Zakynthos

Down in the valley

Staithes is pretty steep. Tiny cottages perched on either side of the ravine carved by Staithes Beck. Friday was remarkable, as we awoke to find fog so thick one side of the harbour was not visible from the other. Yet up top (where most Staithes residents actually live, in more spacious and more modern dwellings) the fog had burnt off by 10. Imagine trying to sail through that before GPS. Terrifying.

It's a brilliant part of Yorkshire, which is, in my humble, the most brilliant part of England. From the slight eeriness of Whitby (even more so on Thursday when the Goths started to arrive) to the magnificent coastline and massive cliffs, the rugged splendour (I risk turning into a travel writer at this point) of the moors and the gentle beauty (gentle?) of the Esk Valley, it's all utterly marvelous.

And then there's the Museum of Victorian Science. Which defies description, and is utterly unmissable.

Last days of the Dales

'ello

On the Wednesday we headed to Richmond. As you can see, we saw some odd sights along the way.

We aren't sure what it changed into, but we are sure that the whole thing went off without an argument. Did you know Bill Bryson used to be a journalist in Yorkshire? I wonder if he ever came up with a headline as good as this one?

Richmond is a very beautiful market town in North Yorks, famous mainly for the Geography Field Trip I took there when I was 16. As I recall, I spend an afternoon asking locals if they would like a railway station. They said they would (the railway station having closed in 1969) but sadly, for them, British Rail (it's not called that any more, technically I mean "National Rail") have not seen fit to relay the tracks. So if you want to get to Richmond, you have to take the bus. Or cycle.

Richmond Market Square is a remarkable place. Aside from the Green Howards Regimental Museum I spotted no fewer than many pubs and hotel bars on the market square itself. I mean, I know it can get cold here in the winter, but you could go for a bracing walk or something. You don't have to go to the pub...





Dear old blogger won't let me add any more pictures to this post, so I shall move on.

Tuesday

Perhaps the most beautiful of all. Up from Kirkby Stephen and across Birkdale Common, then down the most marvelous marvel, Swaledale. Keld, Thwaite, Muker (a drink at The Farmers Arms, which is a very fine pub), then the magnificently named Crackpot and back across the Swale at Low Row.

We lunched in Reeth, dumped out panniers at the Black Bull Inn and cycled up Arkengarthdale, via the somewhat alarming descent and ohshitohshitohshit cycle across the Mill Bottom Ford at 30mph faster than you anticipated.

A pint at the Charles Bathurst Inn (no idea) and then we went to Whaw. Oh Daddy, please don't go to Whaw. It's so pointless. And there's no pub in Booze, either. But the scenery is magnificent.

Back to Reeth for dinner.















Colin weighs up his options.



















At this speed, light itself gets distorted.
















Birkdale Beck





Swaledale










































House prices in the North of England remain depressed.

Monday

Colin and I have been on holiday. Some people were aghast when I announced I was going cycling for 5 days and leaving my (very) pregnant wife at home, to which I responded "... er." But Kate was OK with it. Really. And I'll be off for a month after the baby arrives, which will be nice.

So, the holiday. I haven't got a picture of the minicab that took us to Kings Cross, but you can imagine it. Resplendent, glowing and powerful. I think it was a Ford Mondeo. Before we knew it the train has whisked us to Settle.

The Settle to Carlisle railway is one of the most impressive engineering feats of the Victorian age, cutting through some of England's most inhospitable and railwayable terrain. Colin and I opted to celebrate this marvel by getting off the train and travelling (the first part of the route) by bicycle, rather than train.

We can both recommend "Off the rails" cycle hire, at Settle station. If you are in Settle. And want to cycle, of course.

(Incidentally, you may find this a long and unexpectedly boring blog post. Still, unlike Kate you don't have to sit through the entire 3 hour slide show)

The railway runs up Ribblesdale, which turns from torrent to dribble. You will notice, throughout, that the weather in these pictures is ... variable. We had plenty of sun. And plenty of rain, too.

Eventually, you get to the Ribblehead, and you really, really need a beer. Fortunately such eventualities are provided for - The Station Inn is a very fine establishment and England were 71-1 chasing 118 to win (which they would do later that afternoon, by which point we would be in Dentdale)

The main advantage of cycling up Ribblesdale, rather than taking the train, is that you can't really see the viaducts from the train. Ribblehead viaduct is 104 feet high, spans 440 yards and my camera phone is a completely inappropriate device to attempt to capture it on.


The people in this part of the world are incurable optimists. Something to do with the weather, I think.

So Colin and I crossed into Dentdale, found ourselves in Cumbria, had lunch, then headed down to Sedb', up Garsdale and back into Yorkshire. The first site that greets you as you come into God's own county is the Moorcock Inn. A more welcoming sight I can't think of.

Finally, we crossed back into Cumbria and down into the Valley of Eden (not a Dale) and the town of Kirkby Stephen. We were not expecting to find Uther Pendragon's castle at the top if the Eden Valley, but there it was.








Tomorrow you get Swaledale, Arkengarthdale and a picture of Colin crossing a ford!!!

Fighting fit

CRB and I are off cycling in the Dales in a few weeks, and his calves are bigger than mine. This poses a bit of a problem for hills. In need to do some exercise.

Gym? No thanks. Running? Hurts my knees. Steroids? Too expensive.

We made our own amusement back in the 90s, and by golly we don't need no new fangled techniques to get fit. Just willpower (sadly lacking) and three good meals a day (a cheese and onion pasty counts as one of these).

So I've filled my panniers with 7.5 litres of paint (in a tin, bozo!) and am cycling (or wobbling) all over London, building up Tour de France style stamina.

If you see a crushed bicycle lying in a massive pool of pale blue paint, that will be me.

Trains, plans, omnibuses and boats

OK. So I haven't posted about Copenhagen yet. But I have a good excuse. Kate and I went to Venice instead, and it was awesome.

Took boat back to the airport today. Cruising back to the airport in your own private compartment in a speedboat is quite a good way to travel.

Working for the man

Hello

In Bangkok at IPCC Working Group 3 meeting to finalise the third volume of the 4th Assessment report (Full WG1 report and WG2 summary are already out). It's 12:40am and we are still arguing about content. Due to close at 2am. We won't finish the report tonight. In fact, I don't imagine we won't get much, if any, sleep tomorrow. Discussions expand to fill the space available to them, and we don't have to finish until Friday morning.

Bangkok is a cool city. I have met all 13 million citizens yet and I've only seen a small fraction of the city (and I doubt I'll see much more, stuck in this conference hall as I am) but I'd say it's pretty good. Lots of Buddas.

Don't ask me how I fell into the boat.

Greetings from Geneva. I'm afraid I have nothing to say of interest, unless you were particularly interested in Greenhouse Gas Inventory Guidelines. If you are particularly interested in Geenhouse Gas Inventory Guidelines, you are probably here. It's easy to check if you are in Geneva. If there's a big lake on one side, big mountains on the other side, and every second person works for the UN, the yup, it's Geneva.