain over the winter. I'll get more use out of it next summer.
get the catamaran sorted and usable by the summer [no probs]
Nothing done, apart from getting the rear beam re-welded. But it's only going to take a weekend to sort, so no biggie
start and finish the bathroom [top of the list by far and probably the last thing that gets done]
and true to form, nothing has been done, at all
shoulders sorted and working again [lap of the gods, I'm afraid]
pretty good I reckon, only need to get some practice in and sort out my fitness [see below]
go surfing a lot more [see above]
got a lot in, especially small stuff in august. getting too cold for my old bones now though
build that fish paipo [just give me the bits and a clear weekend]
total failure on this I'm afraid, but I brought a fish surfboard back from the US, and have got a great design to copy from there. not dead yet
order one of Dales surfmats [very likely to happen]
got it! used it! stoked with it! well sort of, still on the learning curve.
eat less, get fit [yeah, right]
I lost weight whilst I was in California, but lost a bit of fitness, not that I was very fit to start with.
go to California this autumn [also very likely]
See above, and sundry other posts over the next week or so
get intimate with Wenda [highly unlikely :( ]
yeah right! no change there then.

So as ever the case in my life, the non important, hedonistic type things get done, whilst the really important things like the bathroom and my job taken a seat that is not so much back, as not there at all.

But the bathroom will get done this winter. honest. Even I'm starting to get hacked off with it now.

2005-11-14T13:09:00.000Z

At last, a quick reprise of my trip to the US. –

week one - San Francisco

I was last out in California in the fall of 2002, so this trip was something I had wanted to do for a couple of years. The plan was to spend more time in those places that appealed to me after the previous trips where I had only really touched on spots up and down Hwy 1. The main problem is that whilst there is a lot to see in coastal California, it’s all a long way apart. And in central and northern Ca with the exception of San Francisco it’s all kind of low key.

However, it allows me to do what I do best…….. wandering aimlessly around and finding things, or more usually not finding anything. Some sort of loose itinery was needed, mainly because my preferred lodging – hostels, could easily be full if I arrived there on spec, leaving me with nowhere to stay apart from my at-that-time untested camping hammock [more on that later]

So the first week was booked up where needed and off I went, taking a direct flight from Heathrow to SF. Unfortunately this involved a long train journey overnight down to Watford and then a bus around the houses through rush hour Monday morning, early.

However we made it to the airport in plenty of time and that was that.

Daniele had said ages ago that I could stay at her place but she backtracked on that citing artistic integrity and lack of time to get the place ready; ie it was a tip, and she’d been too busy to clean the place for months or throw out stuff that belonged in the trash. In other words the place was a manky slum and she was living in a health hazard [with fruit flies]. So I booked into a new hostel down town and pretty good it was too. Certainly will use it again if D still has’nt cleared up.

I had a private room for the first night, a must when you’re jetlagged……. Your brain has turned to puree’ and you keep getting double vision, from a combination of being out of sync with where you are [9hours behind UK time in this case], and a total lack of significant sleep from when you stepped out of your front door. In my case that was 2am Monday. I had’nt slept properly for nigh on 48 hours. A secure space for you and your stuff is a minimum requirement at least for the first night, and the next if at all possible. So that evening and most the next day I did’nt bother trying to contact Daniele, knowing she was busy, and all I wanted to do was chill and regain some sort of equilibrium. We eventually made contact and made a date to go eat the following evening.

It was nice to see her. She looked well and had put a little weight on. She looked good. We had dinner in a Korean restaurant, one of Daniele’s latest favourites. She always manages to find strange cuisines [to me anyway], orders a mountain of food, proceeds to eat twice as much as me and still has stuff to take home with her.

The itinery more or less went out the window immediately. I had intended going up country for a couple of days, but Daniele suggested we went to the opening of the new de Young Museum, for which she’d been grafting for months, being part of the installation team, responsible for putting up all the Jackson Pollock’s or what have you. So I hastily re-arranged things, knowing that I would loose a bit of money on the way, but probably saving myself the same amount in fuel costs. I spent the next few days wandering around Marin County and the western Bay Area, revisiting quite a few spots. Pleasant rather than invigorating. Like I said I do well at wandering.

So we went to the new deYoung museum, where I ended up having a cracking time. The place is ….wow!

and yes, that tower is twisted around and skewed, and the exterior is clad in copper, several hundred tons of it apparently.

Now, I’m not normally a fan of modern architecture, since it usually takes no account of it’s surroundings; the existing buildings around the site and the quality of the landscape are so often overwhelmed and brutalised by the new edifice. Additionally the materials used often give the impression of impermanence, suggesting that the new building will be demolished in 60 years or so.

I don’t get that impression here. The building is monolithic in stature, and viewed from a distance gives the impression of a Central American temple complex, with a bit of sci-fi thrown in, rising as does above the many mature trees around it. When wisps of San Francisco’s famous fog drifts over and around the tower this feeling is certainly reinforced.

Which is quite good and fitting really considering that the inside contains some wonderful Mayan Stone carvings along with 60’s paintings, New Guinean and Oceanic war masks and Dogon ritual garb. I was well impressed.

The partaaay followed the well trodden route of such affairs. It was a thank you from the museum to all those who had worked on it: ie the staff, so as such was decidedly not a black tie affair. Which was just as well since a black tie and DJ was something I did not possess. D looked good in her skirt and top, she does’nt normally ‘do’ dressing up. In fact I’d never seen her out of about 5 layers of t shirt and woolly jumpers, until then……. So that was nice too ;) Pity we live a whole continent and an ocean apart.

Introductions to her workmates over I got talking to a couple of guys, one of whom was well into a band I was keen on in the ‘70’s - a welsh band called Man, which were obscure, even in Wales. It’s a small world. The global village certainly seems to have come to pass. D was humming, networking, bouncing off people and generally behaving like the Manhatanite she is.

The night ended with my dropping D off and driving a friend/workmate of hers back home, since she was a little mellow. Conversation flowed, mainly from Cynthia and in my direction. An invite for coffee ‘or something’ was made and as I mulled this significant offer over we arrived in her street, she said ‘pull in over here’ and then she was gone. I sat there somewhat bemused for a few seconds wondering if I’d had a lucky escape, or whether I’d missed something a little more wonderful…….

So that was that. I had a day to kill then off out to do some whale watching around the Farallon Islands. Saturday was ‘interesting’ The US Navy Fleet was in, something I had studiously ignored thinking it was of no consequence. How wrong I was. I turned up in the bay front area with the intention of heading up to Fort Mason Hostel, only to be confronted with bumper to bumper traffic, and an air show. It took me an hour to do the mile from the Marina Green to the Hostel entrance where the Ranger was having a heated argument with someone in a flash 4x4 [or SUV as they are wont to call them over there]. The SUV was turned away as was the car behind it. I wondered if I could get in at all. Diving down and retrieving my booking slip from the foot-well I smiled at the lady and presented the slip in the hope of being able to park up top cos I was staying there.

To my relief and some surprise there was no problem and soon I had parked the car [legally], checked in and was ensconced on the decking with a mocha in my hand watching the show unfold. Well all I can say is that the biplane aerobatics was worth seeing, the Blue angels [?] navy jet formation flying a little less so, even though they were throwing the big f18 eagles around like toys. Our Red Arrows could quite honestly beat this lot into a cocked hat.

I had the luxury that night of being in a dorm with only one other person, who was totally fazed with jetlag and therefore out for the count for a while.

Thus endeth part the first. Part the second will follow shortly, chronicling my journey to Santa Cruz, Monterey and the Deep South - Big Sur..............

.

blogspam part deux

2005-11-07T13:48:00.000Z

see - two additional spam messages evn when I'm having a moan about it. That's taking the p$%%^!

gotta stop this somehow.

BlogSpam

2005-10-27T12:56:00.000+01:00

i come home and think, 'hmmm, must update the blog'...... and find 5 comments from my last posting..'whooppee'... only they really are'nt. Behind the *personal* comments are exhortations to *visit my blog* which turn out to be ads for all sorts of things.............so now it has come to this **BlogSpam**......... sigh

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October...

2005-10-02T10:33:00.000+01:00

Well summer came and went and I neglected this blog in a truly awful way. Has much happened this summer? Well yes , actually.... but in an unspectacular sort of way. I went surfing a lot. I got a little fitter. I can now paddle my surfboard, albeit in a wierd sort of way. My shoulders are now much better although mobility is'nt 100% and might never be. I fettled the boat and put her back in the water, did'nt get much in the way of sailing done though. I did absolutely nothing on the house. The kitchen is nearly there, a few bits and pieces to do this winter. The bathroom has had nothing done, and is a tip. Not a place to linger.

But to hell with all that. I'm off to California for 3 weeks, leaving today. Train down to Heathrow and a direct flight to San Francisco, courtesy of the 'world's favourite airline' - BA. we shall see.

This time, since I'll be surfing and camping I'm fairly loaded with gear, probably about 50lb or more, which ain't much when you consider the allowance is a whopping 75lb [or whatever 32kg comes to]... I prefer to travel as light as possible. Much of the additional weight is made up from carrying a wetsuit, surfmat [more on that later]
and a camping hammock:

kinda neat huh? Well we'll see. I'll be camping out at Big Sur and this seemed a nice way to combine, bed, shelter and relaxation site. I find with tents that they are the pits when it comes to just hanging out. One thing more...much more comfortable than lying on the ground......

So off we go. I'm going to attempt to update the blog along the way, but knowing my past ineptitude in this department, don't hold your breath. I'll probably end up doing it when I get back, and then some... say around February.

.

so much for fine words and good deeds............

2005-08-06T19:11:00.000+01:00

........... I notice I have'nt made a single entry since I came in on July the 1st.

one year on

2005-07-01T17:05:00.000+01:00

Whoa!……. this blog is officially 1 year old today!

So lets look at what has happened to me in this last year, following the course of entries into said blog.

Like someone’s life........ a few stuttering steps to start off with whilst I tried to find out how the damn thing worked…….. followed by the enthusiasms of youth, with an entry every day……….. then a couple of *adventures* and then a gradual slowing down as the middle period arrived …………… and eventually a sort of undignified senility as entries became less and less relevant or coherent…. followed I suppose either by death or rebirth.

During it’s path through the year I have recorded: the gaining, and subsequent loss of a new girl friend; a trip to the Scillies, made in fine detail and few embellishments; musing on life and surf and why I chose [probably unconsciously] to live my life the way I have; Why I’m single; Why I like Buffy; The fact I hate rap; And would rather be ‘not working’ than ‘in work’.

Oh, and those damn shoulders, which I can now report are almost but not quite Ok again. Unfortunately the rest of me appears to be in terminal decline as I hit the 50 mark - which I have to say is’nt remarkably different to being 49 – in direct repudiation of what I wrote only a few weeks ago.

So now I must make the big decision, do I continue writing a blog that few, if any, bother to read. Or do I let it die, like many other blogs out there, let it become one of the many pieces of digital flotsam and jetsam that clutters the web. Or do I accept that these ramblings are just diary entries, that just happen to be open to public scrutiny and carry on regardless?

I think the last option is possibly the best, since I no longer need to be angst ridden over it’s failure to be read and appreciated by thousands of avid devotees of my work, and yet I can still have a record of what, how, when, where I felt when writing my thoughts. So it will be rebirth, of sorts. That no one but me looks in is of no import, it’s not a problem. Well certainly not mine anyway……………

it's been a month

2005-06-23T13:10:00.000+01:00

Been a while since I updated this blog...... so what has happened in the meantime.

Well my mat arrived from the staes, at long last. Blew it up and took it out over the course of a w/e. it was like paddling a marshmallow. hard work, and catching waves was'nt easy either. However having said that, the one decent ride I got was a howler, which told me that, yes, it would get better. Since then it's been in it's bag and I've not been near the surf, apart from a trip up to scotland to the big wave mecca of the north coast, which was flat......... nothing on at all. So the mat stayed in the car and I went walking and touring instead........fantasic scenery, and I'll post some pics once I've sorted the wheat from the chaff............

.

Mat

2005-05-12T13:34:00.000+01:00

Yay, my surfmat is on it's way from the US.

Dale emailed me that it was finished and would be with me next week. or the week after. No matter, I've been waiting since the end of January for this. The problem of course is that each one is custom made to order, and dale has a very full order book. so what was originally going to be a 6 week turnaround has now doubled. at least it will be here before I go off to Scotland.

ah, I did'nt say... well I'm off to surf the Scottish North shore, in June, mainly so that I'm not around here on my birthday. Yes, that one. I'm heading out for a few days on my own, as ever and taking a look at the north west edge of Britain, hoping I don't fall off in the process.

the mat has arrived

as well as hopefully getting in the water I'll take my camera gear along, to capture all that landscape.

More later, since I owe it to all my avid readers [yeah, right] to give them a t least a weekly diatribe, rather than a monthly smidgeon, like now...............

Rant on...............

2005-04-04T09:30:00.000+01:00

........... as I type this on my trusty work laptop, I glance to the side and see my nice new mouse, which I purchased last week in our local computer house. 'Why?' I hear you ask 'have you bought your own mouse, when you are on a works machine' It's a long story and it goes something like this...........

I once had a very nice desktop computer, complete with all the bells and whistles you could have. It had a photosuite, it had a soundcard. Hell it even had GIS, which was very very useful in my line of work. But then it was decided [not by me, I can tell you] that a laptop would be more suitable and the desktop was moved elswhere, along with my precious GIS. So now I had a laptop, OK but I really needed that GIS to do my job. So I asked for a set and was bluntly told that I did'nt need it. well, excuse me but how can you you go from using a program to not needing it in one day, when the job is exactly the same? But I digress.

There was no mouse with this laptop, only one of those nipple things, which was uselesss. So I found an old mouse and hooked it up, and it was good for around 18 months, but then as is often the case with these things, started getting a bit cranky. So I asked for a new one please. I had to go to planning IT not central. Ok. can I have a new mouse please. Yes, I 'll get one to you this week. That was before Christmas. Since then, nothing. So, a couple of weeks ago, I asked again. Oh sorry, I'll get a new one to you right away. So, a couple of days ago, when a plastic bag with a mouse in it appeared on my desk, I was happy. This lasted about a minute when I discovered that not only did the mouse look a bit old style, it would'nt function either. Opening it up gave me a view of so much crud and fluff and bits I'd not seen before.

To say I blew my top was an understatement. I fired a snotty email off to the guy responsible in which I gave vent to my frustrations. I have yet to receive a reply or a new mouse. I'll keep you posted, but for now I'm using my own.........

bugger...

2005-03-21T12:00:00.000Z

... just as I was thinking that may days as a semi-invalid were over, with my shoulders 80% mobile again, I go and do something to my left knee. Now I was'nt aware of anything taking place, but I'm sure I can pin-point it down to a site visit a couple of weeks ago, where we had to cross some rough ground... I must have twisted my knee or tore a ligament somehow.

Anyways, every morning It's seized up and frees off with excercise during the day, unless I sit at the desk for a while, in which case it locks up even worse.

So it looks like another visit to the witch-doctor for me.

Sigh

Does anyone apart from me read this Blog..........

2005-03-08T11:18:00.000Z

........... or am I just an inane lost voice in the wilderness?

Well who knows, certainly no-one has written in the comment section, "yes, you are an inane voice in the wilderness" [and no, don't go there and do that - it's not clever and it's not funny]

So the question is... am I doing this Blog to get myself noticed, or is just the meanderings of a soul going through the throws of his mid-life crisis. Well, if it's the former, then I have singularly failed, since very few have left comments, which led the the above anguished question... so I have to conclude that its " the meanderings ........yada,yada,yada"

Now the strapline to the blog title is as you know all about this mid life crisis, which has been going on a long while. The reality is of course, the fact that it's not a crisis at all, but the normality of 'me'. That this is a self evident truth came home to me a couple of weeks ago, when I suddenly realised that I would soon be 50. This resulted in what could only be described as a 'turn' and left me feeling rather depressed... I am so not looking forward to the day I turn up a half century.

So much am I not looking forward, it really has got me down, I'm busy making plans to be elswhere on the day [to forestall any 'surprise' parties] I have also decided to stay at 49 until having to use a zimmer frame puts me firmly into the 'old codger' sector. I'm also making long term plans, for the first time ever, on how to take early retirement, liquidate all my assets, and go travelling....

So, I ask again......... is this the mid-life crisis that I thought I was already having, looming ahead of me on the horizon? Answers on a postcard please.

.

go on, lets have a laff..........

2005-02-15T16:43:00.000Z

........... at all those me, me, me celebs buggerring up their bodies.

http://www.awfulplasticsurgery.com/

annoyed about this Blog

2005-02-11T13:26:00.000Z

I'm annoyed about this blog, mainly because I appear to have lost all my archives pre-July 2004, and try as I might I can't get them back on the front page. Neither can I put a link up to my favourite other places, because a] it wont let me in an easy way, b] because a knowledge of Html is required and I am firmly in the 'plain language' sector of the population.

All I want is a button, somewhere in the editing features of this site, saying 'links- press to put on your front page......... but can I find one, no.

This is not to say that there is'nt one somewhere, but I'm buggered if I can find it. If there's anyone out there who knows, please drop us a line, There would'nt be a 'Blogs for dummies' book by any chance?

.

going solo

2005-02-10T14:07:00.000Z

...........an interesting article in last Sundays Observer Magazine made me think about my own place in the world.

....... It seems there are a growing number of 'soloists', of both the male and female variety. A new study has revealed that Britain is fast becoming a 'nation of independents', ........... the fact that UK households with only one occupant have risen by 31 per cent since 1971. Moreover, these people, the soloists, look set to remain that way because frankly they prefer it and can't be bothered with the hassle of another person invading their personal space and infringing their freedom. [........ it said, and yes I can go along with that]

A similar study emerged a few months ago, but that came to the conclusion that men living alone became depressed and isolated, existing in a sea of old pizza boxes and broken dreams. [untidy yes, depressed, no. sea of broken dreams, c'mon now, who has'nt got broken dreams in this modern, must-do-better world] However, this new one suggests that male soloists are just as content as female soloists. For once, gender isn't the issue, it's how 'solo' you are that counts. [about as solo as I can be I guess]

Indeed, it could be that this new development, while a Good Thing, could simply mean that we are becoming a nation completely inept at sustaining long-term live-in relationships [becoming? becoming?.I have always been inept at having/ keeping long term g/friends]. If this is true, this development could be less about a growing 'culture of individualisation' than it is of a national emotional stunting - for how could true self-discovery be possible when you've never shared your hopes and fears, or indeed a bathroom, with anybody? [I dunno, how? many people do, which is why they are soloists, rather than having to cling to someone else for emotional support. Perhaps, in the way I like to think I have, they have already felt 'true self-discovery' and that's precisely why they are soloists]

if you want to read the whole thing go here:

http://observer.guardian.co.uk/magazine/story/0,11913,1405063,00.html

So I thought to myself, .........'stop being depressed because you have no-one in the world and get on with enjoying life'.... well actually I have'nt felt like that for quite a while, but you get the drift.

What made me become a soloist [there, I've said it about myself at last ] was the dawning realisation that I actually felt worse about life when I was in a relationship than when I was out of one! This happened about the same time as I realised that 'getting-on' in life [you know -degree, job, security etc] was not all it was cracked up to be, and if you were solo, then the burden of all that responsibility [marriage, mortgage, kids etc] and cost was magically lifted off ones shoulders.

OK, maybe I'm being selfish, but so what? I'm not denying anyone else their future, I have no biological clock ticking away, and what's so wrong about living and enjoying your life the way you want. In actual fact the only thing missing from all this is a shag every now and again, and hell, if you've been with the same person for several years, I suspect you're in the same position as I am in this regard!

.

another quirky site

2005-01-17T13:45:00.000Z

Today I give you:

http://www.ananova.com/news/lp.html?keywords=Quirkies

a site of well, quirky, news stories. Make of it what you will. It's a bit National Enquirer or Titbits in places, but it's also Fortean Times or Darwin Awards in others. Enjoy.

.

feet

2005-01-11T22:51:00.000Z

And now, a few words on feet.

Are'nt feet the most god awful bits of a persons body. Ok that was a gross generalisation there, but I still reckon it's more truth than not. And I have to say that on the whole womens feet are worse than mens, mainly because of the deformations women put theirs through in the name of fashion.

Now, my feet although not wonderfuly attractive are at least not deformed. everything that should be there, is there, and pointing pretty well in the direction nature intended. If I have anyone to thank for this its my mum, bless her, as she always made sure I hade clarks and Start-Right shoes when I were small. Over the years I have always followed the rule that comfort comes first, so I was wearing deck shoes from an early age [summer] and boots [winter] If they squeezed, out they went. So I got great feet.

My friend Helen on the other hand has 'orrible feet. In fact I think she has mutant feet. Not from any deformation from bad footwear, you understand. No she has feet with long prehensile toes with which I'm sure she could pick her nose if she so wished. That these 'orrible feet are attached to a person so attractive in so many otherw ays is something of a mystery.

In case dear reader, you are thinking "what if she reads this" well she knows about her feet, I've told her often enough *lol* .

.

And another thing.............................

2005-01-06T13:24:00.000Z

.............................. I have now decided to ask *why?* to any questions I regard as being lame-ass from now on.

New Year Revolutions

2005-01-05T09:51:00.000Z

As ever, I have made some new year resolutions, and as ever [like everyone else I suspect] I'm sure to break most of them.

so in no particular order:

get the boat sorted out and on the water by Easter [do-able]
get the catamaran sorted and usable by the summer [no probs]
start and finish the bathroom [top of the list by far and probably the last thing that gets done]
shoulders sorted and working again [lap of the gods, I'm afraid]
go surfing a lot more [see above]
build that fish paipo [just give me the bits and a clear weekend]
order one of Dales surfmats [very likely to happen]
eat less, get fit [yeah, right]
go to California this autumn [also very likely]
get intimate with Wenda [highly unlikely :( ]

Of course, there are loads more, but since I'm unlikely to even come close to sticking with them the best thing is not to dwell on whether they are fulfilled or not. I'll be leaving it to fate to decide on that.

One resolution which I have stuck to so far, ok I know it's only January the 5th, is to keep going with this Blog, so I can report with satisfaction that I'm on course with that.

All those resolutions above give me added incentive to keep going. How else am I to report on the success or failure of any of my endevours during the coming few months?

Oh dear, it seems that I'm neglecting this Blog

2004-12-14T11:36:00.000Z

It's been quite a while since I entered anything on this Blog. Bad, bad blogger, Lostcoast. It's not as if nothing has happened. Stuff happens, everyday. But is it Blogworthy? I guess not. Having someone read it except for me might pique my interest a little more but then, some might see it as opening up ones diary for the perusal, enjoyment and subsequent mocking by others. Which might be just me and my incipient paranoia....

speaking of which [note not-too-subtle linking!] did you hear .......... about the trouble when patients of the paranoia ward of the local hospital were treated to a trip to a christmas pantomine. Seems they could'nt handle all the cries of 'He's behind you' and 'Oh no he is'nt, Oh yes he is'................... [sigh, it's getting worse]

Anyway's this morning, when I should have been working my £$%^ off, I was in fact perusing one of my old favourite sites... 'The kitten, The Witches, and the Bad Wardrobe' aka 'The Kittens' which is one of those Fan-sites for TV shows........ in this case Buffy or to be more exact the Willow and Tara [W/T] elements of the show.
Now I will freely admit to being a total fan-boy when it comes to most things Buffy but what made me into a web-whore was the community that presented itself when I started delving into what it was that got people so strung out on W/T. Apart from the total hotness that was Aly Hannigan and Amber Benson as eye-candy in their own right, they were damn fine actresses to boot and brought an utterly convincing chemistry to a couple of gurls in lurve with one another. The fact it was a lesbian relationship was completly beside the point. The love flowed from the screen and left one feeling just 'Awww' at the scrummyness of it all. It was'nt sentimental, mawkish or calculated. It was real. If you did'nt know better you would have thought the two of them really were lesbians and a couple to boot. It knocked all other same-sex tv relationships into a cocked-hat and most hetero ones too, come to think of it.

So what did Joss Whedon, the inspirational creator of these two characters do. He had a fit of egomaniacal hubris and killed off Tara, to forward a plot-line that was hokey at best and really totally out of character for Willow. To say that there was a backlash would be an understatement. Go look at the Kitten Board. OK they have a very real axe to grind over there, for reasons to complicated to go into here. Just read 'Lesbian Cliche' OK?

Overnight the ratings dropped in the US and continued to spiral downwards as the writing lost its way. The last season of Buffy was poor, by anyones yardstick, and by that of the very erudite, informed and educated of Buffyland, a total waste of time. Even the cast could see that but JW could'nt.

Much of this can be put down to the point where Tara was killed off, and I don't think I'm alone in thinking that........

[http://p081.ezboard.com/bthekittenthewitchesandthebadwardrobe36671] if you want more. Warning: leave any anti-gay tendancies you may have at the door please.

Oh, I would like to point out to all those that don't know me, and have'nt read past this post and are thinking that I'm gay, well sorry to disappoint but I'm very much in the the hetero camp. Gay-friendly - sure, people are people no matter which way they swing. I have more time for gays than I have for George Bush and his christian taliban, that's for sure

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site of the day

2004-11-24T13:55:00.000Z

In an attempt to keep this Blog going when I have little to say I'm now going to put up a "site of the day" link for your edification, every now and again.

Today's site in the "bucolic British eccentricity" category is:

http://www.readersheds.co.uk/readersheds/

enjoy

.

fun site

2004-11-22T13:53:00.000Z

go here for some fun sayings/writes. Thanks to Grizz at Singlefin for this one.

A couple more:

'It's an immutable law of the universe that an organism will always live beyond it's means'

and

Frizbee's law states: 'never start anything complicated with anything else than "watch this".'

long time no blog

2004-11-18T11:50:00.000Z

It's been a while since I had anything much to say on here. Ok there was an amusing little tale the other day, but that was essentially a copy/paste job from elsewhere.

So what have I to say today. Well very little of import if truth be told. It's now the middle of November and wet and somewhat cold. I'm doing nothing about sorting the bathroom out at home, the kitchen is 95% finished but again that additional 5% just is'nt being done. Then there's the boat, which I told myself I was going to get in the water early next year. Well, I'll be surprised if it happens before easter.

So what am I doing with my spare time, that precious period between Friday afternoon and Monday morning?

Not a lot, seemingly. I'm being very lazy, and sort of drifting into the day via a cup of coffee and a couple of hourse playing on the computer. I don't think I reached the stage of ennui, yet, but I really need to pull myself together and get something done.

That something will come in a couple of weeks when I head up-country [and over a bit] to have a reunion with my old college friends, it being 20years since we all met up in Avery Hill in London [now Greenwich University]. The thing is, as the date aproaches, I'll get more and more despondent about having to drive up there what with all the traffic chaos which marks any journey in the UK these days.

Life out here on the western fringes is so laid back, that anything beyond sonambulance can be regarded as a stressful experience, which most normal urbanites would take in their stride.
It may mean that unless I have a pressing need to go east of Offa's Dyke, I'll do anything to stay here. And yet I still want to go to California again next year.

I also want to down-size myself, to be rid of all those extraeneous bits of material which tie us down. But the thing is you see, is that I'm an acquisitive person, and just sort of collect *stuff* around myself. So I'm in a constant state of war with the other me, the one who wants simplicity.

I expect I'll have to compromise and have the notional three piles: must keep, not sure, get rid. These can be in the form of lists and such like [not a literal three piles- where would 27' of boat go?].
Perceived wisdom says that the largest piles will be keep and not sure, so once the excercise is done, and the get rid pile is ........ errr... got rid of, you start the process again. Then you wait a while, weeks or months even and repeat it. That's the theory anyway.

we'll see, and if I'm in the mood, I may even publish the results here!

The Coastal Press

2004-11-08T23:02:00.000Z

The last time I was out in California I happenned to be sitting in the olde english atmosphere of the Pelican Inn at Muir Beach, north of San Francisco, supping a pint of honest to goodness genuine Bass, when I came across that months edition of the Coastal Press... a free monthly paper for the more 'progressively minded' of Marin County. Amongst the very serious missives on the Iraq war, Bush, and Marin County environmental problems I found this article which really made me laugh, and so, having found it on the web I now offer it up for yor edification. Enjoy.

Extra Biscuits, Extra Crispy KFC
Stoned Chicken Fans Lose In Mill Valley
By Stephen Simac

The drive thru at the KFC in Mill Valley seemed much busier than that fast food chain's fried chicken outlets elsewhere. It turns out it wasn't the biscuits, but the "extra biscuits" that were drawing the traffic.

The stoner behind the drive thru counter was killing two fried birds with one bag. Evidently marijuana was being sold to drivers in the know who asked for "extra biscuits" with their "extra crispy" thighs and legs.

Carlos Ayela, the entrepreneur behind the KFC drive thru sales was busted recently by the Marin Major Crime Task Force for selling baggies of pot to anyone who ordered with those code words. Lt. Rick Russel of the sheriff's dept. reportedly said he was selling herbage to "anyone who used the correct verbiage." No need for correct grammar.

If sheriff's reports can be relied upon he was turned in by an irate customer who really wanted extra biscuits and was upset to find two baggies of pot packaged with his or her greasy chicken.

It's unlikely that ganja was handed over without a significant exchange of green first. More likely it was an irate customer who wasn't happy with the quality or quantity of the "biscuits" or a pissed off girlfriend who turned him into the Mill Valley police.

They notified the task force which went to the KFC near Tam High School and made "biscuit" buys and ate chicken for nearly a month before arresting Carlos on his way to work. Afterwards off to find a donut shop.

Now imagine the consternation at KFC, which used to be called Kentucky Fried Chicken, (until they began serving genetically modified critters that "taste just like chicken" but are far cheaper, according to an Internet rumor). The Marketing department recognized the genius of this low paid wage slave who had single-handedly increased sales by an eighth or more.

Not only were extra customers generated by "extra biscuits" but extra buckets were being sold to those same customers with the marijuana munchies.

Jim Nicol, a regional KFC manager reportedly said "We'll do a full investigation, find out what's cooking and fix it." They must be wondering if they can duplicate it by adding cannabis to their secret spices. More likely they will have to rely on the entrepreneurial initiative of their workers trying to supplement their incomes. After all the drive thru attendant wasn't making enough to even afford to live in Marin. He had to commute from Vallejo.

This kid is probably facing some hard time unless he can claim that he was dealing "medical marijuana." He's got a chance if he points out he was supplying his "patients" with dyspepsia, the recognized calmative effect of cannabis on an upset stomach. There's nothing like fast food to cause this bilious stomach upset, with or without Pepsi and nothing like pot to cure it.

The Task Force made a big deal out of these sales because the KFC was so near a high school, endangering our youth who were getting "extra crispy" during lunch hour. Considering the epidemic of obesity in America's teens the real danger to their health is the fast food outlet itself, not the "extra biscuits." Cannabis for all the propaganda by drug liars is the least harmful of all intoxicating substances on the planet.

Carlos of KFC may have to flee to our neighboring state for refuge. Nevada is voting whether to legalize 3 ounces of marijuana for adults, and allow it to be sold and taxed. An independent study predicted it would raise $28 million in taxes for Nevada every year, while reducing police time spent prosecuting cannabis possession and legal expenditures by thousand of hours and millions of dollars.

Naturally most police and legal officials are outraged, the federal drug czar has visited Nevada regularly to preach against it and editorials are claiming that it will ruin Nevada's reputation as a family destination. As if it had one.

If Nevada leads other states will follow. Three out of four states are looking at billions of dollars in budget deficits this year. Remember Nevada attracted tourists and taxes with legalized gambling for decades until now you can buy a " lucky scratcher" in even the most Puritan of states. It brought them in with easy divorces but now "no fault dissolutions" can be had in the Bible belt states. Nevada is still the only state with legalized prostitution, but with escort services in every yellow pages it might as well be legal, except it's not taxed.

hold that physio!

2004-10-22T14:57:00.000+01:00

Yep, hot on the heels of being let of the acupuncture trip, I have now been told that they can 'do nothing more' for me in physio, as the cause of all the pain and worry has entered *phase II* and I will now have to leave it to sort itself out in it's own good time. Since my wanting physio to ensure that I would get full mobility back when the *thing* had run it's course, Im now begining to wonder whether all those weeks of physio actually achieved anything. Maggie thinks so, they got rid of the pain anyway, so that was good.
I'm booked in for a session in January to see if there has been any freeing up, since there has been little so far. The doc apparently thinks the time to do physio is whenit frees up all on it's own. maggie aint so sure. I don't know. But for the moment I'm out of there and under orders to get in the gym and start toning up.

No more acupuncture!

2004-10-19T14:42:00.000+01:00

We decided that the acupuncture treatment had run it's course as I had no real pain from my arms/shoulders. This meant that the frozen shoulders had now entered the second phase of the condition, where the pain tends to fade away but you are left with a restricted movement. Phase 3 is where you start getting mobilty back - sometimes this does'nt happen, hence the need for lots of physio. Maggie has upped the sessions to every week. I think she wants me up-and-at-'em before she goes off on an extended trip to NZ next February.

I have no problem with that.

I still have'nt got to grips with extended stretching at home. Istead I have put stuff in places where I have to stretch, in order to reach. It works, sort of. Neither have I been to to do weight training as I should have. This is something I really must start on. It's just that the weights/fitness room is full of people who love, really love, their bodies.

Last time I was there, doing some light fitness stuff, there was a girl, a daughter of someone I work with, who was spending much of her time preening in the mirror. She was so full of herself it came as no surprise when I noticed she was driving a black golf gti with personalised number plates. If I was'nt sure about her before, it now became an active dislike, not made any better when she gave me a distainful look because I insisted on my right of way in town, and forced her to stop and let me through. I feel for any employer, lover or partner that takes her on.

Not that I have any downer on powerful single minded women... I dont [other than I dislike powerful,single-minded people.period.]I just dont like her better-than-thou manner, and her thinly hidden arrogance. It's not that she even has anything to be arrogant about, it's just her manner.

Oh well, tirade over.

a few memories of the North West Surf Club

2004-10-18T09:52:00.000+01:00

a few memories

Some of the insane things that went on down there:
the open warfare with kayakers; the mega drinking competitions with some of the more approachable fishermen; Jaws and his nazi wife Brunhilde; the dirty protest at the sands, where Jon [flockhead] ended up with a chicken drumstick up his arse; franc-back-demi-shed wine; 'Shed' surfboards [my very own, yep they were that bad]; johnny-condom surfbags [me again!]; the Pipeline [beer] masters; beach-fire aerosol explosion contests; the blocks of resinous material washed up after a storm ;) The new toilet block at Freshies that those aussies blew up. the list goes on and on.

Also some of the best times of my life that I can't remember, and a few others that will forever remain buried.

Ahh, maybe they should be left as memories.

wey-hey

2004-10-12T16:52:00.000+01:00

Sarah-yak just texed me on the work mobile to inform me that she is now a bra sixe of 32FF [and quite posibly heading twards 32G] as opposed to 34 EE earlier this summer. She seems quite proud

I was supposed to surmise from this that she had lost a considerable amount of weight [16lbs as it turns out] and is now an hourglass figure, which is nice, but I'm afraid my juvenile tendancies just gave me a mental picture of... well you know what.

So I dare say I will now have to take a [metaphorical] cold shower, before I get back to her with the usual banter about willies and tits.

going weekly

2004-10-06T11:57:00.000+01:00

Since the autumn [or fall if you prefer] is now upon us, life in this part of the world starts to slow down somewhat. The zest of summer has gone, to be replaced with lazy starts to weekend days, maybe a walk in the afternoon if the weather is ok, or watching sports on TV if it is'nt. I also need to start thinking DIY, since the bathroom now resembles a building site.

So, anyway, the point of this post is to inform my reader that for a while at least, I'm going to be adding to this Blog on only a weekly basis, always assuming I have something to say............

Who am I kidding I always have something to say, only I can't be arsed to write it all down. Part of the lack of coherent self expression that is my cross to bear. Never mind. Like most things in my life this blog will blow hot and cold as I do.

a lost weekend

2004-10-04T10:10:00.000+01:00

A strange weekend. The weather has been pretty awful so having an action packed w/e was'nt really going to happen. I did go round to see Sarah & Wyn on Friday night, which I was'nt going to, there being something of interest on the box. But I was persuaded, and ending up running Mandy [Sarah's sister] home, because she'd drunk too much to drive. I'll tell you about Mandy. She's coming up to 40, single and unattached, and having difficulty living with that. So she'd rather be with some-one totally unsuitable than be on her own. And then she wonders why it's not good. She's always skint, but actually has more spare cash and savings than the rest of us put together. She complains about her weight but will drink a bottle of wine in no time, eat a meal and then go snaffle cheese from the fridge later, cos she's still hungry. She comfort eats like it's compulsory. She's a seriously mixed up person.

Anyway back to the weekend that nearly was'nt. Saturday morning dawned windy and wet, so I played on the comp. for while, then in a fit of activity went at hacking the tiles of the bathroom wall with the power hammer. This made me ill from all the dust so I abandoned that, leaving all the shards in the bath, where they still reside on Monday morning, and I suspect will still be tomorrow. The sun came out after lunch so I went down the peninsula and called in on Juliet. Five minutes later I was on my way again, I did'nt want to linger and it was fairly plain that J had other things to do. I went for a walk down to the Sands, where there were a lot of surfers not getting many rides in the frankly rubbish surf.

Then I went home and shut the door on the world.

Sunday morning, atocious weather, rain and winds. Felt a little flu-y so lit a fire, read some, felt better, watched TV all afternoon, made supper, watched more Tv and went to bed. From that short conversation with J, which hardly counts, I have'nt interacted with another human being in any meaningful way until this morning, when I said hello to one of my workmates.

This is not the way I want to spend my weekends. Lets face it work is so demanding of our time, we need to make the most of our free days. It's not the fact that I saw no-one. I can deal with that, if I were sailing s/handed round the planet I would be alone for months. No being alone like that does'nt bother me, just like being alone on holiday does'nt bother me.... because I'm doing something, I'm occupied and absorbed.

But this last w/e was just.... a waste. And I hate wasting time like this, so we have a lost weekend.

.

Owww, owww, ouch, grumble, mutter

2004-09-23T16:47:00.000+01:00

Had my fourth session with the physio today, and yet another infliction of pain of the acupuncture variety. It hurts. rather a lot. especially when Maggie [the physio] twiddles the needles to make an ever more efficient contact with the pain receptors in my nervous system.

Today I lay there, snoozing quietly with pins in my leg [2] arm [3] hands [2] shoulder [2] and neck [1]. It hurt, but was a dull sort of ache/itch which did'nt really bother me, because I knew it was doing me good.

Then she came back and twiddled them some more. I yelped, it hurt so much. So when you think about it, when it comes to extracting information from suspects using torture, all you need is a good acupuncturist to insert one of those fine needles - in just the right place - and then twiddle it a bit, and you'd be ready to rat on your gran. And then the needle is pulled out and the pain magically disappears and you feel quite relaxed and a little snoozy.

But, I have to say, what with the acu and the physio, my shoulders are improving albeit rather slowly. i've given myself until next easter to be back to what passes as full fitness for me. So it's off to the gym for some weight training also.

musical ramblings

2004-09-13T18:27:00.000+01:00

..Sitting here debating on whether to write something else for this blog, and so not allow it to fall it into a state of, shall we say, disrepair, I realised that I've said nothing about music. Or, rather, the music I listen to.

Once upon a time I would have regarded my musical likes and dislikes as being somewhat wide ranging but on reflection, I now have to admit it's only wide ranging within one or two genres. The classics field, with a couple of exceptions within the much derided 'popular-classics' area is a closed book, which frankly, I'm not bothered about. I have precisely 4 classic albums. Two of Vaughn Williams on CD; Holsts "Planet Suite" and Dvoraks "From the New World" on cassette. That's it. And I'm not bothered about getting any more. Opera? No.

So we're down to 'popular music'. you know, the usual suspects. So.... jazz? err no. Swing, Be-bop, Big Band?... nein. Sinatra??? eurgh. Easy listening a'la James Last? again, eurgh.

OK then..... modern youff stuff, Rap, Hip Hop, House, Pop, Disco, Punk? ...... err no.

So what is it that I like?

I'll tell you, since you are all gagging to know! I like a leetle bit of this and that from world music, reggae, soul, blues, bluegrass, folk, rock, even AOR.

I reckon that's enough to be going on with. So what am I listening to as I write this.....
Beth Orton's retrospective 'Pass in Time' or more specifically her version of John Martyn's 'Dont want to know about evil' which is sublime and I hate to say it, even better than JM's album version, although I have heard him crank it out live where it made the hairs on the back of my head all stand up.

So what have I bought lately? Well apart from the aforementioned Beth Orton offering, John Martyn's latest 'on the cobbles' which I have'nt really got into yet; Natalie Merchants folksong covers 'Carpenters daughter', which I'm not wildly enthusiastic about, yet; Chris Isaaks 'Baja sessions', surf music at it's best IMO.

A word or two on the above artistes. Beth Orton. love her, love her, love her. a voice which can be tender, and hoarse and unmusical all at once, she reduces me to jelly when she's on form. did I tell you I love her? well I don't mind saying I'm in love with Miss Beth.
John Martyn. The guv'nor. irascible, unpredictable, a liability. and yet. and yet. woefully overlooked, he's the muso's muso. loved, revered and hated in equal measure.
Chris Isaak. Think of Roy Orbison with his own guitar band, and indy leanings. luvverly west coast rock. and a surfer to boot.
Natalie Merchant. something of an enigma. sometimes a little too earnest. but I did like her last album.

So who else? in no particular order- late Emmylou Harris, Nick Drake, Davey Spillane, Fairport, Afro Celt, Eva Cassidy, Robert Plant, JJ Cale, Ry Cooder, Gillian Welch etc etc........ mostly in a folky, rocky, celtic, way

Oh I absolutely hate: the Eagles, american power ballads [ala freebird / wind beneath my wings/ etc], MOR , C/W, "novelty" songs, boy/girl bands, europop, RAP [argh!!!]

Seems like I'm an old reactionary when it comes to music, but I know what I like, everything else can go $^&^&*(* itself. AND I listen to radio 2 [well don't all discerning music lovers?]

PS I don't posses a single album by either, The Stones, The Beatles, Elton John or Cliff Richard. Is this a record?

.

logs, boobs and falling out

2004-09-13T16:00:00.000+01:00

Back in work, and as usual, I'm looking to do as little as possible. I'm working quite hard at evading the mountain of paperwork in front of me, hence my being back here writing yet another pointless missive.

Last week I fired up the club pc and let Jacki and Chris read the log I did of the trip down to the Scillies. General opinion... a humorous and accurate rendition of what actually happened. Sort of.

Luckily they did'nt delve too deep otherwise they would have come across my scriblings about my deep passion and love for Jacki, along the lines of -

'she stroked his manly beard and moaned into his ear " I want you, now". Quickly he ripped off her skimpy black bikini, the one she only used for sunbathing; the one which only just covered her womanly charms; the one that.............'

you get the drift.

I subsequently dived into the "EDIT" function and erased all mention of illicit love of Chris' wife. I'm sure it would embarass Jacki too. I have to say that bikini is on the 'loose' side. It reminded me of the time when the comely Sarah Yak wore an evening dress that was so daring that her 'ample' boobs threatened to fall out at any and every opportunity, and was thereafter christened as 'the great escape'

Only joking Jacki [walks off with a smug smirk on his face]

.

Summer is finally over.....official

2004-09-11T09:30:00.000+01:00

Well, after a week when the weather swung from 'end of summer' back into 'phew, it's a scorcher' we are now definitely into 'Autumn's here'.

Still, I have to conceed that it's weather like this that makes living in the UK so, well - 'interesting'. We don't have a climate as such, just weather. For instance, whilst in north California a couple of years back I was surprised when it actually rained for a while. Shock! Of course I was completely unprepared for a small shower in San Francisco in late October. I had brought all my wet weather gear with me but the weather for nigh on 3 weeks had been entirely benign, sunny every day, and the only consideration was whether to wear a light fleece over a T. or not.

Now, I'm not sure whether I would like a whole summer of constant sunshine, certainly when we get those long spells of hot stuff, everyone gets techy and things just don't run as well. It's wierd, a lack of consistency seems to work for the UK psyche, constantly adapting to what amounts to mild chaos, makes us go with the flow and adapt accordingly, but give us a consistent sort of of weather - be it hot and sunny or cold and snowy or [very] wet and rainy , our whole infrastructure, national, local or even domestic just grinds to a halt.

Hmmm. I wonder if there is any milage into looking into this as a little 'project'. I'm sure there is an article in the subject, if only I can be bothered to research, collate and write it all up. Nope, I much prefer to comment on the fact, let someone else do the work, and then complain that it was my idea first.

Similar to the way we moan about the weather and our lack of preparedness, really.

the wonderful world of the www

2004-09-06T15:34:00.000+01:00

Casting about it's amazing just how many bizarre web-sites there are out there. And not just wierd porn or far-right nazi power sites either. There are some seriously whacky and funny ideas too, presumably from the members of the why-be-normal club.

So in the first of an occasional series I give you:

http://thesurrealist.co.uk/

be carefull, if you are of a 'nervous disposition' it might not be for you. Me? Oh I had minutes of inwardly chuckling at the MontyPython humour............

my personality

2004-09-05T18:18:00.000+01:00

The other night on the BeeB there was a programme on people's personalities. According to psychologists, there are 4 basic areas through which one can interpret one's personality: planner/spontaneous; facts/ideas; head/heart; exrovert/introvert.

Depending on how you score in the above you can be accurately pigeonholed into one of 16 'types', by asking various questions in various sections to gauge your response.

On screen the several guinea pigs all behaved as forecast and so one went to the end of the quiz in the expectation of a pretty accurate personality profile........

However as I read the questions I found several which I really could'nt decide between, since elements of both were correct. So on that basis in each section I chose the first of those iffy ones. My personality turned out to be 'Realist', but as I read the description I was'nt doing much identifying. Oh sure, elements were correct, but others [like 'hard-working' hehe ] were most assuredly not.

So I went back and checked the second of the iffy questions in each section instead. This time I came up as 'Councillor' and guess what.... yep, I could'nt see myself there either! Again there were major elements which I thought did reflect my personality, but bits where I thought 'no way!'.

But, and heres a thing, if I took the relevant [ie accurate]bits of the 'Realist' and some of the 'Councillor' then there I was, well pretty close anyway.

I noticed afterward that there was'nt a section for 'sociopath' or 'axe-murderer' or indeed 'saint' so one has to wonder as to how efficatious this actually was?

September already!

2004-09-03T10:55:00.000+01:00

September has arrived and the memories of the Scillies are fading faster than I would like.

So I had better get something down now, before it all disappears into the haze of summer gone.

A few more indolent days, just enjoying the Islands, the pub, Tresco gardens and the beaches came to an end with the the immenent arrival of the tail end of a hurricane, which was to flood large parts of the south west.

Living, as we were, tied to a buoy in the reasonably sheltered waters of Old Grimsby, we were'nt too worried about the impending storm, although several other boats nearby scuttled off to New Grimsby on the other side of the island in the erroneous belief it would be more sheltered there. The wind [F7-8] was due to come in from the SE to start with before veering S and then into the SW. This put it as just offshore by the time it would be at it's worst. So that was OK then. Of more immediate worry was the huge swell breaking near Men a'vaur outside the anchorage, and wrapping inside.

outside at full chat. double overhead at least; and makeable, going right

Once the tide dropped this problem would dissipate, but it was likely to be somewhat uncomfortable for some time in the night, what with the tide and swell opposite the wind the chances were that Pagan would lie a-beam, which would be unpleasant to say the least.

It was a fine evening and there was'nt the merest hint of what was to come as we went ashore for another of Chris' bbq's [I told you Chris was big with the burnt offering stuff, did'nt I? well to be fair he was pretty good at it] Thus sated we returned to the boat, now sitting in an empty anchorage. Now, we began to wonder if we should really have gone round the corner along with everone else. To make sure Jacki phoned one of her old friends, someone who knew the area like a local, having been coming to the Scillies for years [but was now safely tied up in Milford Haven]. He reckoned we were in the right spot, and that the others would get all the nasties as the wind veered toward the S and W.
So we doubled up the warps to the bouy, took the engine off the dinghy, double warped the dinghy and flaked out the biggest anchor we had just in case we had to bail out and find a spot closer inshore during the night. A couple of hot chocolates with Jamesons and we settled in.

Around midnight I awoke to the sound of wind keening in the rigging and something banging on the hull just next to my head. Sticking my head out of the hatch I noticed that we had indeed swung round to lie broadside on and were starting to roll awkwardly. The dinghy was alonside and pinned against the hull by the wind so I led it round aft and away from us. Glancing at the sky the moon shone through storm wracked clouds and I could sense the wind beginning to build. Being from the SE it was warm, but even so, I did'nt want to spend much time outside, especially as an intermittent rain was now heading in, horizontally.
Deciding to stay up for a while, I made an instant soup and sat under the shelter of the cockpit hood and watched the storm unfold around me, theres nothing I normally like better than a good storm, but usually from the safety of my home. The others slept on oblivious to what was happening outside. As the tide gradually ebbed and the north going stream made itself felt a little more we moved to be bow onto the wind. At the same time the swell entering the anchorage dropped off and so we settled to being a little less roly, although the wind seemed to increase in strength towards the south, pushing F8 and probably more, we were getting a degree of shelter of the land now. A quick check around the boat, and back to bed where I slept, more-or-less until the morning, which dawned bright and warm but with a wind still quite strong, but from the SW now.

We decided that a trip back to Bryher for lunch and wandering was in order.

.

island hopping

2004-08-26T13:55:00.000+01:00

I decided that since I only had around a week on the Isles, I might as well use that time doing some recon, if only for getting a feel of the place.

So at 0930 the following day Chris ran me over to the old stone jetty to await the inter island ferry, going down to St Mary's. Some time later I found myself on St Mary's main high street with lots of shops, banks and places to eat. Quite frankly it freaked me out somewhat, since I'd been used to the quiet of the boat and a lack of facilities for some time. I found a very nice public convenience cum fishermans 'locker area' and proceeded to give myself the first decent wash and clean up in several days - getting all the salt out of my hair and beard was certainly good. Then I had an ice cream and beat a hasty retreat back to the ferry. I was'nt really bothered which island I was going to, I just wanted out of the hustle and bustle of St Mary's.

As it happened I was on the the Bryher ferry, the island just to the west of Tresco.
Now, if Tresco can be termed the 'Isle of Chelsea' then Bryher can be likened to 'The Beach' from the novel of the same name. To say it is a bit hippyish would be to denigrate the place, but it is a bit rougher, less tidy, even more laid back and gives the impression of being a real community, rather than a collection of holiday homes and support workers that Tresco invoked.

So, landing at the island's new quay [the Anneka quay - since it 'starred' in the TV series, challenge Anneka] I made my way in the opposite direction of everyone else on the ferry, towards the north. There was a definite mediteranean feel about this place, reinforced by the heat [it was hot] and the red tiled house nearby. Before too long, I came upon the island pub - Fraggle Rock [which came first, the name or the TV series?] where I partook of a pint and a sarnie. Both very good, so worth a return visit then. Wandering off, I eventually crossed the island to the wild west coast and found a horseshoe bay, with a crescent of white sand at it's head, and completely empty.

Since I had the place for myself I stripped off and had a quick and chilly dip in the Atlantic, before stretching out for another nap.

Thoughts on the Scillies

2004-08-25T15:20:00.000+01:00

Our first full day on Tresco, what can I say. White sand, blinding sun, warm water .....err, no bloody cold actually. The islands are 50 miles out into the Atlantic with vicous tides, so a lot of water gets moved around, so it never warms up properly.

I went for a walk, in full beachcomber mode, bare feet, canvas bag slung over one shoulder, looking for bits of storm wrack and interesting objet'de mer. But of course I found little since this was August and the season was in full swing. Previous walkers had snaffled everything. [later I discovered that the islanders themselves tend to walk the beaches regularly, flotsam and jetsam being one of the things that make the place what it is. All in all I found very little of note]

Later on I found myself, together with the others on the western side in New Grimsby, at the pub having a very congenial pint of Surfers ale, and coming to the conclusion that Tresco was the 'Isle of Chelsea' or 'Knightsbridge-by-the-sea' given the amount of home counties dialects I was hearing. Apparently this was only because the holiday lets were booked up for 10 years ahead [20 in some places] and so you had several generations of the same family coming, year after year at the same time. Only middle class England can do this! The Island Hotel by contrast appeared [according to the nice girlie serving behind the bar] to be full of balding Essex wide-boys and their mutton-dressed-as-lamb slapper partners/wives/mistresses/girlfriends, and were given a wide berth by everyone.

The mix was supplemented by the yotties, [like us] but not your usual yellow welly marina crowd, but die-hard sea gypsies [like us!] who were here for some time, or just passing through. Brits, French, Dutch, Belgians even a yank family from Maine.

Later on I wandered off and then back to the rock opposite the boat for a bit of quiet contemplation [ie a nap] before returning to the boat, only to find Chris in full BBQ Man mode grilling up steak, langoustine crab ets, not only for us, but for a crew of Bretons from a boat behind us.

Thus went the first day on Paradise Island, for the next day I had decided to explore further afield..............

.

a digression....

2004-08-18T11:14:00.000+01:00

wrote this a while ago, and in lieu of having nothing else that I want to write about today............

Back into the groove.

Imagine if you will, dear reader, an overweight 40 something white male, who looks like a cross between the late lamented Ernest Hemmingway and the equally late and lamented Jerry Garcia, sitting at a picnic table on the south side of Half Moon Bay, watching a couple of no-longer-young-themselves surfers riding the beach break on longboards. Wistfully he looks on, putting himself into their place, moving and tensioning his leg muscles in concert with the riders offshore.

“Bollocks” he thinks “I need to get back into this”. But not now. It’s November 2002, he’s unfit and the cartilage in his right knee needs replacing. He is also a visitor to these California shores, knowing no-one who rides waves here. What he does know though is that he could become an accident statistic if he decides to surf down at Steamer Lane, he has witnessed the crowds and the dog-eat-dog attitudes of most the wanna-surfers-be at that spot.

Fast forward to June 2003 and our hero paddles out into small but sparkling evening surf at his local break, some 9 hours time difference to the east and on a different continent. He sits there on his recently acquired, but previously much travelled [and dinged] Hobie 9’3” and thinks how good it is to be back. It takes a while. His first few waves mark him out as a complete novice and questioning looks and disparaging comments are aimed at him by a few of the others in the water. But he knows it will be only a matter of time, and timing.

He thinks back to the year he started - 1973. He remembers asking an older guy if he would teach him to surf. “Sure” came the reply “have you a year to spare?” And a year it was too, what with the lack of consistency that marked north Wales surf. But there was a hardcore crew of surfers, mostly from the north-west of England, who made the 3 hour trek down from the industrial centres of that region every weekend; rain, hail, snow or shine, surf or no surf. And made the place their own. He was the only true local, but over the years some of the regular crew got out of the city rat race and made the move to the coast. Many more started up, but it was still a mellow laid back vibe, a four mile beach with at least a half dozen viable beach breaks, reef and point breaks at either end kept crowding to a minimum.

A couple of weeks later, and after some consistent if small swells he’s starting to work the rust out of his system, making more waves than he misses. The evening paddles and waves have been mostly alone, midweek the beach is virtually empty, only those who take the effort to make the long drive out, and anyway, since the first session he’s tried to stay away from the more populated peaks until he’s happy with his efforts.

But today the best spot is well stocked with a motley assortment of surfers of all styles and abilities and due to the vagaries of the swell direction, this peak is undoubtedly the best. It’s a while off high tide, time to go in and hope that the increasing size after the turn will thin the herd somewhat. A hard paddle and 10 minutes later he’s sitting with a crew outside the peak. They all studiously avoid him, thinking back a couple of weeks to the fat old bearded guy who spent most of his time falling off and getting in their way.

He lets the first couple of sets, now an interesting 4’, go by and feels the longshore drift take him down the beach, away from the cleanest area. He knows that he will have to paddle back into the west to get into the best spot, hopefully for a leftie. As a goofy that’s his preference. Yes it’s all coming back now. The crew watch him paddle off, no doubt happy to get this antique out of the way so that they can perform for their mates on the beach. He reaches a spot that might just be right, and gets confirmation from the pull from a set. He scratches for the horizon, making it over the first couple easily, but he knows from experience dredged up from memory that the next two will be bigger. He makes number three, just. Number four then. The Hobie is usually a pig to spin, but this time it’s easy. Two stokes and he’s up. A right hander. Can he fade left? No it’s gonna close. Right it is then, straight down the line. As it backs off he cross foot’s forward into a cheater-five, gains speed, steps back and executes a drop knee cut back to keep in the green. He repeats the move again a couple of times before the wave dissolves into white mush and he kicks out, vaguely aware of hoots from inside. Ignoring them, he paddles back out and watches for the next set “Damn but I missed all this” are his overriding thought.

The looks he gets from the crew are a little friendlier now. He may look like a dinosaur, but he’s no kook, they seem to say. As the joints ease and he gets his second wind, he finds that the waves he makes are his own. there is little or no blatant dropping in. It's as if he has reasserted his right to be there and not be hindered.

Afterwards back at the car, he dries off thinking “It’s good to be back in the sea”. Even though he’s stiff and tired, he knows he’s had a good session. As the crew turn up to dry off in their turn, conversation ensues. Pleasantly surprised that these youngsters would even be remotely interested he chats with them awhile, until as he is about to leave a guy asks ‘Can you teach me some of your techniques?’

‘Sure’ he replies, smiling in recollection, ‘you got a year to spare?’

dazed and confused

2004-08-17T09:26:00.000+01:00

So, I got dumped today.

In my long and sadly unsuccessful list of various relationships this was a first. It’s not happened before, being dumped via a hastily scrawled message pushed through the window of my car, especially when I was inside the house having lunch, and wondering if Juliet would call by. I have to say I was somewhat bemused and perplexed by this turn of events and the abruptness of it all.

So if she want's nothing more to do with me then I will just have to accept it and get back to my own life, even if it leaves me wondering what it was that I did [or did’nt do] for this to happen.

Well that's my male pride bit of the situation out of the way. The 'confirmed bachelor' part of me say's 'phew!', because, to be perfectly honest I was having difficulty in keeping up with J's take on life and how to deal with it. Apart from the over-analysis bit, she was also having 'issues' with her job, animals, house and sister, and she also reckoned she was neglecting her mother. Now, if she thought that she needed to simplify her life then she ought to have considered one of those above issues, not the one that was easy going and simple to start with. But there you go, who can fathom the thought processes of a woman, especially one who has so many self-perceived problems as she evidently had.

So I am free and single once more, and to tell the truth, I feel kinda relieved.

.

the trip, the log

2004-08-15T10:37:00.000+01:00

Day 1 Sunday August 1st

After a barbecue on the beach at Pwllheli we decided to go for it. When I say beach, I mean the foreshore by the slipway, complete with lumps of concrete reinforcement, seaweed and dead fish. Chris likes to be Barbecue Man as we will see.

Anyway, you will remember that I had reckoned that a 3am start would be good, to get us in the south going tide when we got to St Davids around 14 hours later. Well we threw that out the window and went at 9.30pm, [2130hrs] straight after the sun went down. This was OK, but in retrospect midnight would have been better. So we powered out into a beauitiful sunset and a date with a nasty bit of sea the following morning.

Day 2 Monday

Jacki woke me at 0400hrs gleefully telling me that Strumble head light was ahead and to port and that we were doing 9.5knots over the ground, but that the self steering had packed in. Happy as I was to hear that we had made good progress I knew that the worst bit of the whole trip was coming up, and we were going to be there with the full force of the spring tides ahead of us. At least the wind would be with the tide, and not against which would have made it a tad uncomfortable, to say the least. I had originally argued that we should go inside, with the tide and have a sleighride through Ramsey Sound, past the Bitches, across St Brides Bay and through Jack Sound or past Skomer. It would be quicker, more comfortable and with Milford Haven only a few miles to the east, easier to bail out if we had to. But no, Jacki and Chris were adamant, outside it was, cos it worked for them last time. By 0700 the Bishops were abeam and our vmg [velocity made good - the 'speed' over the ground towards our destination as shown on the GPS] was down to 4.5 knots, the same as our water speed, so we were in slack water. Chris came up and we hoisted the main to help, 10 minutes later we put a reef in to make life a little easier, and the rolled the genny up a bit. I went for a kip. At 1230 I came up to find we had managed the grand total of 10 miles in the three hours I had been down below. The full northgoing stream was now against us, and I felt somewhat hacked off that we had'nt - a] waited until at least midnight to leave; and b] had'nt gone inshore.

By 1400 we had clawed our way to the Smalls lighthouse, motorsailing all the way, with the wind a close reach and increasing to F5 from the SE, with the odd squall taking it to F6. I remarked that it was'nt fun any more, Chris and Jacki agreed, although Rhiannon wanted to press on cos she reckoned it could'nt get any worse. We invoked the 5 minute rule [reappraise the stuation in 5 minutes after a period of reflection, and if everyone was of the same mind go with the decision] Five minutes later we kicked our course to the east and fed in the coordinates for Angle.
There then followed the worst half hour on the water that I have had for many a year. First off, Chris declared that with our present vmg it was going to take 6 hours to get to Angle [WTF?]. A few minutes later I was somewhat perturbed to see an empty water bottle that had gone over the side a few seconds earlier, re-appear as we were knocked back by a large wave. We were making 0 headway [WTF2?] and then it started shoaling, fast [WTF3?] . I shouted to Chris, who was helming to bail out big time, which to his credit he did without querying me.

Running off to the SW he remarked that it looked a lot quieter to the south. A quick think and it was 'Bollocks- lets go on'. Jacki did the math and we realised that the worst of the northerly stream was behind us, so onwards it was. For a while it was still rather lumpy, but the wind seemed to be easing. Jacki plotted a new waypoint, to keep us to the east of the shipping lanes and this eased the wind a little more. Vmg was a steady 5.5 kn so we felt better, so good in fact that we decided that pot-noodles for all were in order - nothing tastes better than a cheapo pot noodle when you are cold, wet and hungry, or in my case soon to be very wet as a green lump transfered itself from the Bristol Channel and straight down my neck, by-passing all that lovely neoprene and gore-tex and sluicing me down right into my sea-boots.

Mid afternoon - I suppose around 1600, I can't be sure, the engine stopped. Just like that. No clunking, or nasties, It just stopped, liked somebody had, turned it off. I looked at Chris, thinking that was what he had done. He looked at me, thinking the same. Then 'O, bugger'.

Now, the theory of accidents is that, in general, there is no such thing as the one-off 'accident'. No, what happens is that lots of little things happen, which within themselves are of no consequence, but when put together produce a geometrical progression which lead to a potential disaster in the making. I think chaos theory covers it quite well.

So whilst Jacki and I got the genny out a bit and squared the boat off towards the south west under sail so that we could sort things out in some degree of stability, Chris went below to see what had happened to our engine. Now, I had negelected to tell you that the day before we sailed, Chris had replaced all the push rods in the valve gear with new ones and re set the valve clearences. The engine had then put in some 19 hours of work when it stopped. So there were some major ?????? in our collective minds.

Chris quickly ascertained that the engine had overheated and needed some oil too, so that was done. We decided that as the boat was happily doing 5 knots under sail on the heading we were on, we would continue for an hour or so to let the engine cool down and then restart it, hoping that all was ok. At this point the noise of the ignition circuit beeper drew our attention to the fact that the circuit was on. Jacki reached down to turn the key and realised that it had broken off, sometime in the previous - whenever. So we couldnt restart the engine until we had extricated the broken bit. No problem, the boat was sailing happily along close to our course, and the engine needed to cool anyway, so we had a couple of hours in which to defeat the broken key syndrome.

Half an hour later we were no further forward. Rhiannon was on the helm, I was keeping a watch to windward and the other two were playing around with tweezers and needles, still trying to retrieve the broken key. Rhiannon suddenly let out a yelp as the Swansea-Cork superferry appeared close on our starboard, downwind side and passed some 400 meteres astern. To say it was heartstopping was an understatement.

Rhiannon - 10 years old, helm extraordinaire

We quickly recovered from this, and Chris radioed the Ferry to relay a message to the coastguard informing them of our situation, but that we were quite happy thank you and would contact them again when we had sorted it out / made landfall. Imagine our horror when we heard the relay go out that we required assistance! Argh No! Chris was back on the radio in an instant stating quite categorically that we DID NOT REQUIRE ASSISTANCE, Thank you. What we got back was, 'Sorry you are breaking up, did not understand your last message' Bear in mind that the ferry was still no more than 1k away and we were broadcasting on 16 at 25w and this was rather disconcerting. Luckily I had brought my handheld with me and Chris managed to patch through the message that we were Ok and did'nt need the full weight of the UK SAR to swing into action, and if we had needed assistance why was the ferry receding towards the horizon at 20 knots? This time they got the message. But it was annoying that our brand new DSR radio was not giving out at 100%. However it did'nt unduly worry me, hell I started sailing when cotton sails were only just being replaced, there were no radios, let alone cell-phones, GPS and electronic logs, but I could see the others were, given that at that moment we had no engine and no means of starting one.

But the boat was Ok, she was sailing along happily. Jacki got our position and plotted courses to Padstow, and Cork, in case we had to, and started a DR plot on the chart, in case the gps went down too..
An hour later and the engine had cooled down, Chris had decided that we had been sucking air into the water intake, because we were heeled over so much and that had set up an airlock which resulted in the overheating. Jacki had had a brainwave - use the stub of the key to turn the ignition, it worked a dream. So with engine back on we came back onto our course and motored on into the evening. As usual just as I was about to go down I had a quick look around and noticed... no radar reflector. "It was there when we left" Jacki asserted. "never mind. There's a spare in the stb'd locker" No there was'nt, nor in the port hand locker, the aft cabin or downstairs. No radar reflector, and we were about to go into the second busiest shipping lane in the UK. Time for some quick thinking. Jacki made up a reflector out of 2 stainless pan lids suspended at right angles to one another. We re-set our waypoint to close inshore of Pendine Head, so that we were well clear of the lanes until daybreak, when we would dash across at right angles. The plan would work, all we had to look out for was stuff coming up or down channel from Cardiff or Avonmouth. A couple of largish ships were going up channel, but were well clear of us.

The wind had by now started to track around to the south, as was promised by the forecast, eventually it should settle into the NW F3. But for now it meant powering directly into a short chop. A visit down below to check the chart and the change in the boat's rhythms was enough and I came charging up the gangway to be seasick for the first and only time on the trip.

At around 2200 I went for a kip and Jacki took over with the promise to wake me at 0300. Thus ended a fairly action packed never-a-dull-moment day.

Day 3 Tuesday morning.

The morning started for me at 0300 hrs with Jacki waking me up to a cold and dank scene. There was no wind and the sea was totally flat, apart from a small long period swell from the SW. However there was also no visibility, a cold and clammy mist surrounded us, whilst directly above the full moon was clearly visible, although every now and again it disappeared into the murk. Jacki scuttled off below to make us a cup of something hot and then to bed.

Sometime later Chris came up, unable to sleep and for the next few hours we avoided phantoms in the fog. We only ever saw one blob which could have been a ship, away off to our starboard side. Every so often we would stop the engine and glide soundless through the mist, straining to hear something. Our feeble foghorn was discarded as being a waste of time. Chris tried the old trick of putting his ear to the hull down below and try and hear the thump of an engine, but there was nothing. We were alone in the murk.

Eventually the sun came up, as did Jacki, and started to burn off some of the mist, but we were still surrounded by banks of fog. At around 0800 we reached the waymark, Chris plotted in the IoS and we turned right, crossing the lanes in patchy fog, vis about 1k. We could hear a foghorn up to the north of us, which eventually emerged as a mid sized tanker in ballast, coming down the wrong side of the separation lane. A hand bearing compass showed us on a collision course so we changed course and slowed up so that we would pass behind it. It then changed course back towards us to avoid a fishing boat which was hauling nets.

err... Jacki?

We just could not get clear of the damned thing so had to bail out completely to let it go by. It passed by us less than 400m away. no acknowledgement, nothing.

After this the day cleared considerably and so Jacki and I went to sleep and left it to Rhiannon and Chris to do the last 15 miles or so. We raised Men 'a Vaur at about 1200 and by 1300 was snuggly secured to a mooring boy in Old Grimsby.

Our voyage was over and we had arrived in the Isles of Scilly. Now to go exploring, but first - a deep uninterrupted sleep. Bliss.

Back home....

2004-08-11T15:05:00.000+01:00

Well here I am, back home after and interesting week away in The Isles of Scilly. For those who don't know, take a map of the uk and look down the coast of Cornwall until you reach Lands End. Then keep going. Twenty miles or so to the west are the IoS.

It's a long way from North Wales to Tresco, our port of call, and so I'm going to carry on with this Blog as though it's the Ship's log, which in a way I suppose it is.

Round again, it's Friday

2004-07-30T15:16:00.000+01:00

Can't believe I've been so neglectful of keeping my blog up to date, perhaps the novelty is wearing off, perhaps I've run out of photos to put up and bore you with.

However we are now D day -3, that is departure date, bound for the Scillies. yup we leave at around 3 am Monday morning, in order to get the south-going tide at Ramsey island. We will probably be an hour early, but if we leave here any later than three we'll miss the tide and be stuck until 7am. Since the usual knock-ons apply that would make us late for the tidal gates at Pembroke and then we would not arrive in the Scillies until after dark on Tuesday evening. So early it is, as far as I am concerned. jacki thinks otherwise, but unless she can prove me wrong, I'm sticking by it. 3am it is.

Juliet is starting to annoy me. There, I've said it. OK I like her a whole lot but she is'nt quite as easy going as me, and she tends to overanalyse everything, which is not good for her, because she then argues herself into a corner, says the wrong thing and then wonders why, for instance, that the digger man has'nt turned up to do the job he promised, a month ago.

On the other hand she finds it difficult to say 'No' to things. It's just a question of degrees. Since I'm going to be away for a week or so, I'm sure that will help, and we'll see when we get back.

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I've been busy............................

2004-07-28T13:57:00.000+01:00

........... so I've not really had time to play with blog. It's Wednesday already, but i really have very little to say at this moment in time. The Juliet thing is well, doing it's thing. Work seems to have got a little hyper over the last week, almost as if people know I'm off on hols and want to add a little bit of angst into my life just when I need it least.

Speaking of hols we are 'GO' for the Scillies, probaly next Monday [ish]. Chris has to mend the engine, which does'nt worry me quite as much as it would a non sailor. The only time I would worry is if there was no wind and we were stuck out there. With sails and a breeze you can do most things.......

The luscious Wenda has now returned from lunch and so I will have to go out and look at a site with her.........

Until later when I will come back to update things I will leave you with another photo. This is a scan of a print which was the fortunate result of a camera jam and double exposure.... Islands in the sky.

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Friday on my mind

2004-07-23T15:03:00.000+01:00

Yep, it's come around again, the best day of the [working] week, the day that if you have planned your workload or schedule right, you can start to unwind and be totally horizontal in a mental way by tomorrow morning.

Unless you have to work, that is. It's fine I suppose if you work every Saturday or even over the weekend, as long as you get a couple of days in the week. If you surf this can be a bonus as the waves are relatively empty in the mid week compared to the w/e. The downside is that everyone else is working when you are not and vice/versa. So you dont get quite as good a social life as everyone else.

This used to bother me, but quite honestly, as I get older I'm not so sure. Same with evening work. Now I'm not advocating working all night, no way, but hey 4 hours am until say 1100 and then another 4 from 6 till 10'ish pm would suit me fine, given the dearth of interesting stuff on the TV these days you would'nt miss much...and it would release all those lovely daylight hours to do what you want, like filing tax returns, doing the housework.

how many jobs could be undertaken like that, at any old hours? Flexi time is king, now lets just get out there and use it properly

photo for today, a reminder of last march:

back to the lost coast

2004-07-21T22:19:00.000+01:00

Having thought a little about what this Blog is about I have come to the conclusion that it is about the inane ramblings of a person going through a midlife crisis. So far so obvious, since I more or less said so in my profile. The blog has become a little bit of a diary, indicating how little of import has happened in my life over the last fortnight. Then it was a photo album sort of thing. that's OK, I like putting my photos up for comment, if only I could get a comment! OK I got one, complementary at that, but some feedback would be nice. But of course any negative vibes would make me upset, so I can't win there either.

Juliet called me a typical Gemini dual personality, a mess of contradictions. Now I don't ascribe to the all this astrological guff as practiced by those newspaper/radio/tv 'Mystic sMeg' types, but I do believe that the period of the year you are born in does develop your character. An example of this is school age. In Wales the school year runs Sept through August so those born in September find themselves almost a full year older than those in the same clas, born the following year. And a year is a long time when you are 4. So they are generally top of the pecking order and those born 9 months or more later are a little more 'put-upon'. This can affect your development for life. Well, that's my theory anyway,. I don't care what anyone else thinks. But I am a mess of contradictions so I suppose I conform to the geminian stereotype.

Back to my ramblings. I started this out as the lost coast and asked whether it was a real place or a state of mind, well I suppose it's both really. See more contradictions or at the very least a dithering. So here's a photo with the question:

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Is this the lost coast?

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what's up doc?

2004-07-19T11:09:00.000+01:00

Monday, at work, feeling a little perplexed. Why? well I've had this problem with my shoulders for a few months. jeez who am I kidding, Ive had this problem since last January and apart from a large dose of hydrocortisone injected into each shoulder joint to try and alleviate the pain, the situation has yet to resolve itself. I'm doing chiropracty once a week and the excersises and I'm unsure as to whether it is actually doing any good. To be honest I think having wild sex with Juliet is achieving more, but I digress.

So when I got a letter the other week telling me that I'd won the lottery, for a scan, rather than the monetary one, I dont even do that. [which is silly realy because, like most others, I fantasise about what I would do if I won the lottery] Anyway, back to the point... I noticed that it was for a pelvic/renal scan, rather than my shoulders. I checked, and it was. So I turned up, stripped off, got scanned and was informed that i had the begining of gall-stones, which kinda surprised me, since a] I had no pain/problems in that area, b] I really, really wanted my &^%$£ shoulders seeing to please!!

So here I am, no further along with sorting out the pain that my shoulders are endengering but at least I now know that, in time another bout of excruciating pain is heading my way unless I can sort it.

Juliet has decided that acupuncture would help block the pain receptors and get me going again. I'm still waiting for NHS physio to tell me I can start. Personally, I am at the point where sacrificing my first born to the mad god of the underworld is starting to look like a desirable option except that you can never be sure that mad gods of the underworld will keep their side of the bargain, and I dont have a first born anyway.

Off to J's this pm to do things that lovers do - helping her put up some shelves, walk the dogs, cut the grass, and if we still have time maybe a little wild monkey sex.

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late Friday/early saturday

2004-07-17T00:08:00.000+01:00

Just found out that Juliette hates being called Juliette with 2 'T's .
From now on it will be Juliet, and no, I'm not going to edit all my
earlier posts to reflect this. The one thing I am not is
anal-retentive. So there.

a little bit of politics.... always good on a Friday afternoon

2004-07-16T15:23:00.000+01:00

Once, I read an article in which a scenario was set up in which our hero was shackled in a cell with no windows and a padlocked iron-clad door. Water was rising from an opening in the wall and he was in danger of drowning.

Several distinguished writers and novelists were invited to put forward a 'final chapter' in which our hero got out of his sticky situation, in the same way as our heroes of the fifties did.

Long convoluted missives were submitted detailing just how our hero, evaded a ghastly death, but the winner was the shortest there, in one short sentence:

"And with a bound he was free!"

I have a distinct feeling that that is exactly what I have just witnessed after the publication of the Butler Report.

What I find most galling is that the Tories are an even worse option than this present lot, who are, lets face it 'Tory Lite'. Not that I much faith in the 'old labour' who were just social capitalists instead of patrichan capitalists.

Oh well if they are both equally useless then it may be that the LibDems get a share of power and push for PR in the country, then more people are likely to vote 'cos they know that their vote will actually count towards the final reckoning. I hope.

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something...................

2004-07-16T09:57:00.000+01:00

I wondered what I could use as a title for today's missive. Friday [which it is] seemed to be a little impersonal, although accurate. Then I thought I'd just put up the date [16th July 2004] because it does'nt appear on the page when published. But I've just put it in the text, so why bother going back to do it. a dilemma then.

It's not helped by the fact that I've had a pretty uneventful couple of days with relatively little of import happening [well nothing I want to impart here ;) ].

So the only real news is that Jacki and Rhiannon came round for supper the other night, but we ended going out instead. J& R have headed back to Macc. but it was more or less decided that I'd be heading off to the Scillies with them and Chris. So there's one decision more-or-less made. Juliette does'nt mind [or at least she says she does'nt] because she will have the builders in and will be busy with them anyway.

I made it up to her by promising to take her off to Lindisfarne in September/October for some 'weather'. Juliette does'nt do cold very well, unless she is well swaddled but she says she likes 'weather', as long as there is an open fire and hot chocolate with Jamesons at the end of it.

Well considering I had nothing much to report, I appear to have produced something, but I still have'nt a title, Oh well something will do.