Compulsory helmet?

A cyclist died on the London roads. It can't have been the first time. This cyclist, though, was run over by an Olympic bus full of media people. So his sad demise got a lot of attention. And immediately, Bradley Wiggins jumps up and claims helmets should be made compulsory. A bit premature; when he said that it wasn't clear yet if this cyclist had been wearing one.

From the BBC news website

On the same day this was in the news, David Cameron attracted attention by biking to work while not wearing a helmet. Is that bad? Does it mean he sets a bad example? The Guardian website asked if we, readers, think wearing a bicycle helmet should be made compulsory. (And the question has already been described as a diversion, elsewhere on the Guardian website!)

From the Guardian website. Picture: Lewis Whyld/PA

I wondered if I should reply. I am Dutch, so my first reaction was "no of course not! That's ridiculous! Nanny state!" but then I thought a bit longer, and had to admit to myself that a bike helmet does not have any real big disadvantages, and it may save lives. So why I am being so opposed? It shows the power of what you're used to. If what I grew up with is objectively a bad thing, I should be able to abandon it.

But then I thought a bit further. Maybe I should just stop being so Dutch and wear that helmet. I own one! It tends to spend its time gathering dust. I don't wear it for these few traffic-low minutes of daily commuting. It does come out for serious rides, especially those that involve 1) hollow, winding , narrow country roads with lots of blind curves 2) steep slopes.

But then the question of making it compulsory. I think the UK could do with much more biking; this nation is alarmingly unfit and obese, and biking more would lessen that. And shrouding the advantages of biking in patronising legislation might keep people from taking to this lovely activity. How many people would be saved from death by a bicycle helmet? And how many would be deterred from biking by a helmet law? And how many of these would die of obesity-related causes? And how many would not, if only they biked more? And how does that compare?

I think it might be so difficult to answer that second and third question we can never compare. But I could try asking "more or less"! If anyone has a chance of figuring this out it's them. And until that time I might ponder what would happen if you not only made the helmet, but also the bike compulsory...

Interesting times

How many people would be stuck in a rut? Get up in the morning, commute to the job you have had for years and will probably have for years more, commute back, get a beer from the fridge, and drink that while watching TV. Many, I suppose. But not in north India in the beginning of this week. It's hard to imagine such a large black-out. The light doesn't work, the train doesn't ride, your computer is dead, you can't charge your phone anymore. The fridge thaws and the radio is dead. And you can't go and charge your phone at the neighbours', as they have no power either. If you have loved ones in hospital, you had better keep your fingers crossed their generators hold out. It must be very unreal. I don't know if the Indians take anything for granted; they may not, as in their very country there still is much deep, deep poverty. But still; this must have shaken them up a bit. If this happens to us in the west we will probably struggle to cope. We're not used anymore to making do with little!

Could it happen here? I suppose so. More bodies we thought would never collapse actually did. I remember thinking that this was it, when we got the Euro. I had no idea the system would keel over dangerously only about ten years later. I didn't think big banks would fall over. It all happened. The Euro might vanish altogether, and who knows what sort of damage that does. And in the meantime China is storming ahead. In the US the farmers see their crops wither on the sun-beaten fields; would that happen more often? Quite possible. In the UK (and beyond) the harvests were threatened by heavy and persistent rain. The west might have to learn humility again. Can we keep up the level of prosperity we have? Maybe not. Probably not, actually. Maybe we will go back to times of mass unemployment, soup kitchens and whatnot.

Am I scared? Yes. I'm a bit of a smiling hippy; I'm not strategic, nor am I ruthless. My professional skills are only useful in a highly developed society. And we're not likely to end up back in the Stone Age, but we could easily find ourselves in a mess similar to that of, say, Greece or Spain. If there is no money, who will pay a micropalaeontologist? And for a micropalaeontologist I don't do very badly on more down-to-Earth activities; I'm actually quite good at crawling through mud, for instance! But these are not the skills that will keep you going in a collapsed society, and even if they were; I might outdo other academics, but will I outdo people who have been down to Earth all their lives? Not likely.

In a way though, all this does mean I can only win. I hope you'll agree with me there are two options: either society collapses during my lifetime, or it doesn't. If it doesn't I'll probably lead a rather comfortable life (at least by global standards). If it does, well, that will be truly historical, and I'm academic enough to think that would be very interesting to witness!

Turn a mine into a cave

Dripstone and flowstone everywhere! Pristinely white and with big crystals. When you see that, you're generally in a cave, but this time we found it in a mine. Amazing!

A fellow member of the Trevitchick society had several mine shafts in his back garden. The lucky guy! He hadn't been inside yet. But we was quite willing to give the PCG fanatics the opportunity to have a look instead. And he was willing to show us a few more on the land of some neighbour (who agreed with this, by the way).

The first shaft was both flooded and likely collapsed. That wasn't a winner. After having also seen the engine house of the first mining phase, the engine and boiler house and chimney of the second mining phase, endless amounts of overgrown waste tips and many roaming cats, and after a coffee (thanks!) we went to the shaft that was promising. It was surrounded by a thick layer of brambles and stinging nettles that normally kept people out, but we wrestled through. And soon Lionel (who else?) was dangling in the shaft. He had to do some extreme gardening; ivy had had free rein for decades, and we had to remove some big chunks of it, in order to avoid they would later fall on our heads. And then he was down!

Lionel battling vegetation while dangling in the shaft

Soon I was too. There were several levels leading away from the shaft! This was promising. Lionel went one way; I went the other. I found not only a dead frog and a dead mouse but also a dead end. And a tunnel sloping up, leading only back to the shaft. So on my side there wasn't much to see.

 Clambering back to the shaft brought me face to face with Hugh, who just came down the rope!

Then we tried Lionel's way. He had gone in and noticed the beautiful flowstones. Dripstone formations tend to be yellow, red and brown, and a bit chocolaty of structure, in mines; these were virginally white and made up of large crystals, like you normally see in caves. Very beautiful!

Me taking my kit off (as Dave pointed out) while not falling into the flooded winze.

After only a few metres we encountered a flooded winze. On the other side it didn't seem to go, but one is never sure until one checks; I clambered over the water, and saw I could had a chance of getting through. I was still wearing my climbing harness and all the dangly metal that comes with it; I had better get rid of that first. So still suspended above the water I got out of all that (not dropping anything vital into the water, luckily) and squeezed through. It only got more beautiful! There were the usual deads stacked up (rocks of mine waste, piled up to get them out of the way), and bits of wood that had fallen down the shaft, but all was caked in white icing.

The deads all coated in icing

Nice big crystals!

When I could stand up I saw a hole in the ceiling. Hmm! Should I go through? I noticed I could, so I did. And of course Lionel followed. It wasn't easy for him to squeeze his much broader shoulders through, but he managed. We saw that the level I had ended up in went back to above where Dave and Hugh were waiting. And then over their heads back to the shaft. We decided to go that way; that lessened the chance of us damaging the pretty crystals. And then we went back out.

Lionel tries to get through the squeeze

Nearer the shaft the icing was brown

There was a little shrew in the mine; we tried to bring it up with us, but it kept slipping from between our fingers...

Was that it? No! We then cleaned our kit, and walked through a tunnel that took a stream through the old mine terrain. Then we changed, had a look at two other shafts we may do in the near future, and at the other industrial relics associated with them such as engine houses, chimneys, and waterwheel pits. We then tried to upload the picture we had taken onto our host's computer, and had a look at a explosives plant that was, sensibly, located some distance away from the rest of the mine. And then it was time to head home! That had been quite some industrial archaeology in only one day...

Leisure on Bodmin

The email just read "There is to be a five hour guided walk on the archaeology of the area of Bodmin Moor North West of North Hill. This Saturday 28^th July, meet at 1000 just West of North Bowda Farm, SX 2450 7740." Lionel, who had sent it, had been characteristically concise. The walk was organised by the Caradon Hill Area Heritage Project. I thought it might be fun!

Hugh thought so too, so on a Saturday morning we drove over s mall country road, and knew we had reached our destination when we saw many parked cars, and a horde of white heads. Archeological walks (and talks) tend to be attended by the somewhat elder fraction of the population. We joined them.

We walked up the hill. We saw the half-wild horses cavorting. We walked down to a stone circle: this would be most of the archeology we would see. And hear about. Most of it was just a stroll past (and through) streams, over hills, past ruined buildings, and past flowery swamps. It was a lovely, leisurely day!

The company

The horses were feisty; at least, some of them.

The stone circle

Sunny fields

Summer on Bodmin

Intrepid explorers: Hugh, Lionel, Lionel's friend John, and our guide, Angus

Two curious horses that made friends with many of us, including the Rottweiler. Just not me...

Charming abandoned farmhouse with ivy roof

Research and/or communication

Science is a more than full time job. Science communication might be too. I want to shift the balance  in the direction of the latter, but that poses the problem that time spent on science communication is time not spent on generating science. So in a way, in order to be good at one you have to be shit at the other. I haven't really figured out the balance yet. And in these economic times it's not advisable to be shit at things. Difficult! But stay tuned; I'll keep trying. Next up should be a blog post on Greenlandic ice on the science blog! (And here it is!)

On the beach

Technically speaking, this is a caving blog post. But we were underground with a fast-moving group, and I had forgotten to bring my tripod. These two factors lead to me not taking many pictures underground. And above ground, the scenery was stunning! So this blog post contains almost exclusively sunny, beachy pictures.

We wanted to visit some easy to reach mines; one of the guys was recovering from a broken arm, and didn't want to have to dangle from ropes. I thought we would just walk into to entrances, take a few pictures, and walk out again. But that was naive.

Were were only five, and a small dog; it has featured on this blog before. When we walked down to the beach to find the first entrance I was very glad I'd come. What a beautiful place! Especially in this weather. Unfortunately, the tide was too high to get to the entrance dry; I just decided to do it the wet way, and had some fun looking at the men trying to balance over the rocks, carrying the dog. We all made it!

This is how the coast greeted us

It's a steep path down.

When will the tide drop enough?

If you manage to clamber over the rock, with or without dog on your shoulders, you don't need to wait for the tide!

The mine entrance was inside a huge sea cave. The cave alone was worth visiting! And we hadn't seen nothing yet! The mine soon surprised us with a triple junction. And behind that triple junction more triple junctions. And places where you could climb up! Or slide down a hole! This was a veritable playground. I was a bit worried about the recently broken arm, but the chap was fine. We had a great time. Including the dog, who found all sorts of toys; a float in the sea cave, rocks everywhere, a stick in the entrance chamber, and even a 2 litre plastic bottle. Ever wondered how much noise a small dog makes when it plays football with a large empty bottle in an echoing space? No? Well, it is a lot!

The entrance, under an impressive cliff

Once inside the sea cave it's time to put a helmet on and start exploring!

Pretty colours

When we came out we had a sandwich in the sun. And then we went on to the second venue. We thought. It turned out we found a third; we passed small entrance, and had a look, as we were there anyway. Immediately behind the entrance there was a flooded winze; that had stopped everybody so far. But if they're flooded they're not so scary; I managed to scurry through it. That triggered one of the guys: he managed ta walk along the narrow edge. I walked on, and found a much scarier winze further on; I didn't want to cross that without a rope. That did it: now everybody wanted to see. The rope was first used to get everybody past the first winze, and then for ascending some climb. And completely ignored for the winze, that we all crossed like that. Shortly after the winze, the level came to a dead end, but we had had fun.

The dog has a Zen moment during lunch

Now it was really time to go to the, eh, second venue. This one had its entrance on a scree slope; not so scenic, and not so comfortable, but it was a pretty little mine and I'm glad we visited it. We walked over a sandy beach to a path up the cliff; we stood out a bit amid the more traditionally (un-)clad beach guests; especially me, in my caving overall and my helmet still on. (It took the role of sun glasses!) The whole walk up was another feast of photo opportunities. I might start to like beaches! It had been a splendid day!

If you look closely you can see the entrance, in the shadow, about 1/3 from the left, more than halfway up the cliff, and the two little figures on the lower part of the scree slope

The charming cliff path we took to get back up

No freedom for batteries

My car is 18 years old. It might burn oil, so I try to check the oil levels regularly. And that's a good thing! Looking for low oil levels, you might find other things worth knowing.

The last time I checked revealed a different defect on the car. The wire with which one opens the bonnet had  apparently rusted into place; trying to lift the lever resulted in this lever breaking off. Not good! And by sheer coincidence I had driven over a bumpy road too, thereby dislodging the exhaust, and pulled the rear view mirror off the windscreen. So instead of checking oil I went to the garage. And beside fixing the other issues, they lubricated the wire and replaced the lever. That should make checking for oil much easier!

Lubrication doesn't last, though; when trying to open the bonnet again the wire again resisted; I feared I would break off the new lever as well. I was about to meet Lionel so I decided to try again in his presence, as he is much more knowledgeable on cars than I am. He managed to open the bonnet without breaking the lever, opened the bonnet, and to my surprise said "your battery has slipped!" My battery slipped?

I looked too. The battery, which is supposed to be mounted on its little platform, was dangling in mid-air. Whatever had kept it mounted must have fallen off! I could imagine this could have ended badly. Toxic objects that can deliver powerful electric shocks should not move around freely. I'm glad we saw it before things went wrong.

One assumes these holes in the battery's platform are supposed to hold bolts of some sort... 

I didn't take a picture when we found it dangling, and I didn't want to re-enact the scene.

I happened to have a strap in my boot, and we provisionally fixed the battery in position. I think I have to make another trip to the garage... I can fix objects in position, but maybe I should let this be done by professionals. And then they can lubricate the bonnet wire again too!