BLAIRMORE, ALBERTA: Nothing new about the GRR in this posting, as you have been receivng small bulletins along the way, Not even a photo or two as the full photographic/videographic presentation will appear later and is in Brian's hands at this stage.
This is about being at an edge. In's my last posting I was remarking that the country around Corning, having lots of steepish hills, was offering the opportunity to get prepared for this trip. In a way, two hour ride of maybe 20 miles and with an elevation gain of about 1000 feet over nine miles did the trick. However there was little preparation there for coming to a gradually increasing incline after five hours of ups and downs with a final pitch of half a kilometer that reduces one to just above walking pace, even forcing a dismount and having to walk the shoulder of the hill, and then having to do the same another ten km further along the way, and not knowing that there may be two or three more pitches like this awaiting before the end of the day's riding.
No, this stuff that we are doing takes one to the edge. I have done route marches with full pack, run a marathon and skied three or four cross-country marathons in hilly terrain, along with some five day hikes and reasonably serious hut-to-hut skiing,but and nothing has been like the exhaustion and mental challenge of keeping on to the end we have experienced on this ride. As Brian remarked, 'This yields a new level of respect for the Tour de France riders!'
In an earlier posting on the business of ageing, I offered the metaphor of a farm at the edge of the bush. The bush is constantly seeking to regain the land the farmer has wrested and the farmer must not give up the wresting. Of course, I mean by the encroachment of the bush the process of ageing. If you give in to the aches and pains, the diminution of strength, you will be quickly done for.
Not quite an aside here: I regularly go to the 'Y' and closely follow fitness research. At the gym, one may spend much time repetitiusly lifting weights of running on the treadmill. However, what produces fitness is brief encounters with exhaustion, followed by reduced effort and then back to near exhaustion. For example, on three days in the week, I have found that, using the rower for 15 minutes or so and then moving on to the stepper for a similar time, great benefit arises from one minute of 90% plus heart rate followed by two at easy pace produces the best training effect. How I dread each of those one minute intense efforts! But then, I am out of the gym in half an hour and free to do less boring things. I have a short strength routine called 'Slow Burn' that I need to do only once a week to increase muscle mass and strength, then I am off to better things. As a minimalist, this is perfect for me.
I suppose that the point of all this, writing at five in the morning, is that life has to be lived occasionally at what seems to be the edge, an edge the turns out to be the point of growth instead of retreat. Jesus is reported as remarking that the way down to destruction and death is easy, wide and steep while that to life is 'strait' and demanding. It seems that at every point in life one has to engage the edge. Why is it that bad habits are so easy to maintain while those that are good are hard to acquire and keep up?
In reality, life can only occur in the presence of entropy, the inevitable process of winding down. We must, at every stage of it, set ourselves to grow, to struggle, to win. Entropy will win in the end, of course, the bush will resume our little farms. Roberto will surrender to the dust from which he came and disappear back into the stuff of the Universe...but not quite yet.
Friday, September 13, 2013
Sunday, August 11, 2013
TWO MONTHS (OR SO) LATER!!!
IN THE LAST POSTING, I WAS GOING ON about my 76th birthday and some of the wisdom collected over all those years.
I hope you were bored out of your minds. We oldies do tend to go on at times.
Just about all my energies have been directed into the painting of the external walls of the house and being around for the remodel of the upper bathroom. We have had some beastly hot, humid weather around the time I chose to paint the outside walls (good choice, Robert!), all of which I found extremely enervating or, in plain terms, very capable of producing a 'whacked out' state. Of course, I had to become accustomed to being up and down a 24 foot extension ladder and this occasioned some interesting moments of very active anxiety management.
Still and all, I was reasonable faithful in gym attendance and kept up with my aerobic routines but I do admit to letting go my strength stuff for a week or two. Working that ladder almost made up for this. Thankfully, the weather has eased off, cooler and dryer (hooray!) so that I have had the energy to get back on my cycle for increasingly longer rides and more hills. This is in preparation for The Great Northern Rockies Bike Ride early next month.
If you have not had any sense of my occasional bouts of insanity, this will bring you up to date on my state of mind. The plan is to ride from Midway BC eastwards over the Rockies and then turn South to reach the eastern entrance of Glacier National Park in Montana. The last day will take us through the Park and, with luck, we will catch the train late evening down to Seattle from the Western Entrance to the Park, via Amtrak
The route has proved to be concertina-like, alternately longer and shorter. Right now it looks like ten days of cycling over approximately 550 miles, which might sound horrific but resolves into some longer rides along flat terrain with other days of 45 to 55 miles over climbs that might be a grunt at times.
Who are 'us'? Well just the two of us, Brian and me. Brian is an old friend, first met in 1978, when I was a Lecturer in Psychology at what is now the University of South Australian, then the South Australian Institute of Technology. He was, sort of, as student of mine then. Nowadays he is a significant administrator in the the BC services for disadvantaged folk. More importantly, he is an avid and talented video movie maker and excellent photographer. What this means is that, via the Internet, you will have the chance to see what we are up to. Most days we will be able to use the Internet so expect a bulletin every so often to keep you up to date on our adventures, if any. We do not expect to see many grizzly bears, as we will be mainly on Highway 3, or Crowsnest Pass Highway that is part of the Trans-Canada Highway and bears prefer to keep away from traffic, or so we hope.
The first couple of legs we will stay with friends; after that, it is the friendless wild where we may meet new friends and ride endless miles, discovering the Zen of cycling. The first two weeks in September...watch this space!
When I get back, I have the task of re-inventing myself, metamorphosing from the fellow who thought, dreamed, lived and breathed work on The House and little else. I do not have much interest in "rediscovering Robert". With maybe 20 years left to me, there remains much to discover and learn in life so, no doubt, Ulysses-like, I will set sail to seek that 'far margin that fades forever as I move'.
Sorry...no pictures this time. More on The Ride next posting. Adieu!
I hope you were bored out of your minds. We oldies do tend to go on at times.
Just about all my energies have been directed into the painting of the external walls of the house and being around for the remodel of the upper bathroom. We have had some beastly hot, humid weather around the time I chose to paint the outside walls (good choice, Robert!), all of which I found extremely enervating or, in plain terms, very capable of producing a 'whacked out' state. Of course, I had to become accustomed to being up and down a 24 foot extension ladder and this occasioned some interesting moments of very active anxiety management.
Still and all, I was reasonable faithful in gym attendance and kept up with my aerobic routines but I do admit to letting go my strength stuff for a week or two. Working that ladder almost made up for this. Thankfully, the weather has eased off, cooler and dryer (hooray!) so that I have had the energy to get back on my cycle for increasingly longer rides and more hills. This is in preparation for The Great Northern Rockies Bike Ride early next month.
If you have not had any sense of my occasional bouts of insanity, this will bring you up to date on my state of mind. The plan is to ride from Midway BC eastwards over the Rockies and then turn South to reach the eastern entrance of Glacier National Park in Montana. The last day will take us through the Park and, with luck, we will catch the train late evening down to Seattle from the Western Entrance to the Park, via Amtrak
The route has proved to be concertina-like, alternately longer and shorter. Right now it looks like ten days of cycling over approximately 550 miles, which might sound horrific but resolves into some longer rides along flat terrain with other days of 45 to 55 miles over climbs that might be a grunt at times.
Who are 'us'? Well just the two of us, Brian and me. Brian is an old friend, first met in 1978, when I was a Lecturer in Psychology at what is now the University of South Australian, then the South Australian Institute of Technology. He was, sort of, as student of mine then. Nowadays he is a significant administrator in the the BC services for disadvantaged folk. More importantly, he is an avid and talented video movie maker and excellent photographer. What this means is that, via the Internet, you will have the chance to see what we are up to. Most days we will be able to use the Internet so expect a bulletin every so often to keep you up to date on our adventures, if any. We do not expect to see many grizzly bears, as we will be mainly on Highway 3, or Crowsnest Pass Highway that is part of the Trans-Canada Highway and bears prefer to keep away from traffic, or so we hope.
The first couple of legs we will stay with friends; after that, it is the friendless wild where we may meet new friends and ride endless miles, discovering the Zen of cycling. The first two weeks in September...watch this space!
When I get back, I have the task of re-inventing myself, metamorphosing from the fellow who thought, dreamed, lived and breathed work on The House and little else. I do not have much interest in "rediscovering Robert". With maybe 20 years left to me, there remains much to discover and learn in life so, no doubt, Ulysses-like, I will set sail to seek that 'far margin that fades forever as I move'.
Sorry...no pictures this time. More on The Ride next posting. Adieu!
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
WHOOPEE! 76 COMING UP.
LONG, LONG AGO, IN THE LITTLE TOWN OF CLARE, in South Australia, around 4:30 AM, on Saturday, May 29, 1937, I began my journey.
It seems that I am a country lad at heart. My folks had a small farm some 12 miles north of Clare and I lived on that farm for the next four years, long enough for me to have some memories of my humble beginnings. My folks were what we, in Australia, call 'little Aussie battlers'. When I was born Australia was still in the grip of the Great Depression, farming was hard, and there was little cash. Two years after the Second World War began, my father gave up the battle and rejoined the Army. He moved his family (my mother and two sisters) into Clare where, I am glad to say, I had a generally happy childhood. This despite that we were at war and everything was in short supply, with petrol and food rationing well to the fore. In fact, a polite form of swearing when things went wrong, was to burst out with, 'Well, wouldn't that rip your ration cards!'
The enduring lessons of my childhood were to save, rather than spend; waste not, want not; that it is possible to be happy with very little. My father was away for seemingly long periods and I cannot recall seeing him more than three or four times for the duration of the war. The second time I now recall with tongue in cheek. I had returned home from school to find my mother speaking with a strange man in uniform in the front garden. Who could this man be, I wondered. Gradually, the thought crept over me that he was, in fact, my father!
I think that folk of my generation grew up in the best of times. There was little about which to worry, once the war ended and friends and relatives returned home from active service. One of our family friends who had worked from time to time on the farm had been for three years a prisoner of war in Germany (he missed the last boat out of Greece). Through the Red Cross, we knew he was alive. When he returned he had lots of stories, many told in a droll fashion as only Aussies can affect, of life in the Stalags. But the great thing was, he was now home. My father got de-mobbed and my brothers returned from service in the Navy and Air Force and then there was a new 'normal'. My father never returned to farming. Eventually, the farm was sold to a more prosperous neighbor. My folks went into a series of small business, general grocery stores and we seemed to move about every two years or so. No longer a country lad, I now lived in the suburbs of Adelaide, the state capitol and center of population.
Despite so much change, I went to excellent schools and had very good teachers whom I greatly admired. Soon I was in High School, then University and Theological College. I got an excellent grounding in the basic sciences, then in history and philosophy. I was, and remain, an extremely curious person and it might be said that it was not quite the best choice to enter a theological college. However, it also has to be said that I really enjoyed the work of a pastor. Until, that is, I was overtaken by a serious attack of atheism! I eventually solved my vocational problems by taking a further degree in Psychology.
It may be that psychologists, despite their formal training and knowledge of human nature, do not make the best of fathers. Perhaps, though, the constant change of my first two decades did not really fit me out for a settled life. Of that I have had two marriages (both to very nice and admirable women) and lived with two other women, equally good and admirable, my first wife recently aptly remarked, 'Perhaps you are not suited to marriage!'
I have been fortunate to have, in my mid-life, to have done quite frivolous things (examples, flying various sorts of aeroplanes, learned aerobatics, skied and cycled a good bit, sailed a bit, and traveled to interesting places.) I have managed not a few distinct careers (five of six at last count). Despite a somewhat mercurial existence, I have managed to acquire good friends who seem to endure me and even to appear glad when I come by. My children, bless them, manage to love me, or seem to and six beautiful grandchild carry some of the genes that ride about in me. Well done, genes!
Nowadays my atheism appears to be in remission but I am not quite sure what has replaced it. Certainly, despite appearances (I attend the local Episcopal Church with faithful regularity), it has not be a case of revival of orthodoxy. I think it has to do with the search for what it is to be a 'good person' and a conviction that this beautiful universe is also spiritual and that there is great joy in contemplating seriously its regularity and perfection. And, since I am made of the same stuff, it must be that there is a spirituality to be found within.
On his 70th birthday, my father drew me aside and said, 'I have had a full life and I am well pleased with it.' I thought, 'What a thing to be able to say that of oneself!' As it turned out, he was to be dead less than a year thence. I suppose that, if not in my last days, I must nonetheless concede that the longer one lives, the closer is the end of it. I have settled a bit but I sense there is lots more in store. My father's words continue as a beacon to me, an invitation to live as best I may.
And so may it be for you who read this little bit of autobiography!
It seems that I am a country lad at heart. My folks had a small farm some 12 miles north of Clare and I lived on that farm for the next four years, long enough for me to have some memories of my humble beginnings. My folks were what we, in Australia, call 'little Aussie battlers'. When I was born Australia was still in the grip of the Great Depression, farming was hard, and there was little cash. Two years after the Second World War began, my father gave up the battle and rejoined the Army. He moved his family (my mother and two sisters) into Clare where, I am glad to say, I had a generally happy childhood. This despite that we were at war and everything was in short supply, with petrol and food rationing well to the fore. In fact, a polite form of swearing when things went wrong, was to burst out with, 'Well, wouldn't that rip your ration cards!'
The enduring lessons of my childhood were to save, rather than spend; waste not, want not; that it is possible to be happy with very little. My father was away for seemingly long periods and I cannot recall seeing him more than three or four times for the duration of the war. The second time I now recall with tongue in cheek. I had returned home from school to find my mother speaking with a strange man in uniform in the front garden. Who could this man be, I wondered. Gradually, the thought crept over me that he was, in fact, my father!
I think that folk of my generation grew up in the best of times. There was little about which to worry, once the war ended and friends and relatives returned home from active service. One of our family friends who had worked from time to time on the farm had been for three years a prisoner of war in Germany (he missed the last boat out of Greece). Through the Red Cross, we knew he was alive. When he returned he had lots of stories, many told in a droll fashion as only Aussies can affect, of life in the Stalags. But the great thing was, he was now home. My father got de-mobbed and my brothers returned from service in the Navy and Air Force and then there was a new 'normal'. My father never returned to farming. Eventually, the farm was sold to a more prosperous neighbor. My folks went into a series of small business, general grocery stores and we seemed to move about every two years or so. No longer a country lad, I now lived in the suburbs of Adelaide, the state capitol and center of population.
Despite so much change, I went to excellent schools and had very good teachers whom I greatly admired. Soon I was in High School, then University and Theological College. I got an excellent grounding in the basic sciences, then in history and philosophy. I was, and remain, an extremely curious person and it might be said that it was not quite the best choice to enter a theological college. However, it also has to be said that I really enjoyed the work of a pastor. Until, that is, I was overtaken by a serious attack of atheism! I eventually solved my vocational problems by taking a further degree in Psychology.
It may be that psychologists, despite their formal training and knowledge of human nature, do not make the best of fathers. Perhaps, though, the constant change of my first two decades did not really fit me out for a settled life. Of that I have had two marriages (both to very nice and admirable women) and lived with two other women, equally good and admirable, my first wife recently aptly remarked, 'Perhaps you are not suited to marriage!'
I have been fortunate to have, in my mid-life, to have done quite frivolous things (examples, flying various sorts of aeroplanes, learned aerobatics, skied and cycled a good bit, sailed a bit, and traveled to interesting places.) I have managed not a few distinct careers (five of six at last count). Despite a somewhat mercurial existence, I have managed to acquire good friends who seem to endure me and even to appear glad when I come by. My children, bless them, manage to love me, or seem to and six beautiful grandchild carry some of the genes that ride about in me. Well done, genes!
Nowadays my atheism appears to be in remission but I am not quite sure what has replaced it. Certainly, despite appearances (I attend the local Episcopal Church with faithful regularity), it has not be a case of revival of orthodoxy. I think it has to do with the search for what it is to be a 'good person' and a conviction that this beautiful universe is also spiritual and that there is great joy in contemplating seriously its regularity and perfection. And, since I am made of the same stuff, it must be that there is a spirituality to be found within.
On his 70th birthday, my father drew me aside and said, 'I have had a full life and I am well pleased with it.' I thought, 'What a thing to be able to say that of oneself!' As it turned out, he was to be dead less than a year thence. I suppose that, if not in my last days, I must nonetheless concede that the longer one lives, the closer is the end of it. I have settled a bit but I sense there is lots more in store. My father's words continue as a beacon to me, an invitation to live as best I may.
And so may it be for you who read this little bit of autobiography!
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
TRANSITIONS, TRANSITIONS, TRANSITIONS!!!
'SOMETHING OF "THE FIDDLER ON THE ROOF" HERE', do I hear you remarking?
With almost three months since the last posting to this Blog, it might seem that there has not been much 'life according to Roberto' and that, in some respects, is almost the case.
I came back from Oz to Winter in Corning. I have learned that one cannot appreciate the force and the joy of Spring without first endured at least something of Winter. So...a calculated move on my part. However, the Winter here turned out to be longer and colder than expected (as my heating bills testify). Eventually, Spring has turned up although, as of this writing, those who live in the Mid-West seem still to be waiting for warmer weather and must be wondering if ever it will come.
Forbidden by the cold outside, I turned to the 'modest kitchen remodel', which story I have told in another blog. This turned out to be quite demanding and became a very large part of my life; life according to Roberto became very much rising to the demands of that project. Much of the work was done down in the Potting/Sun Room, or in the adjoining Laundry/Workshop. With the approach of Spring it was touch and go that I would finish that work in time to begin 'garden work'. It all worked out, the kitchen work is done and the potting work is well under way. I will even have some offerings for the Garden Club's Mothers' Day Plant Sale!
Some of life continued as before. Visits to the Gym, Sunday Eucharist at Christ Church, coffee at the Soul Full Cup or Heavenly Cup. I bought some new Cross Country skis (most of my ski stuff is at my daughter's in Colorado) and even found some skiing over near Ithaca and would have done more had it not been for the demands of the 'modest remodel', and that it was a bit late in the season and 'good snow' has been scarce, despite the prolonged cold.
Now Spring really is here and the transition has been to garden work. Four compact ( I think Arctic Firs) tees have been transplanted from their unsuitable original placement in front of the house to near the sidewalk, beginning my assault of the endless lawn and the first move to create a miniature forest about the house or, if you like, to make the house more part of a natural environment.
Here you can see the first efforts. I will tell more of the garden story in another blog, of course. For a bigger picture, just click on the images at the left.
I am now replugged into Netflix and Amazon streaming video and have buried myself in various science documentaries and TED talks since my return home. I suppose that this is what TV might have become but, since I am not connected to any form of TV, what matters? I do love what the Internet can provide by way of education and learning and am planning to take one course on energy use via Coursera.
I do admit to being slack in relation to French and Italian. Amazing how Winter affects motivation! However I feel the stirrings to return to this study, especially in regard to French, as I have in mind some cycling around Quebec, during Summer, where few folk speak English. On the other hand, I have had some exciting reading in neurology, food, and religion, some of which I will relate in a future posting.
And...I have been back to cycling, so I am truly 'on the road again'! Until next posting: Here's to Life.
With almost three months since the last posting to this Blog, it might seem that there has not been much 'life according to Roberto' and that, in some respects, is almost the case.
I came back from Oz to Winter in Corning. I have learned that one cannot appreciate the force and the joy of Spring without first endured at least something of Winter. So...a calculated move on my part. However, the Winter here turned out to be longer and colder than expected (as my heating bills testify). Eventually, Spring has turned up although, as of this writing, those who live in the Mid-West seem still to be waiting for warmer weather and must be wondering if ever it will come.
Forbidden by the cold outside, I turned to the 'modest kitchen remodel', which story I have told in another blog. This turned out to be quite demanding and became a very large part of my life; life according to Roberto became very much rising to the demands of that project. Much of the work was done down in the Potting/Sun Room, or in the adjoining Laundry/Workshop. With the approach of Spring it was touch and go that I would finish that work in time to begin 'garden work'. It all worked out, the kitchen work is done and the potting work is well under way. I will even have some offerings for the Garden Club's Mothers' Day Plant Sale!
Some of life continued as before. Visits to the Gym, Sunday Eucharist at Christ Church, coffee at the Soul Full Cup or Heavenly Cup. I bought some new Cross Country skis (most of my ski stuff is at my daughter's in Colorado) and even found some skiing over near Ithaca and would have done more had it not been for the demands of the 'modest remodel', and that it was a bit late in the season and 'good snow' has been scarce, despite the prolonged cold.
Now Spring really is here and the transition has been to garden work. Four compact ( I think Arctic Firs) tees have been transplanted from their unsuitable original placement in front of the house to near the sidewalk, beginning my assault of the endless lawn and the first move to create a miniature forest about the house or, if you like, to make the house more part of a natural environment.
I am now replugged into Netflix and Amazon streaming video and have buried myself in various science documentaries and TED talks since my return home. I suppose that this is what TV might have become but, since I am not connected to any form of TV, what matters? I do love what the Internet can provide by way of education and learning and am planning to take one course on energy use via Coursera.
I do admit to being slack in relation to French and Italian. Amazing how Winter affects motivation! However I feel the stirrings to return to this study, especially in regard to French, as I have in mind some cycling around Quebec, during Summer, where few folk speak English. On the other hand, I have had some exciting reading in neurology, food, and religion, some of which I will relate in a future posting.
And...I have been back to cycling, so I am truly 'on the road again'! Until next posting: Here's to Life.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
THE TRAVELLING MAN?
JUST HOW MANY SELVES DOES ONE HAVE?
Thanks, Glenn, for the welcome back. Within a week I will resume my Corning Self. Recall the shock I experienced upon opening my suitcase far off, in Adelaide, at my sister's home? Who was that chap and what was he thinking, I wondered. But, soon, I became that person...the fellow who is staying with his sister and has a schedule of work to complete, a different cycle to ride, and a different car to dritve (on the other side of the road, too).
I have had several selves whilst the travelling man. The self with my Adelaide daughter and her family, the self with my Sydney son and his family, the self with my friend Tom and his wife Tony, the self I am here with my Basalt daughter and my eldest grandchild, and the self I have when with my friends Frank and Mary and their family when I am in San Francisco, on the way to and at the end of the way back to Austalia. These selves aren't vacation or travelling selves, as when one chances upon strangers (say, at breadfast on the train). Each personal context is different and evokes a somewhat different Robert. They are sequential selves, each with their own history of relating and experiences shared with me but not with others.
What would happen if we could get them all into one room? Would they recognize each other? Well then, you might ask, Which is the real Robert? or, Is there a real Robert? Or you might remark, Robert clearly is in a state of temporary lack of sanity!
I might respond with, 'Well, how can there be a real Robert?'. Look at it this way: each of my body cells is replaced at between two and eight year intervals, the atoms making up the molecules of my life even more often. I discover that for every human cell of which I am constituted there are some 100 or so other cells; viruses, bacteria, and the like. It appears the real Robert cannot be found there. What about the Robert all alone? As a single person I spend a lot of time by myself, even talk to myself. After a day or so, I find it necessary to flee to the company of others, such a boring fellow!
If there is a single, real Robert, perhaps this singularity resides inside my head. But then I read that my brain, like all brains, is at work rearranging neural networks, according to experience. At a certain level, as Arthur Eddington once remarked, we are all local concentrations of energy within the great common flux, all joined together, the inanimate and animate, the unknowing and the sentient.
Perhaps then the self is an illusion, a concoction of the flow of the story within which I find myself. As Tennyson had Ulysses, the eternal traveller, say, "...I am part of all that I have met."
No matter, I have renewed acquaintenances, remet loved ones, and discovered afresh the joy of being with those whom I have met, even a few I thought were lost to me. Others of you I have not seen in a while. When I write this blog, I find myself thinking of some of you and wonder if the blog-self might do better to discover you who read these postings more often, or more systematically. I do not want to be lost from you, or you from me. Facebook helps somewhat but can be a bit overwhelming.
So, for the self that I become with you, many thanks.
Thanks, Glenn, for the welcome back. Within a week I will resume my Corning Self. Recall the shock I experienced upon opening my suitcase far off, in Adelaide, at my sister's home? Who was that chap and what was he thinking, I wondered. But, soon, I became that person...the fellow who is staying with his sister and has a schedule of work to complete, a different cycle to ride, and a different car to dritve (on the other side of the road, too).
I have had several selves whilst the travelling man. The self with my Adelaide daughter and her family, the self with my Sydney son and his family, the self with my friend Tom and his wife Tony, the self I am here with my Basalt daughter and my eldest grandchild, and the self I have when with my friends Frank and Mary and their family when I am in San Francisco, on the way to and at the end of the way back to Austalia. These selves aren't vacation or travelling selves, as when one chances upon strangers (say, at breadfast on the train). Each personal context is different and evokes a somewhat different Robert. They are sequential selves, each with their own history of relating and experiences shared with me but not with others.
What would happen if we could get them all into one room? Would they recognize each other? Well then, you might ask, Which is the real Robert? or, Is there a real Robert? Or you might remark, Robert clearly is in a state of temporary lack of sanity!
I might respond with, 'Well, how can there be a real Robert?'. Look at it this way: each of my body cells is replaced at between two and eight year intervals, the atoms making up the molecules of my life even more often. I discover that for every human cell of which I am constituted there are some 100 or so other cells; viruses, bacteria, and the like. It appears the real Robert cannot be found there. What about the Robert all alone? As a single person I spend a lot of time by myself, even talk to myself. After a day or so, I find it necessary to flee to the company of others, such a boring fellow!
If there is a single, real Robert, perhaps this singularity resides inside my head. But then I read that my brain, like all brains, is at work rearranging neural networks, according to experience. At a certain level, as Arthur Eddington once remarked, we are all local concentrations of energy within the great common flux, all joined together, the inanimate and animate, the unknowing and the sentient.
Perhaps then the self is an illusion, a concoction of the flow of the story within which I find myself. As Tennyson had Ulysses, the eternal traveller, say, "...I am part of all that I have met."
No matter, I have renewed acquaintenances, remet loved ones, and discovered afresh the joy of being with those whom I have met, even a few I thought were lost to me. Others of you I have not seen in a while. When I write this blog, I find myself thinking of some of you and wonder if the blog-self might do better to discover you who read these postings more often, or more systematically. I do not want to be lost from you, or you from me. Facebook helps somewhat but can be a bit overwhelming.
So, for the self that I become with you, many thanks.
Monday, January 28, 2013
BACK IN THE US of A
ONE WEEK IN THE UNITED STATES: Yes, I am back. It has been quite a journey, perhaps equal to the circumference of the earth, or slightly more, by the time I am back in Corning, where my new roof will welcome me. Meanwhile, I am in Basalt CO, visiting with my daughter and granddaughter. It is snowing very nicely so some skiing will be in order.
When last I wrote, I was still in Adelaide and bushfires were raging in three states, mostly uncontrolled. I had decided to drive back to Sydney and was wondering how conditions might be along the way, as the highway would take me between likely fire-prone regions. I was in luck, managing to travel on two of the least hot days and not a fire in sight. I drove a leisurely journey, taking some kip (time out for sleep) at Wagga Wagga just over two thirds of the way and arriving in Sydney around 11 AM on the second day.
Adelaide has very wide streets and the road across the 'sweeping plains' has little traffic. Australia is largely uninhabited; imagine 21 million people living on a land mass about the size of the 48 States, mostly in the cities or close to the coast. I saw maybe three or four cars per hour on the road between towns. Coming into Sydney, things tightened up as the traffic became more dense and the roads narrower when off the freeway, so I was quickly hemmed about by the aggressive but courteous local drivers. Had me on my toes, you can be sure!
After four days in Sydney, catching up with family and friends, my son (Andrew) took me out to the airport and it was 'goodbye'. Once more, I was in luck! The plane was very under-booked, with at least three seats each for we Economy passengers. Stretched out, I made six hours of sleep and the cabin crew were very relaxed. All this made the 13 hour flight much less arduous...Hooray, Hooray!!
Four days in San Francisco with good friends and very happy times and then it was onto the Amtrak 'California Zephyr' bound for Glenwood Springs CO, via Nevada and Utah. Probably the most arduous section of my travels when considering it takes 26 hours. But, well compensated by the scenery as one traverses the Sierras, the interesting folk one can meet, and the final section along the Colorado River. From Glenwood Springs (a pretty 'spa-town') it was just 30 minutes by local bus to where I now am.
Finally, two days to myself as my granddaughter and her mother were off at a moguls competition. My granddaughter returned with Second Place (the competition must have been really tough!).
Travelling not only broadens but also wearies the mind, not forgetting the body! Maybe I am getting too old for all this travel in one great pile of miles. If I am going to do all these miles again, I think it may be continally from East to West. The Trans-Siberian Rail journey comes to mind! An acquaintance of mine, a little older than I (I had best be careful, as she reads this blog), did this a year or so ago, so it has to be on the cards. I have friends in Thailand, so another travel adventure can be stitched together.
In the interim, I am considering a longish cycle ride in the Rockies. So...watch this space!
When last I wrote, I was still in Adelaide and bushfires were raging in three states, mostly uncontrolled. I had decided to drive back to Sydney and was wondering how conditions might be along the way, as the highway would take me between likely fire-prone regions. I was in luck, managing to travel on two of the least hot days and not a fire in sight. I drove a leisurely journey, taking some kip (time out for sleep) at Wagga Wagga just over two thirds of the way and arriving in Sydney around 11 AM on the second day.
Adelaide has very wide streets and the road across the 'sweeping plains' has little traffic. Australia is largely uninhabited; imagine 21 million people living on a land mass about the size of the 48 States, mostly in the cities or close to the coast. I saw maybe three or four cars per hour on the road between towns. Coming into Sydney, things tightened up as the traffic became more dense and the roads narrower when off the freeway, so I was quickly hemmed about by the aggressive but courteous local drivers. Had me on my toes, you can be sure!
After four days in Sydney, catching up with family and friends, my son (Andrew) took me out to the airport and it was 'goodbye'. Once more, I was in luck! The plane was very under-booked, with at least three seats each for we Economy passengers. Stretched out, I made six hours of sleep and the cabin crew were very relaxed. All this made the 13 hour flight much less arduous...Hooray, Hooray!!
Four days in San Francisco with good friends and very happy times and then it was onto the Amtrak 'California Zephyr' bound for Glenwood Springs CO, via Nevada and Utah. Probably the most arduous section of my travels when considering it takes 26 hours. But, well compensated by the scenery as one traverses the Sierras, the interesting folk one can meet, and the final section along the Colorado River. From Glenwood Springs (a pretty 'spa-town') it was just 30 minutes by local bus to where I now am.
Finally, two days to myself as my granddaughter and her mother were off at a moguls competition. My granddaughter returned with Second Place (the competition must have been really tough!).
Travelling not only broadens but also wearies the mind, not forgetting the body! Maybe I am getting too old for all this travel in one great pile of miles. If I am going to do all these miles again, I think it may be continally from East to West. The Trans-Siberian Rail journey comes to mind! An acquaintance of mine, a little older than I (I had best be careful, as she reads this blog), did this a year or so ago, so it has to be on the cards. I have friends in Thailand, so another travel adventure can be stitched together.
In the interim, I am considering a longish cycle ride in the Rockies. So...watch this space!
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
ADELAIDE...ONE WEEK TO GO!
I AM INTO MY LAST TWO WEEKS (FORTNIGHT) in Australia (Oz).
The more we are into Summer, the further we are into the BUSH FIRE season. This is Earth’s hottest, driest continent and it is getting hotter and drier. When it does rain, Instead of gentle rains, we not have long periods of virtual deluges and widespread flooding. The weather, and therefore the country, is much changed from the days of my youth. Dorothea Mackellar’s poem, My Country, has well expressed our feeling for the land Down Under:
I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains.
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror -
The wide brown land for me
With climate change the shift is more to terror, the terror of widespread and truly horrifying fires. The pervasive bush, mostly comprised of beloved gum trees whose leaves contain volatile eucalyptus oil, becomes tinder dry and laden with heavy, very flammable underbrush. Climate change has also made more likely strong summer winds and these can transform once controllable fires into fast spreading maelstroms.
Australia is a Commonwealth and much much responsibility relating to the general wellbeing of the country is allocated to the Federal government. Lots of research has been done about the causes of these large fires, how they develop, why some homes survive, and how best to combat them. In the partnership between the Federal and the State governments, the result is much more local regulation about where and how homes may be built. Outside of the cities (where the professional fire brigades are located), fire defense and control is in the hands of volunteer units united under Emergency Fire Services organization. These are organized under a regional and state structure. Citizens train to control and fight fires in all rural areas, called out as unpaid volunteers as crises arise. This not only ensures high local investment in fire safety but also rapid response. This is a cost effective approach and means that money spent on firefighting is targeted to equipment and training. Even so, the onset of Summer is a time of mounting anxiety general, even in the cities, and when a fire erupts, of real terror.
Just now, hundreds of fires rage across the continent, many uncontrolled as yet. In a week or so, when I drive to Sydney, I need to be careful to plot a route that avoids possible danger areas. My daughter and her family are presently in Canberra and due to drive back in a day or two. Many fires now bracket the route they had planned but, with some weather relief in sight, it should be OK.
Adelaide, where I am now, is the capital of the driest state. As I may have said in earlier posts, the central city area is one mile square and surrounded by parklands, as you could see should you use Google/Maps. As I have already written, it is a most charming city, situated between hills to the East and the long gulf to the West. There are many sporting venues dotted through these parkland (cricket, football, basketball, tennis, swimming pools, bowls, croquet, and so on) as well a zoo, extensive botanical gardens, and large cemetery (joke: where is the ‘dead centre’ of Adelaide?). Even so, large open tracts remain and much work is in progress to return these to their natural state. Many miles of bicycle trails afford pleasant rides.
Tucked away in one corner, between the light rail line linking the city to one of the numerous beaches and the southern city limit, are most pleasant gardens through which I often wander on my morning walks. There are lots of shade and many pleasant nooks, many with small fountains. Here are some photos from my most recent excursion.
Above: the natural landscape
At left, as you can see, my sojourn in Adelaide has reduced me to a ghost of my former self!
Use of a small stream
and shady nook.
This is 'it' for Adelaide. I hope that some of you will be able to visit some day.
If from North America, make sure your sojourn justifies the long flight. Of course, at least five of my North American readers have not only visited but also lived here.
No doubt, they will correct my errors and gross exaggerations! Or at least forgive them.
The more we are into Summer, the further we are into the BUSH FIRE season. This is Earth’s hottest, driest continent and it is getting hotter and drier. When it does rain, Instead of gentle rains, we not have long periods of virtual deluges and widespread flooding. The weather, and therefore the country, is much changed from the days of my youth. Dorothea Mackellar’s poem, My Country, has well expressed our feeling for the land Down Under:
I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains.
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror -
The wide brown land for me
With climate change the shift is more to terror, the terror of widespread and truly horrifying fires. The pervasive bush, mostly comprised of beloved gum trees whose leaves contain volatile eucalyptus oil, becomes tinder dry and laden with heavy, very flammable underbrush. Climate change has also made more likely strong summer winds and these can transform once controllable fires into fast spreading maelstroms.
Australia is a Commonwealth and much much responsibility relating to the general wellbeing of the country is allocated to the Federal government. Lots of research has been done about the causes of these large fires, how they develop, why some homes survive, and how best to combat them. In the partnership between the Federal and the State governments, the result is much more local regulation about where and how homes may be built. Outside of the cities (where the professional fire brigades are located), fire defense and control is in the hands of volunteer units united under Emergency Fire Services organization. These are organized under a regional and state structure. Citizens train to control and fight fires in all rural areas, called out as unpaid volunteers as crises arise. This not only ensures high local investment in fire safety but also rapid response. This is a cost effective approach and means that money spent on firefighting is targeted to equipment and training. Even so, the onset of Summer is a time of mounting anxiety general, even in the cities, and when a fire erupts, of real terror.
Just now, hundreds of fires rage across the continent, many uncontrolled as yet. In a week or so, when I drive to Sydney, I need to be careful to plot a route that avoids possible danger areas. My daughter and her family are presently in Canberra and due to drive back in a day or two. Many fires now bracket the route they had planned but, with some weather relief in sight, it should be OK.
Adelaide, where I am now, is the capital of the driest state. As I may have said in earlier posts, the central city area is one mile square and surrounded by parklands, as you could see should you use Google/Maps. As I have already written, it is a most charming city, situated between hills to the East and the long gulf to the West. There are many sporting venues dotted through these parkland (cricket, football, basketball, tennis, swimming pools, bowls, croquet, and so on) as well a zoo, extensive botanical gardens, and large cemetery (joke: where is the ‘dead centre’ of Adelaide?). Even so, large open tracts remain and much work is in progress to return these to their natural state. Many miles of bicycle trails afford pleasant rides.
Tucked away in one corner, between the light rail line linking the city to one of the numerous beaches and the southern city limit, are most pleasant gardens through which I often wander on my morning walks. There are lots of shade and many pleasant nooks, many with small fountains. Here are some photos from my most recent excursion.
At left, as you can see, my sojourn in Adelaide has reduced me to a ghost of my former self!
Use of a small stream
and shady nook.
This is 'it' for Adelaide. I hope that some of you will be able to visit some day.
If from North America, make sure your sojourn justifies the long flight. Of course, at least five of my North American readers have not only visited but also lived here.
No doubt, they will correct my errors and gross exaggerations! Or at least forgive them.
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