Monthly Archives: May 2023

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Chance – but brief – encounters of a special kind

Have you ever bumped into an old acquaintance, even a relative, who you haven’t seen for a long time, just by chance?

This has happened to me on several occasions. The planets must have been in an appropriate alignment.

It was 1969. I was an undergraduate student at the University of Southampton, studying for a BSc degree in Environmental Botany and Geography. On one of the infrequent occasions that I actually used the university library (I burnt the candle at one end more than the other), I was leaving the building on my way to grab a bite to eat, when two young women who I didn’t know asked if I would like to buy a raffle ticket for the city-wide student rag events and charities.

I happily coughed up, and having thanked me, they turned to walk away. But I had to stop them. During our brief encounter, I’d had a very strong feeling that I knew one of them. Not only that, but we were related. How odd. I couldn’t let them walk away without asking.

I turned to the one with very long, almost black hair and asked: ‘Is your surname Jackson?‘ Her jaw dropped, and she replied ‘Yes‘. ‘Then‘, said I, ‘I think your name is Caroline and you’re my cousin [daughter of my dad’s younger brother Edgar]’. And, of course it was Caroline.

I had last seen her around the summer of 1961 or 1962 when my parents and I took our caravan to the New Forest (west of Southampton) and met up with my Uncle Edgar and his wife Marjorie, and cousins Timothy and Caroline.

L-R: Caroline, Timothy, me, and Barley the labrador, and my mum in the background talking to her brother-in-law Edgar, and Marjorie.

It wasn’t until the summer of 2008 that I met her again, when Steph and I joined Caroline’s eldest brother Roger at a special steam event in Wiltshire.

After Southampton, I began my graduate studies in genetic conservation and potato taxonomy at the University of Birmingham. One of my classmates the following academic year, Dave Astley, was, for several years, the research assistant of our joint PhD supervisor, Professor Jack Hawkes.

In January 1973 I joined the International Potato Center (CIP) in Lima, Peru. By August, Steph and I were settled in a larger two bedroom apartment on Avda. Larco in the commercial Miraflores district of Lima, close by the Pacific Ocean. So, the following January, Dave stayed with us for a few days before continuing on to Bolivia where he joined a potato germplasm expedition led by Jack Hawkes.

By 1976, Steph and I had moved to Costa Rica, where I was CIP’s regional leader for Mexico, Central America, and the Caribbean. In early 1980, I was returning from a trip to the Dominican Republic, and transiting overnight in Miami. Joining one of the (interminable) immigration queues, I looked over to my right and, lo and behold to my surprise, Dave was just a couple of passengers ahead of me in the parallel queue. He had just flown in from the UK, on his way to Bolivia, his second expedition there. He had a connecting flight, and once we were both through immigration we only had about 15 minutes to chat before he had to find his boarding gate. What a coincidence!

During that expedition in Bolivia, Dave collected a new species of Solanum that was described by Hawkes and his Danish colleague Peter Hjerting in 1985 and named after Dave as Solanum astleyi (right, from JG Hawkes and JP Hjerting, 1989, The Potatoes of Bolivia, Fig. 22, p. 206. Oxford University Press).

In 1991, I resigned from the University of Birmingham where I had worked for the previous decade as a lecturer in the Department of Plant Biology and joined the International Rice Research Institute (IRRI) in the Philippines as Head of the Genetic Resources Center (GRC)

I made my first visit to China in March 1995, accompanied by one of my colleagues in GRC, Dr Lu Bao-Rong, a Chinese national who had just completed his PhD in Sweden before starting at IRRI in 1993 as a rice taxonomist/cytogeneticist in GRC.

With my colleague, Lu Bao-Rong (middle) on the Great Wall, north of Beijing, and a staff member from the Institute of Botany, Chinese Academy of Sciences.

The first part of our trip took us to Beijing (followed by visits to Hangzhou and Guangzhou). And it was while we were in Beijing that I had my third unexpected encounter.

I think it must have been our last night in Beijing. Our hotel had a very good restaurant serving delicious Sichuan cuisine (Bao-Rong’s native province), and after dining, Bao-Rong and I retired to the hotel bar for a few beers. The bar was on a raised platform with a good view over the hotel foyer and main entrance.

I happened to casually glance towards the foyer and saw, I thought, someone I knew heading for the restaurant. Curiosity didn’t kill the cat, but I had to find out. And sure enough, it was that person: Dr Trevor Williams, who supervised my MSc dissertation on lentils in 1971, and who left the University of Birmingham in 1976 to join the International Board for Plant Genetic Resources (IBPGR) in Rome. The last time I saw Trevor as a Birmingham faculty member was in 1975 when I returned there to complete my PhD dissertation and graduate.

Graduation Day at the University of Birmingham, 12 December 1975. With my PhD supervisor Professor Jack Hawkes on my right, and MSc dissertation supervisor Dr Trevor Williams on my left.

I met him again in 1989 at IBPGR, which had approved a small grant to enable a PhD student of mine from the Canary Islands to collect seeds of a forage legume there as part of his study. And also later that same year when he attended the 20th anniversary celebration of the MSc Course on Conservation and Utilisation of Plant Genetic Resources.

Trevor Williams planting a medlar tree with Professor Ray Smallman, Dean of the Science and Engineering Faculty at the University of Birmingham.

However, by 1990, Trevor had left IBPGR and was working out of Washington, DC, helping to set up the International Network for Bamboo and Rattan (INBAR, now the International Bamboo and Rattan Organization) that was founded in Beijing in 1997. And that’s how our paths came to cross.

Lastly, I had an encounter last year with someone who I hadn’t seen for 63 years.

I was born in Congleton, Cheshire in 1948 and until 1956, when my family moved to Leek (about 12 miles away), my best friend from our toddler years was Alan Brennan who lived a few doors away on Moody Street. Although we made contact with each other in recent years (he found me through this blog) we never met up.

At the end of April last year, Steph and I visited the National Trust’s Quarry Bank mill, just south of Manchester, on our way north from a week’s holiday in the New Forest. Making our way to the mill entrance, we crossed paths with a couple with a dog. I took no notice, but just as we passed, the man called me by name. It was Alan, and his wife Lyn. He recognised me from a recent photo on the blog!

L-R: Steph, me, Alan, and Lyn

Neither of us had too much time to catch up unfortunately. Alan and Lyn were coming to the end of their visit to Quarry Bank (essentially just down the road from Congleton where they still live), and we had yet to look round the cotton mill before completing the remainder of our journey north, around 170 miles. But the planets were definitely lined up on that day. What were the chances that we’d be in the same place at the same time – and actually meet?

So, there you have it. Chance but brief encounters close to home and on the other side of the globe. It really is a small world.

 

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I’m not religious, and . . .

. . . I no longer hold any religious beliefs. I shed those almost six decades ago.

But Steph and I do enjoy exploring many of the fine—awesome even—churches, abbeys, and priories that were constructed centuries ago by Christian communities to reflect ‘the glory of their omnipotent God’.

On the map below I have marked those we have visited over the years. Each icon is accompanied by several photos, and links to websites, my own blog posts and/or photo albums, where you will find much more information.

Ruins have a blue marker; churches that are still open have a purple one. Cathedrals are marked dark red for those we’ve actually been inside, whereas those viewed from a distance are marked yellow. One 16th century religious curiosity, Rushton Triangular Lodge, has a black icon.

There are also three pagan sites on the map that pre-date Christianity by centuries if not millennia, shown with green icons.

Most of the monasteries and priories were founded by the Cistercians, the Benedictines, and Augustinians among others in the immediate centuries following the Norman invasion of England in 1066.

During the Dissolution of the Monasteries enacted by Henry VIII between 1536 and 1541 many of these communities were disbanded and their assets claimed by the Crown or handed willy-nilly to allies of the King. We only see their ruins today, some more intact than others, but all leaving an impression of what they must have looked like in their heyday.

Fortunately many of the great cathedrals still stand proudly. It never ceases to amaze me—inspire even—just what it took to build these impressive edifices, up to a thousand years ago. Take late 12th century Wells Cathedral, for example.

Some are more recent. For example, St Paul’s (below) in London was designed by Sir Christopher Wren in the late 17th century after the Great Fire of September 1666 had destroyed the original church. It survived the London Blitz during World War II.

In Liverpool, there are two 20th century cathedrals: Anglican and Catholic. The former took 74 years to complete between 1904 and 1978. The latter, a very modern design, opened in 1967 after six years. Another recent cathedral is Coventry (designed by Sir Basil Spence), which opened in 1962 and stands beside the bombed-out ruins of the original cathedral.

Since we became members of the National Trust and English Heritage in 2011, we have visited many of the ruined abbeys and priories under their care. Here in the northeast of England where we now live, there are many ruined abbeys and priories, as well as several early Anglo-Saxon chapels still in use. After all, the ancient Kingdom of Northumbria was a cradle of Christianity in these islands.

Since there is so much more information in the map links, let me just focus on one ruined abbey and two churches that have particularly caught my attention.

Standing beneath a steep slope in a secluded valley of the River Rye in the North York Moors, Rievaulx Abbey is surely one of the best. It is managed today by English Heritage.

Rievaulx Abbey
The south face of the Refectory
The Day Room
The South Transept from the southeast
The North and South Transepts either side of the Crossing from the Nave
Tiers of gothic windows
Flying buttresses on the north side
View of the Abbey from Rievaulx Terrace
View of the Abbey from Rievaulx Terrace

It was the first Cistercian abbey founded in this country in 1132 by twelve monks from Clairvaux Abbey in northeast France. It was closed during the Dissolution in 1538.

What an impressive building, made even more so by its location. From Rievaulx Terrace above, you can get a bird’s-eye view of the whole site.

In the heart of the Gloucestershire countryside in the village of Kempley, the little Church of St Mary’s is an absolute jewel. Built in the late 12th century, it has some of the most exquisite Romanesque fresco paintings. It really is remarkable that they have survived all these centuries given the vandalism that occured during Henry VIII’s reign and afterwards. We visited in May 2015, and I had intended to return one day, but now that we are based in the northeast, that seems less likely. Nevertheless, this small church has left me a lasting impression. It is certainly worth a detour if you are ever in the vicinity.

The north wall with its paintings of the Wheel of Life, and those of St Anthony of Egypt and St Michael and the Virgin, either side of window.
Frescoes at St Mary’s Church, Kempley

Lastly, I have chosen St. Michael and All Angels Church, Great Witley, surely Britain’s finest baroque church. It stands next to the burnt out ruins of Witley Court in Worcestershire.

Completed in 1735, it was originally quite plain inside. However, in 1747, it underwent a remarkable transformation when the owner of Witley Court, the 2nd Baron Foley acquired furnishings, paintings, and stained glass windows from Cannons House that was demolished by the 2nd Duke of Chandos and its contents sold. You can read more about the church’s history here.

Well, those are my three choices. Take a look at the map and see if you agree. They are all special in so many ways. And I always come away with my spirits uplifted, but without religious experience per se.

 

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Black harvest from the sea

The weather has been none too kind in recent weeks here in the northeast of England. And there hasn’t been much incentive for getting out and about. On top of that, I’m suffering from a very painful bout of sciatica that is severely restricting my mobility. At least until the pain medication I was prescribed has kicked in.

A couple of days ago, the day dawned bright and sunny, although none too warm. But, for once, my medication did its job quite quickly, which has not been my general experience. So we decided to head up the coast to one of our favorite beaches at Cresswell, and one of the first we explored after we arrived here in the northeast at the back end of 2020.

Cresswell beach in November 2020.

Just 17 miles north from our home in North Tyneside, the drive to Cresswell Beach took just under half an hour.

The beach lies at the southern end of the much larger Druridge Bay, with rocky outcrops at the northern and southern ends, just under a mile apart. Above the tide line there is a stretch of soft sand, and behind the beach a low-lying cliff, perhaps 10m high, with interesting limestone and coal strata exposed.

On the occasions we have visited, there have been just a few people taking a stroll, walking the dog. But I guess in high summer it can get quite busy on a sunny, warm day, as there is a holiday park (with static caravans) just across the road from the beach.

Here’s another view, filmed from the rocks at the southern end (you can see the nearby Lynemouth power station just south of the beach, and in the far distance the five turbine wind farm off Seaton Sluice beach) and panning round to view Druridge Bay to the north.

Behind the rock platform at the southern end, it appears that the cliff was once excavated (behind Steph in the image below) and perhaps  accessible at high tide as a small quay.

While there is a lovely stretch of clear, yellow sand along the beach, at both ends of the beach there are patches of what appear to be—at first glance—black sand. On closer inspection, it’s clear that the black grains are not sand but COAL!

This coal, derived from erosion of the coals seems on the beach and out to sea, is actually collected. There are larger pieces the size of small gravel.

In fact, while we were there on an earlier visit, one man had driven on to the north end of the beach  on his quad bike, scooping up bucketfuls of the coal.

At the southern end, near the ‘quay’ I asked one ‘coalman’ what he used the coal for. He told me that he heated his shed and greenhouse since it was a free and plentiful source.

Sea coaling at Lynemouth, south of Cresswell.

It seems there is quite a long tradition of collecting sea coal on the Northumberland coast.

Coal is abundant along the coast. Just a mile or two north from Cresswell, the government eventually rejected the development of a large open cast mine behind Druridge Bay, where coal had been mined in the past. In fact several important wildlife reserves have been opened on former open cast sites.

And while doing some background reading for this blog, I came across this other blog.

Just click on the image above to open an interesting post about a feature on Cresswell beach, just north of where we visited. There’s a submerged forest and tree stumps are exposed at low tide.

Now that’s a good enough reason to return to Cresswell before too long.

And while our visit to Cresswell was not primarily for bird-watching, we were very lucky in some of our sightings. Skimming along the cliffs and beach, sand martins were very active, and nesting. Along with five fulmars sitting on a ledge and squabbling. A lone curlew hugged the crest of the waves as it flew down the beach, and out to sea we saw a lone eider duck. Pied wagtails were flitting around the beach.

Sand martin
Fulmars
Curlew
Eider
Pied wagtail

But the greatest surprise, while we were enjoying a picnic lunch overlooking the beach, was a lone male stonechat that alighted on a bush on the cliff edge just in front of us and in full sunlight. What a magnificent little bird it is.

All bird photos used courtesy of Barry Boswell.