WATAMU Nov 9^th

I woke up a little earlier this morning to the sound of rain hammering on the corrugated iron roof. I stood out in it for a few seconds. Like so much else in this part of the world, it is completely different from British rain. The droplets are bigger and heavier. They fall more persistently and cover a wider area. They are warmer, too. In fact, had it not been for the fact that I am living close to two girls, I would probably have substituted five minutes outside for my morning shower. I was a little disconcerted, on my return to my room, to discover a huge centipede comfortably curled up just under my pillow. It had, presumably, shared much of the night with me. My historical list of bedfellows is nothing like as long as most ( off the top my head I can think of children, Phyllida, new cricket bats, coat-hangers and, comically, John Knight – un grand lit etc.. ) but this is the first genuine creepy-crawly I have seen since I got here. I was glad I didn’t know until afterwards that they pack quite a powerful punch in the form of a sting.

I didn’t write anything yesterday because the day just got away a little. I went to the business meeting of the Watamu Turtle Watch ( WTW ) in the morning. Scheduled for 10.00 it started at 10.35. It was meant to finish at midday but went on until 12.50. I went to Nicky’s for lunch, so that someone else could have lunch at the centre. A visit to the supermarket and a release of a turtle later and it was 6.00. Will and I then cooked supper for the 6 volunteers and by the time we’d finished and tidied and it was time for a book, it was 9.00. Not a day of great achievement but one that had just the right amount of hours in it. I am becoming more convinced it is the norm out here.

I am much enjoying Beatrice and Will’s company. They are on the sort of backpacking trip with a purpose that seems to sum up what is good about young people and the opportunity to travel. They have done a month teaching EFL in a school, have helped as volunteers in the Masai Mara, are doing this for 5 weeks and then going for 2 weeks to Uganda for a holiday. There is an easy inclusivity about them and they have about 300 times more street wisdom than I do. We have been joined by Johnno, a slightly brash student from the University of Syracuse in upper New York State, and George, whose 22 hour journey from the Kampala environs ended with his arrival at 6.00 last night. Apart from the fact he is British, I am not that much the wiser.

I have one genuine job to do, which is to help to revamp some of the on-site information into a more coherent single message. Left to my own devices it would probably take me 3-4 hours but, involving as it does two of the local staff, it will take 3-4 days by the time we have met enjoyed chai ( tea ) and discussed the minutiae.

I am beginning to form some sort of idea as to how/if this could be something that might make part of a trip for a small group of students. It would not be a cheap venture but to combine 5 days here with some time in Tsavo and some voluntary work amongst local schoolchildren would add up to a fantastic 2-3 weeks. Even better is the opportunity it offers for gappies and best of all, in my view, is what it could do for post-grad gap years and/or anyone taking time out from work. Like a 53 year-old teacher with a wife and three teenage children.

WATAMU Nov 7^th

I was minding my own business in the Turtle Watch compound, where not very much happens at the weekend, when one of the staff dropped by to ask if I would like to assist in releasing a turtle. A fisherman had brought one in earlier in the morning. The watch will pay a fisherman for the turtle so that they are neither killed on capture nor chucked back into the sea when there is obvious damage to them. This was a huge male and it occupied much of the back of the jeep in which it was transported the short distance to the beach. It took four of us, one at each corner of a harness, to carry it across the beach to the sea. They are proper animals and this one was clearly keen to be returned to its natural environment, given the amount of flapping and flipper-waving that went on as we got closer to the waterline.

Nicks came round, just after I got back. She told me to get ready to go out to lunch with some friends and that I would need a hat and swimming things. I think this would be the first occasion I have travelled to a social event by boat. The venue was about 3km as the crow flies from where Giovanni’s boat is moored ( Giovanni is Nicky’s husband ). It was on the other side of the creek, however, and so it was 45 minutes plus by road. We waded out to the boat, went slowly across quite a shallow reef and moored just off a deserted beach. At the top of the sand dune, a very pleasant couple, Andrew and Errie, have built a beach house. It comprises a roof, an open plan sitting and dining area, no walls and a ladder up to the only bedroom. The view, over lunch, was the Indian Ocean. Andrew is in the business of broking and/or selling boats. His business has expanded significantly on the inland lakes ( Victoria, Tangyanika, Malawi etc..). This is because the trade in small boats on the coast north of Mombasa has almost ceased, thanks to the activities of the Somali pirates. It was a most sociable occasion and Giovanni drove us home in about 5 minutes, so we got quite wet.

I got back to my room at the Turtle Watch to discover that there was a power cut. It didn’t matter that much as there was nothing I particularly needed to do. I did spend half an hour with my fellow volunteers. Amy is from Maine, knows a vast amount about turtles, is about 25, I would guess, and has decided that she is not for settling down just yet. Will is from Sydney and is here with Beatrice, ex-Heathfield. They met when she did a year as a Nottingham University student at the NSW University. I didn’t know such options were possible. They are taking a joint post univ. Gap Year and have come here via some time teaching in a school on the Tanzanian border, some time in the game parks and some time visiting relatives. Beatrice reminds me much of Sarah at that stage and is about as well-versed in the whole idea of travel. They were all very nice to me and duly indulgent of my more antiquated views.

It has, in short, been a truly brilliant day on which I have seen and done things that are totally new to me and on which I have experienced the need to go with Africa’s own unique flow.

WATAMU Nov 6^th

The flight from Nairobi, on Air 540, was fine save that the plane held 30 passengers at full capacity and was, therefore, shunted around a bit more by the inevitable turbulence. Any comparison with security in the USA or Britain is impossible and hilarious. I went through a door, straight from the pavement, at Nairobi Airport which said departures. A bloke took a cursory look at a print-out of my flight details. There was one scanning machine. I had forgotten to take my computer through separately but it didn’t seem to matter. Malindi Airport was something else. Bags dropped by hand at the door from the tarmac. Nicky Parazzi waiting right by the door to fetch me.  I suppose it was only an internal flight.

We did a couple of things in Malindi before the short drive north to Watamu. Nicky knows everyone, it seems, and has an ease and familiarity with Swahili and the African that I think is unusual. She talked non-stop, which she always has. I am still trying to get my head around the exact function of the Turtle Watch because Nicky’s explanations tend to go the roundabout route. Essentially it is coastal conservation in the widest sense with the turtles as the flagship. I do not think those on site at the Turtle Watch will develop much of a programme for me until Monday. Ideally I would like to accompany anyone who is doing fieldwork with a view to assessing its suitability for a small group of Wellington students. I suspect that much of the work on the impact of agriculture, tourism and climate change on the coastal environment and, especially, water quality, will bear fruit in a longer term than the week any students would have available. So I am going to try to assess the feasibility of a study based more on short term variables in the local ecosystem with a bit of practical/factual assimilation thrown in.

One thing I do appreciate, which I take for granted at home, is ease of travel. I am trying to sort out how to get from Nairobi to Gilgil ( location of Pembroke House prep school ) and back over the weekend of Nov 19-21. There is no train or bus. I am certainly not going to risk a drive, having been taken round the edge of the city at 9.00 this morning and seen matutu buses and taxis in full competition. There is not a flight, as it is only 100 miles. It is a conundrum and I may have to use the services of a driver.

I’m taking it all in at the moment. Much of it looks chaotic but it sort of works, even if it does so at its own leisurely pace. I’m about to switch off the light and will fall asleep to the sound of cicadas and distant dogs, the sweetish smell of warm dust and safe in the knowledge that the two geckos on the wall will deal with any mosquitoes.

Nairobi 5/11/10

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single traveller in possession of a weary body is always located in the vicinity of a small child. The one on the plane was either wailing or repeating ‘ba’ ad infinitum when contented. Her owner was an elderly Asian. Either he has done brilliantly with a much younger wife or is the grandfather. Either way he did not seem to crack much of a disciplinary whip. The upshot is that I am tired but it is the sort of tiredness I will probably get over very rapidly.

 

I am staying with Joss Taylor, who assures me he left Wellington in 1982. He looks about 35, probably still sets female pulses racing when he enters a bar ( which he does quite often, I think, as it is the entertainment lined up for tonight ) and has the most mellifluous of voices. His driver picked me up from the airport and his maid has ironed my outfit for the day and prepared a light lunch. When in Rome.

Joss was brought up here, returned to England to school followed by Sandhurst, got married and then was asked to come out to organise a sugar trading business 15 years ago. He is a mine of information about the country and its various dos and don'ts. Mrs Taylor is currently at a horse trial event somewhere in the Rift Valley They have two girls, the elder of whom is hoping to come to Wellington next year but may not make it on academic grounds, which is agonising. The kids are at The Banda School and Joss kindly organised 45 minutes with the Head at pick-up time yesterday. It strikes me that it is much like any British prep school but has probably a slightly greater resistance to change.

There are, inevitably, lots of things that strike the visitor to Nairobi. I am delighted not to have to do any driving. I am amazed by the variety of uses of the roadside. There is much more road traffic than there was in 1993. It smells African. The colours are East African. The jacarandas are in full blue bloom. There are dogs everywhere. It is very different in lots of ways but, under grey skies, in lowish temperatures and looking out of the window to the back garden at schloss Taylor, it could easily be Surrey in June.

Boulder, Colorado October 12^th 

I spent last night in Eagle. It is one of the many settlements that make up Vail Valley, which, along with Breckenridge and Copper Mine are there primarily for the skiing. It is gearing up for the forthcoming season. I got there at about 6.00 and enjoyed my first beer for a few days. I am beginning to tie up a bit with the meeting of locals so a combination of that and the very strict drink-driving laws meant that my visit was necessarily brief. I did get talking to a few people. Andrea and Carol were there with their menfolk, who were engrossed in the American Football. They are both employed primarily in the ski industry, Andrea is an instructor and Carol runs a ski-equipment shop. Their summer activity is breeding horses and they have just sold three foals. Carol’s other hobby is rodeo. Brave. The rodeo season occurs in July and August and she wins several local prizes. Andrea is from Oklahoma originally. She came to Eagle in 1995 for a ski season as a chalet girl and has stayed ever since. They were very chatty and excited at the prospect of snow on the mountains overnight. It generates a huge sense of anticipation. They both agreed that because their punters are principally of considerable means, they are relatively recession-proof. Having said that, they told me that whereas two years ago there were 150 visas available for foreign ski workers, this year there are only 20, so concerned are the local authorities about preserving jobs for US citizens.

I also had a brief and slightly unnerving conversation with a bloke called Mike. He was acting in a distinctly odd manner and, when he went out to the ‘rest room’, the owner told me that he was probably doped up to the eyeballs. He said that he knows Mike well and that he would be ejected fairly soon. I didn’t stay long enough to witness this but in the time I was there it was clear that he found his own conversation more amusing than anyone else in the bar.

I drove the 120 or so miles to Rocky Mountain National Park this morning. It had snowed on the higher ground and, at over 3500 metres, much of the countryside was covered. I had quite a bit of time, for which I was grateful and I am also grateful to be leaving this part of the USA before winter really sets in. It is amazing that 220 miles away as the crow flies is Arches National Park, with a maximum temperature yesterday in the 80s. Such is the range of climate on offer in the mountains.

I didn’t see it at its best. It was cold, the cloud base was sufficiently low to cover the mountain tops, the road that goes up and over the best bits was closed because there was too much snow and it just wasn’t the weather to walk anywhere. I did stop to take some video of grazing elk. They are just at the end of the rutting season when males make their presence felt by bugling ( trumpeting, to you and me ). I wanted to try to get this odd noise as background on the video and so I waited around for a bit, standing beside the car, the door of which was open. This is a habit I have forced myself into after the lock-outs. What I didn’t know was that if the door is left open, after 5 minutes the alarm goes off. So in peaceful scenery the entire body of photographers and sound recorders are treated to the sound of a car horn blaring. Jubbly. I didn’t know where to hide. I did feel marginally less embarrassed when one of them said that he reckoned it was as good an imitation of a rutting elk as he had heard in ages.

I spent the night at some friends of friends. Jeff and Theresa are ex-members of a church run by the brother of a friend from Crowthorne. It was very good to be in a home and I enjoyed supper much more than fast food grabbed between stops. They live in Boulder, which struck me from a very brief acquaintance as being quite different from many of the places I have seen. It is a big university town and possibly because of that, has a transport system that is student friendly. This includes a well-developed local bus network and cycle lanes along all the main roads. Driving through, I also noticed that the pavements were much more crowded. I have been very surprised by the almost total lack of pedestrian traffic in places like Cedar City and Blanding but this is not so much the case in Boulder. They are just very normal and, in common with everyone else I have met. except the immigration people, very friendly. Jeff is an IT whizz-kid and his good offices have enabled me to attach some photographs to previous posts, which I hope you enjoy. I left my mark by elbowing a shelf to the floor and breaking an ornament. I don’t think it was of the same antique value as the plate I destroyed in the Headmaster’s House at Lambrook Haileybury but it was a fairly typical spongly effort.

I am writing this in downtown Denver, where I am spending the morning. It is very  clean ( another common factor in US cities ) but, again, there is nobody on the streets. There are also very few of the sort of stores we would have in our city centres. Starbucks on every corner, lots of fast food, banks, hotels and occasional specialist shops but it doesn’t seem to exist except for those who work above the ground floor in the offices. That, and the free shuttle buses, would probably go some way to explain the lack of pedestrians.

This will probably be my final piece. I am not going to go all navelly and nostalgic but the following may help to sum up. I have learnt much. I have seen lots. I have a deeper understanding and tolerance of the American people. I have been wonderfully protected, without a mobile phone, in some very remote environments. I have been quite comfortable in my own company, save for a brief spell in Cedar City. I could live in Portland.

But I am going to be very glad to be back in Blighty.

Eagle, Colorado October 11th

Yesterday bridges and yah-boo to Sydney, San Francisco, Clifton, The Menai Straits, Millau, Avignon, St John’ College Cambridge and ( an inferior and dilettante imitation, rather typical of the place ) Hertford College Oxford. Today it is yah-boo to Rome, London, Paris, Bucharest, Berlin, St Louis, which I know is tacky but I am in the States, Mumbai and Moscow. There are many others I could include in this category but they are the ones that come to mind. All these locations have at least one well-known but definitely man-made arch. They are usually triumphal, too. A statement of glory and power, through which only the very special may pass, or beneath which an eternal flame burns, or under which an unknown warrior is interred, or the other side of which is new hope and opportunity. I saw 7-8 arches today. All entirely natural, all entirely magnetic, each quite uniquely shaped and spoiled only when there were people standing under them. I walked quite a long way to get to some of them but there were pots of gold at the end of each trek. I can’t get a picture on to this site but if you Google images of ‘Delicate Arch’, you will see what I mean. If I had to look at a landform every day for the rest of my life, this would be the one. It is isolated, quite remote, perfectly formed and will be the screen-saver of choice on my computer when I get back. I have not done this other than at the Grand Canyon, and then not for as long, but I dwelt at Delicate Arch for a good half-hour. It was reasonably early, the crowds had not gathered and it was a good place to be.

I had, unfortunately, chosen Columbus Day for my trip to Arches National Park. There were more people, by far, than at any of the other places and whilst it removed just a little gloss, it also served as a reminder of how fortunate I have been to visit the USA at this time. I spent 5 hours there and walked about 10 miles in total to the arches I visited. I will happily bore anyone who wants to know why there are so many in such a relatively small area on request.

I did stop in Moab for a cup of coffee at 8.00 this morning. I finally met my first Obama supporters in the busy and noisy Red Rock Bakery, run by an American who went to Glasgow University as a post grad. I didn’t know this, to my shame, but Utah is the most staunchly Republican state in the whole of the USA. Moab is the only county in the state to vote Democrat. The other states I have been to, after Oregon and Washington, are also republican. I talked briefly to Jo-Ann who is working on a conservation project in the area, and her partner/companion, Lee, who moved to the area a few months back. Both said that the town was more laid back than most of Utah and I certainly got that feel in the Red Rock Bakery. The brief political overview they gave me was useful in further explaining why I have not met pro-Obama people yet. Their view, echoed by an older bloke on the next door table, is that Obama walked into a maelstrom and is the sort of honest person the country needs to restore faith in traditional institutions. They feel he has been given a very rough ride by the press and that he has been hamstrung by not having a senate majority. Interesting.

I then drove quite some distance to get to Eagle. It is in the Vail valley and there is already snow on the nearby mountain tops. The road follows the Colorado River the whole way from Grand Junction to here. It is a most varied valley, ranging from wide meadows at Grand Junction to a very narrow gorge at Glenwood Springs. So although it was a long way, the only danger was when I was too busy taking in the stunning scenery as opposed to any tiredness.

I had hoped to drive the Trail Ridge Road through Rocky Mountain National Park, NW of Denver tomorrow. Sadly, it looks like there has been enough snow there over the weekend to make it impossible, so I will just drive to the eastern side of the Park before dropping back down to Boulder, where I am staying with some relations of friends from church.

I am now going to go into Eagle for my first beer for nearly a week. It can happen.

Blanding Utah October 10th

There are many settlements that have grown up in the last 150 years that are not well named. Take Ebenezer Howard’s Welwyn Garden City, for instance. It suggests a rural idyll of rolling farmland and hayseeds and a timelessness of landscape. In fact it is an uninspiring collecting of houses, shops and offices. Or Milton Keynes. Now, I don’t know whether there was a pre-existing place of that name on what is now the site of the current town. I don’t think there was. So whoever thought of the name may have had ideas of Paradise to come up with the first part. Maybe the suffix was an acknowledgment of the great economist. I prefer to think that whoever invented it had recently visited Horsted Keynes in East Sussex. There, he or she spent lazy summer days walking through cornfields and pasture with the only interruption coming from the whistle and rhythmic puffing of the engines on the Bluebell Railway. This was the image the town planner had in mind when setting out to construct what has turned out to be an even bigger and even less inspiring collection of houses, shops and offices. How about my recent temporary location, Cedar City? It has no cedars on view and is not big enough to be a city. And, for good measure, it makes Milton Keynes look like paradise.

There are others that evoke stronger images. North of here lie Moab and Monticello. Moab suggests it was established for outcasts. Maybe there was an apostate wing of the Latter Day Saints, who were expelled from Salt Lake City after falling out with Brigham the Bigamist and decided to set up there. Monticello sits snugly in the valley below Manti-Sal, an old volcanic cone rising above the surrounding Colorado plateau like a pimple on a teenage chin ( have I used that one before about Mt Hood? ). ‘Mountain of string quartets playing gently in the evening’ is what it says to me. Ooh-aah, lovely. South of here is Bluff. I hope it was called Bluff by the gun-slinger who first settled down there, able to do so because he won a huge pot in a game of poker holding only a nine-high while his opponent folded a pair of kings.

Nowhere I have stayed, however, is quite so well named as Blanding. I have met some locals but only had the briefest of exchanges. They are honest, well-meaning, religious and industrious people. But, come on, loosen up a bit. When the top action in town on a Saturday night, like last night, was to be found in the local Subway outlet, when the nearest thing to architecture is the local information centre ( discounting the obvious relative grandness of the LDS church building ), when 90% of the commercial land use is motels, garages and fast food outlets, and when the top story in the local newspaper is that someone’s fence has burned down, it can only be described as bland.

I did get to Blanding First Baptist Church today. There were about 40 in the congregation. A couple of large families ( 11 children between them ) and the rest a collection of the halt, lame and Navajo, in some cases a combination of two of those and in a couple of cases a full house. I had to introduce myself, inevitably, at the beginning of the largely informal service. This was led by pastor Mike, a cattle farmer, who calls himself a cowboy, from Cortez, 60 miles away. The service followed familiar lines, with some songs and then the word was preached. There is no pianist but they use CDs of songs being sung by the pros and the congregation joins in. It wasn’t too bad. My Jeff Lucas bible-notes this a.m. were about Luke 5^1-8 and James 1^22-25. Oddly enough, so was pastor Mike’s message. I didn’t mention it but have the feeling that I should go back over what is there and be very specific in applying it to myself. They were all very welcoming and I lingered for a cup of coffee. The couple I spoke to, John and Abigail were renegade LDS. This has caused a huge issue in their families. Life does get difficult where religious beliefs are concerned, doesn’t it? I know what I believe is right but then so does the Mormon, Muslim and Jew. All the men in the church were wearing jeans. It is the material of choice for 90% of occasions but I was a bit surprised. John explained that it was a badge of honour as jeans are not allowed in many LDS churches. They don’t feel comfortable wearing them on Sunday, after being brought up not to do so but are determined to make it a statement.

I then drove 50 miles or so to the Natural Bridges National Monument and I am very glad I did. It does not qualify as a full National Park because it isn’t big enough but the landforms were, once again, well worth the effort in getting to them. Within a couple of miles of canyon floor are Three Bridges. Not the ones from Sussex, always abbreviated to ‘Bridges’ when referring to them. No, these are 3 natural spans across canyons. It is a bit of an effort to climb back up from the canyon floor each time ( the canyon is impassable in places ) having seen them but these are top landforms and so it was well worth the mileage. There is a whole piece to write about the iconic nature of bridges and why we think they are good things but these natural ones seem to cock a snook at the efforts mankind has made to show how clever we are at overcoming big obstacles like rivers. They have a beauty all of their own and put anything man-made in total shade.

It was sunny all day but there is a definite chill in the air. I have almost forgotten that I am currently nearly 2000m above sea level ( as I have been ever since Mt St Helens, incidentally ) but morning frost is now a regular event and the first snow of winter cannot be far off. It looks like it won’t happen while I am in town, however, which is just as well as the Hyundai Elendra is not built for those conditions.

Last big drive tomorrow. So far 3,500 miles in 13 days.