Traveling for 55 years

I have been very fortunate. There’s no denying. Since I made my first trip outside the UK, to the west coast of Ireland for a botany field course in July 1968, followed a year later, in September 1969 to participate in a folk festival in Czechoslovakia, I’ve had so many opportunities to travel around the globe—to more than 60 countries (sometimes on vacation, but mostly on business associated with my work in international agricultural research).

Morris dancing at the folk festival in Strakonice, Czechoslovakia in 1969. That’s me on the extreme right.

I’ve lived and worked in three countries (besides the UK of course): Peru (1973-76); Costa Rica (1976-1980); and the Philippines (1991-2010). I’ve visited several countries multiple times, and others just the once. Whenever I was traveling on business, I would also try to fit in some tourism over a weekend if possible. I have so many memories over those 55 years. Here are some that spring to mind.

The Americas
I guess I should begin this section with Peru. In 1971 I was thrilled to be offered a job in Peru, at the newly-founded International Potato Center (CIP), although I didn’t actually travel there until January 1973.

13 October 1973

So many memories. Steph and I were married in Lima in October 1973.

My work took me all over the Andes collecting native varieties of potatoes (and some of the hundreds of wild species of potato that are indigenous to Peru). And Steph and I made several road trips to the north, central, and southern Andes. I visited Machu Picchu twice, and we saw some remarkable sights and sites.

It’s almost impossible to choose any one aspect that stands out. The diversity of landscapes, with desert on the coast, the high Andes, and the jungle on the eastern side. The long history of agriculture in difficult environments, and the archaeology of civilizations that go way back before the invasion by the Spanish in the 16th century.

Then we moved to Costa Rica in April 1976, living in Turrialba, about 70 km east of the capita, San José. Once again I was working on potatoes and with farmers.

We enjoyed our five years in that beautiful country, and our elder daughter Hannah was born there in April 1978.

A land of volcanoes (some very active), Costa Rica is a verdant country, and there are national parks everywhere. The bird and plant life is extraordinary, so I guess this is what stands out for me in particular.

My work took me to all the countries of Central America, as well as to Mexico where, until 1977, CIP’s regional headquarters was based just outside Mexico City at Toluca. And also out into the Caribbean islands, to Haiti and the Dominican Republic, to Jamaica, St Kitts, Antigua, Montserrat, Barbados, and Trinidad.

In Mexico, most of my visits were to Toluca. But on one visit there, I joined the participants of a potato training course to study potato production in Mexico State, Michoacán, Puebla, Jalisco, and Guanajuato. Later, in the 1980s I also visited Nuevo Leon in the north, and Morelos south of Mexico City.

But if I had to choose one highlight, it would be the pyramids at Teotihuacán, northeast of Mexico City that Steph and visited in 1975 when we visited some friends at CIMMYT (a sister center to CIP) on our way back to the UK.

Guatemala is a fascinating and beautiful country, and I was a regular visitor. A land of lakes and volcanoes, it has a high indigenous population, who wear the most colorful fabrics.

In 1977, Steph and I flew into the Mayan city of Tikal, deep in the jungle, for an overnight stay.

On another trip I spent a few days in Belize, first in Belize City on the coast, then in Belmopan, the smallest capital city in the Americas.

The overriding memory I have of Honduras was the white-knuckle landings in Tegucigalpa. How they managed to land jets there is beyond me. What pilot skill!

I visited El Salvador and Nicaragua just once each, and then only overnight. They had virtually no potato sector.

Flying in and out of Panama City was quite a regular occurrence. It was a transit for Costa Rica from South America. The main potato area was in the west of the country near the frontier with Costa Rica (map), north of the city of David at Volcán and Boquete. A region of deep volcanic soils, it was very good potato-growing country, and one I traveled to by road from my base in Turrialba on a couple of occasions.

Potato fields in Boquete, northern Panama

It was only after I moved to the Philippines in 1991 that my work took me back to Costa Rica for the first time in about 15 years, and one other country, Venezuela, which I’d not visited before although landing at Caracas airport on several occasions. This airport is located on the Caribbean coast north of the city, and is connected by a 27 km motorway that crosses the mountains, a spectacular drive over what I assume is a northern extension of the Andes.

In the 1990s I spent a week in Caracas attending a potato network meeting, but seeing very little of the city, just the metro from hotel to meeting venue and back!

Another international agricultural research center in Cali, Colombia is CIAT (map), supported in the same way as CIP and CIMMYT (and the rice institute, IRRI, in the Philippines, that I joined in 1991). Located in the Cauca Valley, CIAT is surrounded by huge plantations of sugar cane, but the rice-growing area is nearby as well. The last time I was there (and in Peru and Mexico) was in July 2016 conducting a review of the CIAT genebank.

I was in Chile just the once, for a week in Santiago in July 1979. I’d flown down from Costa Rica to join two colleagues from Lima to carry out a short review of the Chilean potato program. Two things come to mind: wine and ABBA. Wine, because we were taken to dinner at Enoteca, a fine restaurant overlooking the city on Camino Real, where all the wines produced in Chile were on display, and we were invited to sample many of them. On one evening, while out enjoying some souvenir shopping, I heard (for the first time) the refrains of Chiquitita by ABBA emitting from one of the shops. My visit to Santiago will always be associated with ABBA.

What can I say about Brazil? It’s huge. My first visit there was in 1979 when I attended a potato conference at Poços de Caldas in Minas Gerais (map), followed by a couple of nights in Rio de Janeiro. On another occasion I attended a conference in Foz do Iguaçu (in Paraná state) close to the border with Argentina and Paraguay, and site of the impressive Iguazu Falls.

I’ve been to Brasilia twice, and once upon a time, that nearly became home for Steph and me when CIP’s Director General deliberated whether to post me to Brazil or the Philippines. In the event we returned to the UK in 1981 when I joined the faculty of the University of Birmingham.

I guess the most impressive thing I’ve experienced in Brazil is the statue of Christ at Corcovado, high above Rio de Janeiro, with the most spectacular views over the city. My dad was there in the 1930s.

I’ve been to Canada twice, the first time in 1979 (with Steph and 15 month-old Hannah) when I attended a potato conference in Vancouver, then we drove across the Rockies to meet up with my late elder brother Ed and his wife Linda in Edmonton, AB.

In the early 2000s, I made a short visit to Ottawa to meet with representatives of Canadian overseas development assistance agencies, and managed to spend a day getting to know the city, before heading back to the USA.

Parliament Hill from the banks of the Ottawa River

Over the decades I’ve traveled to the USA many times, and have now visited all states and DC except Hawaii, Alaska (although one flight touched down in Anchorage), Idaho, Nevada (I changed flights in Las Vegas), Oklahoma, Kansas, North Dakota, Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama. It’s such a vast country, but since 2011, Steph and I have managed several mega road trips and seen so many wonderful sights. It’s hard to pick any one. I have written about these trips and you can find a link here; just scroll down to the USA section).

But what highlights do I choose? The Oregon coast, Crater Lake, or the redwoods of northern California? Or would it be canyon country in Arizona? How about Yellowstone National Park, the Appalachians, the Mississippi River, Mt Washington in New Hampshire, or the coast of Maine? What about the Civil War sites like Gettysburg?

However, I’ve often said since we made the visit there in 2011, that if I ever got the opportunity to return, it would be to Canyon de Chelly in northeast Arizona. It’s a special place.

There’s not a lot of potatoes grown throughout the Caribbean, with only the Dominican Republic having any significant potato program, in the central highlands close to the border with Haiti. The Dominican Republic became one of the founder members of a regional potato program, PRECODEPA, set up in 1978, so I guess I must have traveled there five or six times.

I was just the once in Haiti, in the late 1970s attending a conference for about a week. We stayed in a nice hotel overlooking Port-au-Prince, and ventured out into the city just the once. Even then the city was not a safe place to wander round, and following the disastrous 2010 earthquake followed by the cholera outbreak, the country has become even more ungovernable, and not somewhere I would want to visit again. It’s one of the poorest countries in the Western Hemisphere.

I also paid short visits to Jamaica, St Kitts, Montserrat (which had a small but thriving potato sector before the Soufrière Hills volcano erupted in 1995, covering half the island with ash), Barbados, and Trinidad. Before long-haul jets could make the flight direct from Europe to South America, Antigua was a refuelling stop, which I made a couple of times. And after being being bumped off a flight to Montserrat, I spent the night in Antigua at a luxury resort (the only hotel bed I could find on the island!) and enjoying a delicious lobster dinner for the same price as a steak.

Asia
Let’s turn to Asia now. I spent almost 19 years in the Philippines, joining the International Rice Research Institute (IRRI) in 1991, first as head of the Genetic Resources Center (GRC, and managing the world’s largest genebank for rice) until 2001, when I became the institute’s Director for Program Planning and Communications (DPPC). In both roles my work took me all over the world. But let’s focus on the countries in the region to begin with.

My first trip to Asia, to Indonesia in fact, was in the early 1980s, when I attended a genetic resources meeting in Jakarta, but spending a weekend at the Bogor Botanical Garden beforehand. The oil palm tree on the right below is one of the original trees introduced into Asia and became the foundation of the oil palm industry.

Over the 19 years I spent living in the Philippines, I returned to Indonesia several times, the most memorable being in September 2005 when the IRRI Board of Trustees held one of it bi-yearly meetings there. Steph was able to join me on that trip, and along with excursions into the Bali countryside, we also enjoyed a long weekend break at our hotel before returning to the Philippines.

Bali landscape, Indonesia

In the Philippines, we lived in Los Baños, some 60 km south of Manila, where IRRI had its research center.

On the IRRI experiment station, with Mt Makiling (a dormant volcano) in the background.

Although we didn’t travel much around the Philippines (and apart from one short trip to Cebu, we didn’t wander beyond the island of Luzon), we went to the beach most months, and in March 2009, Steph joined me and my DPPC staff when we took an office outing over five days to the rice terraces in the mountains north of Manila. Very impressive.

Looking south towards Banaue town center.

In 1993 I learnt to scuba dive, one of the best things I’ve ever done, opening up a totally new world for me. The Philippines has some of the best diving in the world, especially at Anilao south of Manila.

Diving at Anilao, Philippines

But one of the best things about the Philippines? The Filipinos! Always smiling. Such friendly people. And I had great Filipino colleagues working with and for me in both the roles I took on at IRRI.

The ‘IRRI All Stars’ who helped during the IRRI Day in October 2002.

Colleagues from the Genetic Resources Center.

In 1995, I launched a major rice biodiversity project (funded by the Swiss government), and one of my staff, Dr Seepana Appa Rao was recruited to help the national rice program in Laos to collect native varieties of rice. Over five years, I visited Laos at least twice a year, taking part several times in a baci ceremony to welcome me to the country, and other visitors as well. Steph joined me on one trip, and here we are during one such ceremony at the house of my colleague, the late Dr John Schiller.

On that particular trip, we took a weekend off, flying to Luang Prabang and enjoying a river trip on the Mekong.

Mekong River, nr. Luang Prabang, Laos

IRRI had a country program in Cambodia, and I visited a couple of times to discuss rice germplasm conservation, and stayed in Phnom Penh. But after Christmas 2000, Steph and I were joined by our younger daughter Philippa (who had just begun her undergraduate studies at the University of Durham in the UK) for a mini-break in Cambodia (and Singapore).

We flew from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap, and spent three nights there visiting the amazing Angkor Wat temple complex, and a boat trip on the Tonle Sap, before flying back to the capital for one night, and back to Singapore.

We celebrated the New Year in Singapore, taking in the beautiful botanic gardens. Work has taken me to Singapore on several occasions, and Changi airport has to be one of the world’s aviation destinations. How it must have changed since I was last there.

Work took me to Seoul in South Korea on several occasions, and Japan. Steph joined me on one trip to Japan in September 2009 when the IRRI Board of Trustees met in Tsukuba north of Tokyo. We stayed on for a long weekend sightseeing in Tokyo, although she got to see more than I did earlier in the week, when a series of excursions for IRRI and Trustee wives were organised from Tsukuba.

Narita airport was also a hub for Northwest Airlines (now Delta) for flights from Manila to the USA, so I would fly through there at least a couple of times a year, also Osaka.

I’ve been to Beijing in China a couple of times, taking in the Great Wall during my first visit in 1995.

With my colleague, Bao-Rong Lu (middle) on the Great Wall, north of Beijing

On that trip we also took in Hangzhou and Guangzhou. I was in Beijing again around 2005 for a meeting, and in 2004, Steph and I flew to Hong Kong over Christmas and New Year. We also crossed to Macau on that trip.

The view from Victoria Peak, Hong Kong

Ruins of St Paul’s, Macau

Again, Hong Kong was one of those hub airports that I passed through many times, first at the old Kai Tak airport alongside Kowloon harbor (an interesting approach), and later at the new airport reclaimed from the sea.

I’ve only been to India a handful of times, always to meetings, and only then to Delhi and Hyderabad, so I can’t say that I’ve ever seen much of the country. There’s no doubt it’s a fascinating country, but I’m not sure it’s really on my bucket list – except if I could travel on one of those luxury trains, perhaps.

The same goes for Bangladesh, with just a couple of visits to Dhaka so I can’t say that I’ve ever known the country.

I was in Sri Lanka just the once, spending most of my time in Kandy. The hotel where I stayed was outside the city, on a hill, with breath-taking views over the surrounding hills. And I remember waking up early one still morning, and listening to the bird calls echoing all around. Magic!

I been to the north and south of Vietnam. On my first trip, I traveled to Can Tho in the Mekong Delta, and on the return journey to the airport in Ho Chi Minh City, I had to cross the river in a small boat (the bridge was down) and flag down a tuk-tuk for the last 20 km or so. I caught my flight!

Then I was in Hanoi several times in connection with the rice biodiversity project, but in 2010 I was the chair of the science committee for the 3rd International Rice Congress held in that city.

Myanmar has been closed off to visitors for many years, but I was able to visit just the once in the late 1990s, to the rice genebank at Yezin, about 250 miles north of the old capital Yangon. The train ride was interminable, and the sleeper on the return journey left a lot to be desired in terms of comfort and cleanliness. Nevertheless it was an interesting visit, but compared to the cuisine of other countries in the region (especially Thailand and Indonesia) the food was not inspiring: served quite cold and swilling in oil.

I’ve been in Bangkok many times, as it where I would change flights for Vientiane in Laos, having to spend one night to catch the early morning flight on Thai or Lao Airlines. But I never got to know the country, just a couple of visits to Chiang Mai in the north (again for meetings but no tourism). The same goes for Malaysia, with meetings in Kuala Lumpur and Penang.

In 2014 IRRI once again asked me to chair the science committee for the 4th International Rice Congress that was held in Bangkok, so I made several visits there (and on to the Philippines) before the congress was held in November.

Australia
I’ve been in Australia four times. As a family, Steph, our elder daughter Hannah, Philippa and I flew from the Philippines just after Christmas 1998 to Sydney, spending just under a week there, enjoying a trip up into the Blue Mountains, and watching the awesome fireworks display over Sydney Harbour on New Year’s Eve.

I made a work trip there around 2001, taking in Canberra, the rice-growing area in the Riverina, Adelaide, and Melbourne.

In December 2003, Steph and I drove from Sydney to Melbourne over the course of a week, taking the train back to Sydney, where we enjoyed a harbour dinner cruise.

At the Sydney Harbour Bridge during our Christmas vacation in Australia in December 2003

We spent New Year’s Eve on the south coast near Melbourne.

Next stop: Antarctica

The last time I was there was November 2016, when my friend and former colleague, Professor Brian Ford-Lloyd flew from Birmingham to Melbourne for three days as part of a review of genebanks.

Enjoying a stiff one on the Emirates A380 flight from Melbourne to Dubai.

Africa
Africa now, where I have visited Morocco in the north, Ghana, Ivory Coast, and Nigeria in West Africa, Ethiopia and Kenya in East Africa, and Zambia, South Africa, Mozambique, and Madagascar in southern Africa. I wrote this general account in 2013.

There are several international agricultural research centers in Africa: ILRI (a livestock center) in Kenya and Ethiopia; World Agroforestry (ICRAF) in Kenya; IITA in Ibadan, Nigeria; and Africa Rice (WARDA) in Bouaké, Ivory Coast. I have attended meetings there on several occasions. In Ethiopia, the ILRI campus is located in Addis Ababa, and during my first visit there, in January 1993, I had the opportunity of traveling down into the Rift Valley. What I most remember about that trip, and the stay in Addis, was the incredible bird life. An ornithologist’s paradise. Likewise on the campus of IITA in Nigeria. IITA has a 1000 ha campus, and part of it has been left as pristine rainforest with its assemblage of species, some of them crop wild relatives.

Looking for wild yams on the IITA Forest Reserve.

I made my first visit to Nigeria and Ivory Coast after the genetic resources meeting in Addis Ababa in 1993. For security reasons, visitors to IITA who arrive in Lagos in the afternoon and evening spend the night there, before being escorted to Ibadan, around 2 hours by road to the northeast. I always enjoyed my visits to IITA. But Lagos airport was another thing. The situation there did improve, but throughout the 1990s, I always felt uneasy passing through, as officials (some in uniform, others in plain clothes) would often ask for a bribe.

I must have visited Ivory Coast a couple of times, the first time flying from Abidjan (the capital) to Bouaké on the national airline, a Boeing 727 that had once been the presidential aircraft! I made those visits before the disastrous civil wars of 2002-2004 and 2010-2011.

Africa Rice had to abandon its research center in Bouaké for many years, although the institute has now returned there. I planted a tree during my first visit. I wonder if it’s still there?

With Deputy Director General Perter Matlon at the tree planting.

On another occasion, I was in Ghana for a week, attending a planning meeting, and didn’t see much of Accra outside my hotel.

I’ve been in Kenya probably half a dozen times, straddled the Equator, and enjoyed the wildlife in the Nairobi National Park.

With my dear friend from CIMMYT, the late Sir Bent Skovmand (from Denmark), wheat pathologist and then head of the CIMMYT wheat genebank.

In October 2005, I was in Marrakech, Morocco to attend the annual meeting of the CGIAR, the consortium of donors and international centers. I got sick, and I had to work on a project proposal so spent much of my time in my hotel room, with just one excursion to the souk for some souvenir shopping.

Looking for silver beads for Steph.

In southern Africa, I spent several days in Lusaka, Zambia visiting the SADC genebank there. I’ve passed through Johannesburg several times, and on my transit there (on my way to Lusaka) was caught up in a car bomb incident on the day of the election that first brought Nelson Mandela to power in April 1994. On another occasion I spent a week in Durban (meetings once again) with a side trip to Pietermaritzburg, almost 90 km inland from Durban,

IRRI had a country program in Mozambique, and I was there a couple of times. The rice program joined our biodiversity project, and the CGIAR held its annual meeting there in 2009.

I was in Madagascar just the once, staying in the capital Antananarivo on the east coast, and traveling along dreadful roads north to the rice experiment station. Madagascar also participated in the rice biodiversity project.

At a training course on rice genetic resources in Madagascar in 1998.

Middle East
I had the opportunity of visiting Izmir in Turkey in April 1972, one of my first overseas trips from Birmingham, to attend a genetic resources conference. There was an excursion to Ephesus.

On another visit (also to Izmir) in the late 1970s, I spent a day in Istanbul before taking an evening flight to the UK, enjoying the Topkapi Palace and various mosques.

The Blue Mosque

I was fortunate to travel to Syria several times, to Aleppo, before the civil war pulled the country apart. Another agricultural research center, ICARDA, had its headquarters there and genebank. I even went for a job interview once. It’s a beautiful country, and I guess many of the beautiful almond orchards have probably been destroyed in the fighting. I also spent some time in Damascus, visiting the famous souk there.

In 1982, I took a party of graduate students from the University of Birmingham to Israel for a two week course on genetic resources of the Mediterranean. I wrote about that visit here.

And then there’s Dubai in the United Arab Emirates. I’ve spent a few nights there in between flights but never had enough time to explore the city. When Emirates Airlines began a service from Manila (MNL) to Dubai (DXB), and on to Birmingham (BHX), we flew that route each year on home leave, and Emirates also became my airline of choice for trips into Europe. In the 1990s it had either been with Lufthansa into Frankfurt (FRA) or KLM into Amsterdam (AMS).

Europe
Steph and I have been married almost 50 years but we’ve never taken a vacation on mainland Europe. But my work has taken me there quite often, and to three countries, Germany, Switzerland and especially Italy, several times a year between 1991 and 2010.

On that first trip to Czechoslovakia in 1969, we traveled by road, through the Netherlands, southern German, and into Czechoslovakia.

I was next in Germany in the late 1980s, when I visited agricultural research institute near Hannover (also taking in the scenic town of Celle), before crossing into East Germany. I spent several interesting days at the genebank in Gatersleben (now part of The Leibniz Institute of Plant Genetics and Crop Plant Research), before flying on to Warsaw in Poland.

There I gave a series of seminars on crop evolution and genetic conservation (focusing on potatoes) to staff of the agricultural research institute (IHAR). My hosts took me to the family home of Frédéric Chopin west of Warsaw. As we walked around the gardens, we could hear several of Chopin’s piano pieces broadcast over speakers there. His Mazurka in D Major has remained a firm favorite ever since (here interpreted by acclaimed pianist Vladimir Horowitz), and is always a reminder of that visit whenever I hear it.

I also took in Cracow in the south of the country, a most elegant city.

While I was DPPC at IRRI, my work with the institute’s donors took me many times into Europe, particularly to Germany (Bonn and Frankfurt), to Switzerland (at Bern), and to Rome in Italy.

I had a good friend, plant pathologist Dr Marlene Diekmann, who lived near Bonn, and who worked for one of the German aid agencies. Whenever I was in Bonn, we’d try and spend some time walking the wine terraces of the Ahr Valley south of Bonn.

The last time I was in Bonn was 2016 during the genebank review I mentioned earlier.

I love trains, and have often traveled that way from one European capital to another. In fact I have traveled from my former home of Bromsgrove in Worcestershire to Rome, with stops in Belgium, Germany, and Switzerland on the way.

One of the best trips I made was to view the Matterhorn in Switzerland near Zermatt. I had a free weekend before I had to travel on to Rome, so I took the opportunity of a day excursion from Bern.

My trips to France have taken in Paris, where I spent a very wet weekend once walking around the city. But it was worth it. And to Montpellier on the Mediterranean coast several times, the last being in 2016.

Brussels (in Belgium) has a beautiful central square, but I’ve never had much time to explore there.

For many years, Amsterdam was a hub airport for home leave flights back to the UK. In the Netherlands, I’ve spent time in the university town of Wageningen (east of Amsterdam), in the capital, The Hague, and in Amsterdam itself. A boat tour of the canals is well worth it.

My donor trips took me to Lisbon in Portugal and Madrid in Spain, which I wrote about in this blog post from 2019. Then in 2012, Steph and I visited my late eldest brother Martin and wife Pauline at their beautiful home in Tomar, north of Lisbon. What a glorious 10 days.

Central square in Tomar

I was in the Canary Islands (part of Spain) a couple of times, collecting various wild crop relatives. Steph, the girls, and me had a holiday there in 1989.

On the north coast of Tenerife

Looking over the Tenerife landscape.

However, the country I have visited most in Europe is Italy, and Rome in particular. I was once in the Po Valley southwest of Milan, looking at the rice research there. The Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO) has its headquarters in Rome, as does Bioversity International (formerly the International Plant Genetic Resources Institute, IPGRI). I guess over the 19 years I spent in the Philippines, I must have traveled to Rome at least once a year for one meeting or another, and up to five times in one year. It’s a magnificent place, although my elder daughter Hannah who has just spent a few days there commented on how dirty it was, and full of tourists. But I’ve always enjoyed my stays there, and have had ample opportunity to enjoy the history and archaeology, and the fantastic cuisine.

I’ve only been in Austria, Norway, and Denmark on one occasion each, and in the capitals Vienna, Oslo, and Copenhagen. In Vienna, I spent a week at the International Atomic Energy Agency (where they have a program in mutation breeding) consulting on germplasm databases. I visited donor agencies in Norway and Denmark, but had no time for any tourism in Oslo. It was a different situation in Copenhagen where I looked round the pretty city over a weekend.

I started this blog post in the Republic of Ireland, and Steph and I have returned there three times, two with Hannah and Philippa in the 1990s, and also in 2017 after we’d spent a little over a week touring Northern Ireland.

Northern Ireland was a revelation. Prosperous, and beautiful. We visited many National Trust properties over there, and I wrote about our 10 days there afterwards, with links in the post to many of the properties we visited.

Giant’s Causeway, Northern Ireland

In Great Britain (United Kingdom minus Northern Ireland), Steph and I have visited so many National Trust and English Heritage properties around the country. This link gives a complete list (and maps) of all those we have visited.

Since we returned to the UK in 2010, we have toured Scotland, spent time in the south and southeast of England, and in Cornwall.

Now that we are living in the northeast of England, we have spent time exploring Northumberland, including its incredible Roman heritage.

The Whin Sill along Hadrian’s Wall

As a small boy, I spent many holidays with my parents in different parts of Wales, and Steph and I will be returning there at the beginning of September to renew our acquaintance with North Wales after so many decades.

So, there we have it. Fifty-five years of travel. So many special experiences.


 

An oasis of tranquillity . . . and statues

It really is! Standing at the heart of Crook Hall Gardens along the bank of the River Wear in Durham, it’s hard to believe you are only a short distance from the center of a bustling city. Peaceful hardly describes it. Just the occasional rumble as trains arrive at or depart from Durham railway station just to the north.

The River Wear alongside Crook Hall Gardens.

Since we returned from our trip to Minnesota towards the end of June, there have been few opportunities, weather-wise, for any excursions. I can’t remember when we last experienced such a dismal July (after all the hot dry weather of June); it’s been so cold and wet.

Anyway, the forecast for yesterday seemed hopeful, so we decided to make the short, 22 mile and 30 minute drive south to Durham to take in Crook Hall Gardens. The Trust acquired the property in 2022, and if I understood correctly, it was opened to the public for the first time in March this year.

Crook Hall has its own car park, free for National Trust members, that really is a blessing in a city where parking is at a premium, and not cheap. We arrived around 10:20, and headed immediately to the cafe for a refreshing Café Americano.


The gardens have been there for many centuries. In fact there is a 14th century medieval hall (which is open to the public) adjoining an 18th century Georgian house overlooking a beautiful walled garden.

Crook Hall was a family home since the 1300s, and occupied over the centuries by several families who stamped their mark on the property. Originally it was the home of the Billingham family for 300 years from 1372. Between 1834 and 1858 it was rented by the Raine family. Canon James Raine (right, 1791-1858) was a historian and librarian at nearby Durham Cathedral. He died at Crook Hall.

By 1979 the property was essentially derelict, but was taken on by Mary and John Hawgood who rescued it from oblivion. Mary believes she saw The White Lady of Crook Hall in 1989. The Hawgoods moved on in 1995 when it was sold to Maggie and Keith Bell, and Crook Hall became a wedding venue, with the gardens open to the public on occasion.

With the onset of the Covid-19 pandemic, the Bell’s wedding business collapsed, and in 2020 Crook Hall was put up for sale. Then, in stepped the National Trust – thankfully.

Here’s a potted history of Crook Hall from a 2020 article in The Northern Echo.


The gardens, which cover about 10 acres (or 4 ha), comprise a series of interconnected gardens, each with their own character, are a credit to the National Trust garden staff and volunteers.

Being mid-summer, many of the flower beds were in full bloom, although roses and some others were past their best. Notwithstanding, the gardens were a delight for the spirit, and by the looks on the faces of other visitors (it was quite busy considering) they also felt the same way.

A path leads up the garden from the entrance and cafe, and immediately on the right is a cotoneaster maze planted in 2000. We gave that a miss, heading instead for the Solar Wing Garden and the Walled Garden.

I really do like the style of planting adopted at Crook Hall, with so many different species clustered together to provide a kaleidoscope of color.

Adjacent to the medieval hall is a second-hand bookshop in the Georgian house, and on one wall, some of the brightest—and botanical—wallpaper I have ever seen.

Passing through a small courtyard (with a small fountain and yet another statue) we headed towards the Moat Pond at the top of the garden. The pond itself is a relatively new feature, created in 1998 beside what was a 14th century defensive dry ditch.

Turning back towards the entrance, there is a series of four gardens: the Silver and White Garden (dating from 1983); the Orchard; the Shakespeare Garden (with Will observing the garden from a corner); and finally the Cathedral Garden, with its magnificent views towards the city and Durham Castle and Cathedral. There’s also a Wooded Glade.

As you exit the Cathedral Garden and turn towards the maze, a side path leads to a pebble garden. Also there are informal beds of wild flowers.

Ever since we noted, in the National Trust Handbook for 2023, that there was a new property in Durham, we’ve been waiting for an appropriate day to visit. Although the weather had been forecast as showery, we only experienced (for just a short while) threatening black clouds overhead, but apart from that, a bright and sunny—and for once, warm—day. We shall return.

I have posted a full album of photos here.


 

The walled garden at Wallington

Wallington Hall overlooks the Northumberland countryside near Cambo (map). It was remodelled in the Palladian style between 1738 and 1746 from an earlier William and Mary house (built around 1688) for Sir Walter Calverley Blackett (right, 1707-1777) by the architect Daniel Garrett. It is believed that renowned landscape architect Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown (1715-1783, who was born in nearby Kirkharle and went to school in Cambo) advised Sir Walter on the location of the walled garden (3 on the map below), and perhaps even designed the Owl House (2) there.

After Sir Walter’s death in 1777, Wallington was bequeathed to his sister Julia’s family, the Trevelyans, and it remained in the family until 1942, when it was gifted to the National Trust.

Since returning from the USA in mid-June, the weather in the UK has been decidedly unsettled. So we have grabbed every good weather opportunity to get out and about. Unfortunately, due to my reduced mobility these days, I’m unable to walk the distances that we have enjoyed in the past. But provided my pain medication kicks in appropriately, then I can manage a relatively short walk. Around a mile or so is possible.

With that in mind, we headed to Wallington with the aim of enjoying the walled garden in mid-summer. And to compare the garden today with what it was like a decade ago.

My first impression was that the walled garden today is much brighter, so to speak, with a new fiery border along the terrace in front of the Edwardian conservatory and below the Owl House.

Here are some of the plants in that bed. What a magnificent sight to welcome visitors to the garden.

Until quite recently, the conservatory was open to visitors, indeed as recently as our visit there in mid-December 2021, but it is now closed while plans are drawn up for its refurbishment. Which isn’t going to come cheap. Perhaps it was damaged in one of the winter storms that affected the estate.

Ten years on, the garden has developed a lot, and is a credit to the hard work of the staff gardeners and volunteers. Here are two images, taken from more or less the same spot, ten years apart, looking from the water terrace at the top of the garden eastwards down the garden. In the 2013 image, the conservatory and Owl House can be clearly seen.

At least one new ‘garden room’ has been created, surrounded (like the others) by trimmed cedar hedges.

And more, it seemed to me, has been made of the small pond area at the bottom of the garden.

On the south side of the garden, another large set of beds has evolved over the decade. Here are images from 2013 and last week.

The colors are more muted this year, with the fiery varieties moved to the conservatory terrace. Here is some of the 2023 planting.

One of the gardeners explained that it’s a never-ending task to plant and replant all these beds. He mentioned that in the autumn they plant several thousand bulbs, so I think a visit next spring is on the cards to see the early color.

The terrace fountain area at the top of the garden, near the entrance, was ‘dry’ on our latest visit (bottom image below). Normally the small pond is full, and water runs through a rill across the terrace.

I believe this part of the garden is fed from a large lily pond outside the walls. It looked as though there had been work on the earth dam at the eastern end, and the water level was low. Hence the dry fountain inside the garden.

The walled garden is a 15 minute or so walk from the house through the East Wood. Alongside the lake (above) there’s a new addition: a carved owl, from the tree trunk of one of the trees brought down during Storm Arwen in November 2021. There’s apparently another carving, but we didn’t manage to find it. Both are by tree sculptor Tommy Craggs from County Durham.

There are lots of owls at Wallington. Not only on the roof apex of the Owl House (seen in several of the images above), but also adorning the gate posts of the courtyard at the rear of the house.

The owl features in the Calverley family crest, Calverley (a West Yorkshire name) being the former surname of Sir Walter Blackett mentioned at the beginning of this post.

After being cooped up inside for a couple of weeks because of the unseasonably wet and cool weather, it really was a pleasure to return to Wallington. Just 23 miles and around 40 minutes from home, Wallington is sure to be on our National Trust itinerary year after year, season after season.


 

Time out in Minnesota: 5. Beer, brats, and sizzling steaks

We’ve just returned from a very relaxing vacation in Minnesota, visiting our elder daughter Hannah and her family: son-in-law Michael, and grandchildren Callum (almost a teenager) and Zoë (just 11).

Our last evening in Minnesota.

Since we’d decided not to make any serious road trip this visit, apart from a short, overnight stay to La Crosse in Wisconsin, about 150 miles south of the Twin Cities, I travelled light this year. No heavy DSLR camera, no laptop. In fact, for the first time, I simply used my mobile phone for both images and video clips.

When we moved north to Newcastle upon Tyne in the autumn of 2020, I acquired a new – and better – mobile that allowed me to run many of the apps that so many utilities expect everyone to deploy these days. And, of course, the Samsung model I chose had a far better resolution camera than my Chinese cheepo.

And because of my more limited mobility right now (a painful nerve inflammation affecting my lower back, legs, and feet) Steph and I stayed close to home in St Paul, only taking our usual local walks as we’ve enjoyed in previous visits when I felt up to it. Even so, close to where Hannah and Michael live there is so much to see; their house sits at the top of the Mississippi Gorge bluff.

The weather was incredible, mostly warm (hot even) and dry. Just one afternoon of rain on Michael’s birthday when we had to postpone the planned grilling until the next day.

And talking of grilling. I can’t remember a visit when Michael fired up the BBQ or the Big Green Egg so many times, or we simply ate outside, even at the various restaurants we patronised.

Our flight from Amsterdam to Minneapolis-St Paul arrived on time on 29 May at around 12:30, and Hannah, Callum, and Zoë were waiting at the airport to meet us. Navigation through US Immigration, baggage claim, and Customs was probably the smoothest I’ve enjoyed throughout the many decades I’ve been visiting the USA. It was actually quite a pleasant experience.

So, for us, it was early evening British Summer Time, and normally Steph and I would manage to stay awake for only an hour or two before submitting to jet lag, and finally crashing. Not this time. We both had a reasonably comfortable flight over the Atlantic in Delta Comfort+, and managed some sleep.

On arrival, it was bright and sunny and warm and, being Memorial Day, everyone was at home. So we sat in the garden, enjoying a cup of tea to begin with, followed (in my case) by a couple of the fantastic local beers. There are so many to choose from these days. But more of that later.

Late afternoon, and Michael cranked up the BBQ and we enjoyed a very satisfying dinner of Von Hanson steaks, beer brats, and salad. So it must have been almost 9 pm that we admitted defeat, and headed to bed. I’ve never been over jet lag so quickly.

I now wish I’d taken more notice of the various beers I sampled – I could have tried a different beer for everyday of our stay, there are so many to choose from. There’s nothing quite like a cold, cold beer on a hot afternoon when the temperature is reaching 90ºF.

Less than a mile from Hannah and Michael’s home in the Highland Park area of St Paul (map), redevelopment of the 122 acre site of the former Ford Motor Company Twin Cities Assembly Plant (closed in 2011) began in 2020, now renamed Highland Bridge.

The local supermarket, Lunds & Byerlys has relocated a couple of blocks west along Ford Parkway to Highland Bridge. On the first floor they have opened The Mezz Taproom—with a terrace overlooking the new development—where you have the choice of about 20+ beers on tap, plus some wines. Michael took me there one blisteringly hot afternoon a few days after we arrived in St Paul.

It’s an interesting concept. There is no bar. With an electronic wrist tag (which opens the beer tap) you can sample as much or as little of any of the beers on offer, with a wide range of glass sizes and shapes to match. You just pay for the amounts consumed, which are electronically tallied. Simples!

Panorama of the Highland Bridge redevelopment, looking west.

The Highland Bridge redevelopment comprises commercial and residential units, including those for the elderly, and townhouses. Thoughtfully, and together with the St Paul Parks and Recreation department, the developers have created several parks with innovative water features that also act as storm drainage (when it rains in St Paul, it really rains). All parks cater for all ages, with paths, seating, and roller and skateboard parks, beach volleyball courts, and even a Little League pitch as well.

Steph and I took a wander (very slowly) through these. What an impressive development, even though I can’t say I particularly admired the architecture. The water features are already attracting a range of wildlife, and it will be interesting to see how the biodiversity increases in years to come.


Michael’s birthday celebration was postponed one day due to rain on the actual day. He smoked pork ribs on the Big Green Egg. I don’t think I have ever tasted such delicious (and meaty) ribs, that just fell off the bone.


Several years ago, Hannah and Michael adopted a lovely (but occasional crabby) rescue ginger cat called Hobbes, now about 11 years old.

Then, during the Covid lockdown, Bo (a rescue Yorkshire terrier from Alabama) joined the family, followed about 18 months later by Ollie (a combined Yorkie, Shih Tzu, and at least one another breed, also from Alabama). Ollie and me bonded very quickly.

Bo

Ollie


Earlier, I mentioned my reduced mobility during this trip. But one evening, after enjoying another fine BBQ, and with a couple of G&Ts tucked away, not to mention a glass or two of red wine, I couldn’t resist the music (just take a listen, an incredible track from Joe Bonamassa with Australian Mahalia Barnes, Riding With The Kings).

Here’s the outcome, that I very much regretted the following morning (and perhaps posting this video might come to regret for a long time to come).

Compare this with another video, taken six years earlier with a five-year-old Zoë which, given my back and legs, would have been more appropriate.

And S’Mores, of course.

What a great way to take time out . . .


 

Other blog posts in this Minnesota series:

Time out in Minnesota: 4. Gems at the University of Minnesota

Actually, that should be GEMS. But more of that shortly.

While in Minnesota, I took the opportunity of looking up an old friend, Phil Pardey, at the University of Minnesota. A native Australian, Phil is Professor of Science and Technology Policy in the Department of Applied Economics.

So how did I, as someone working in genetic resources of rice, meet and become good friends with an agricultural economist?

From 1991-2001, I was head of the Genetic Resources Center at the International Rice Research Institute (IRRI) in the Philippines, and between 1993 and 1995, Chair of the CGIAR’s Inter-Center Working Group on Genetic Resources (ICWG-GR). Phil was a Senior Research Fellow at the International Food Policy Research Institute (IFPRI) in Washington, DC, a sister center of IRRI’s under the aegis of the Consultative Group on International Agricultural Research (CGIAR).

The ICWG-GR brought together representatives from all the CGIAR centers with genebanks, and others like Phil from IFPRI who were conducting research on the impact and use of genetic resources. At that particular time, Phil and a couple of colleagues were analysing the economics of conserving crop genetic resources, and developing methodologies to estimate the costs of running genebanks. I contributed to chapter 6 on rice in this book (right) published by CABI in 2004. It was an important publication as the centers were developing ideas on how to fund their germplasm collections in perpetuity and what it would take to set up an endowment fund for that purpose (now managed through the Crop Trust).

Phil left IFPRI in 2002 to move to the U of M, and I retired in 2010. So with a less hectic schedule this year during our visit to the USA (although we haven’t traveled there since 2019 because of the Covid-19 pandemic) I contacted Phil and we arranged to meet for lunch a couple of weeks ago.

Phil and me beside a bust of Dr Norman Borlaug, ‘Father of the Green Revolution’ in the foyer of Borlaug Hall on the University of Minnesota campus, where I presented a seminar in the early 2000s.

Phil had a lot to tell me about a fascinating new initiative that he co-directs at the university.

Which was music to my ears. Let me explain.

GEMS Informatics, launched in 2015, is a unique public-private collaboration that is forging the future of the Data Revolution in agriculture. Minnesota is the birthplace of supercomputing in the early 1960s and has long been home to the world’s leading agri-food companies, making it the natural nexus for data-driven, public-private partnerships that create solutions to the complex challenges facing local and global agri-food systems.

Phil’s co-director is Jim Wilgenbusch, Director of Research Computing at the university.

What is so special about GEMS is that it brings together an impressive team of experts in super-computing, data management, genetics, genomics and bioinformatics, geospatial analysis, life sciences, and economics. Just take a look at the GEMS website to better understand the scope of what this initiative does deliver. And just imagine what such a combination of skills and resources could deliver even more in the future.

One of the areas that intrigued me most was the GEMS applications for multilocation testing of germplasm. Faced with the challenges of global climate change, plant breeders need to be able to better predict where the lines they have developed are successfully adapted and could be deployed to enhance agricultural activity. GEMS is bringing together data (not just numbers) on crop variety performance (yield in particular), weather, soils, and genomics (among others) to better understand the behavior of these across locations, or what we call genotype by environment interaction (GxE).

There’s an interesting account of GEMS applications for wheat variety development, for example.

I’ve had a long interest in multilocation testing. In 1990, I presented a paper¹ at a symposium in Wageningen, the Netherlands about the challenge of global warming, and how plant breeders should collaborate better across Europe to evaluate germplasm.

Then, in a blog post I published in August 2015, I wrote about the International Network for the Genetic Evaluation of Rice (INGER, managed by IRRI) as it celebrated its 40th anniversary. While recognizing the networks unequivocal and important role in facilitating the sharing of rice varieties and lines globally, I lamented that INGER had lost opportunities to transform itself to permit more critical and predictive testing of germplasm. My criticism was merited, I believe, but unlike GEMS Informatics, we did not have many of its computing and analysis tools. Had we built a database of quality trial data, gathering environmental as well as crop response data, we could go back today, using genomics tools, to ferret out those traits which endow varieties with superiority across environments.

GEMS is already pointing the way. Just look at the case studies that are highlighted on the GEMS website.

With progress like this in just eight years, just imagine where this initiative might take us. No wonder it was music to my ears, even though (being retired) I’m no longer involved in the conservation and use of plant genetic resources.

I really look forward to following future developments of GEMS Informatics. Not only did it take a strong vision to get it up and running, but support from the university and private sector organizations was crucial to implement that vision. Impressive indeed!


As we headed off to lunch, Phil just had to show me a new addition to the university campus, just in front of Borlaug Hall. It was a seven foot bronze statue of Norman Borlaug, who I had the pleasure of meeting at IRRI in the 1990s.

Borlaug was born in Cresco, Iowa in March 1914, where Steph and I passed through at the end of one of our long road trips in 2017.

I now wish we’d taken the time to visit the Borlaug homestead in  Cresco.

Anyway, Borlaug was an alumnus of the U of M, originally in forestry before converting to plant pathology. And the rest is history – the man who saved a billion lives.

The statue on the campus is a duplicate of one sculpted by Idaho resident Benjamin Victor (1979– ) that stands in the National Statuary Hall Collection in the Capitol Building in Washington, DC. The original was given by the state of Iowa to the Collection in 2014 on the centenary of Borlaug’s birth.

In the National Statuary Hall, each state is permitted to display just two statues, so that of former United States Senator, and Secretary of the Interior James Harlan, which the state of Iowa donated to the Collection in 1910, had to make room for Borlaug. And fittingly so.


Other blog posts in this Minnesota series;


¹Jackson, M.T., 1991. Global warming: the case for European cooperation for germplasm conservation and use. In: Th.J.L. van Hintum, L. Frese & P.M. Perret (eds.), Crop Networks. Searching for New Concepts for Collaborative Genetic Resources Management. International Crop Network Series No. 4. International Board for Plant Genetic Resources, Rome, Italy. Papers of the EUCARPIA/IBPGR symposium held in Wageningen, the Netherlands, December 3-6, 1990. pp. 125-131.

Time out in Minnesota: 3. The flowers that bloom in the Spring

It was hard to imagine, when we landed in the Twin Cities on 29 May, that only five or six weeks previously there had been snow on the ground and sub-zero temperatures.

Why? The trees were in full leaf (as you can see in this photo below as we landed at MSP – so many trees in the Twin Cities!), many plants were in full flower, and some even setting seed. Spring and early summer arrive quickly in Minnesota.

During our stay (of three weeks) we had just one day of rain (and then not all day), and during daylight hours the temperature never dipped below 70°F, often rising to 90°F or more. I don’t think we’ve ever experienced such a long dry spell on any of our other visits there.

Over the couple of decades or more that we have been visiting the Twin Cities, one of our favorite places to visit is the Marjorie McNeely Conservatory in Como Park.

Just scroll out to see its location in St Paul.

The Conservatory was opened in 1915, and in 2002 renamed in honor of Marjorie McNeely (right), a remarkable woman who made many contributions to arts and culture during her lifetime.

Each season, summer and winter, the staff of the Conservatory develop elegant planting schemes, and we always look forward to whatever they have designed, bringing together sympathetic varieties and colors.

We’ve had two particularly memorable visits to the Conservatory. Our elder daughter Hannah married Michael at the Conservatory on a particularly cold evening in May 2006 – although it was beautifully warm inside.

Then, at Christmas the following year, Steph and I spent the holiday with Hannah and Michael in a very cold St Paul. Our first white Christmas. But inside the Conservatory, it was red and pink Christmas poinsettias everywhere.

This year the planting scheme was less flamboyant compared to what we have seen before, but nevertheless quite beautiful.

There is also a tropical wing to the Conservatory, with many moisture-loving (and some edible plants) on display, including a range of orchids and bromeliads.

Outside, you can wander through the peaceful Charlotte Partridge Ordway Japanese Garden or admire the delicate bonsai specimens on display.

A visit to the Conservatory is always worthwhile. When we arrived, there were loads of schoolchildren already disgorging from their buses. But not to visit the Conservatory (which, unusually, we had to ourselves for about 10 minutes). They were headed to the Como Park zoo.

Entrance to the Conservatory and Zoo is free, but recommended donations are welcome.


The other venue we have visited several times is the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum, about 26 miles due west from St Paul. Since we were last there in 2019, the Arboretum has rebranded itself as the arb!

Entrance tickets for adults are $30, but children 15 and under go free.

We took our grandchildren Callum and Zoë to the arb after they finished school for the year. In past years, we have walked quite some distance around the various gardens close to the visitor center or along the Three Mile Drive. Due to my reduced mobility this year, we concentrated on the Three Mile Drive and just a selection of some of the gardens (map).

I think my favorite is the prairie garden, and across the road, the staff have set out to recreate a prairie community that once covered vast areas of the country before agriculture changed the landscape forever.

The whole site was covered in tall Baptisia alba (I think it was) and other species in full flower. Quite a sight!

The Chinese Garden was quite new when we last visited, and there were some large steel dragons, now removed from the garden. But it was a tranquil setting to spend a few minutes of contemplation.

The Harrison Sculpture Garden is located on about 3 acres (1.2 ha) surrounding the arboretum’s High Point. Even though we didn’t notice any new additions to the garden, it’s always a pleasure to view the 26 pieces (some by very famous sculptors like Barbara Hepworth – she has three there) in different light and from different angles. Here are five that caught my attention this time.

The bedding plants near the Visitor Center had yet to flower in profusion, but the Rose Garden was just beginning to come into its own.

After a quick lunch in The Eatery (and inevitable ice cream) we headed home after an enjoyable visit of around four hours. We’ll be back.


Since Callum and Zoë had a 10 days free between finishing school for the year and summer camp, we had many opportunities to enjoy their company on day trips. Another favorite venue of ours is Taylors Fall on the St Croix River, just over 53 miles northeast of St Paul. There, in the Interstate State Park (with Wisconsin on the opposite bank of the river), there is a fascinating formation of glacial potholes formed at the end of the last Ice Age when the St Croix was one of the world’s greatest rivers.

Then we headed south to Stillwater (also along the St Croix), a small town very popular with tourists, where we took a short walk along the riverfront, and then enjoyed some of the best toasted cheese sandwiches at Leo’s Grill and Malt Shop in the town center, an establishment we have patronized on several occasions before.

The historic Stillwater Lift Bridge across the St Croix River, connecting Minnesota and Wisconsin, now closed to traffic since the St Croix Crossing south of the town was opened in August 2017.


Other blog posts in this Minnesota series:

Time out in Minnesota: 2. Beside, above, and on the Mississippi

I’m totally unfamiliar with the convention that gives names to rivers.

The Mississippi is only the second longest river in the United States. At 2,340 miles it’s shorter than the Missouri, by just one mile apparently. Yet, when they come together (or the Missouri flows into the Mississippi) north of St Louis, the river takes on the name of the Mississippi. And again, near Cairo in southern Illinois, the Ohio joins the Mississippi, and loses its identity thereafter even though the Ohio is a much bigger river in terms of discharge (but shorter) at that point.

The Mississippi flows through 10 states: Minnesota, Wisconsin, Iowa, Illinois, Missouri, Kentucky, Tennessee, Arkansas, Mississippi, and Louisiana. It flows through Minnesota for 681 miles, the most miles of any state.

By the time the Mississippi reaches Minneapolis-St Paul (the Twin Cities) from its origin at Lake Itasca in the northern part of the state (which we visited in 2016), it’s already an impressive river, fast flowing, deep, and wide. Our elder daughter Hannah lives just a stone’s throw from the bluff overlooking the river, which you would easily see if it wasn’t for the dense stand of trees on both banks.

That line of trees across the road from Hannah’s is the top of the Mississippi Gorge bluff.

Nevertheless, there are various scenic viewpoints, riverside regional parks, and overlooks in the Twin Cities where you can admire the majesty of the river. Whenever we visit our daughter and her family, we always take the opportunity of spending some time beside the Mississippi. I somehow feel it drawing me to its banks.

During this year’s Minnesota vacation, we decided not to make any long distance road trips as we have done in previous years (and which you can read about in the USA section of my blog here). Except for one overnight stay at La Crosse on the Mississippi in Wisconsin, about 150 miles south of the Twin Cities. And for a very special reason, that I’ll come to in a moment.

The route south on US61 and US14 follows the river, and you’re never very far from it. In several places the Mississippi opens out into large lakes before continuing its flow south to the Gulf of Mexico. And it was while we were driving along that I realised just how close to the river the railroad line was built, and which we experienced in 2015 on Amtrak’s Empire Builder to Chicago and back.


So why the visit to La Crosse? A couple months back I was contacted by an old friend of 50 years, Roger Rowe, who lives in Peru with his wife Norma. Now 87, Roger was planning to visit central Illinois where his younger brother farms corn and soybeans, and would be celebrating his 80th birthday. Knowing of our visit to St Paul, Roger enquired whether we could meet up, halfway (more or less) between Princeton, IL and the Twin Cities. And that’s precisely what we did on 6/7 June.

Just after I joined the International Potato Center (CIP) in January 1973, a workshop was held to plan for a research program on the conservation of cultivated and wild potatoes from the Andes, and their taxonomy. At that time, Roger was the geneticist/curator of the USDA’s potato collection at Sturgeon Bay in Wisconsin, and one of the participants of the workshop.

Here we are in the field in Huancayo, in central Peru where CIP grew its large potato collection.

L-R: David Baumann (CIP), Dr Frank Haynes (North Carolina State University), Professor Jack Hawkes (University of Birmingham), Dr Roger Rowe (USDA-Sturgeon Bay), and Dr Donald Ugent (University of Southern Illinois-Carbondale).

Several months later, in May 1973, Roger joined CIP as the head of the breeding and genetics department and became my first boss there. He also became a co-supervisor (with Jack Hawkes) of my PhD dissertation. Steph joined CIP in July as an associate geneticist in the same department.

So, 50 years later, we were again reunited on the banks of the Mississippi in La Crosse.

We enjoyed several beers and dinner together, reminiscing over old times, as well as putting the world and the CGIAR to rights.


After I left CIP in 1981 to take up a faculty position at the University of Birmingham, I didn’t meet up with him again until 1993, although I’d met Norma in Mexico during a British Council-sponsored visit to that country in 1988.

In the late 1980s, Roger became the Deputy Director General for Research at the International Maize and Wheat Improvement Center (CIMMYT) after a spell working in Africa. We met for the first time after many years when attending the annual meeting of the CGIAR’s Inter-Center Working Group on Genetic Resources, held at the ILCA campus in Addis Ababa in January 1993. By then I was leading the genetic resources program at the International Rice Research Institute (IRRI) in the Philippines.

Members of the ICWG-GR from all the CGIAR centers with genebanks, in Addis Ababa, January 1993.

From CIMMYT, Roger joined another CGIAR center, ICLARM (later becoming WorldFish) as  Deputy Director General for one of its programs based in Egypt. Steph and I would meet up with Roger for Sunday breakfast in Manila whenever he was in town since ICLARM then had its headquarters in Manila.

Before our reunion in La Crosse, the last time I’d seen Roger and Norma was in Lima in July 2016, when I was the lead author for a review of the center genebanks and their management, and I was visiting CIP. We managed to catch a couple of hours together for pisco sours.

At my hotel in Lima, just after I had arrived from the UK.


As I mentioned, our hotel in La Crosse was right beside the Mississippi, and ‘underneath’ the Big Blue Bridges (actually the Cass Street Bridge and the Cameron Avenue Bridge) that cross from the Minnesota side to Wisconsin.

That got me thinking. The population expansion across the USA in the 19th and 20th centuries involved crossing many rivers, and building many bridges. On the Mississippi alone there are at least 130 bridges along its length. In the Twin Cities alone there are nine major crossings and several minor ones. One of the most impressive is the Smith Avenue or High Level Bridge, from where there is a magnificent view of the St Paul skyline and the river.

The Smith Avenue bridge from the river.

As this video pans right, you can first see the magnificent Catholic cathedral, then the white Capitol building, followed by downtown St Paul.

Finally, on our last Thursday in St Paul, we took our grandchildren Callum and Zoë on a relaxing 90 minute river cruise up the Mississippi to the confluence of the Minnesota River with the Mississippi, which is a short distance downriver from where Hannah and Michael live. They tell us that the Fall cruises, when the autumn colors are at their height is a great time to cruise the river.


You can read about some of our other Mississippi adventures here.


Other blog posts in this Minnesota series:

Time out in Minnesota: 1. Flying after four years

Every year since 2010, Steph and I have visited our elder daughter Hannah and her family in St Paul, Minnesota, one half of the Twin Cities (with Minneapolis). We made our last visit in 2019, and then the Covid-19 pandemic struck.

Travel wasn’t possible in 2020 or 2021, but last year Hannah, Michael, Callum, and Zoë flew over to the UK to spend a couple of weeks with us in the northeast of England, just outside Newcastle upon Tyne.

Even though for most people the pandemic is over, and Covid is perhaps less of a risk right now, it’s still around, so Steph and I have continued to mask when we shop at the supermarket, in fact, in any situation where we could be in close proximity with others.

So it was with some slight trepidation that I went online at the end of January and booked flights to the Twin Cities with Delta, to depart from Newcastle International Airport (NCL) on 29 May, and returning from Minneapolis-St Paul (MSP) on 19 June. And with both schedules transiting through Schipol (AMS). Until Delta made a schedule change for us, and had us returning via Detroit (DTW) and AMS.

On 29 May, we had an early start to get to the airport for our 06:05 KLM952 flight (codeshare DL9627) to AMS. I’d booked a taxi with the local Blueline Taxis for 03:45, and about 15 minutes before it arrived I received, via the company’s mobile app, details of the taxi (make of vehicle, color, registration) and name and photo of the driver. NCL is only a few miles west of Newcastle city center, and just 11 miles from our home. At that time of the morning it took only 20 minutes or so for the journey.

For the past three months I have struggled with my mobility (due to a nerve issue in my lower back, legs and feet) and have to use a walking stick for added stability. However, that has certain advantages when there are long queues at check-in. We were invited to move to the front of the queue, using the business class lane.

That’s our KLM Boeing 737-800 (registration PH-BCK) at the terminal.

We had just under an hour to wait until boarding, when a very kind member of the cabin crew saw me attempting to climb the steps into the aircraft, carrying a light piece of hand luggage at the same time. She came down to meet me and took the bag to my seat.

And there we sat for the next hour, until 07:17. Why the delay?

There was a high pressure weather system over the UK that morning, giving clear and calm conditions at NCL. In the Netherlands at Schipol on the other hand, the airport was experiencing brisk northerly breezes, and had to change the landing runways. However, one of the two used for landing into northerly winds was under maintenance, and so our flight wasn’t given permission to leave NCL until a landing slot had been confirmed. Meanwhile, the attentive crew served drinks and snacks and kept everyone well-informed of flight connection details and any complications.

Fortunately we were not affected since we had more than two hours connecting time between flights. Arriving at Gate D28 (if my memory serves me right) at the far end of the pier, we had to make our way to D3 close to the main concourse. So, by the time we’d picked up some duty free and made our way slowly to our gate, flight DL161 was already boarding, and business class passengers called forward for the 10:40 departure.

Once again, Steph and I were directed to the front of the queue and once on board, settled ourselves into seats 30A and B in the Delta Comfort+ section of the economy cabin.

We’ve travelled in Comfort + several times now, and find that it’s definitely worth the extra premium you have to pay for that little bit of extra legroom that can make a long flight more bearable. Also our seats were against a bulkhead, making access to the aisle that little bit easier.

Our aircraft, an Airbus A330-300 (registration N801NW) had been in service for around 20 years, and was beginning to show its age somewhat. The flight pulled back from the gate 36 minutes late and the taxi at AMS to runway 36L took another 15 minutes. But we were soon on our way, arriving in MSP just over 8 hours later.

Here’s a video of that flight. I was unable to take any video of the flight from NCL to AMS. Seated in row 10, there was no window!

On our return to the UK on 19 June, flight DL2619 (an Airbus A320-212, registration N368NW) departed MSP at just after 09:00, arriving in DTW at 11:35 (taking into account the 1 hour time difference from CDT to EDT).

We had four hours to kill. The McNamara Terminal at DTW is enormous, 1 mile long. There is an express tram inside the terminal—just under the roof—travelling the length of terminal and connecting to the gates at various stops. In the video below, there’s a short clip of the tram.

The Airbus A350-900 (registration N503DN) on DL132 to AMS was a new aircraft for me, and I used Skymiles to upgrade to the Delta Premium Select cabin (seats 22H and J, aisle and window).

Premium Select cabin 2-4-2 configuration on the left (that’s Steph sitting in the third row), and the economy (3-3-3 configuration) on the right.

It’s a beautiful aircraft, and its enormous Rolls-Royce Trent WXB engines swiftly launched us on our way. I think you will be impressed with the take-off in the video. On landing in AMS, after a 7 hour flight, the pilot applied the brakes rather abruptly and you can hear all manner of glass and cutlery crashing to the floor (around 12’36”).

Route of DL132 from DTW-AMS on 19/20 June 2023

Our final 1 hour connection to NCL was a KLM Cityhopper-operated flight, KL953 (codeshare DL9689) on an Embraer E190 (registration PH-EZT).

Despite all the glorious weather in the UK over the three weeks we were away, the approach into NCL from the west was cloudy, and we saw very little of the glorious Northumberland landscape until we descended through the thick cloud layer.


So, after four years, what were our impressions and experience of flying once again? As with so much air travel, it’s not the flying per se, it’s navigating the airports. And having a mobility issue, I’ve come to realise how unfriendly so many airports can be in terms of accessibility. Too many stairs, or broken elevators or walkways!

Then there are the unannounced gate changes. On our arrival in AMS at 05:35 on 20 June (Gate E6), we had to walk towards the main concourse before we found a departure board, listing our NCL flight departing from E21, exactly in the opposite direction from which we had walked, and right at the end of the pier. It was a bus gate. But after an hour waiting patiently there, I noticed that the monitor was no longer showing our flight. But there was no further information nor announcement about a gate change.

After some enquiries I discovered that we had to go all the way back to D6, and although I asked for transport from a KLM representative, she told me it wasn’t anything to do with her, and we’d have make our own way to the gate.

Our flight from AMS to MSP was comfortable and smooth, in the main. I noticed that the safety announcements no longer referred to ‘turbulence’ but ‘rough air’. Perhaps ‘turbulence’ implies much more. Our return flight in the Premium Select seats was definitely more comfortable, with an extendable leg rest.

Overall, I felt that the service offered in Delta Comfort + had declined, and was essentially the same in Premium Select (which had a printed menu, steel cutlery, and a better amenity bag and headphones). The food was the same, served in compressed (and presumably recyclable) containers, but with wooden cutlery in Delta Comfort + that was hardly usable.

Served with ice cream from Northumberland!

I’m not sure I would actually pay the extra for a Premium Select seat, but as long as Steph and I have Skymiles to ‘spend’, then I reckon we might well upgrade again in the future.

Well, that’s how we flew to the USA and returned. You’ll find out what we got up to during our three week vacation in Minnesota in the other blog posts in this series.


Other blog posts in this Minnesota series:

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.


 

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.

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.

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.


 

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.

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.

No regrets . . . whatsoever

None!

By November 2019, Steph and I finally decided to up sticks and move to Newcastle upon Tyne in the northeast of England, to be closer to our younger daughter and her family. Our elder daughter and family live in Minnesota, but a move to the USA was never on the cards.

We didn’t actually make the move until 30 September 2020 – right in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic!

Locking up and moving out!

We were living in Bromsgrove, a small market town (population in 2001 of just over 29,000), in northeast Worcestershire, and about 13 miles south of Birmingham in the West Midlands.

We originally settled in Bromsgrove in July 1981 after returning from South America, when I joined the University of Birmingham as a lecturer in the Department of Plant Biology. Then, in 1991, I took up a position at the International Rice Research Institute (IRRI), a renowned international agricultural research center in Los Baños, about 68 km south of Manila, staying there almost 19 years until retirement beckoned in April 2010.

Do we miss Worcestershire? In some ways. It is a lovely county, and within a 50 mile radius of Bromsgrove there are many attractions, into Warwickshire, Oxfordshire, Gloucestershire, Herefordshire, and Shropshire.

Since 2011 we have been keen members of the National Trust (NT) and English Heritage (EH). Just check out the list of places (and maps) we have visited over the past decade or more.

There are fewer NT and EH properties here in the northeast, but the region has so much to offer with possibly some of the most spectacular landscapes in the country: coast, river valleys, moorlands, mountains, and a huge dose of history, especially the history and remains of the Roman occupation almost 2000 years ago.

March 2021 saw us move into our new home in Backworth, North Tyneside, and 15 minutes on the Metro from Newcastle city center. We are also just 10 minutes’ drive from the North Sea coast. The Tyne and Wear area (comprising the five metropolitan boroughs of Newcastle, North Tyneside, Gateshead, South Tyneside, and Sunderland) as well as the surrounding counties of Northumberland and Co Durham (even as far south as North Yorkshire) have so much to offer.

And since our move here in 2020, we have been out and about exploring our new home whenever the weather permits.

On this map I’ve marked all the places we have visited over the past 30 months. NT and EH properties have a dark red icon, coast and landscapes are green, other attractions are purple, and other historic sites are marked with a yellow icon. I’ve included photographs, and there are links to my blog posts and other websites where you can find more information about this wonderful corner of England.

Banks of the sweet primroses . . .

Yellow is the color of Spring.

And while a host of golden daffodils point their trumpets, dandelions add bright yellow sunbursts to the green backcloth of lawns (but NIMBY according to my wife), and marsh marigolds fill the local waterways with their golden cups, perhaps there’s no better symbol of the arrival of Spring than the appearance of delicate yellow primroses (Primula vulgaris).

There are over 400 species of perennial primroses in an array of colours, including white, blue, pink, red and yellow. The name primrose derived from the Latin Flor di primavera, meaning the ‘first flower of spring’.

Just a couple of weeks ago, Steph and I visited The Alnwick Garden (where we have a Friends of the Garden membership), and there, at the top of the garden in the shade of trees, was a bank of beautiful pale yellow primroses.

Primroses have long been acclaimed in folklore and literature. On one site, about Shakespeare’s favorite flowers, there was this: There are many legends and myths about primroses. According to a Scottish legend, if you want to see a fairy, you must eat a primrose. Leaving primroses on your doorstep will ensure fairies will bless your house, and putting primroses in a cowshed will convince them not to steal the milk. Not surprisingly, the flower is also known as “fairy cup”. Celtic Druids believed the flower helped ward off evil spirits and could connect us with the fairies.

Primroses symbolise youth and longevity, but there are many other meanings, too. Usually, primrose flowers are seen as representations of young love and of feeling as though you can’t live without your lover. There’s more here.

And in that context, a well-known and old folk song (interpreted below by Fairport Convention on the Angel Delight album released in 1971) Banks of the Sweet Primroses touches on some of these themes.

Besides the common primrose, there are two other common species in these islands: the oxlip (Primula elatior, left below) and cowslip (Primula veris, right), both hybridising with Primula vulgaris where conditions are right.

Primroses have a reciprocal arrangement of the anthers and style, known as heterostyly, in pin- or thrum-form flowers which are self-incompatible, thus promoting cross-pollination.

Pin-form on the left, and thrum on the right. Anthers (3) and pistil (4).

Hybrids between the primrose and cowslip (Primula x polyantha) have been selected in a wide range of colors and are very popular in gardens.

There is one primula species, Primula auricula, a native of the mountains of central Europe, that has particularly striking flowers. Enthusiasts were already selecting striped forms by the 1600s.

In the 18th century, growing auriculas became quite a fad, and so-called auricula theaters were built to display them at their best. There is a particularly impressive auricula theater at Calke Abbey in Derbyshire, but was full of pelargoniums, not auriculas, as shown below when we visited in 2012.

When we visited the 100th Chelsea Flower Show back in 2013 and RHS show at Malvern in 2018 I was very struck by the displays of auriculas.

It was about that same time that Steph acquired several varieties, and although they flowered quite well, they were never displayed at their best.

That was until 2021, after we had moved north to Newcastle upon Tyne. I bought online an old bookshelf for her birthday and converted it into an auricula theater. Choosing one of the ‘traditional’ colors, I painted the outside sage green, and inside a dark grey. And here’s the end result.

Not too bad, even if I say so myself.

 

Three years have passed . . .

I hope I’m not tempting Providence.

So far, Steph and I have managed to avoid COVID-19. We still mask when we shop at the supermarket, when we travel on the Metro here in Newcastle upon Tyne, or anywhere we might be in close proximity with others. Mostly we are the only ones wearing masks.

And while most people feel that the pandemic is over and done with, latest data from the UK’s Office for National Statistics indicate that the virus is, once again, on the increase.

About 1 in 40 of England’s population (2.66%) tested positive at the end of March. COVID-19 has certainly not gone away, and given some of the horror stories circulating about the effects of long-COVID, it’s better to avoid infection if at all possible. Or at least reduce the risk of infection. That’s why we continue to mask.

And while we have been COVID-free, it has affected our nearest and dearest. Both our daughters and their families were struck down on a couple of occasions, even though everyone had been vaccinated.

As for Steph and me, we received our initial vaccinations in February and April 2021, with boosters in October that year, and in September a year later.


At New Year 2020, who would have envisioned that we were on the verge of a global pandemic. It was only on 31 December that the World Health Organization (WHO) was informed of a cluster of cases of pneumonia of unknown cause detected in Wuhan City, Hubei Province, China. A novel coronavirus (SARS-CoV-2) was subsequently identified from patient samples.

Less than a month later, two Chinese nationals staying at a hotel in York tested positive for coronavirus. It was downhill thereafter, with the first lockdown coming into force on 26 March 2020. Other lockdowns followed. The Institute for Government has published an interesting timeline of the various government measures taken over the subsequent year here in the UK.

Daily life for everyone changed overnight. Although with hindsight, we now know that not all the rules that governed the lives of millions throughout the country were followed by then Prime Minister Boris Johnson and 10 Downing Street staff!

Boris Johnson partying with Downing Street staff.


So, in retrospect, how has the COVID pandemic affected us?

Surprisingly little, if I’m honest. Despite all the inconveniences to daily life, the past three years have flown by. We’ve been rather busy. We kept to ourselves.

Another type of Corona . . .

Fortunately, we prefer the quiet life and since we don’t go pubbing, clubbing, or eating out regularly, we didn’t miss those during the lockdowns. And since the rules permitted exercise outdoors with one person in the same family bubble, we continued to enjoy the outdoors, with Steph joining me on my daily walks around Bromsgrove in Worcestershire where we were living at the time, weather permitting.

And once the National Trust started to open up once again, we seized the opportunity and headed off, on a glorious afternoon, to Dudmaston Hall in Shropshire, and several other properties close by before the end of September.

At Dudmaston Hall on 24 June 2020.

The first impacts of lockdown back in 2020 seem almost a lifetime ago. Deserted streets, and long queues at the supermarkets and shortages (caused primarily by panic buying in the first instance) of some food items and other basics like hand sanitizer and toilet rolls, until the inevitable rationing that was brought in.

Our nearest supermarket, Morrisons, was just 5 minutes or 1.6 miles away by car. Being the driver, the weekly shop fell to me since the supermarkets were only permitting entry to one person per household. I also took on the weekly shop for a widower friend and former University of Birmingham colleague, Jim Croft (a few years older than me) who lived close by. In fact I continued to shop for Jim right up till the day we moved north to Newcastle.


And talking of moving, by November 2019 (during a visit to our younger daughter Philippa and her family in Newcastle upon Tyne) we had bitten the bullet and decided we’d put our Bromsgrove house on the market, and make the move north.

Having appointed an estate agency (realtor) to handle the sale of our house, we waited until the New Year for the first adverts to be placed in the local press. Come mid-January 2020, a For Sale board had been firmly planted in our front garden, and we sat back waiting for a surge of prospective buyers. To our surprise—and disappointment, given the location of our house (proximity to excellent First and Middle schools, close to Bromsgrove town center, nearby dental and medical practices, and an upgraded commuter rail service into the center of Birmingham) we expected there would be more interest than we actually experienced.

By the end of March when the first lockdown came into effect, we’d received  fewer than ten viewings. Even under lockdown, the government rules permitted house viewings to continue, as long as they were managed safely (social distancing, hand sanitation, and the like; we were always away from the house in any case during the viewings that were managed by the estate agent).

However, we decided not to accept any more viewings until the rules had been relaxed. Except for one, that had been pencilled in for a week hence. After that, we sat back, wondering when we would finally be able to make the move to Newcastle. We had already decided to rent a house there in the first instance, and use it as a base to look for a new home. But until we had sold our house, it was impossible to make any progress on finding a suitable rental property.

Come the lifting of the lockdown at the end of May, almost immediately we received a request for a second viewing from that last couple. And after a little negotiation, they made an offer which was acceptable. Less than the house had been advertised for (which I never expected to get) but considerably higher than a couple of offers we did receive earlier on, or how other estate agents had valued the house. Happy times! Or at least I thought so.

But anyone who has struggled through a house sale (and purchase) will know and understand the considerable angst that the whole conveyancing process can bring. We were at the top of a chain, since we had no purchase waiting to be completed. There was one solicitor two links below in the chain of four who made life miserable for everyone. By the end of September, however, we had all exchanged contracts and completed the sale on the 30th. And moved out that same day. We had used the intervening months to pack many of our belongings and upcycled many items that we no longer wanted to hold on to.

Fortunately I had identified a nice three-bedroom house east of Newcastle in the Shiremoor district of North Tyneside, and just 10 minutes from the North Sea coast. Offering to pay six months rent up front, I had secured a ‘reservation’ on the property at the beginning of September, not knowing exactly when we would be able to move. We moved in on 1 October.

The removal van arrived at 1 pm and was on its way south once again by 4 pm.

Within a fortnight of landing in Newcastle, we had already made an offer on a four bedroom, and two-year-old house, about a mile from where we were living at the time. It should have been the simplest sale/purchase but once again the solicitors made a meal of the process. However, the purchase was completed on 13 February 2021 and we moved on 6 March.

But because of repeated lockdowns, and the rules around meeting other family members and the like, we saw very little of our younger daughter and her family for the next 12 months. Christmas morning 2020 was enjoyed outside in a socially-distanced garden, followed by a solitary lunch for Steph and me.

Unfortunately COVID also put paid to family Christmases in 2021 and 2022.


There hasn’t been a day since that we have regretted the move north. Northumberland is an awe-inspiring county. Our home is only 10 minutes from the North Sea coast. There are miles and miles of paths and bridleways (known locally as ‘waggonways’) on the sites of old mine workings and rail lines. So even just after we moved here, and given the right weather, we have headed out into the countryside, enjoying what we like best: visiting National Trust and English Heritage properties (of which there are quite a few up here with magnificent gardens and walks), and enjoying the fresh air, socially-distanced of course. Just type Northumberland in the search box or open my National Trust and English Heritage page (organized by regions) and you’ll discover for yourselves some of the magical places we have visited over the past two and a half years. Here is just a soupçon of some of those around the northeast.

At this time last year, we spent a week in the south of England—staying at a cottage in the New Forest—and visiting more than a dozen National Trust and English Heritage properties, our first proper holiday since the beginning of the pandemic.

We haven’t traveled to the USA since September 2019, but we are gearing up for a visit come the end of May this year.

COVID restrictions for international travel were lifted sufficiently by July/August 2022 for Hannah and family to fly over from Minnesota, and at last (and for the first time since 2016) we had a family get-together with our two daughters, Hannah and Philippa, husbands Michael and Andi, and grandchildren Callum, Zoë, Elvis, and Felix.


 

The USA has so much to offer . . .

Our elder daughter Hannah and family live in St Paul, Minnesota, and since 2010 we have visited them each year, until 2019.

With the onset of the Covid-19 pandemic in March 2020, our plans for travel that year and the next were well and truly scuppered. In 2022, Hannah, Michael, Callum, and Zoë came over to the UK for a fortnight.

But, at the end of May, Steph and I will once again be heading westwards to Minnesota. And we’re really looking forward to being in the Twin Cities once again. No road trips this time, however. We are just going to take it nice and easy. We’ve not done too bad over the decades in visiting many parts of the USA that I guess will be unfamiliar to the vast majority of US citizens.


Steph and I first visited the United States almost 50 years ago. We were on our way back to the UK from Peru, via Costa Rica and Mexico, and transiting through New York (JFK) for a flight to Manchester (MAN). That was also our first flight on a Boeing 747.

After we moved to Costa Rica in April 1976, my work travel took me through Miami a couple of times a year, as this was the most direct route for flights to various Caribbean islands.

Then, in July 1979, Steph and 15 month old Hannah joined me on a conference trip to Vancouver, and we stopped over for a couple of nights in San Francisco. We returned to Costa Rica via Edmonton in Canada (where my elder brother Ed and his wife Linda lived) and Madison, WI with a side trip to visit a potato research station at Sturgeon Bay, 185 miles northwest of Madison.

On the Edmonton-Madison sector, we had to pass through US immigration in Minneapolis-St Paul (MSP). Little did we realise that the Twin Cities would become Hannah’s home nineteen years later.

Then, in March 1981, after I had resigned from my position with the International Potato Center (CIP), we returned to the UK via New York, spending a couple of nights there and seeing some of the sights, like the Empire State Building.

Steph and Hannah at the top of the Empire State Building, looking out over Manhattan

During the 1980s when I worked at the University of Birmingham, I made only one visit to the USA, for a conference held at the Missouri Botanical Garden in St Louis, just after I’d recovered from a bout of glandular fever.

However, after we moved to the Philippines in 1991, I traveled to the USA quite frequently on work trips, but with little time for any tourism.

In 1998, Hannah transferred to Macalester College in St Paul, MN to complete her junior and senior years, and then stayed on for graduate studies at the University of Minnesota. So whenever I had to travel to the USA, I usually planned my itinerary through MSP so I could spend a weekend or more with her. Hannah married Michael in St Paul in 2006, and is now a US citizen.

Since 2011, our road trips have taken us right across the country. Links to those trips can be found at the bottom of this page.


To date, I have visited 41 of the 50 states, plus the District of Columbia, but I have transferred flights in Nevada (Las Vegas), and on one flight from Tokyo to MSP, there was a medical emergency and the plane landed in Anchorage, Alaska.

In the map below, tourist hotspots (and not-so-hotspots) we have visited are shown with blue markers. Click on the marker and there will be a link to a blog post and/or a photo album.

Towns and cities have rarely been the focus of our trips, but there are some, with red markers. And the yellow ones show cities I visited primarily on business (mainly scientific conferences).

Although we haven’t traveled much in the Deep South, nor some of the Mid-West states, our coverage elsewhere has been pretty impressive, coast to coast. The USA has so much to offer in terms of diverse landscapes: coasts, rivers, deserts, forests, mountains, caves. You name it, the USA has it. Here is just a small selection of some of the places visited since 2011.

“Jolly old hawk . . .

. . . and his wings were grey. Now let us sing.
Who’s going to win the girl but me?
Jolly old hawk and his wings were grey.”

A variant perhaps on The Twelve Days of Christmas. Singer and collector of folk songs, AL Lloyd (left below) suggested that the tune may have come from France or Flanders in the Middle Ages. Cecil Sharp (right), an eminent activist in the folk revival of the early 1900s, apparently found the song at Bridgwater in Somerset.

The song featured on Frost and Fire, recorded in 1965 for Topic Records by The Watersons, a folk ensemble from Hull, comprising brother and sisters Mike, Norma, and Elaine (always known as Lal) Waterson, and their cousin John Harrison, mostly singing unaccompanied and with a musicality of sublime harmonies.

L-R: Lal, John, Mike, and Norma

Frost and Fire was followed up in 1966 by A Yorkshire Garland, and I purchased that as well, keeping both as part of my collection until they were taken in burglary while we lived in Costa Rica in 1978.

I’m not sure what drew me to The Watersons or how and when I first encountered them. But I must have been taken with them immediately being inspired to purchase Frost and Fire when it was first released.

However, my interest in folk music and dance had begun a year or so earlier, when I enjoyed a couple of BBC television programs. The White Heather Club, broadcast between 1958 and 1968, had Robin Hall and Jimmy Macgregor as resident folk singers. 

Robin Hall and Jimmy Macgregor

The Hoot’Nanny Show was broadcast from Edinburgh in 1963 and 1964. Residents on the show were the Corrie Folk Trio (whose Flowers of Scotland has become the country’s unofficial anthem) and Paddie Bell. But other regulars included the Scots singer Ray Fisher¹ and her brother Archie, The Ian Campbell Folk Group (from Birmingham, including virtuoso fiddle player Dave Swarbrick), and The Dubliners.

These and some other singers like Bob Davenport (from Gateshead) were my introduction to folk music, and on arrival at the University of Southampton as an undergraduate in October 1967, I joined the folk club and the English & Scottish Folk Dance Society. That introduction to folk dancing extended a year later into morris dancing as well.

L: At the Inter-Varsity Folk Dance Festival at the University of Hull in March 1968 (I’m standing in the middle); R: the Red Stags Morris Men (I’m crouching far right) in March 1970.

Among the singers who appeared more than once at the Sunday night folk club in the Students’ Union were Tim Hart and Maddy Prior, among the co-founders of the electric folk group Steeleye Span which formed in 1969.

I didn’t encounter Steeleye Span until September 1970, when I first heard the song Lovely On the Water although it wasn’t released until March 1971 on the Please to See the King album.

Martin Carthy joined the Steeleye Span line-up for their second and third albums although he was mainly a solo artist, but also releasing several duo albums with Dave Swarbrick


Anyway, returning to The Watersons, I never thought I’d ever see them perform live. But, on 10 February 1968, when they made their farewell performance at the Royal Albert Hall in London, I and several friends were in the audience.

Norma left the group and moved for several years to the Caribbean island of Montserrat. Returning to the UK by 1972, she married Martin Carthy who became a regular in The Watersons line-up. I read that John Harrison left the group in 1966, but I thought he was still singing with them at their 1968 farewell concert.

Martin and Norma’s daughter, Eliza Carthy (a singer and multi-instrumentalist) has become one of the UK’s foremost folk performers.

Apart from Frost and Fire and A Yorkshire Garland that was my exposure to The Watersons for the next 50 years. Until a year ago, when I came across an obituary for Norma in The Guardian newspaper on 31 January 2022. This appreciation was also published in the newspaper on the same day. Lal died in 1998, and Mike in 2011.

Thanks to YouTube and Spotify I have been able to find so much of their music online, and in videos such as this one, they talk about themselves, their origins, and their music.

One song that became Norma’s signature piece, it seems, is A Bunch of Thyme. Here she is singing with Eliza in 2017. Enjoy.

 


¹In 1969, I joined Ray and her husband Colin Ross when they led a group of pipers and dancers to a folk festival in Strakonice, Czechoslovakia.

Trains and boats and . . .

Buses!

Actually bus, then ferry, and finally train. Not exactly Burt Bacharach/Hal David, nor Dionne Warwick (or Billy J Kramer and the Dakotas for that matter).

Yesterday, Steph and I took full advantage of our concessionary travel cards to make a round trip by bus to the ferry terminal at North Shields, crossing the River Tyne by ferry to South Shields, and returning home by the metro to our closest station at Northumberland Park.

Our travel concession permits unlimited bus travel after 09:30 each day (nationwide in fact), and with an additional Gold Card payment each of £12, unlimited travel on the local ferry and Metro as well.

The Tyne and Wear Passenger Transport Executive, branded as NEXUS, manages an integrated transport system in the northeast of the UK around Newcastle upon Tyne.

NEXUS brings together the bus, ferry, and Metro services across the five metropolitan boroughs of North Tyneside (where we live) and Newcastle upon Tyne north of the River Tyne, and Gateshead, South Tyneside, and Sunderland south of the river, that together once constituted the metropolitan county of Tyne and Wear.

So, with that in mind, we planned our excursion that would use all three of these services to get around.


Our journey started at 10:25 from a bus stop less than a couple of hundred meters from home. The No 19 service was supposed to operate every hour, although there was some confusion yesterday since a new operator had just taken over the route, and some services did not show up. Ours was about five minutes late, and the journey to the ferry took about 35 minutes.

The journey was quite interesting since it took us through areas of North Tyneside (south of where we live) that we have never explored. It was a little bit longer than we anticipated, since we did not recognise the ferry bus stop, and so stayed on board while the bus completed its route around North Shields before returning to the ferry stop.

We just missed the 11 am ferry to South Shields. But that didn’t matter. Although quite cold (just 2-3°C), it was a bright and sunny day, so we enjoyed exploring the ferry quay and reading about its history before our ferry, Spirit of the Tyne docked around 11:20.

The trip across the Tyne takes about seven minutes, with interesting views along each bank where heavy industries like ship building once thrived. Nowadays some of the land has been converted to choice waterside apartment buildings, although further up river there is an active Port of Tyne, and quays for the ferry service to Amsterdam and where cruise ships also dock. In port yesterday was the Fred Olsen Bolette, preparing for a cruise to Iceland later that same evening.


The ferry quay on the South Shields side is just a stone’s throw from the town center.

Just beyond the quay stands The Word – that National Centre for the Written Word, which we didn’t visit but we must make a plan to return to.

We didn’t actually have any plan at all yesterday, apart from making the round trip. But as soon as we had landed in South Shields we discovered that the remains of an important Roman fort (which I had read about but totally forgotten) were less than a mile away. So we headed through the town center to reach Arbeia, on a plot of land known as The Lawes high above the town.

And we were in luck as yesterday was the first day of opening this year. Entrance was free.

Founded around AD 160, Arbeia was a key garrison and military supply base to support the troops who constructed and afterwards manned Hadrian’s Wall further west. The remains of numerous granaries (there were, at one time, up to 24 of these store houses) can be clearly seen from the ramparts of the reconstructed West Gatehouse.

In addition to the gatehouse, there is a reconstructed barracks showing what life might have been like for Roman and auxiliary soldiers all those centuries ago.

The first archaeological investigation of Arbeia began in 1870. More photos of the site and inside the reconstructed buildings (with explanations) can be viewed here.

After a quick picnic lunch, we had a look round the museum, before heading to view the mouth of the River Tyne and across the river to Tynemouth and its priory.


By about 14:00 we had arrived back at South Shields’ new Metro station at the Interchange Square, where we took the metro back home.

South Shields is the end of the line, and just as we stepped on to the platform, the next train was pulling into the station.

Trains from South Shields (yellow line) head into Newcastle city center, before turning east to Whitley Bay and Tynemouth on the North Sea coast and looping back to the St James terminus.

Our stop, Northumberland Park, was 24 stops, and almost 50 minutes. Sitting in a stuffy Metro carriage, surrounded (for part of the journey from South Shields to Jarrow) by a class of high spirited and noisy schoolchildren who we’d seen at Arbeia) was a bit trying, but crossing the River Tyne between Gateshead and Central Station (where the line goes underground for a few stops) and seeing all the bridges downriver always lifts one’s spirits.

About 15 minutes later we pulled into Northumberland Park, and the train headed off on its continuing journey to the coast.

Then it was a short 10 minute walk home, relief at being able to put my feet up (we’d walked about 4½ miles), and enjoy a welcome afternoon cup of tea. All in all, a good day’s excursion.


 

Not 20,000 leagues . . .

Diving at Anilao, Philippines

Actually, 16,504 minutes (almost 11½ days) under the sea. That was the extent of my scuba diving experiences over 17 years from March 1993 when I first learned to dive in the Philippines.

Today marks the 30th anniversary of my first Open Water training dive that I made at Anilao, about 95 km southwest from Los Baños where I worked at the International Rice Research Institute (IRRI).

I received my PADI Open Water Diver certification on 17 March 1993.

We were a group of about ten IRRI staff and family members, trained by Boy Siojo (left below) and Mario Elumba.

After Confined Water dive skills training in the swimming pool at IRRI (right), it was quite an experience to transfer to the ‘open ocean’.

L: About to plunge backwards into the IRRI pool on 6 March 1993; R: With PADI course classmate Crissan Zeigler at Anilao after successfully completing the four Open Water training dives on 14 March 1993.

And although I have mostly been risk averse, never having any interest whatsoever in mountain or rock climbing, potholing, jumping out of planes, and the like, I took to scuba diving enthusiastically, although it had never crossed my mind as an option when I first landed in the Philippines two years earlier. Our elder daughter Hannah had taken the NAUI course in 1992, and I saw how much she enjoyed it. I decided it was a ‘sport’ we could enjoy together, and signed up for scuba training at the next opportunity.

Diving with Hannah, just three weeks after certification in April 1993. By then I’d already bought my own wet suit and other scuba equipment.

Our younger daughter Philippa took the PADI course in January 1995, just before her 13th birthday.

Phil and other students in the IRRI pool for the Confined Water training.

Returning from a dive in April 1995, with IRRI friends (L-R): me, Crissan Zeigler, Philippa, Kate Kirk, Clare Zeigler (Phil’s best friend), and Bob Zeigler (who became IRRI’s Director General in 2004).

I made all my dives around the many sites at Mabini, Anilao, never straying further to other locations in the country.Click on the map to enlarge.

That’s because Steph did not dive, and Anilao was excellent for snorkelling which she enjoyed, cataloging all the fish species she observed over nearly 19 years.

I also made my last—and 356th dive—on 14 March 2010. These photos were taken during my last two dives. Fittingly my last dive was an early one, probably around 7 am, at Kirby’s Rock.

With my dive buddy Katie and other members of my IRRI staff after the last dive, heading back to the dive resort for a breakfast of bacon and eggs.

And on that last dive, we were lucky to see a sea snake, a creature that eluded me for most of my 356 dives.

Anilao was very convenient for a weekend getaway, and the dive resort where we mostly stayed, Arthur’s Place, almost became a second home to the many IRRI divers over the years.

As I gained experience, and was more relaxed underwater, I could extend my dives to at least 45 minutes and longer, some lasting an hour or more. But it all depended on whether there were strong currents, visibility, and the capability and experience of my dive buddies.

The shortest dive I made, in August 1997, was just 10 minutes at my favorite dive site, Kirby’s Rock a 20 minute or so ride across the channel from Arthur’s Place. I was diving with an American couple, Bert and Annette Gee who were also staying at Arthur’s that weekend.

The dive started normally, with a back roll over the side of the dive boat, or outrigger banca. We descended the rock face (as you can see in the video below filmed on another occasion), and then, at 90 feet, my breathing equipment (both regulators) malfunctioned and I had to abort the dive. Thank goodness for outstanding training from Boy and Mario. I coped – and lived to tell the tale!

My deepest dive, at 135 feet, was at Kirby’s Rock, and I made over 50 dives there to over 100 feet. I relished the sensations of descending into colder water and increasing water pressure compressing everything, knowing that we’d have only a few minutes at that depth before slowly returning to the surface.

It’s been 13 years since I last dived. Do I miss it? Yes and no. Been there, done that. It was great while I had the opportunity of great diving on the doorstep, so to speak. I have no desire to re-learn so I can dive in the North Sea. For one thing, it’s too damn cold. And for another, I think I’ve been spoiled by having dived in one of the most diverse coral environments on the planet.

A variable neon slug (Nembrotha kubaryana) at Anilao.


 

 

 

 

Martin F. Jackson (1939-2023)

My eldest brother Martin died a couple of days ago having recently been diagnosed with an aggressive cancer.

Born on 1 September 1939 in Bath, just a couple of days before war was declared on Germany, Martin was the eldest child of four of Frederick Harry Jackson and his wife Lilian, and was named after his maternal grandfather, Martin Healy (1876-1954), and our father Fred.

Here are the four of us, in 1951 or thereabouts, and again in 2006. Left to right: Mike (b. 1948), Martin, Margaret (b. 1941), and Edgar (1946-2019).

Not long after Martin was born, my parents moved to Congleton in Cheshire, which was to become the family hometown until 1956. But with the advancing war, Dad was called up to serve and joined the Royal Navy, and Mum, Martin and Margaret left Congleton to live with her in-laws in the small Derbyshire village of Hollington, about midway between Ashbourne and Derby.

While living in Hollington, Martin started his primary education at the village school in Longford, just a couple miles down the road. After the war, the family moved back to Congleton where Dad was the staff photographer for the local newspaper, The Congleton Chronicle. We lived at 13 Moody Street, which was owned by the newspaper’s proprietor.

Martin and Margaret then attended the Church of England school in Mossley, a village just to the southeast of the town centre (and which Edgar and Mike attended as well when they reached school age).

In 1953 all the local children in Moody Street celebrated the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II. Martin is the cricketer on the extreme right.

Martin was a keen swimmer, and won a number of trophies.

I don’t remember many family holidays in the early 1950s (before we moved to Leek). But there were a couple where we stayed in a caravan near Llandudno in North Wales, and another year in a camping coach alongside the main railway line to Holyhead in Abergele, just along the coast from Llandudno. I have no idea why our parents insisted on us wearing school uniform, but I guess that was quite normal back in the day.

When time permitted, we’d visit our grandparents in Hollington, and during the summer there would be picnics in one of the meadows, and visits to Dovedale with our Paxton cousins who lived across the road from our grandparents. In 1954, Grandma and Grandad celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary with family and friends.

By the autumn of 1950, Martin won a scholarship to King’s School in Macclesfield (which entailed a bus and train journey each day from Congleton), and stayed there until he completed his school certificate at the age of sixteen around 1956.

At Macclesfield, Martin had joined the Air Training Corps (ATC) and would go on to join the Royal Air Force in 1957, where he continued his swimming prowess. His passing out parade was held at RAF West Kirby.

He remained in the RAF, with Fighter Command, until 1965, serving in Scotland at RAF Buchan near Peterhead in Aberdeenshire, and in Cyprus at RAF Akrotiri.

Martin was a motorbike enthusiast, being the proud owner of a 200 cc Triumph Tiger Cub, and then a 500 cc model, making the journey from Aberdeenshire to home in Leek in all weathers. When he was on leave in the summer months, he would often take me out for a spin on his bike, reaching the incredible Ton (100 mph) on one stretch of road near home on one trip.


In November 1965, Martin married the love of his life, Pauline, daughter of the Revd. Neil Henderson (died 1960, a Church of Scotland minister) and his wife Markie, in her home town of Huntly, Aberdeenshire.

L: Mike, Dad, Edgar (best man), and Martin; R: Pauline and her brother Nigel, who ‘gave her away’.

Leaving the RAF, Martin joined the computer company ICL, and worked for a couple of years in the computer department at the Ravenscraig steelworks south of Glasgow.

By 1968, Martin and Pauline had moved to Filton, just north of Bristol, where Martin had joined the flight testing program for the Anglo-French Concorde.

Their first son Alexander Neil was born in March 1968.

Proud parents and grandparents.

Their second son, Michael Bruce, was born in July 1969.

After the flight testing program moved to RAF Fairford in April 1969 (Concorde could take off from Filton but not land there), Martin had opportunities of joining the flight tests in many parts of the world. It’s poignant that 2 March—the day Martin died—was the 54th anniversary of Concorde’s first flight in Toulouse, France.

Leaving the Concorde project, Martin joined the small commercial jets division of British Aerospace near Manchester, setting up home in North Wales near Holywell, Flint.

However, in August 1993, Martin and Pauline embarked on a new adventure, when they became landlords of the Llyn y Mawn Inn near Holywell. In need of a complete refurbishment, within a few months they had turned the pub around to become of the best in Wales. They even extended the premises to increase space for dining.

Behind the bar at the Llyn y Mawn, flanked by Alec and his wife Lizzie on the left, and Bruce on the right.

I don’t remember how long they stayed at the Llyn y Mawn. Maybe until 1999. I remember Martin once telling me he wanted to retire by his 60th birthday. By 2002 they had retired from the licensed trade and were settled in Crieff, Perthshire to be closer to Pauline’s mother.

Steph with Pauline and Martin in the garden of their Crieff home.

There Martin returned to another interest, model railways, and built an impressive layout in the roof of their garage.

However, after holidaying in Portugal, they decided to make the move there permanently, finally settling in Tomar, north of Lisbon. It was there in 2012 that we had a cousins’ reunion. Martin and Pauline had built this beautiful house standing in several acres of its own land, and large enough to accommodate us all. What a lovely two weeks we spent with them. And although we have seen them briefly on two other occasions, this was really the last time that I spent any time with Martin.

Martin embarked on yet another, and larger, model railway layout based on his beloved LMS theme.

But one of Martin’s most enduring legacies will be the database and website that he began work on in 1980 after the death of our father Fred. Martin decided to research the genealogy of the Jackson and Bull families, taking our family history directly back (on our paternal grandmother’s Bull side of the family) to the late 15th century. His website contains the records of more than 39,000 people related to us in one way or other.


Martin and Pauline were proud parents to Alex and Bruce and their wives, Lizzie and Susie, respectively, seen here at the joint christening of Sam (in pushchair) and Maddie (in Bruce’s arms; Seb wasn’t born then) in 2004.

And Martin being the dutiful grandad in 2006 with Sam and Maddie.


It’s hard to believe that Martin has been taken from us so soon, and quickly. It was only a couple of weeks ago that he called me by video to tell me of his diagnosis. But it’s also a relief that he was spared months of painful decline, and for that we must be tankful.

Martin was always my big brother. For some reason I (we) called him ‘Jake’. I have no idea how this came about. So here’s Jake, me, and Edgar on the beach in North Wales, early 1950s.

Rest in Peace, big brother! I will miss you.


 

What childhood reading did you enjoy?

It was World Book Day yesterday, to promote reading for pleasure, offering every child and young person the opportunity to have a book of their own.

The rationale behind World Book Day is that ‘Reading for pleasure is the single biggest indicator of a child’s future success – more than their family circumstances, their parents’ educational background or their income’.

And, the BBC announced that it was reviving its 500 Words story competition for children.

There are so many people writing wonderfully for children nowadays. I can’t say that was the case when I was growing up in the 1950s. No Harry Potter then. No Roald Dahl either. But there was an author who, in her day, was just as popular as JK Rowling, and remains so.


Born in November 1948, I started school around September 1953 just before my fifth birthday, or maybe in the following January.

My first school was Mossley Church of England primary school just south of Congleton in Cheshire. I was seven in 1956 when we moved to Leek, 12 miles southeast of Congleton and I joined St Mary’s Roman Catholic primary. I must have been reading quite satisfactorily by then as I don’t recall any of the teachers commenting negatively on my reading ability. Funnily enough I don’t have any memories of my parents reading to me, although I’m sure they must have.

Like most other children in the 1950s my first reading primers were the Dick and Dora books (or similar), with their dog Nip and cat Fluff. I haven’t yet found information about the publishers or how many primers were produced. Here’s an example of what we worked with.

They were used to teach reading using the whole-word or look-say method (also called sight reading). There were equivalents in the USA (Dick and Jane) and in Australia, the Dick and Dora books were still being used as late as 1970.

The other books that figured significantly in my early reading were the Ladybird Books, first published over 100 years ago and still popular today. So many to choose from. They were also a favorite of my daughters in the 1980s.

They have been referred to as ‘literary time capsules‘.


I joined the public library in Leek, and it was then that I first encountered the stories by prolific author Enid Blyton.

Born in 1897, and publishing her first book in 1922, Enid Blyton went on to write around 700 books and about 2000 short stories as well as poems and magazine articles right up to her death in 1968.

Among her many successes were the Toyland stories featuring Noddy and Big Ears, and a host of other characters, some of which like Golliwog are no longer considered acceptable. These stories still remain popular with young children, and even made into cartoons that can be watched on YouTube.

But it was Blyton’s stories for older children that gripped me: the Famous Five series (21 books between 1942 and 1963), the Secret Seven (15 books between 1949 and 1963), and the Adventure series (8 books between 1944 and 1955).

Each of these books had a group of child characters who had exciting adventures, mainly during their school holidays. Treasure, possible crime, even espionage. And, in the ‘Adventure’ series, a cockatoo named Kiki.

Recently, there has been an initiative to revise some of the language and terms used in her books, to make them more acceptable to 21st century children. The same is happening to the works of Roald Dahl, to much controversy. Besides these there were my weekly Swift comic (and my elder brothers’ Eagle) and the Annuals published around Christmas time.

In addition to the Blyton stories, there is one that has remained firmly in my mind. And although I don’t remember the whole of the narrative in detail, it still holds a special place in my list of children’s book.

Written by Denys Watkins-Pitchford (under the pseudonym ‘BB’) in 1955, The Forest of Boland Light Railway tells the tale of a community of gnomes who build a steam locomotive to transport miners to work, and return with larger quantities of gold. Everything goes well until a group of wicked goblins decide to steal the train and put the railway out of business.

If you ever get the chance to find a copy (that are selling on secondhand books websites for a small fortune) I’m sure you would enjoy it even as an adult.

Watkins-Pitchford, a well-known naturalist, published 60 books between 1922 and 1990, not all of them children’s books. And I never came across one, The Little Grey Men, for which he won the 1942 Carnegie Medal for British children’s books.

Anyway, it’s interesting (for me at least) how an event like World Book Day 2023 stirred up so many memories from almost 70 years ago.

I spend much of my free time nowadays with my nose inside an book. A few years I came across the works of Charles Dickens in a serious way, having despised them as compulsory reading while at school. What a revelation they turned out to be.