From Borea

The valley was shrouded in fog for most of the morning and I simply didn't feel up to pitting my weak lungs against the cold moist air. Even when the thermometer reads 4.5 degree here on the hill it can easy by close to freezing at the bottom of the hill by the river where I choose to run. Cold air sinks.

An hour of inhaling freezing water vapour....no thanks.

So instead I worked all morning and ventured out for a lunchtime run. By 1pm the sun had burned off most of the mist but it was still cold and damp. The river-side path was still soaking wet from the weekend rains and so for most of the run I had to constantly adjust my pace, pigeon-stepping the short gaps between puddles before launching into big strides over the larger pools. A weekend feeling the effects of my allergic reaction last Thursday left me feeling less than strong, and the constantly changing stride was wearing. But still I managed to get in under my 50 minute target for the 10k which means that, on the day, I should be able to a minute off that too.

The op, the recovery and complications has put a strange spin on the beginning of autumn. All flow seems interrupted and basic, fundamental things like healing have come to the fore. The year has been so busy, taken so much energy out of me, that a bit of enforced contemplation and reflection hasn't been so bad.

Here is an interesting experiment. Take a 37 year old man, who is still black and blue from a vasectomy. Who has eaten a weeks worth of high-carb comfort food while he lay immobile and sore on his sofa. And who seems to have smoked his way through several Virginia plantations to help manage the pain.

Then in three weeks time enter him into a 10k race, the first stage in training for a marathon next April.

10k generally for me these days is nothing. I fit a 10k run in when I don't have time to run properly and have been averaging times between 44 and 50 mins over 10k for the past three years.

But right now it seems suddenly a long way to run. I'm still sore and I can't believe how out of condition I've got with just a week off. It seems at my age, that training has to be a year round thing and that fitness can be achieved with effort but won't last unless you keep putting that effort in on a daily basis.

The priority is to kick the smoking. If I can get that cracked without munching out on carby food. I'll be half-way there.

The second thing is when to risk my first run. I'm considering a little run just to test the water on weds but this is earlier than the docs recommend. By taking it easy and wearing some supporting underwear I might just get away with it.

Having just met with two of the south's finest wild food experts I'm off out to try and tap birch trees for sap. From this I hope to bottle some of this wonderful spring energy in a particularly powerful birch wine.

It was -2c this morning and managed a 10miler up the valley through the freezing fog. It wasn't pleasant though; my lungs burned, the sweat froze and what's more, at the half way point in the middle of nowhere I realised my camel-pack had frozen solid and I had no drinkable water whatsoever. I dont know if it was the cold or the dyhradation but the five miles back were hard going. Lactic acid built up rpaidly and I had to fight to keep the pace going.

It was pause for thought, I had been speculating that running in artic conditions was perfectly feasible given the right kit. Neanderthal nasal adapations might have even made it easier by warming air entering the lungs through their large fleashy noses. But acceds to liquids is a real limitation with long distance hunting. Even in a container strapped close to my body the fluid froze so I can't see how any carrier stone age hunters could have come up with (gut bags, birch bark pots) would have fared any better.

Fast paced pursuits would have to have been relatively short and planned, and access to unfrozen water a big consideration.

So the long painful run back did at least give me time to think.

Roll on Spring!

December and the start of the New Year has been extraordinary. The most prolonged period of benign, quiet, still cold that I can remember. No unseasonal high temepratures, no depressing Atlantic lows, no dissapointing flirtations with snow rusulting in soul-sapping slush. Just tranquil grey and blue skies, mercury barely rising above zero throughout the day, crisp frosts and weather you have to dress up for.

It's felt good to celebrate our winter festivals in such seasonal stillness. A good chance to reset the body clock in line with the turn of the year. Even though I haven't been out in it as much as I'd liked, I spent much of December digging in the cold and have run regularly throughout the holidays, on early mornings as the sun rose over completely still, sluggish blue seas. It's put in me in a space which is entirely winterly, north european in aspect and wholly infused with cold as an element in itself. Craving warm foods, root vegetables and simple winter pleasures.

The big absence in all this is fire, I don't have an open one in the house. So my first ambition for 2009 is to install a small wood burning stove, to bring real fire into the house. Fire produced from a local, carbon-neutral woodland and not dependant on Russian gas which could be turned off at a flick of the bear' petulant paw. It's a simple thing, despite the inital cost and logistics, but it feels like something tangibly missing from the winter experince and it's absence feels like the house is lacking something of it's soul. Bringing living fire into the house is something very primal, something of our collective evolutionary experience going back millenia. As I look through the internet for suitable stoves I'm tapping into one of the basic impulses of human life, and can't wait to experience that first lighting of the fire and the welcoming of new spirits and new dynamics into the house.

Back from the first genuinely winter run of the season. Temperatures hovering around freezing as the sun came up over the sea and only thin running gear between the artic air and my skin. It's absolutely pointless wrapping yourself up against the cold, within five minutes of running your body temperature soars and getting rid of sweat becomes more important than trapping heat. But for the first few minutes of exposure to the air you feel very under-dressed and exposed before the elements.

But thankfully intense cold is usually accompained by clear blue skies and the sea between Brighton and Saltdean looked equally crystaline, under such conditions its impossible to feel anything other than completely alive and energised. We are really lucky to have the Brighton coast, with its flat, wide, pedestrianised promenades. In all weather conditions but a full-on gale it provides a safe, clean training ground with measured distances, beautiful views and lots of human interest. Actually even a gale can be energising, you come back covered in salt spray but the water tends to be warm.

My brother and myself are training for our first 10k race of the season, which is in two weeks. Last year I completed it in 49minutes having not trained much and smoked. This year I hope to beat that, with 45mins a possible, if not highly probable, target. Our latest training plan is 20mins at a strong pace, 20 minutes at a full-on 5km pace and then 20 minutes back at a measured pace. The middle section is tough and by the end you fell completely spent, but amazingly after only a couple of minutes of slowing back down your body catches up and you find yourself needing to sprint again to the finish.

Between now and February's half marathon there will be many morning like this: cold, increasingly dark and distances increasingly long. But there is something defiant about getting out and embracing the dark mornings when every instinct is to turn over and snooze a little longer.

Spent the whole week doing first aid training, which I'd initally viewed as an administrative hoop to jump through and a distraction to getting on with clearing my work load. As it turns out I spent the week thoroughly engrossed in the course and couldnt believe that I'd managed to get to 36 without formal first-aid training. I, like most people I guess, thought I knew about first-aid and as no one had so far died on me assumed I'd be able to handle most injuries or traumas. But I was amazed at my ignorance, not only about how to give CPR or recognise serious conditions, but even stuff like treating burns and major bleeds.

But now, after a week or crouching over prone bodies and dummies, I've come away with a sense of confidence that I could pretty much handle a domestic, work place or street incident until the ambulance arrived. Thats the other thing I learned, if your wondering whether you should call an ambulance, call the fucking ambulance!

By contrast, I finished the week knelt and leaning over bodies, but this time for Ju Jitsu class and learning how specifically to hit, throw, bend and pin parts of the body to effect maximum damage, pain and nerve-searing discomfort. So much of ju jitsu is learning about how bodies move, how they bend and how they don't. And again so much of it is all new to me, why aren't we brought up connected with our bodies and their capabilities, their limitations and what to do when they attack you, or when they need your help?

Myself and Meg came back from hols to find ourselves thinking ahead to winter and fuel bills. There are going to be some huge price hikes looming for gas and electricity and thats on top of recent price rises. Recommendations from Money Saving Expert, Martin Lewis's web site to lock into a fixed price deal came too late for us as the nergy companies removed all their fixed price deals on Friday. And its impossible to look for better deals as the prices are rising and changing all the time.

http://www.moneysavingexpert.com/utilities/you-switch-gas-electricity

For nothing for it but to review how I consume energy and make the savings that way. So my plan this winter is to try and see how much of a svaing I can make and actually, for once, meticulously monitor my energy consumption. Apparently there is some kind of metre I can look at.

First thing is to think about heating, most of the time i live in the house on my own and work on the pc in my living room. To heat this room i have to turn on the central heating which heats the whole house.

This seems crazy. So plan one is to find an energy efficent way to heat just one room and leave the CH on off except in freezing conditions. Any suggestions?

One other thing its worth everyone doing is checking their bills and seeing if the amount they pay is actually clearing what they owe, the energy companies seem to want to get us in debt by giving us bills made on the basis of unreal estimates father than real consumtpion. You'll find that most of the time you actually owe them, and for some people this can mount up. Before we go into a long, expensive winter its good to make sure you aren't being scammed in this way.

http://www.uswitch.com/news/energy/20080714/energy-bill-debt-warning.cmsx?ref=google_uk

Huge stressful fortnight cumlinating in a long tiring day. Came home and imediately started answrting emails and before I knew it it was six oclock, i had hardly spoken to Sam, not had I put the dinner on.

Then leap from feeling like a rubbish parent to the fishing plan was lamost instantaneous. Grabbed rods, reel, makerel feathers and a fiver. Within half an hour we were sat on the harbour arm with a bag of fish and chips and our rods in the water.

The wind was blustery, it was a bit cold and there were no fish. But the joy of being away from work, pc, and phone (i left it at home on purpose) and just sharing the evening with Sam was immense.

Its a bit of a cliche but fishing really is one of the best excuses for complete escape. Looking forward to some warmer eveing when the fish decide to bite too.

Sunday morning, 6th April 2008.

Yesterday I was lying in the sun, in the garden, in a t-shirt and then worked up a sweat mowing the lawn. Think it reached about 17C.

This morning 11am, -2C, 4 inches of snow.

You have got to love living in a country that lacks a climate and just has weather.

Don't want to go all techhy on you all, but found this neat utlity some years ago for checking on disk space and helping in your annual/monthly/weekly(get a life)PC house keeping.

I find that, if nothing else it picks up those files which have got lost in the directory structure and isolates huge files lurking taking up valuable disk and page file space.

http://www.jgoodies.com/freeware/jdiskreport/

Pete blogged our lovely afternoon spent in the woods near Moulscombe, not a stones throw from the old circle we used to frequent in the '80s. It was one part of an amazing birthday weekend for me and Sam which saw us spending most of the time out-of-doors engaged in wholesome, pioneer activities.

On saturday we hired bikes and cycled down to Cuckmere Haven, all six of us with Tabby on the bike seat for the first time. once there, and armed with the ONLY disposal bbq available in east sussex this time of year (found in a store shed behind the BP garage in Seaford), we set about cooking in the bright warm sun. There was plenty of timber still washed up from the shipwreck and so the kids set about building a camp immediately. The white chalk captured the suns rays perfectly and it was lazing around in t-shirts for a couple of hours.

It was scary, considering this was Feb, but then I remembered being taken to exactly the same spot on my 23rd birthday, It was a complete coincidence. We had Jess's 8mm camera took footage of each other sun bathing on the rocks, amazed at how unseasonably warm it was; and thirteen years ago. So nothing changes really.

The passing of Christmas and the startyof the New Year is a chance to explore the paradox of both beginning again and revisiting the now well trodden path of the year's annual round (36 is strating to feel well-trodden). For me the western calendar with its pagan roots and Christian accents offers a repeated framework to purify and renew yourself within the cycle of the seasons (prosaically rather like Groundhog Day!). Now is a quiet time of reflection, February sees the start of lent and the process of physical and spiritual purification. Easter/Eostre a time of life-filled enjoyment, Summer a time of hard work and the fufillment of projects. Then autumn as another time of purification, of both shedding and gathering before the death and reboirth of the year at Yule/Christmas.

So new projects both at work and at home are started, including decorating the bathroom, shedding unnecessary possessions, a new project on Neanderthal archaeology and a commitment to writing more. I'm also cranking up the training for February's half-marathon, aiming for a both a better time than last year and to hit 15 or 16 miles in trianing before hand.

Then looming off in the distance of the year is the mountain. Still don't know what mountain it will be but its there, it knows it's the one, even if we don't.

This is a huge year for anniversaries but the cleberation of 50 years since Sputnik was launched suprised me by its significance. My dad was 60 this which means he was 10 when the little 2ft sphere of metal was put into orbit, the same age as my edlest child now. It meant my father was to grow up in the white heat of the ensuing space race and cold war and something of the techno-centric awe of human achievement rubbed off onto me as a child from my fathers enthusiasm. We were all born as men were still landing on the moon, the early seventies represented a strange assyemtric zenith of the Western dream with everyone looking skyward as the final stages of the Vietnam world played out back on earth. It's hard to pass on some of the cold war wonder to the next generation, the Space Shuttle is just a truck lets face it, but I think we inherited a world view that was forged some fifty years ago when two great opposing paradigms competed in the heavens.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iG74Xiifb40 For why the space race still holds magic and wonder for me

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mTs4_aKw3EU For some newsreel

The combination of camping, the new moon and clear skies this week has given an incredible opportunity to star gaze and this weekend we've not only be treated to the annual spectacle of the Persid meteor shower but a also a number of direct, overhead passes of the International Space Station (ISS). This has been going over like clockwork the pass few nights as a graceful and radient third magnitude star, on saturday the trailing Space Shuttle Endevour could even be seen on its approach, its now docked.

The Perseid meteor shower in also in full flood right now as the plnaet earth passes through the tail of debris left by the comet Swift-Tuttle. Last night we were seeing two every minute, some of them quite spectacular. Tonight its meant to be even better.

After these bursts of enthusiams for the night sky I always kick myself for not making the effort to witness the movements of the heavens more often.

http://www.heavens-above.com/main.aspx?Session=kebgcapbeillngbcpcikidko

Thanks to Matt and Kim for playing host to a very enjoyable couple of days enjoying the Cornish spring. No pictures here of the folk night at the Earl of Chatham, but within an hour of arriving we'd necked a couple of pints of fine cornish ale and ended up around a table of folk singers and musicians; soon we were all singing the Cadgwith Anthem and I drummed along whenever the pace picked up. The drive was instantly forgotten in a warm fug of beer and close harmonies.



Matt led us on a trek the next day along a decent strech of the Fowey from Trago Mills to Golitha Falls. A humid, green little valley which became incresingly wild and rocky with every mile. The floor was carpeted with Anemones and Celadines, our only companions Grey Wagtails, Dippers,Herons and a Buzzard. The large, delicous looking Brown Trout were rude enough to turn down the offer of several worms and a maggot.

It's not an expeically rare meteorological phenomenon but it is one I always find absolutely captivating. Sun Pillars form just after sunset and grow in intensity for about 15 minutes before fading. They form when sunlight reflects off ice crystals in high-level cirrus clouds. A Google image search for Sun Pillar will show you lots of better examples but this is the first I've seen for a couple of years and nicely Heralded the passing of the Spring Equinox.

In all this Spring is shaping up as very dramatic; days of warm heat. days in which huge cells of cloud bring hail as they pass up the English Channel like icebergs. And days with flurries of snow to remind us all that the Arctic can still extend its influence despite our best efforts.

13.2 Miles.....2hrs 2mins......industrial vat of Vaseline now on order.

One of the joys of our modern, 24/7 culture is that we no longer have to be subject to the tedious structures of climate or season. Here, for example, the cheery trees in our own Preston Park aren't bothering with any of that traditional hanging around until April and are getting in early with the breaking of buds over the New Year weekend.



It's a shame that the Cuckoos aren't shaping up yet but I'm sure its only a matter of time before they realise that the Herculean task of flying all the way to Africa isn't really so necessary.

Now to celebrate the end of the winter holidays before the kids go back to school, we are off ice-skating. In the warm and dry comfort of the indoor rink of course.

At Paravel we embraced the season of the dead with fire and feasting last Saturday. In 'omage to the ancient sacrifical frenzy which used to over come our Celtic ancestors of yore we created our own scape-goat to placate to Gods. Not quite a wicca man, but eery none-the-less as fire took hold.

This is really a follow up to postings by Mekkinz on Peak Oil and Flatsky on Eco-living.

A potentially informative documentary started on Radio 4 today examining our relationship with oil and the political, economic and ecological consequences of our dependancy on the stuff combined with its finite nature. Todays programme, which you can listen again to here, focussed on the concept of Peak Oil with some very frank admissions froms sober economists about the longevity of oil stocks and the need to change our way of living. Next week its the impact of the rapidly developing oil-hungry China on global oil reserves and the likelihood of political friction as the new superpower emerges. Anyone for Dim Sum?

Last week at Stanmer Steve spotted this cloud formation which he correctly identified as Mammatus. I'd only seen them in books before and luckily, being a complete meteorlogical phenomena geek, had my camera.

They are called Mammatus as they look like boobs or udders, I thought these looked more like balls so am looking to get them named as a new cloud type, Cumulus Testicularta.

Mammatus form under thunder heads and are associated with ball lightening and tornadoes.

Despite waking up to torrential rain and dark skies on Beltane morn, the sun broke through to grace the yearly May Day celebrations at Stanmer. Pete and Myself did our bit by helping to carry the May Pole, with much grunting and chanting, as well as contending in the May King shotput contest (where we both made a good account of ourselves).

The girls partook in their yearly hunt for the green man, made garlands and led the dancing! The day, as ever desncend into chaos as the tug of war resulted in one team being dragged half a mile and the fool ended up swaying high in the branches on the tallest beech tree surrounded my loads of children screaming, mob fashion, "Jump! Jump!"

Myself and Meg still blame May Day celebs last year on our imminent arrival, so very much looking forward to celebrating next year with a brand new baby crawling around on the communal picnic rug.

In traditional Argus sensationalising-stylee, banners proclaimed "CITY FUEL CRISIS".

Made perfect sense to me, oil storage explosion and fire, fuel stocks running low....a petrol famine was about to engulf the south of England and there was nothing to be done.

Except of course to wheel out my bike and use it to make the 26 mile round trip into Brighton.

Total cost...nothing
Carbon footprint.....0 tonnes
Calories burned.....several hundred
Muscle tone......increased to defined
Aerobic fitness age.......decrease from 52 to 47

Going into Brighton was, as ever, a dream. All down hill to Shoreham and then along the coast, past promenading couples and rolling blading girls plugged into ipods via conspicuously visible white leads. I never done it in winter before but you soon warm up and the weather was bright. Total time....55mins (about average for me)

That night, first hint of a problem. had to cycle to Megs from Pete's. It was only 6pm but of course pitch black and I had no lights. Decided to make the trip by cycling pavements and backstreets. A measured risk, but rather uncomfortable nonetheless. Made note to self to never leave home without bike lights in winter.

Second problem was the weather forecast at Pete's which suggested snow sweeping in followed by rain the next morning, when I had planned to return. I was too daunted as I had my hiking waterproof and lots of layers to keep me warm. I had my new platypus camel waterpack to keep me irrigated and the determination to beat the weather and show I didn't need my car. So I turned down the offer of a lift home from Meg and said my goodbyes (perhaps a little too gravely, betraying some trepidation) to Pete and headed off for the Dyke Road.

All was well leaving Brighton. No wind, light rain and a good pace, marred only by extreme saddle soreness from yesterdays run into town. However things took a turn for the worse as I left the City, crossed the bypass and headed towards the Dyke itself. The rain became more steady and was driven into me by a persistent southerly wind. Thankfully it wasn't too cold, but by now I was regretting not having waterproof trousers, the heavy cotton of my army fatigues were starting to weigh me down and the wet permeated through to my thermal legging which clung right to my skin. With wind chill this started to sap strength from my leg muscles. Still I thought, only another mile to the Dyke and the pub and a cup of tea and a breather.

When I got to the Dyke, it was closed. Not only that but it was empty and I was above the cloud base at an altitude where the rain was now falling as a driving sleet. Visibility was reduced to 50 yards and I knew that to summon a lift would mean waiting a good 25mins in the wind and rain like an idiot....I could be home in that time....of course I could be home in that time.

So I headed into the mist, following the South Downs way in the direction of Truliegh Hill and, a little way beyond it, my home. After being blown off the bike three times by the now howling gale I decided to walk, pushing the bike. But the ground was frozen under foot and now covered by flowing melting run off. on a 30degree slope which made keeping upright impossible and resulting in a number of further falls. The top of the Downs, so familiar and tranquil for most of the year, was now horribly hostile and impossible to cross in any degree of safety. There was nothing for it but to descend the steep, treacherous slope, push my bike across acres of rutted muddy field and then find the Underhill lane.

I came close to kissing the tarmac when I finally found the road. Down here I was sheltered from the wind chill, was subject again to rain and not high altitude sleet, I could also cycle without hitting the deck at regular intervals. I noted the loss of one toe clip, which made pedalling a little tough, but it still felt good to be making headway.

I was a little doolally by now, talking to myself, swearing compulsively in some kind of exposure-induced bout of turets. Each car that passed me unavoidably drenched me in spray and each puddle I crossed sent a jet of tyre-spun water straight up my already drenched and cold-numb arse. But for five miles I cycled on at a good pace until finally, two hours after I left Brighton, I arrived home wetter, colder and more manic than brush with the wilds had ever left me before.

After stripping off in the porch, having a cup of tea, a bath and putting on some warm clothes. I put my bike away.

A couple of hours later I took the car to the BP garage and queued patiently for a full tank of lovely diesel.

Here at Paravel we are bracing ourself for what looks set to be the harshest, deepest and most prolonged winter since the Ice Age. According to the BBC its looking really bleak with an 85% chance that news content over the next fews days will focus on cars stuck in snow, schools closed because of snow and other snow related stories. It will almost be a relief when we run out of gas after Christmas and we can have some real news.



On the plus side its become traditional around Yuletide for the local shepherd to let his flocks loose in the field across the road. We get quite attached to our festive sheep and the incessant baaing throughout the Christmas period isn't annoying at all.