Back to the Water

Water certainly seems to be the theme of my Bristol experience so far... the water is the first thing that I see when I look out the window in the morning. It tells me the weather (mirrored or rippling, sparkling or dull gray, dimpled with dots of rain or reflecting the sodium light of lamps still lit when I get up). The boat traffic on the river is also an endless source of fascination... In this, my last post for awhile (I head back to Eugene on Saturday, and will see many of you in the next month) I thought that returning to the water was appropriate.

Last Sunday was Susie and Eric’s last day with me... as it was sunny and clear in the morning, I suggested that we return to Bradford-on-Avon and follow the footpath along the canal back to Bath (a walk of about 9 miles). I had done the walk a couple of summers ago with Mark, Alison and my graduate student Isolde. The walk was different last weekend, with autumn gold and brown replacing summer greens and pinks. But the stillness of the canal waters was the same, the reflections from the water enhancing the colors of the trees above.

The path follows the Avon canal, which parallels the Avon River. Apparently “Bristol Avon” is the proper name of the river, to distinguish it from all the other Avon rivers in the UK - “Avon” derives from the Welsh word “afon”, which simply means river. The Avon is a twisting turning river... it starts in Gloucestershire and takes 75 miles to travel to the Bristol Channel (a 19 mile straight line distance). As noted in an earlier post, the lower part of the Avon River (in Bristol) is strongly tidal and thus poorly suited to regular boat traffic (hence the Floating Harbor). However, navigable rivers were a general problem in England, particularly when the Industrial Revolution upped the demand for transport of goods and services. For this reason, England was apparently the first country to establish a nationwide canal network. The project was started by King James (of the Bible translation fame... this year is the 500th anniversary! of that translation) in 1605 (same king, same year as the Guy Fawkes debacle). In this region, the Kennet canal was opened in 1723 and the Avon in 1727 - the two systems now join in Bath and become the Kennet-Avon canal between Bath and Bristol, where it marks the boundary between Somerset and Gloucestershire. For those of you who have read “The Map that Changed the World”, remember that William Smith was a surveyor for the Somerset Coal Canal Company (he lived not far from Bath)... it was his canal work that led him to construct his geologic map of the UK (one copy of which hangs in the tea room in the department). The most remarkable aspect of the canal between Bradford-on-Avon and Bath (at least for those of us from the western US) is that for much of the distance the canal sits high above the river, and actually crosses above the river in a couple of places... “How interesting” said Susie, “a bridge of water.”

The current canal system is used primarily for pleasure boats (such as Jack de Crow). The most common of these are the “narrow boats”, so named because of their dimensions (maximum width 7 ft; maximum length 70 ft), dimensions required for boats to fit through the smallest locks and canals in the national network. Some boats are rented (particularly over the summer); others are permanent homes, as indicated by the gardens, bikes, kids toys and hand-painted signs that make each boat distinctive. At this time of year most boats are moored, with their owners preparing for the winter. However, there were still some boats puttering through the canal system at a very leisurely (no wake) pace, steered by a tiller in the stern. It looks like a very relaxing mode of travel, particularly given the frequency of local pubs and picturesque towns along the way. Our walk wasn’t quite as leisurely, as the low sun created long shadows even in the middle of the day, reminding us of the early fall of darkness. We made it to Bath shortly after sunset. As we walked through the town, the lights of the shop windows against the darkness highlighted the charm of the famous Pulteney St. bridge across the Avon, which is lined with shops like the Ponte Vecchio in Florence. We found a little tea house on the bridge where we could satisfy Susie’s passion for British afternoon teas, rest our feet, and gaze over the stair-stepped weir that punctuates the Avon’s flow through the city of Bath.

This weekend also boasted a glittering day, as Saturday dawned clear and sunny. I was hoping to crew in a sailing race that day, but the skipper had to cancel because his wife was sick. I satisfied myself with wandering down the harbor alongside the morning race, and then checking in on the afternoon race as a break from proposal writing! Saturday evening was North American Thanksgiving - an annual gathering of the numerous Earth Science student and staff members from the US and Canada...

Playing tourist with visitors

Remembrance Day today, November 13... The past week has seen poppies sprouting on jacket collars and today is a day of parades and services. According to the BBC, the poppy tradition was actually started by an American woman - Moina Michael - who wore and distributed poppies after reading the "In Flanders field..." poem by the Canadian doctor John McCrae; although the tradition has not stuck in the US, it has spread throughout much of the British empire. It's particularly moving here, where relict churches, in particular, provide vivid daily reminders of the last war.

This week started with a glorious Sunday - brilliantly clear with that special quality of light that is reserved for autumn. Eric, Susie and I decided to take advantage of it by exploring my end of the harbor and then downtown Bristol, from the 1st Sunday slow food market (where we bought pasties for lunch and sausages from the farm where Alison, Mark and I stayed a few years ago) to the waterfront, where we spent most of the afternoon at the M Shed, a free museum about Bristol. It is new and very nicely done, with lots to explore and a lovely rooftop deck with panorama views of the floating harbor.

We were too late to visit the SS Great Britain, so we wandered slowly back to my house, admiring the ever changing play of colors as the sun angle changed with the (too early) onset of evening. The colors even inspired me to play with Photoshop's filter options (a good way to spend way too much time on the computer!). 

Monday was rather dreary and seemed like a good day to visit Bath's Roman Baths and other indoor attractions. The Roman Bath museum is fairly new and extremely well done - I wish that Pompeii were developed in the same way, with some wall reconstructions and video reproductions of Roman life. Rather hard to believe the extensive developments here in such a far-flung corner of the Roman empire! Particularly attractive were the outside public baths, lit with torches, surveyed by statues of famous Roman emperors, and watched over by the looming Bath cathedral above. But I must say that my favorite insight into life here in Roman times lay in the curses scratched into lead sheets and left for Minerva at her temple... Curses that ranged from rants against people who had stolen clothes from the baths to more serious reports of stolen slaves, sometimes complete with a list of possible perpetrators (just to help the goddess out). We completed our day with a visit to the Jane Austen center, the Assembly Rooms and Fashion Museum, and finally tea at the famous Pump Room. And then while we were waiting for the train back to Bristol I received a text message from Isolde and Hannah inviting us to meet them at The Apple, a cider bar located on a boat that just happened to be located nicely between the train station and my house. From there we went to the Llandoger Trow pub (of Treasure Island fame) for dinner, to round out the tourist day!!

I was consumed during the rest of the week with preparing for my Faculty of Science lecture on Thursday, but Susie and Eric managed to explore many parts of Bristol and to go to Stonehenge (the most notable part of their trip being an encounter with a pheasant hunt, complete with dogs and guns, as they walked the footpath from Amesbury to Stonehenge).  But Friday afternoon we made it to the SS Great Britain (which, I must note, was launched on my birthday day in 1843...) The ship started as a luxury passenger liner, and then carried emigrants to the Australian gold rush, troops to the Crimean War, coal to San Francisco and guano to Great Britain. The ship eventually foundered near the Falklands, where she acted as a storage hulk for decades before being salvaged and returned to Bristol on July 19, 1970, towed in by the John King tugboat, which now lives at the M Shed and does tourist trips around the harbor, as mentioned in my sailing post. Another interesting connection that I hadn't realized is that the Gibbs family of Tyntesfield and guano baron fame actually owned the SS Great Britain and used it for their guano trade (after it ceased to be useful for passenger transport).

The Guy and the Green Man

This week’s post clearly has to include mention of Guy Fawkes Day (November 5), but to balance out ‘the guy’ I thought I’d also introduce the Green Man (more mysterious than Guy Fawkes).

A brief installment of encapsulated British history. We’ll start on Mar 24, 1603, with the death of Queen Elizabeth I. Her successor was the James VI, King of Scotland (who was the son of Mary, Queen of Scots, a cousin to Elizabeth, and whom Elizabeth had put to death as a traitor), who became James I, King of England. Among the many who were unhappy with the new monarch were the Catholics, who wanted to install a  Catholic monarch on the throne (James’ cousin Arabella Stuart – Sir Walter Raleigh was arrested for his role in this plot). In 1604, James tries to arbitrate between the Puritans and the Catholics on the question of who decided questions of doctrine… from this discussion eventually arose the King James version of the Bible. Unhappy with this result, a group of Catholics, led by Robert Catesby (whose ancestor ‘the Cat’ was advisor to Richard III), hatched the Gunpowder Plot of 1605, a (failed) attempt to assassinate the king by blowing up the House of Lords at the opening of the House of Parliament. However, an anonymous tip to a member of the House of Lords foiled the plot. On November 5, Guy Fawkes was discovered in a cellar beneath Parliament, guarding 36 barrels of gunpowder. Then followed gruesome torture and killings of some of the conspirators, described to us in detail by Mark (detail that I will spare you here). But the real reason for guy Fawkes day is an excuse for fireworks and bonfires (including a ritual burning of ‘the guy’, which I find just a bit disconcerting). [The day has also been claimed by anti-government activists – apparently some of the Occupy movement in London tried to march into Parliament Square yesterday.] 

But when in Rome… As there was no big fireworks display scheduled for Bristol, Mark looked up other options. We decided to go to Bradford-on-Avon, a lovely little town just beyond Bath. “We” included not only me, Mark and Alison, but also my niece Susie and her friend Eric, who arrived yesterday! We headed off by train in the mid-afternoon, so that we had a bit of time to wander around Bradford-on-Avon and to have tea, scones, clotted cream and jam at The Bridge Inn, a 16th century building (Susie, our resident historic preservationist, was fascinated by the various bracings on the building, which she described as ‘duct tape for buildings’).

The celebration was in a large field on the other side of town. The first thing that we were impressed with was the very elaborate guy, complete with torch and sitting on gunpowder boxes… he reminded me of Burning Man (which, I suppose, makes sense!). Sorry about the fuzzy photos but they will give you a sense of the spectacle. A couple of local bands played music – we were remarking on the youth of the players given the 60s music they chose to play, until Mark discovered that they were called “The Grateful Dads” – so we drank cider and ate pork sandwiches while waiting for the fireworks. One good thing about the early nightfall is that the fireworks could start early (at 7). The fireworks display was much more elaborate than any of us anticipated, and ended with lighting the guy’s torch, and then the bonfire itself (which was impressive in and of itself – large enough for us to feel its warmth, even though we were quite far away!). And then the fireworks seemed to continue all night. As we walked back along the floating harbor from the train station, the noise of the fireworks reverberated across the water and flashes of color appeared on the skyline to both the north and the south. I was even woken up around 5am by some particularly loud explosions, so I guess they continued all night…

  

The walk in Bradford-on-Avon took us past a quaint row of (formerly) weavers’ cottages high on the hillside, one of which had a ‘green man’ on the wall... as I had just gotten interested in the green man, I was thrilled, and so add a short addendum to the guy post.  “Green men” started showing up in England in the 12th century, but ‘foliate heads’ are apparently common throughout the Roman Empire, and date to the 1st century. Additionally, ‘foliate heads’ appeared in carvings in northern Europe before the Romans, and it has also been suggested that ornate Celtic designs bear resemblances to these leafy heads. In England, “green men” are not actually green, as they are carved in wood or stone - the green designation stems from the leaves that tend to sprout from their mouths and encircle their heads. The Green Man has become a sort of Rohrshach test for society ... from a symbol of May Day rituals to old age to mortality, the Green Man symbol has been adopted and interpreted across centuries and cultures. I like the fact that he just appears, tucked away in ancient carvings ... and seeking out famous green man carvings around England seems like a fun addition to other sorts of touristing!

 

Bristol's Buccaneers, Pirates and Privateers

First, errata from last week. Royal Holloway is in Surrey, not Sussex (I do need to learn my way around England... contemplating buying a wooden children’s puzzle with all the counties, but it was a little spendy!). And the Bridge of Sighs is part of Hertford College, not New College (I’ll blame that mistake on the Lonely Planet guide - should have asked the Oxford man to start with!).

It’s autumn here... Not very cold yet, and not even all that rainy, but the days are getting noticeably shorter, the sun is moving farther to the south, and the leaves and berries add a gold and red hue to the cityscape... and we just went off daylight savings time, so that the darkness will come too soon this evening.

Given the season, I decided that it was time for a Bristol pirate blog. First some vocabulary, because I found it interesting, and then some background (mostly taken from a book called The Bristol Treasure Island Trail). 'Buccaneer' derives from a Caribbean word; 'pirate' is Latin, from the word meaning 'attack'; and 'Viking' derives from vik, old Norse for inlet.  'Privateers' were essentially part of a covert navy - they carried a 'letter of marque' from the government that allowed them to attack vessels from specific countries (for any Stan Rogers fans, his song Barrett's Privateers mentions "a letter of marque came from the king" - I had never known exactly what this meant). The booty was divided among the sailors, therefore privateers never had problems finding recruits. Examples of privateers include Sir Francis Drake (waging covert war against Spain), Captain Kidd (who later lost his letter of marque and was therefore put to death for piracy), and Captain Woodes Rogers (more below). The 'West Country' (including Bristol) has had links to piracy since the days of the Vikings, who sailed into the Bristol Channel to stage their raids on the countryside. The Bristol Channel remained a target for pirates for centuries, because of its status as an important shipping route and the opportune location of Lundy Island at the mouth of the Bristol Channel (tagged in Google Earth photo below). Pirates who occupied this island included Sir William de Marisco, of local origin, as well as Colyn Dolphyn from Brittany, and Barbary Corsairs (a word derived from the Latin cursa, which means to raid) from North Africa. Apparently captured Corsairs were hanged near the current location of the Ostrich pub (built in 1745), which now sits at the intersection of the Floating Harbor and an inlet called Bathurst Basin. Smuggling was also common in Bristol and throughout southwest England.
Now for the local pirates and privateers. Blackbeard was reportedly born in Bristol around 1680, although his birthplace (and date and even original name, most often quoted as Edward Teach) are disputed. He was quite the colorful character: "With a cutlass and three brace of pistols slung about him he resembled a walking arsenal. His long black beard was twisted with brightly colored ribbons and turned about his ears. Slow burning fuses (or matches) tucked under his hat wreathed his head with demonic smoke. All this, together with his fierce and wild eyes made his such a figure that imagination cannot form an idea of a fury from hell to look more frightful." He punished a mutinous crew by leaving them on a remote island in the British Virgin Islands call Dead Man's Chest, each with a bottle of rum and a cutlass (the inspiration for "Fifteen men on the dead man's chest/Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum"). Captain Woodes Rogers was definitely a Bristol man, born in 1679. Backed by the Bristol Corporation, he had a letter of marque that allowed him to attack both Spanish and French ships. Particularly important for this post was his publication of a popular book called A Cruising Voyage Around The World, which included description of the rescue of the castaway Alexander Selkirk, which in turn provided inspiration for Robinson Crusoe, Treasure Island and Coleridge's Rime of the Ancient Mariner (more below).  Woodes Rogers ended up being Governor of the pirate haven, the Bahamas.

Woodes' pilot William Dampier [bottom left in the photo collage... and yes, I couldn’t resist adding a photo of Jack Sparrow to the group!] also published an account of his time as a buccaneer, an account that was apparently read by both Daniel Defoe and Jonathan Swift.  He was interested in natural history, made an early study of prevailing winds, documented the wildlife of the Caribbean, and took careful notes on the natural history of Juan Fernandez Island and the Galapagos; he was also the first Englishman to describe breadfruit, bananas and plantain. He visited Australia, Indonesia, SE Asia, and eventually circled the globe. He was later given a commission to lead a scientific exploration of the Pacific (in 1699 - well before Cook) but only made it as far as Ascension Island before his ship sank. Plants that he collected on this trip form the core of the herbarium at Oxford. On his next command he attempted to capture a Spanish vessel, failed, and his crew mutinied, one of whom was Alexander Selkirk, who would spend several years on Juan Fernandez Island before being rescued (by Woodes and Dampier!). Dampier's accounts of his adventures were also read by Coleridge, Defoe and Stevenson, as well as Jonathan Swift (Gulliver's Travels) and the poet John Masefield.

And now for the pirate children’s literature, much of which stems from the story of Alexander Selkirk, who abandoned Dampier's ship for Juan Fernandez Island off the coast of Chile in 1704. Alone on the island for more than four years, he apparently sang songs, read scripture, tamed goats for food and bred cats to save him from the rats. He was rescued in 1709 by Woodes Rogers and Dampier, when they returned to the island.  The account of his castaway life, published by Woodes Rogers, was certainly read by Daniel Defoe; it is less clear whether or not Defoe actually met Selkirk in Bristol, where he spent time on the run from his creditors. But regardless of how he learned about Selkirk's story, apparently Robinson Crusoe has never been out of print since its first publication!!! And it helped to inspire Treasure Island... Robert Louis Stevenson also read the accounts of both Woodes and Dampier, and wore a pirate cloak fastened with a snake buckle as he roamed the streets of Edinburgh. Here he befriended a one-legged Gloucestershire (just north of Bristol) poet who became the template for Long John Silver. While attending a tuberculosis sanitorium in Switzerland, he also met a Bristol writer and historian, an encounter that, together with the pirate heritage, may have convinced him to set the beginning of Treasure Island in and around Bristol (Treasure Island is another book that has never been out of print since publication).

Bristol and Treasure Island: I'll keep this short. It opens at the Admiral Benbow, a pub on the Devon Coast (SW of Bristol), where young Jim Hawkins lives with his parents. Admiral Benbow is modeled after the Llandoger Trow, in Bristol... the pub was built in 1664; the name refers to the Welsh ‘trows’ constructed in Llandogo Wales, which carried building material from Wales to Bristol. Here he meets up with Billy Bones, who has a map showing the location of Capt Flint's treasure. Enter Blind Pew, who hands Billy the Black Spot. The pirates die, and Jim sets off with Dr Livesey and Squire Trelawney (both apparently good Bristol names) to seek treasure - first stop is the Bristol docks to find a ship. Here Dr Livesey meets Long John Silver at the Spyglass Inn : “I found he was an old sailor, kept a public house, knew all the seafaring men in Bristol, had lost his health ashore, and wanted a good berth as a cook to get to sea again.” LJS had a parrot named Capt Flint... The Spyglass Inn is generally agreed to be the Hole-in-the-Wall pub in Bristol (now a fairly upscale looking pub just off Queens Square, where Woodes Rogers lived; when I walked by there was a group of Morris dancers there enjoying a beer, but apparently it actually has a spy-hole that the occupants used for looking out for Customs men or Press Gangs). The Spyglass looks across the Floating harbor to Redcliffe, where LJS was born. Ater that the action leaves Bristol...

Ancient and not-so-ancient academic institutions

Notes from the train [Bristol to Egham, Sussex]:  The darkness is starting to encroach upon the day. This morning when I left home at 7am, the sky was starting to lighten but the water of the harbor was a deep blue that reflected the rippled colors of the streetlights, still on. In fact, the sun is just now rising, barely clearing the hills that surround Bath Spa, illuminating the upper hillslopes and higher houses of Cotswold limestone that glow as they soak in the new light. I’m getting the hang of train travel – have figured out not only how to order tickets on-line but also to reserve a seat in the quiet car (although there’s a fair amount of chatter from the women in the seat in front of me – but no cell phones allowed). I like the view from the train, the tracks often slightly elevated above the row houses in the towns and the hedgerows in the fields. The landscape is so different from the Pacific northwest, but lovely in a manicured and cultivated sort of way, with towns neatly condensed and confined between green fields, rolling wooded hills, and placid rivers.

I wrote the passage above en route to Royal Holloway, a part of the University of London, to give a seminar. I took the London train as far as Reading and then boarded the local, which stopped at Earley-Winnersh-Wokingham [in looking at Google maps, I note that there’s also a “Wokingham Without” – without what?] – Ascot [I looked for ladies in My Fair Lady outrageous hats BUT I guess it wasn’t a race day!] – Virginia Water and Egham. Egham sits just a bit south of Windsor… and Royal Holloway is a sight to behold. Originally constructed as Royal Holloway College by multimillionaire Thomas Holloway (he got his money from patent medicines!), the main building was modeled on Chateau Chambord in the Loire Valley. As the web site says “Built around two quadrangles, today it continues to impress as much by its size as by the exuberance of the roofline with its many towers and turrets. As solid as it is extravagant, it epitomizes the wealth, optimism and spirit of philanthropy so characteristic of the Victorian age”. I had to resort to grabbing an aerial photo off the web to give the true sense of size… it’s too difficult from the ground. Queen Victoria opened the college in 1886, which was originally a college for “ladies” (apparently the rooms came complete with maid’s rooms). And there she is within one of the two large courtyards… Much later (in the 1980s), it merged with Bedford College in London, the first college that was exclusively for women (opened in 1849). Men were first admitted to both colleges in the 1960s. It wasn’t until 1992 that the combined colleges adopted the name Royal Holloway, University of London.

And then in stark contrast there’s Oxford! Oldest English-speaking academic institution, it has been existence since at least the 11^th century. I took the train from Egham to Oxford after giving my talk at Royal Holloway, for a one-day workshop on Soufriere Hills volcano, Montserrat. The next morning was lovely – clear cool and sunny – so I ducked out of breakfast and went to wander around Oxford for a half hour before the workshop. Again I've resorted to the web for an aerial photo... I love the familiarity of the sights – mostly from watching Inspector Morse and Inspector Lewis episodes! And it’s fun to walk down the Banbury Road, past plaques that celebrate various famous people (like the Oxford English dictionary editor), and into the center of town, with narrow streets of shops and houses intermingled with University colleges and buildings. I walked past the Eagle and Child pub (mentioned in a previous blog) to the Bodelian library and New College, with its copy of Venice’s Bridge of Sighs. Then it was time to scoot back to the science block, the new geology building providing a stark contrast to the historic buildings of the central campus. Actually, the geology building is lovely, with local sandstone, slate and limestone used for the decorative façade, and the tea room on the top floor with its balcony and expansive views of the Oxford skyline (not to mention the tea lady who makes tea and coffee in the morning… AND cleans up afterwards!). 

Kathy goes to work!

  Fall term started this week, and I finally settled into a work routine. It seems only right to start the long-promised University post with the university logo. It’s quite striking, so I looked up the origin of the components on the web site – rather than rewriting I’ll just pass it along. “The graphic block is derived from the University coat of arms, with icons representing the University's founders and benefactors – sun for Wills, dolphin for Colston, horse for Fry. The ship and the castle are based on the medieval city seal of Bristol. The open book of learning completes the graphic block. The logotype is Bembo, a serene and versatile typeface cut in 1929 and with Renaissance origins.” I like the "serene and versatile" description of the type face! But as to the rest, let’s see. Edward Colston first – a Bristol-born merchant who had the usual slave-based wealth yet philanthropic tendencies… he founded a school in 1708, part of which ultimately morphed into the University. The nice performance center in downtown Bristol is Colston Hall, and the name Colston crops up throughout the city. Lewis Fry apparently came from a Bristol family who built their fortune on chocolate; he was one of the people responsible for founding the university in the early 20^th century. Readers of the blog will recognize the ship – it’s the Matthew, the ship that John Cabot sailed from Bristol to America in 1497 (more about the Matthew later). The castle refers to a medieval castle, the remains of which can still be seen in Castle Park (I'll do a Bristol tour on a future post). That leaves Wills. The Wills family made their fortune in tobacco (I assume in the US); financial support from the Wills family allowed the University to obtain the required Royal Charter 1909, which allowed the University of Bristol to open (apparently they admitted women from the beginning, the first university in the UK to do so). Henry Overton Wills III was the first chancelor of the university.

BUT of most relevance to me (and to this blog) is a building that was constructed in honor of Henry Wills between 1915 and 1925. It is famous for being one of the last great Gothic buildings to be constructed in England; it has also become the symbol of the University AND just happens to house the School of Earth Science (although the Law school gets the more glamorous upper floors). So picture my walk to the University every morning… along the Floating Harbor with its bustle of boats on the water and the sidewalks (footpaths) equally bustling with pedestrian commuters into the city center. I then have several options, but if I have the time and it’s a nice day, I often choose to follow the water right into the city center, and then turn north to walk up Park Street, which is dominated by the tower of the Wills Memorial Building (all 215 ft of it). The building is equally impressive as you walk inside, where you are met by the full impact of the gothic ceiling soaring above and the dual staircases that lead up to the grand hall. Or turn around to admire the enormous stained glass windows.  My office is on the first floor – I forgot to take photos (I will this week), but the room has enormous windows that face west over the grassy lawn in front of the building.

On Friday I had a chance to ascend the tower with the first year students … 200 vertical feet of an ever-narrowing spiral of steps, with a brief pause at the bell (named Great George – it weighs 9.5 tons and, tuned to E flat, is apparently one of the deepest toned bells in the world and can be heard 12 miles away) before emerging onto the roof with its splendid views of Bristol (unfortunately my camera battery ran out after only a few pictures). Some of the outer part of the gallery that surrounded Great George were off limits because of bird nesting - I asked about that... apparently there are peregrine falcons who nest there (they must be deaf, living that close to the bell!!)

 I won’t take you to every building at the University (I haven’t yet been in many myself) but I did want to mention one: Royal Fort House. First, I like the name. Second, it has an interesting history: it was built between 1758 and 1761 on the site of a Civil War fortification (that’s the British Civil War). The “Royal” in the name refers to Prince Rupert, who was governor of Bristol (after storming the city during the Civil War). [I had no idea - I know Prince Rupert only in the context of Prince Rupert’s drops… rapidly quenched glass beads that are very strong unless their tails are broken, at which point they shatter explosively]. Third, it has a magical art installation in the lovely grounds below the building – a grid of reflective posts that magically reflect and refract the gardens around. I must remember to visit it often in the spring!

That’s the outside of the university… the inside is just as impressive. The past week was the first week where the full cohort of faculty and students were in the department. It’s a very different scale from Oregon – 30 new PhD students this year, a staff meeting with 50 attendees… it will take me the entire year to get to know everyone! And lots of engaged people means whirlwind days – almost every day last week I attended a seminar. I also went to several small meetings with graduate students, attended ‘plume day’ (the launching of a collaborative project between Bristol, Leeds and the Met Office to try to improve modeling and forecasting of volcanic eruption plumes), hosted a potential graduate student (Rafaella Fusillo, for Oregon folks who know her – she’ll be starting a PhD with Jon Blundy starting in January!), and wrote a small proposal to try to bring over a French PhD student who visited a week ago Friday. SO the latter is my excuse for this blog being late!

And a very short addition to the ongoing description of life in Bristol. The early part of the week we were living in a cloud – quite remarkable… very gray, 100% humidity, which meant that the temperature was buffered to a constant 15˚C (about 60˚F), day and night. I was starting to try to adjust, mentally, to this new climate mode when things changed  again toward the end of the week, with the sun emerging again at the end of the week. So except for the requisite time to finish up the small proposal, I’ve played this weekend. Friday night Mark and Alison took me to a concert at a lovely old church (reminded me of The Shed, for the Eugenians) – concert was wonderful - by "Charles Hazelwood and the Army of Generals"... now what sort of music would you expect from that? Charles Hazelwood is a remarkably energetic and charismatic conductor; the Army of Generals is a small (9 musicians) orchestra who specialize in period music. And the performance was recreating a salon performance from early 20th century Vienna, when Schoenberg and his acolytes arranged and performed popular music - Strauss, Schubert and Mahler. It was wonderful! The comment of a musician about one piece applied to all: 90% Strauss (Schubert, Mahler) and 10% Schoenberg. 

On Saturday I picked up a bike that I had bought the day before. Alison & Mark then took me on a short (10 mile round trip) ride along the Avon River toward its mouth. The west bank of the river has a wonderful bike path that traverses Leigh Woods and then follows green cow pastures - it's amazing how quickly one can get out of the city (especially as my house is really at the western end, because the city is bounded by the river). Had to hustle back, however, because that night I treated Hannah to a fish&chips cruise on the Matthew... two hours of cruising up and down the completely still dark waters of the Floating Harbor at night. Hannah and I quickly settled on the high after deck with its wonderful vantage point of the lights and boats and harborside houses. And then today I went sailing (as mentioned in the email).

Indian summer

A true summer weekend, with unprecedented temperatures for October (near 90). It actually felt too hot, especially as I hadn't bothered to bring hot weather clothes with me! But the spectacular weather also meant that I felt compelled to play outside SO - many of you will be glad to hear that I finally went over to the sailing club! Discovered that if I take two one-day Level 2 sailing classes (and pass) I will then be able to rent a boat whenever I want :) So I signed up immediately, for Sunday.  Unfortunately, my plans were somewhat foiled by absolute calm on Sunday ("Even the seagulls are bored" said the head instructor). I've rescheduled for the middle two Sundays of October - something to look forward to, although the weather will most certainly be less conducive to T-shirt sailing attire! 

But I managed to keep myself occupied nonetheless. On Saturday I explored the lock system... Am coming to appreciate why the floating harbor was built - the tidal range from the Bristol Channel is apparently second only to the Bay of Fundy (hence the Severn Bore, which some of you have heard of). The Severn River is at the head of the Bristol Channel; the river Avon flows from the Channel through Bristol, from a point that is not that far from the Severn. So when the tide is in, the locks at my end of the Floating Harbor are closed, and the Avon flows south of the harbor, through "the cut"; when the tide is out, the entire length of the Avon drains almost completely, leaving mostly exposed mud flats dotted with sea birds (and the lock near me opens up again). Before the Floating Harbor was built, thus allowing ships in the harbor to remain afloat, the ships used to just settle onto the mudflats between high tides - this apparently spawned the phrase “shipshape and Bristol fashion” (that is, stow everything properly before low tide).

I then made my way up the gorge, and up the 'zigzag path' to Clifton and the suspension bridge over the gorge (more about this when I write my blog on the engineer Brunel). Everyone was taking advantage of the lovely weather, so that the grass was littered with picnickers and the paths were dotted with baby carriages and bicycles. I decided to check out the Giant's Cave, which descends into the cliff by the suspension bridge through a winding circular staircase through the rock, to pop out on a viewing platform about 100 feet below - not sure of the origin of this particular little tourist attraction but the cave was a nice cool break from the heat of the sun! I then continued across the ridge and down through part of Leigh Woods and Rownham Hill to complete my circuit.

On Sunday, after being thwarted in my sailing attempt I decided to try to rent a bike so that I could explore a bit farther afield. I went to a place along the river that Alison had pointed out to me... But it turns out that they no longer rent bikes; instead they sell used bikes. However, the very nice guy running the shop then offered me his bike! So off I went, past the soccer (football) field to Ashton Court, another estate, this one comprising 850 acres of land that was willed to the city of Bristol, so that it's a free public park. The park has both paved and unpaved bike paths - I explored only the paved, which took me up the hill and eventually to the suspension bridge again... This time I crossed and continued north to "The Downs", a huge grassy and treed expanse bordered by enormous old and grand houses. Made me decide that I definitely need a decent bike - there's a bike path from Bristol to Bath that I'd really like to explore (as it's along the Avon Canal, it's apparently nicely graded).

Wednesday afternoon I joined Mark for an art walk on Windmill Hill (a suburb south of where Alison and Mark live - as the highest point around it was really the site of a Windmill). Alison's 80-something yr old friend Eve was showing her paintings in one of the houses, so we decided to keep her company. The neighborhood was quite attractive - although the streets are lined with row houses, I discovered that many are nicely fixed up inside, and that each has a back garden with a lovely view north to the central city. Including a view of the Wills Memorial building, which not only dominates the skyline but also the School of Earth Sciences. Which brings me to the promised subject of this week's post…  

Well that was the intent except that I traveled to London on Monday for a Tue-Wed meeting at the Geological Society of London - the William Smith meeting, no less, for those of you who have read The Map That Changed the World. Arriving in London always startles me with the sheer number of familiar names and cultural/literary references. Just taking the tube from Paddington Station (of the eponymous bear) I passed a stop at Baker Street (Sherlock Holmes), exited at Kings Cross (Harry Potter and Platform 9 1/2) and walked to my hotel at Russell Square (of Bloomsbury fame, not to mention the nearby British Museum). It was another beautiful Indian Summer day so I dropped my things at the hotel, grabbed my map and camera, and headed off to the Tower of London, which combined a riverside location with a tourist attraction that I hadn't seen since I was 18 and which I decided was a good choice for a Monday afternoon in October. The afternoon light accented the dramatic aspects of the castle architecture, from the walls surrounded by the (now filled in) moat to the Traitor's Gate - the water entrance to the edifice. The Crown Jewels were just as glittering as I remembered but I found myself thinking more about their weight on a young queen's head than about the size of the jewels (hard to believe that they're real). Similarly although my memory of the armor room was only of the growing size of Henry VIII's armor through time, this visit I was struck again by the weight of it - not just a burden for the king/knight but also for the horse.... And there were even a number of tiny child-sized suits of armor for children!

By late afternoon the low angle of the sunlight illuminated the Tower Bridge in all its gilt and colored glory, drawing me across to the south bank to join the parade of others enjoying a n after work stroll... I thought of crossing back over London Bridge - to join the walkers and bikers forming a moving chain of silhouettes - but then saw a water taxi stop and decided that a trip on TS Eliot's "strong brown god—sullen, untamed and intractable" was an appropriate way to return from the Tower. The boat went to the giant ferris wheel (the London Eye) where I crossed back over the Thames on the pedestrian Millenium bridge and headed back to Bloomsbury. Everyone was out enjoying the warm weather, spilling out of pubs onto the sidewalks and flowing through the brights lights of the theater district. I finally found a quiet pub in Bloomsbury where I could sit with a beer, surrounded by photographs of Duncan Grant, Vanessa Bell and other Bloomsbury notables.

Tyntefield and Titles

Tyntesfield

Well as promised, this post strays a bit from Hotwells… about 6 miles west, to be precise, to Tyntesfield (pronounced Tintsfield), Wraxall, North Somerset (UK, World). It was acquired by the English National Trust less than ten years ago, as it was considered the last major High Victorian house and estate to have survived largely unaltered (according to the guidebook). Although originally built in the early 19^th century, it was acquired in 1843 by William Gibbs, a guano baron, who greatly extended the house (after all, doesn’t everyone need a house with 106 rooms and a private chapel?). The building is actually quite lovely – apparently gothic revival in style – with colorful formal gardens in the front and a beautiful ‘park’ all around, consisting of largely stately trees with golf course grass underneath. When we (Jon Blundy, his 13 year old daughter Lillian, and me) arrived it was misty, so that there was a depth to the woodsy scene and the few leaves starting to change colors were illuminated by the soft light. But the drizzle was also conducive to a tour of the inside of the house (although only a fraction of the total number of rooms are open… the trust is gradually restoring the rest of the house – I paid for a lottery ticket that is part of a fund drive to raise money to restore the rockinghorse, something of which my Mom would have approved!). 

I couldn’t take many pictures inside, as flash photography was forbidden and, with shades drawn to protect fragile fabric, most of the rooms were too dark for non-flash photography. Hence the close-ups of stained glass from the chapel, which was photographable! But the house was surprisingly friendly inside – lots of rooms of manageable size that were framed in carved wood and enhanced by wall after wall of books – some in gilt-bound sets (multi-volume biographies of Disraeli and Sir Walter Scott; single-volume biographies of many, but not all, past monarchs, etc) but many shelves of books that actually looked read and somewhat disheveled. The bedrooms had glorious large windows that looked across the formal gardens to the tree-dotted green of the park. Oddly, however, the last Baron [more about barons below] to inhabit the house (until he died in 2001) chose to remain in his childhood bedroom rather than take over one of the larger and more stately bedrooms… actually, it sounds a bit sad. He never married and lived alone in the large house after his mother died in 1979, maintaining the grounds but gradually retreating to only a few rooms in the house. The house is now being restored, in part, to its heyday in the late 19^th century, although there are bits and pieces from more recent times (seems like a Susie problem… what period does one restore to?). Reminded me of my grandmother’s house, with layers of time superimposed… But of course, as an American, while admiring of the gorgeous Upstairs, I was most fascinated by glimpses of Downstairs, like the row of bells near the kitchen, carefully labeled for each room (I’ve seen those in movies like Gosford Park), and, even more intriguing, the storeroom for chamberpots, which come in various forms and sizes (never really thought about chamber pot varieties before!).

After finishing our tour of the house, we emerged to glorious sunshine and beautiful views of the house. After exploring the formal gardens, we set off to find the public footpath to Wraxall – a short walk – where we headed straight for The Battleaxes, a beautiful newly restored pub where we had an excellent late lunch. I like the reliability of good pub in every tiny British town (or so it appears to me!). I did note, however, that while the pub is newly refurbished, the quintessential red telephone booth outside was looking sadly neglected, another victim of new technology.

Titles

Ok – so I had some questions about titles after last week’s post, so I decided to do some research. I asked my two sources – Jon and Mark – who started rattling off rankings and distinctions between hereditary and honorary titles and I immediately got lost. So I turned to my friend Wikipedia. Here’s a short recap. Clearly King (Queen; Prince/Princess) are at the top of the list in the UK… interestingly, while the wives of kings share their husbands’ rank and title (though not sovereign power), the opposite is not true. The office is hereditary. Viceroy (Vicereine) is a term that is apparently now abandonned – was used for the chief British government official in India; the position was appointed. Duke (Duchess) is a member of the nobility, historically of highest rank below the monarch, and historically controlling a duchy. Dukes in the United Kingdom are addressed as "Your Grace" and referred to as "His Grace". Marquess (Marchioness) is also a nobleman of hereditary rank; the title ranks below a duke and above an earl (apparently traditionally a Marquess had more responsibilities to defend territory, hence the higher rank). Count/Earl (Countess) is an aristocratic nobleman in European countries (the male terms are equivalent… the former is a French word while the latter is British). Earl is often a courtesy title for the eldest son of a duke. In modern Britain, an earl is a member of the peerage (that is, they have the right to sit in the House of Lords); there never developed a feminine form of earl, instead countess is used as the equivalent feminine title. Viscount (Viscountess) is a courtesy title for the heir of an earl or marquess. The peer's heir apparent will sometimes be referred to as a viscount, if the second most senior title held by the head of the family is a viscountcy (did anyone follow that? I'm quoting Wikipedia directly there!). Baron (Baroness) is a title of nobility. In the British peer system, barons rank below viscounts, and form the lowest rank in the peerage; they are addressed as Lord (Lady… actually I think a lot of the above ranks are addressed as Lord/Lady). In the twentieth century Britain introduced the concept of non-hereditary life peers, all of whom have the rank of baron; life-peers are not counted as part of the aristocracy. Knight is an honorific order established as a way to confer prestige and distinction. Modern knighthoods are typically awarded in recognition for services rendered to society: services which are not necessarily martial in nature. The British musician Elton John, for example, is a Knight Bachelor, thus entitled to be called Sir Elton. The female equivalent is a Dame (e.g., Dame Judi Dench). Wives of knights are entitled to the honorific "Lady" before their husband's surname (e.g., Lady McCartney). The husbands of Dames have no honorific. SO - that made everything clearer, didn't it?

Life in Hotwells

Life on the water

I’m started to ease into life in Bristol, on the water. I’ve rearranged the living room so that the couch, which used to be aimed at the TV, is now situated so that I can look out to the harbor… when I sit drinking my morning coffee I watch the traffic over the little turquoise bridge that spans my waterway: joggers, bikers, school kids in uniform, adults headed to work. The water is often flat calm when I wake up, but is usually ruffled and alive by commuter time. The leaves on the trees across the way are already yellow and starting to thin, and people walking by are wearing coats… and the sky is often gray, although I have noticed that the weather changes both frequently and rapidly (and it’s sunny this morning). 

By afternoon the wind has usually come up, and as I walk home from the University there are usually sailing classes running from the sailing club directly across from me. Yesterday the water was dotted with blue-sailed laser-like boats that were running through a slalom course of buoys, manned by kids in wet suits (clearly appropriate sailing gear here!). And as night falls and the lights come on, the harbor water shimmers with patches of white and orange light.

The sublime

I’m also realizing that there are parts of the lifestyle that I could get used to here… not having a car does mean that I just plain spend more time walking, which is not a bad thing. It’s a good way to learn my way around the local neighborhood and insures a base level of exercise (there is some topography here). But it also means that I have quickly latched onto the concept of deliveries, which are much more common here than in Eugene! I have now signed up with “Milk-and-more” for weekly deliveries of milk and yogurt – they will also deliver everything from sparkling water to compost to toilet paper (by on-line request before 9pm on the night before the delivery). I’ve also signed up for a weekly veg & fruit box from Riverford Organic Vegetables (http://www.riverford.co.uk/) – they seem to run a consortium of local organic farms around the country… they also offer delivery of meat, beer, wine and eggs, among other things. In addition, the grocery stores will deliver if you want, although there’s a grocery store that is only a block out of the way on my walk home, so it’s not a problem. But it has made me wonder why this concept lost its hold when I was little (I do still remember milk delivery) – seems like a good addition to the Obama jobs plan AND more environmentally friendly to have a few delivery trucks rather than everyone going to the grocery store! There’s a good greengrocers across the harbor, and also a farmer’s market every Wednesday (with booths that sell local cheese, fish, meat and eggs in addition to veggies and lots of apples and apple juice, which is sold by apple variety!). And just two days ago I discovered that The Pump House, the pub/restaurant next door, not only sells jams and chutneys but also artisan bread, cheese and eggs. SO – I don’t think I’ll starve!

The ridiculous

There are also some funny aspects of life here… one that I have particularly noticed (because I’ve been filling out a lot of forms) is the insistence on titles. Now most forms have the usual choice – Mr., Mrs., Miss, Ms, Dr. [I’ve been using Ms because it seems the most egalitarian and therefore the least British]. However, when I went on-line to order a recycling bin (of all things) from the City Council, I was given the additional options of Rev, Sir, Lady, Lord and Dame … it did make me think – if I listed myself as Dame, would they give me a ceramic or gold-plated recycling bin rather than the usual black plastic??? To celebrate the quirky aspects of British life, I bought myself a second-hand copy of Bill Bryson’s Notes from a Small Island...

18 Rownham Mead

I’ve now had almost a week in Bristol – for the most part it has felt like a whirlwind of logistics... so I thought that most of this blog should be about my new home 18 Rownham Mead. SO here’s the tour.

The neighborhood: I live on Bristol’s ‘Floating Harbor’, a modification to the tidal portion of the Avon River that was made over 200 years ago, to allow trading vessels to stay afloat (and trade) throught the tidal cycle. I live at the west end of the harbor, just above the ‘Brunel lock’. Brunel was a famous engineer who saw the big picture of transportation – he also designed the train station and build the SS Great Britain, the world’s first iron ocean liner (I’ll do a separate blog on a Brunel tour of Bristol!). My little waterway sits at right angles to the Floating Harbor… according to my ‘Bristol Harbor Heritage Trail’ book, it was established as a dry dock for shipbuilders in 1772… most recently it apparently was home to Bristol’s fleet of sand-dredging ships, until they left in 1991 and my development was constructed.

My house: My house is a “terrace house” (what we would call a row house), but it’s on the end of the row… the only silly thing about this cookie cutter style of house-building is that, even though I have a great south-facing exposure, there are no windows on the south side (so Andie, if I’m going to join the passive solar experiment it will have to be from the perspective of oblique passive solar!). BUT as you can see, I have wonderful big east-(and water-)facing windows in both the kitchen (first floor) and living room (second floor). I also have a nice tiny little garden out front where I can sit and drink my morning coffee and watch the water… 

A couple of days ago, two rowboat owners took advantage of the early morning glassy stillness of the water in the form of a morning row… I was jealous! Clearly I need to start making friends with my neighbors!!! (or buy myself a rowboat) so that I can participate in the ebb and flow of boat traffic on the river. There are several rowers that appear in the early morning – in both skinny racing shells and larger sturdier boats (can’t remember what they’re called – I know that Ken has rowed one). Then the sailboats come out in the afternoon, when the wind picks up. Mostly the winds seem moderate and good for small boat sailing. Except when we caught the edge of Hurricane Katia – the wind was really howling all day on Monday - a little flock of kayakers eddied out in our protected water space, when the wind picked up too much.

Now for the room you’ve all been waiting for – the guest room! It’s on the same floor as the living room and has its own (quite tiny) bathroom and shower. Looks west rather than east, but is a nice light room. At the moment it has a saggy single bed – I promise that it will soon have an un-saggy double bed and towels! The western end of the hallway has a pretty little stained-glass window, at the base of the stairs to the third floor, which has two rooms plus a bathroom. I’ve taken the west-facing room as my bedroom because there are several built-in closets. Am planning to turn the east-facing (water and hill view) room into a study, although at the moment it has only another very saggy bed which I’ll need to get rid of… but I do just wander into the room in the morning to gaze out the window – I love the colorful row houses up on the hill. The bathroom deserves mention not only because it has a shower (rather than just a bath) but also because the water pressure is very un-British (Ken – I won’t need that booster so you’re absolved of that particular duty!!). 

 

The process: As expected, the UK is pretty efficient, so that the process of renting my house, getting a bank account, etc. has gone fairly smoothly. It’s interesting to see ways in which things are run differently here – most notably, all utilities, banking, etc is done either on-line or by direct payment from your bank account (which means that one has to have a bank account before setting up anything else). And the electric bill is done with an estimated payment – the meter is checked only every three months, and payment adjusted then! The University internet is also interesting – after registering with the wifi network eduroam, I can hop on University internet networks not only all over the UK, but also across Europe (and, I think, beyond)… very civilized.