New year academically started

I had a new year's resolution. Two! Get me a proper mining helmet, and new glasses. The last pair had scratched lenses, a frame I found increasingly cumbersome, and as if it wanted to signal its wish for retirement it recently lost one nose rest. The helmet is still on the to do list, but the glasses-resolution is already all but accomplished. Next week I can go collect it from the optician.

Anyway. I had an old year's resolution too! There are still two Norwegian manuscipts to be finished. The second one needs input from my second author, but the first one I could finalize myself. And I wanted to do that before things got back to hectically normal after the christmas holidays... not a pleasant job, as I can't do all of that at home, and in the holidays the heating in the university buildings is off, and mine seems to be the coldest office there is around here. But science is a demanding lover. I have seen worse.

Just now I sent the manuscript to my second author. Even though I also had to spend time on my Durham presentation. Excellent! In the nick of time. If all goes well I can submit it when I come back to Plymouth after the Durham conference. Not a clean slate yet, but less filthy than before!

The end is nigh!

I've recently talked climate with various people. I'm not particularly optimistic. The more you know the more you get scared, is at least my experience. And it seems the topic still has a hold on me when I don't expect it. Lats night I dreamed a brand new & original doom scenario! The earth was flooded by a meters thick layer of bolognese sauce. And the levels rose quickly... just enough time for us to grab the nearest necessities, and a large plank of wood to serve as a raft. It's that I now have given that idea away on the blog, otherwise I'd have sold it to Hollywood!

New year started well!

I woke up as the sun was already strongly making a point through the curtains that it was a beautiful day. Much too good for writing articles. So up, up, and away, back to Dartmoor! This was the day for the rerun of my previously failed photo tour.

I happened to have been out of fuel again, so I took the same route, along the same petrol station. They only had two functioning hoses! When normally it is tens. Luckily the only fuel they had was stuff my car can digest. Off I was!

I parked near where I had done that the previous time. And then I could knock myself out! I moved incredibly slow, as I took pictures of anything that would not move too fast. There's lots of that. Off all sorts and sizes. Among other things (I took 150 pics!) I found: something alive,

(this was not as it should be: the puppy could not resist chasing sheep out of the world, much to the distress of its embarrased owners...)

something dying or decaying,

something dead,

something wet,

(I still need some practice with underwater photography)

something old,

something cold,

all on something wide.

I had a blast! What a great start of the year. On the way back I had to restrain myself to not park absolutely everywhere where something other decorative could be seen. Which is every ten meter. I let the satnav take me home, and satnavs don't like u-turns, so I went back over another route. So much to see! So much bathing in late afternoon sunlight. 2010 showed a very pretty face!

New year's eve

I had been thinking of spending new year's even on the Moors. A beautiful place to do that! And the weather would be benign. I hadn't be feeling to well lately though, mainly due to not sleeping so well, so when I got an invitation from Jessie to celebrate it at her place I gladly accepted.

There was going to be Indian food, so first I went to the supermarket, bought spices and herbs, and hardly any other ingredients, and tried to make these into a proper dahl. And then I set off.

I had already heard she lives in a nice area in a nice house, but she does indeed! It happened to also be her mum's birthday, so there were about half the world population in relatives present, of which I soon gave up trying to remember the names. I had already heard that both her family and her fiance's were a bunch of characters, so it would be good. Still I was glad that also Louise from geography was there.

It started with smalltalk, food, and Adam making Margarita's. At 11 I could start wishing people a happy new year by text message: Norway and the Netherlands were already there! I forgot a bit that my Tromso friends tend to only have my Norwegian number, so I may have to send some explanation texts after the initial ones, but some managed to guess that it was me.

Very English - the Big Ben doing the countdown!

Between 11 and 12 we started a game. It was doomed from the beginning. At midnight everybody would abandon it. But it was fun! After 15 minutes of arguing we had teams for playing "cranium"; a sort of mixture between charades (hints), pictionary, trivial pursuit, and whistling songs others have to identify (there's no independent game of that as far as I know). It was cool! But then midnight approached. The TV showed us when it hit, and then we went out, saw fireworks, wished each other happy new year, and quite soon went back in again, as it was fairly cold.

Back in, it had become quieter and a bit more intimate.Even the cat dared mingle around that time, something I enjoyed greatly. As the only foreigner I received some of the praise the Dutch generally get regarding their language skills when confronted with those with a world language as a mother tongue, and Lou got some unsettling remarks from people who claimed she sounded as un-English as me. Does she? Anyway, around the cranium-board things got geeky: even though in the game we had not encountered this, you can get the task of molding something from putty, while your team members must guess what it is. And we micropalaeontologists of course started making foraminifera, diatoms, and pollen for each other. With success! We have no reputation to lose, anyway.

Bed called, however, and I freed myself from microfossil putty, friendly people, and the charmingly drooling cat, and went home, underneath the full moon. It would have been beautiful on the Moors! But this was the better idea. Happy new year, everybody!

Tired of caves yet?

Most things stop at christmas, only to restart in January. But not the caving group! Dave deemed it a good time for a photo trip. Not very physically demanding, but it does, of course, lead to lots of pictures. I promise to produce some pictures of other things soon! My blog is starting to become a bit of an auxiliary PCG site.

Finbar and the wall

Anyway. We drove to Gunnislake, changed, and thought Finbar, one of the more experienced cavers, who pointed down a serious wall and said that was where we had to go, was joking. He wasn't. And waders are suboptimal for wall climbing, but it turned out to be fairly straightforward. And in we went! This time taking pictures of any mineral we wanted. Next time I bring a torch, for it's photographically unpleasant to have your light source on top of your head when you try to take a flashless picture.

I thought the other mine was on walking distance from the first, but that was proven wrong. We went back to the car and waited for Dave to lead the way. A bit of a strange drive, as the car behind me was erratically switching between parking light and full beam. It looked like they were signalling something... but later it turned out to be a technical problem.

Neil thought it was hilarious I drove with waders and helmet-with-headlight on

The other mine had a nice old-fashioned low and flooded entrance. Further on it was much easier to navigate, and from time to time decorated by nice coppery dripstone, and flooded shafts down. There also was a shaft up! The powerful pull! Must climb ladder must. But without a slave flash you don't achieve very much. But it was fun. Dave went wild with no fewer than three flashes, occasionally equipped with a colour filter. A caver that was new to me; Sam, and I ventured a bit into another vertical shaft without a ladder, but to my surprise I did not go as far as he did. I'm sensible and responsible! At least, it could be worse. No pics there though, as Dave's flashes were busy elsewhere.

One of the flooded shafts...

...in which I took my first underwater picture ever!

I kept on triggering Dave's flashes- they react to any camera.

At some point it had been enough, and we drove to the nearest pub for a poofy German drink (or, in the case of the other cavers, a drink of a different nature) for some afterfun. Next week I won't be joining the trip, but I have enough pics to keep myself busy.

Christmas in wintery holland

The front pages of all the local newspapers hurled images of crashed cars at anyone who did, or did not, care to look. And I wanted to go to Exeter! And from there fly to the snow-impeded Netherlands. I was scared to drive, which made the decision easy: I had to go by car. Only when driving has become self-evident you don't have to do it anymore. So I was nervous! Forgot my toothbrush, and several other things. But I mounted the satnav and went. And it all went fine! I arrived at the airport without any kind of incident. And could enjoy a comfy chair, a good book, and on the go blogging until the slightly ice-delayed plane would show up. All going well!

The "Koppelpoort" in wintery attire

My first stop tends to be my mother, and this time was no exception. I stayed long enough for two mugs of mulled wine, and then went back to Amsterdam to meet Roelof. It's good to see him so often! Of course there was nice catching up, great food, plenty of alchohol (hics), and 16 Horsepower videos, perfected by additional guitar work of Micha. And of course I went to bed fairly late. And not without consequence! I woke up with a sore throat and a runny nose. After breakfast I took my faltering body to Harderwijk, where I dived headfirst into the chaos caused by my two nephews. The calm conduct of the present adults and my little niece went near unnoticed in that storm. The calmest time was that spent on a game of "kolonisten van Katan", in which all were swept off the board by my sister's husband.

More wintery Amersfoort

After the copious dinner the riot, loosely disguised as my sister's family, left, and I could enjoy a cup of coffee with my father and stepmother. And then it was time to return to Amersfoort, for a quiet Boxing day with my mum. When I arrived she was just in the process of sewing a burqa. People sometimes think I'm strange.

I slept long, and enjoyed a nicely uneventful day. Well almost uneventful; I still had to organise the day after, in which I knew who I would see, but not where and at what time, and that needed to be fixed. This involved contacting Floor. That made me so nervous I immediatley started to send messages to the wrong people, but it all worked out. And a while after the christmas pea soup I went to bed. The next day would be more demanding!

It looks like a very non-descript picture of any part of snowy Netherlands, but it is just outside my birth town Nijkerk

Having breakfast in the train I went to Leiden to meet Frank; a meeting directly resulting from the recent PhD defense. Nothing had changed, really! Well, his kids were hundreds of times bigger now, but beside that all was very familiar. I may become his private shell collector when I'm running around the world poking in salt marshes. I'll try! There's room for improvement in my shell and gastropod knowledge.

Scenery near where Frank lives

The next rendez-vous was the most unnerving. Floor! Who I hadn't seen or spoken with since we broke up. Dripping with cold rain I stumbled into the pub that would be the stage for this encounter, and almost immediately I saw a familiar shape walk in through the other door. Again, nothing had changed! Somehow it was not strange to see him. Due to very crappy live music we decided to go somewhere else. And when we sat down we caught up 1,5 years. He'd lost none of his magic. And I had lost none of the complete null and void I had to offer. So it wasn't really easy, but I'm glad we met again. Maybe next time I'll hear it from him when something major happens in his life.

Castle near where Frank lives

I was glad my next goal was Erik. Good one to catch ladies with shaken hearts! And he did. And of course the evening ended with nerdy things online. New tradition! This time without alcohol; I was still suffering from a general physical not quite well-being, and I went to bed well before Erik did. But I slept well! I could breath through my nose, and that helps.

I did not fly until three, and initially that meant a long morning for social interaction. But my throat had decided otherwise. So I took it easy, felt a bit guilty at the small number of people I had met, bought some cheese, and went to Schiphol, for an uneventful flight back. It was way above zero, so no ice on the roads, so even the drive back was uneventful. That was another christmas! Not my favourite holiday, but seeing family and friends is good. And in only two months I'll be back, to see at least my mum.

Caving can be done modestly

I'm still convinced the Caving group can even top last week's trip. But this week was not the time for it. This time we would keep a low profile, and leasurely walk the even grounds of some local abandoned railway tunnels. I presume they owe their existence to Brunel, but I'm not sure.

Picture by Dave

The tunnels were only a few minutes on biycle away from me. Excellent! No need for cumbersome hauling around of cars. But a completely different challenge this time; as the careful reader might have noticed, I travel to such gatherings in alliance with Neil. And he's a Brit. And the Dutch may not appreciate what a non-biking people the Brits are. It is unbelievable. And though Neil is typical in the sense that I never heard of him in association with a bike, he is atypical in the sense that he has a penchant for doing unusual things that his compatriots tend to discard as uncomfortable and ridiculous. So I offered him the use of my spare bike. And he accepted!

Stared at as if I was the world's most skillful juggler, but a shrieking madwoman in a straightjacket at the same time, I biked with two bikes towards Neil's place. There was time for some tea, and some exchange of caving pictures, before we set off. And it must have been a bit like the trip to Wheal Fanny, but then the other way around; for one of us the transport there was all in a day's work, but the other was out of habitat, and a bit apprehensive. And justly: the roads were icy. Neil pulled off his Plymouth biking debut almost like a Dutchman, though, and without incidents we reached the meeting point, which we recognised by almost colliding with Dave and Dave. Soon afterwards Dave also showed  up, and then the waiting was only for Rupert.

Picture again by Dave. The whole lower row consists of Daves, but the middle one is the one responsible for all the beautiful pictures.

When he appeared we could go. I thought the caving group had keys to all closed off tunnels in the West Country, but that apparently was naive; Dave had brought a ladder, and soon I found out why. We used it for scaling one closed fence, and squeezed through the next, somewhat less carefully closed one. These tunnels were obviously in use by some scoundrels as garbage dumps and places for burning random objects, but a bit further in they were acceptably pristine. In several places the humid climate had teamed up with the mortar to create dripstone formations worth photographing, even within the timespan of British rail traffic.

Dripstone formations as Dave sees them

And as I see them, with my modest camera

My camera could only do so much, but Dave had, as he generally does, brought some slave flashes, and these allowed some overview pictures. In a cave you're nowhere without slave flashes, so in the new year I hope to join the legion of slave commanders. Without that the dark and the often dusty, or drippy, air frustrates many attempts at catching the magical atmospheres.

With a modest camera you develop an eye for detail

At some not too drippy place we, again, settled down for a small christmas celebration. This time the whisky came out! The advantage of being able to bike in. And after having managed to scale these fences again, and making it to the pub, we could add some beer to the whisky. The pub was empty apart from us, the bar lady, and a very charming and playful dog. He liked the game of wrestling for a rubber bone, all jerking and growling and whatnot, a game I like too, so now I think the cavers too think I'm mad, but well, I might just as well get used to that.

We had biked in, yet we did not bike out. The other cavers thought the amount of ice on the road was such that we shouldn't. How that means driving cars is reponsible is lost on me, but all these Daves (and Rupert) get away wth it anyway. So one Dave drove the bikes to my place, while we hitched a ride with the other two Daves. Very luxurious! Caving for ladies and gentlemen this week. The new year will bring more of the barbaric version, I trust!