tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35948924158690150102024-03-06T00:12:47.314-08:00goinganextramile30,000 miles on a bike, 3 years, 2 continents, 1 coastlinePaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619423046651908332noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594892415869015010.post-91231180039455541892010-04-14T07:14:00.000-07:002010-04-14T07:16:27.323-07:00Brown or Cameron or Clegg<span style="color:#0000ff;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><u><a href="http://www.browncameronclegg.org/">http://www.browncameronclegg.org</a><br /><br /></u></span></span></span></span>An implicit association test which quickly tests your 'real' feelings compared to what you think you think. The idea is to complete the test quickly and let your sub-conscious dictate your answers.<br /><br /><br /><!--EndFragment-->Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619423046651908332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594892415869015010.post-4853764563575253082010-02-12T07:34:00.001-08:002010-02-12T07:37:12.219-08:00Get up. Get out. Be what you are<span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:Lucida Grande;font-size:100%;" >The day is done and I’m running home through the city jungle. In my mind I have gazelle-like grace and a swift turn of speed akin to a hyena chasing down a zebra. This could be either the power of positive thinking or a slight delusional disorder, states of mind separated only by the very thinnest of lines. Nevertheless I feel invulnerable in spite of the doubtful glances from the bus-stoppers as they regard a middle-aged man in tights.<br /><br />There’s no doubt however that running becomes addictive soon after the realisation that old and under-used muscles respond encouragingly to the stress and do not, as you might first imagine, snap and rip themselves from their anchors. Running is a natural activity to which we are perfectly adapted following eons of evolutionary pressure from predators and hunger. Age is no barrier, muscles and tendons quickly realise their intrinsic function.<br /><br />But there’s a dark side. From patient first steps to the finishing line of a first 5K, the need to push further and faster quickly leads to a consumerist frenzy of muscle-enhancing lycra, glycogen recovery shakes and Runners World training programmes that require a degree in mathematics to decode. Unless you have ambitions to compete in the 2012 Olympics then you should resist the dark side. Run for fun, run like an antelope and remember that pizza has now become a health food.<br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><!--EndFragment-->Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619423046651908332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594892415869015010.post-52086607809392123822010-01-27T02:51:00.000-08:002010-01-27T03:02:25.774-08:00It's in the detailsI was driving through Somerset recently with a friend trying to track down some cyclists who'd lost the route they were supposed to be on. As my friend was driving he handed me two devices which had GPS mapping applications on them, one of which was an iPhone, I can't remember the other device.<br /><br />The mapping on both mobiles was excellent, good signals, triangulating positions, clear mapping, easy-to-use etc. I knew exactly where we were and the best route to where we had to be. However, there was a small difference. One mapping application related our position via a black arrow which travelled as we travelled. The other showed our position with a pulsating blue circle which pulsed and glowed as it moved.<br /><br />You can probably guess which one of these was the iPhone and which one was the model I can't remember. That small detail on that particular application made me want to go out and buy an iPhone.Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619423046651908332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594892415869015010.post-71481739799910355962010-01-11T09:49:00.000-08:002010-01-11T09:51:17.407-08:00First or last<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-family:Lucida Grande;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">What are the great firsts of exploration and adventure that are still waiting to be bagged? The worthy ones that is, not the first to cross the Atacama on a pogo-stick or the Atlantic on a lilo. Is there anything truly great that has yet to be done but is still within the realms of possibility? Who are the current Shackleton’s and Knox-Johnsons? Is there a corner of the earth still untrodden, un-photographed?<br /><br />It seems that almost every week now I read in the press or online about another adventurous cyclist setting off around the world for years on end. They’re not the first and I won’t be either. I remember Ranulph Fiennes saying that the only thing that interested him in exploration was the possibility of being the first, the ground-breaker. Without that claim there would be no realistic possibility of attracting funds for the endeavour. However, there are still many, many adventurers willing to save their salary for years and years to finance their own voyages. We’re not reliant on some bizarre and unique method of travel or having to desperately prostrate ourselves in front of a newspaper editor in exchange for some column inches. We just like the look of the road and want to see for ourselves what’s at the end of it.<br /><br /><br /></span></span> <!--EndFragment-->Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619423046651908332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594892415869015010.post-57892720776868428192009-11-07T14:37:00.000-08:002009-11-07T15:44:34.370-08:00Dawn of the jellyfishIn the Sea of Japan right now there are estimated to be over 20 billion Nomura's Jellyfish. Weighing up to 400 lbs each, swarms can fill the sea for hundreds of miles and the the Japanese fishing industry is in financial crisis as it's fishermen dredge up tonne after tonne of these gelatinous creatures instead of the food fish they seek. The phrase 'reaping what we have sown' is very apt here. As the jellyfish are slashed and torn by the fishermen before being thrown back into the depths, its last act before dying is to release millions of fertilised eggs.<br /><br />The Sea of Japan has been remorselessly plundered for 50 years. Predators and prey fish alike have been stripped from the depths and laid out in Tsukiji fish market in ever-increasingly unsustainable numbers. The fertilised eggs of the Nomura's become polyps and produce new-born jellyfish which are now free to grow and grow and grow until they can fill the void to become the primary predators in their habitat. A single adult Nomura's can filter a volume of water the size of an olympic swimming pool in a day, depriving fish of the zooplankton they need to survive in numbers.<br /><br />The result is fewer of the traditional fish in the Tokyo markets, the end of an industry which has been the architect of it's own demise and oceans full of jellyfish for the rest of us. Be in no doubt, if affects us all. The alarming news for the western world is that this problem is not just a Japanese one. There are about 300 known species of jellyfish, and they are ALL thriving, positively blooming in all the oceans of the world. For them, a slight change in sea temperature means boom-time. Any change in temperature, salinity or levels of nutrients and pollution means it's time to get busy and with their normal predators out of the picture they've got the place to themselves.<br /><br />If you enjoy any sort of marine based activity or even just a dip in the sea on your holidays then make the most of it while you can. The rise of the jellyfish could be unstoppable and they're reclaiming the habitat they were once kings of in the past.Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619423046651908332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594892415869015010.post-16519537038811650732009-10-12T06:52:00.000-07:002009-10-12T12:53:14.894-07:00On the rocksTightly clad in a wetsuit that fitted me last year I raced down to the beach along with my team-mates. This was going to be the 'surfing' section of a 2 day adventure race across the rolling hills of Devon. Actual surfboarding, of course, is an acquired skill so this stage meant simply lying on a board and paddling 100 metres out to a checkpoint and back again. Seems simple enough doesn't it? I dumped my rucksack, picked a nice blue board and made for the surf, cleverly positioning myself further up the beach to allow for the current running left to right. How hard can it be, I thought. This shouldn't take too long.<br /><br />In knee-high surf I confidently leapt on, settled myself centrally and began to paddle, but not quickly enough to stop the first wave I met dumping me off the board and carrying me straight back onto the beach. A rather self-conscious moment, to say the least as I arrived back at the feet of the marshal who'd wished me luck a minute earlier. I'm sure he wasn't smiling sympathetically but I wasn't going to make eye contact.<br /><br />Looking around, it seemed that a chest-high surf launch was the norm which was logical but equally problematical in the choppy conditions. I estimated a window of about three or four seconds between waves to pull myself up, get balanced and begin paddling like fury to try and straighten up into the next breaker. My technique, however, took 5 seconds. Several seconds later my board arrived back on the beach once more towing me behind it. The marshal's restraint in offering helpful advice was a gesture I'll always appreciate!<br /><br />Third time lucky and I'm on the board, paddling and over the first wave. I'm away! In a couple of minutes I'm past the breakers and cresting the swells. Five minutes later I'm exhausted. The brief was to use my arms as though I was swimming, but this is nothing like swimming. It's surprisingly difficult to lift an arm clear of the water to reach forward without immediately unbalancing myself. The effort involved in wrenching my shoulders upwards and forwards while lying dead flat is immense, particularly while simultaneously keeping my head up to see where I'm going and maintaining a vice-like grip on the board with my feet. I'm constantly slipping sideways and having to re-set myself and making very slow progress. Looking back I see I'm only about 50 metres from shore and the buoy is a further 50 away.<br /><br />At about 70 metres out, I'm completely drained of energy and the litre of sea water I've swallowed hasn't helped. I'm struggling and common sense finally prevails. This might not be the most sensible thing I've attempted. I slowly manage to turn around and try to find the strength to head back for solid land abandoning the points on offer despite my team-mates having made it. About now I really begin to appreciate the strength of the longshore current. What really brings it home is the wave-lashed jagged rocks to my right that appear to be the beaching point on my diagonal course. A butterfly-type stroke helps keep me balanced but this is even more exhausting and I'm beginning to worry about those rocks. I wonder whether getting in the water and swimming normally would be the solution but I don't know whether the board would drag me sideways.<br /><br />Looking up I see a marshal running down the beach frantically waving at me in a sort of universally recognisable semaphore to move left and paddle very, very quickly. Ah yes, why didn't I think of that? I'm now squarely on route for a dashing on the rocks and will almost certainly need a new wetsuit afterwards.<br /><br />My best option seems to be reverse paddling in the desperate hope of avoiding the rocks and drifting along to the next cove. Just as I do so, however, my board turns around under me and makes for safe harbour. "G'day mate, having a problem" comes a distinctively Australian voice from behind me. Somehow he manages to defy the laws of physics by pushing me forwards without pushing himself backwards. In the end it only takes a few metres to escape the current and I'm able to paddle slowly ashore just short of the rocks.<br /><br />I pick up the missed points using a kayak. Safe and stable with great big paddles.Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619423046651908332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594892415869015010.post-65952986254974175612009-09-18T15:08:00.001-07:002009-09-30T10:19:33.116-07:00A crap way to protest<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 12px;font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;" ><span class="Apple-style-span">'Environmental campaigners' dumping manure on Jeremy Clarkson's lawn is an immature and pointless act of vandalism that neutralises the point they are trying to make. Yes, the world is getting gradually warmer and yes, it's entirely feasible that human activity is adding (or perhaps causing) the problem by our casual attitude to the build-up of CO2 but childish stunts like this add nothing to the debate and merely entrench the 'Daily Mail' image of hippy green protesters. Personally, I thought the '4x4 to the North Pole' episode was fantastic, ground-breaking television and a unique adventure which I'd have given my right arm to take part in. It's all part of the joy of being ALIVE! However, we have to be aware of the impact of our actions and take reasonable steps to minimise it. Global warming and cooling has, of course, occurred many, many times during the earth's history. Nevertheless we are, uniquely, the first creatures able to measure it, anticipate it and perhaps affect it positively or negatively.<br /><br />There's nothing hypocritical about enjoying driving and flying and yet still want to find solutions to the problems caused by warming, whether it's man-made or not. We don't have to be extremist tree-hugging, manure chuckers to be aware of what's happening. We just have to see things for what they are and take responsibility for our actions. We don't have to ban cars, ban aeroplanes, ban wood fires, ban having any fun at all. But if we want to enjoy Jeremy Clarkson's tribe ploughing a furrow to the North Pole we also have to maturely and reasonably contribute to a debate about whether the North Pole ice cap will still be there in 25 years. Simple awareness of the possible problems and their cause and effect is required.<br /><br />That's a start, and it doesn't take any great change in lifestyle.</span></span>Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619423046651908332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594892415869015010.post-90585785723859435242009-09-17T01:30:00.000-07:002009-09-17T04:56:49.917-07:00Sinar MasWatched a programme on the palm oil industry last night. Can't really believe how short-sighted some corporations are. A smiling executive from Sinar Mas calmly explained how the rainforests in Indonesia are 'unproductive' and they were cleverly and systematically cultivating them with palm oil plantations instead. It wasn't the job of Sinar Mas, he stated, to worry about CO2 emissions causing global warming, they were providing a valuable resource for the people of Indonesia. Millions of hectares of prime rainforest are being slashed and burnt every year.<br /><br />Cut to the indigenous people in these areas who are now forced to trek miles to beg permission from nearby farmers to dig for roots. These same local people are supposed to own the forests, but are powerless to stop the loggers coming in and raping their land. Unsurprisingly the police are paid better by Sinar Mas than they are by the state and little serious action is taken to protect their rights. Apparently all Sinar Mas have to do to receive permission for new plantations is prove that an area of rainforest is not productive (which in this case means not cultivated). The production of oxygen, fixing of CO2, provision of natural habitats for wildlife and protection of biodiversity are seemingly not covered under this description.<br /><br />And palm oil? Alarmingly common in many of the products we put in our shopping baskets every week, it's often listed as vegetable oil. It's cheap and versatile and yet costs the earth!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.greenpeace.org/usa/news/sinar-mas-forest-and-climat">http://www.greenpeace.org/usa/news/sinar-mas-forest-and-climat</a>Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619423046651908332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594892415869015010.post-10914521513579552772009-09-03T08:50:00.000-07:002009-09-03T08:51:09.737-07:00Flipping fun in FarneThere was an episode once of Vicar of Dibley where Dawn French tried to perform a ballet routine with Darcy Bussell only to realise how hopeless her best efforts were. It comes to mind whilst reflecting on a great weekend of diving in the Farne Islands brought to us again by London School of Diving in Chiswick. Diving with the Grey Seals of Farne brought home to me my aquatic limitations whilst being captivated by the poise, elegance and power of these majestic mammals who are engagingly interactive underwater.<br /><br /><div> </div>Trying to swim with them or copy their effortless style just invites derision and leads to dizzying exhaustion. Instead, a better method is to simply sit yourself down on a comfy rock at about 10-15 metres and wave your fins about a little. In quick time you'll immediately become a play-thing for the amusement of these curious locals who'll dart back and forth like excited puppies, sniffing, nibbling and generally checking you out. Eventually, some of the more confident individuals may permit you to show them your best moves . . . the sound you'll hear is of seals laughing.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD0R6kT-4oP3VhYNn9WB6N6OGpMHYybpzY5yv2qmQAEr1yD5GZ5n6FACgQd8sXgxKZYwPeId3QZ-3du00YOsIYlNQ5P4I5pDb6C_pykTwKIBvl5de9aI1aFEhMimd_W94CTL5lSBAhw0NX/s1600-h/P8270259.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 512px; height: 338px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD0R6kT-4oP3VhYNn9WB6N6OGpMHYybpzY5yv2qmQAEr1yD5GZ5n6FACgQd8sXgxKZYwPeId3QZ-3du00YOsIYlNQ5P4I5pDb6C_pykTwKIBvl5de9aI1aFEhMimd_W94CTL5lSBAhw0NX/s400/P8270259.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377240423066038146" border="0" /></a><div>The Farne Islands are on the Northumberland coast, just south of the Holy Isle of Lindisfarne. Up here these silky little divers are the star attraction (unless you're into Puffins!). Four thousand of them populate this rugged cluster of 15 islands (28 at low tide) and large numbers can be found sunning themselves on the rocks whilst awaiting the next delivery of nutty neoprene playmates.<br /><br /></div><div>We stayed at the spacious Bamburgh Castle Inn which takes pride of place in the little port of Seahouses, a town and harbour built for the sole purpose of capturing thousands of tonnes of Herring in a once bountiful era, but now re-purposed to successfully cater for the divers and tourists looking to explore the wildlife of the sea-swept rocky pinnacles just offshore. The nature of these rocks, tides and currents have accounted for hundreds of wrecks over the years.<br /><br />For the diver these craggy isles offer stunning sheer cliff-faces descending vertically below the waterline for 20 or 30 metres to the boulder beds. Bright white and yellow corals, mostly Dead Man's Fingers, are flourishing here and illuminate the ravines and mazes. Lobster, octopus and crab take cover in the high kelp jungles, although sadly the kelps appear to be suffering from a surprisingly numerous sea urchin population. We managed four dives over the weekend and our furry companions accompanied us on each one. The visibility was superb throughout.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6lVEeFmiwXdPDZbUNngdv8NL1lFEYJXrnfZa_QLgjAD7jp13scpnHMIG4AGDxIev-VxxmujNdC9bJaAPgNzBY00u35HwtUov-rTKDk7nymjVrd7IeOq0V3rPL7TbEmBZy6p0U9cy0GXzx/s1600-h/P8270249.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 505px; height: 379px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6lVEeFmiwXdPDZbUNngdv8NL1lFEYJXrnfZa_QLgjAD7jp13scpnHMIG4AGDxIev-VxxmujNdC9bJaAPgNzBY00u35HwtUov-rTKDk7nymjVrd7IeOq0V3rPL7TbEmBZy6p0U9cy0GXzx/s400/P8270249.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377240821975072562" border="0" /></a></div>The most striking feature of the Grey Seal has to be their mesmerizing deep black eyes which give them a slightly sad looking demeanor and constant look of nervous curiosity. Finning around the boulders we'd often happen upon a less playful seal having a quiet ten minutes in a makeshift nest of beaten down kelp fronds. An almost imperceptible shimmy and flick of the tail would see it speed away into the distance, leaving us eating plankton.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqhfkBw0r43AUtcjMNJ-pganz_sStHgL8dzAEzPm0aw9EHzy4pSWu4XkoCF7BnaU7FQ9LvHrjUdW-f31s07v-Sf44vtljTeSdnG8stD5k1Vrc-ejYQRontq9kB9yIAWxp92PWW7bsz2GnR/s1600-h/P8300332.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 506px; height: 304px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqhfkBw0r43AUtcjMNJ-pganz_sStHgL8dzAEzPm0aw9EHzy4pSWu4XkoCF7BnaU7FQ9LvHrjUdW-f31s07v-Sf44vtljTeSdnG8stD5k1Vrc-ejYQRontq9kB9yIAWxp92PWW7bsz2GnR/s400/P8300332.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377241334435831346" border="0" /></a><div>Between dives we ate fish & chips, monopolized the penny push machines at the amusement arcades, played on the kiddie rides and finished off with ice cream and candy floss. Sadly, no deck chairs to complete the picture but the magnificent beaches in this part of the world match anything you'd see on the French riviera. Golden smooth sands in sheltered bays from where we launched and landed our screamingly fast RIB, the Farne Discovery skippered by Capt. Paul and his able first-mate Ben. The short trip out to the islands each day was an enjoyably white-knuckle, windswept, roller-coaster ride which quickly taught us the value of full encapsulation in dry suit and mask before leaving the beach.<br /><br />Flippin' great weekend.<br /><br /></div>Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619423046651908332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594892415869015010.post-55495944782916609692009-08-24T03:48:00.000-07:002009-08-24T06:49:47.395-07:00Aquacultural awarenessFor me, there's something more than a little worrying about the current growth in Aquaculture, i.e. the intensive rearing of aquatic animals in closed pens for human consumption. Didn't some bright spark in the fifties have the same idea regarding egg production? The overwhelming majority of articles I see in the media seem to report aquaculture as a good thing, the way forward, the solution to the collapsing wild fisheries. Packs of Haddock and Prawns in my supermarket proudly proclaim their 'sustainably farmed' origins while 'wild' caught fish, responsibly caught, seem to be increasingly rare.<br /><br />So . . . is it okay now to continue to deplete our resources of large wild fish in the knowledge that we can farm them instead?<br /><br />Beware. With industrial techniques come industrial processes. Some very potent drugs and <span class="highlightedSearchTerm">chemicals</span> are used to keep the thousands of fish crammed in the pens alive, free from disease and the cages clean. These chemicals promote unnatural growth, stimulate reproduction cycles, deter sea-lice and even colour the flesh of the rapidly grown fish to a more natural hue. <span class="highlightedSearchTerm">Inevitably the </span><span class="highlightedSearchTerm">drugs, pesticides, bleaches</span> and concentrated fish waste escape <span class="highlightedSearchTerm">in</span>to the surround<span class="highlightedSearchTerm">in</span>g mar<span class="highlightedSearchTerm">in</span>e environment through the netted walls and floors of the pens causing enormous harm to the natural ecosystems in the local area. The mature fish from these farms look entirely normal.<br /><br />At the end of this 'responsible' process we eat the fish!<br /><br />Some farms are undoubtedly more environmentally conscientious than others, but without more stringent environmental controls in place how can we have confidence in what we're eating. It may well be, perhaps, that large scale aquaculture will prove to be beneficial and ultimately reduce pressure on wild stocks but surely we cannot allow the industry to develop unchecked and too late discover the cost.Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619423046651908332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594892415869015010.post-32703964479084319732009-08-18T13:53:00.000-07:002009-08-19T03:31:58.611-07:00The very airIt's not only the much-maligned seafood lovers of Japan and East Asia that drive the increasingly desperate fishing industries to chase down their prey in newer, more imaginative ways. Consumers from the western world too must, of course, bear a significant responsibility for the demise of once abundant species from Atlantic, Icelandic and Baltic fishing grounds. There is, after all, only one ocean and we are eating our way through it - literally - from top to bottom, and it's killing us . . . un-noticeably slowly, but certainly surely.<br /><br />Cod, Monkfish, Halibut and Plaice, to name but a few of the most serious cases, have been trawled from the seas around our island in unsustainable numbers for too many years with too little complaint, perhaps to the point of no return. Instead, much of the fish you'll find in your local chippy or supermarket is now taken from Icelandic or Baltic waters, so-called sustainably managed fisheries. But for how long and who's doing the managing? Where will we find our favourite fillet when we've exhausted these new supplies? Larger boats, with inevitable short-sightedness, will trawl smaller waters for lesser fish of fewer species. Will our governments continue to subsidise their livelihoods when we're paying £15 for a portion of cod and chips? We're taxing our own demise.<br /><br />Many supermarkets offer trendier options such as Swordfish, Snapper and Marlin, vitally important predator species that are facing imminent virtual extinction in large areas of the world. Yet, there they lay, sliced up on beds of clean white ice behind the glass counter next to the expanding selections of squid and jellyfish (get used to it!). If prime cuts of Panda belly were laid out waiting for the frying pan, shoppers would be sidestepping placarded protesters chaining themselves to the doors and leafleting every windscreen wiper.<br /><br />The vital piece of information that many of us are ignoring is that the imminent removal of each species is about more than just not having them served up in a nice beer batter with some chunky chips . . . it's about the very air we breathe. The removal of predator fish and near extinction of primary food fish ultimately and irretrievably leads to acidifying oceans and global warming.<br /><br />If you give even the smallest of damns about your planet or just your fish, ask where it came from. While there's a market, unsustainable and unregulated industrial fishing methods will continue, somewhere, somehow. Check the label. Take an interest. Ask where the fish were caught, and just as importantly HOW they were caught. It matters! It's a simple measure that everybody can take at no cost and will have a positive impact on our ecosystem.<br /><br />Labels such as 'line caught' may conjure up images of woolly-sweatered boat anglers with a rod and a bucket of worms but in truth usually means 'long-lining', an incredibly indiscriminate method of fishing which takes thousands of tonnes of illegal bycatch. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Sustainable</span> means 'pole-caught', 'seine-netted' or 'midwater trawled'. <span style="font-weight: bold;">UN-sustainable</span> means 'line caught', 'dredged' or, perhaps worst of all, 'bottom trawled' a remarkably efficient method of mass destruction, turning sea beds into muddy bottomed wastelands, violently devastating every iota of life in the path of the trawl beam.<br /><br />Jelly fish continue to thrive.Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619423046651908332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594892415869015010.post-21208410522997123862009-08-17T06:11:00.000-07:002009-08-17T06:29:28.597-07:00Find what you love<span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >The following is a quote from a talk by Steve Jobs </span><span style=";font-family:Lucida Grande;font-size:100%;" ><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >CEO of Apple Computer and of Pixar Animation Studios, delivered on June 12, 2005. It's a great story, and one which I can relate to. It's about not trying to look too far ahead, just go with what you love and the future will take care of itself, often for the better.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">[quote]</span><br />I dropped out of Reed College after the first 6 months, but then stayed around as a drop-in for another 18 months or so before I really quit. So why did I drop out?<br /><br />It started before I was born. My biological mother was a young, unwed college graduate student, and she decided to put me up for adoption. She felt very strongly that I should be adopted by college graduates, so everything was all set for me to be adopted at birth by a lawyer and his wife. Except that when I popped out they decided at the last minute that they really wanted a girl. So my parents, who were on a waiting list, got a call in the middle of the night asking: "We have an unexpected baby boy; do you want him?" They said: "Of course." My biological mother later found out that my mother had never graduated from college and that my father had never graduated from high school. She refused to sign the final adoption papers. She only relented a few months later when my parents promised that I would someday go to college.<br /><br />And 17 years later I did go to college. But I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as Stanford, and all of my working-class parents' savings were being spent on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn't see the value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the money my parents had saved their entire life. So I decided to drop out and trust that it would all work out OK. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I ever made. The minute I dropped out I could stop taking the required classes that didn't interest me, and begin dropping in on the ones that looked interesting.<br /><br />It wasn't all romantic. I didn't have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends' rooms, I returned coke bottles for the 5¢ deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the 7 miles across town every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it. And much of what I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on. Let me give you one example:<br /><br />Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country. Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn't have to take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this. I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can't capture, and I found it fascinating.<br /><br />None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, its likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later.<br /><br />Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.<br /><br />(Source: Steve Jobs)<br /></span><br /></span> <!--EndFragment-->Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619423046651908332noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594892415869015010.post-66558362334367766652009-08-12T13:17:00.000-07:002009-08-13T14:23:59.333-07:00Shifting the baselines<div>Given the apparent inevitability of the earth getting warmer, at what point does it become too late to avoid the buffers? Have the horses long since since fled the barn? Is it true to say that whatever steps we take to change our behaviour, the path can never bring about the reversal of 100 years of industrial disease? So why try?<br /><br />We can, maybe, alter our habits and slowly lessen the speed of the decline, but this will never be a quick process or a complete one. How many decades will pass before we start to regain the ground we've lost? Many scientists agree that an irreversible tipping point may be only 10-15 years ahead of us! Let's not kid ourselves that serious and practical consideration for our environment will become the No. 1 priority anytime soon for a society built on consumption and greed.<br /></div><br /><div> </div>The ceaseless burning of carbon-rich fossils to fuel our 24-hour energy requirements show no sign of lessening. We petition <span style="font-style: italic;">against</span> wind farms being built within 50 miles of our favourite countryside walks. The great rivers of the world continue to dry while the glaciers slowly melt and coastlines recede. We are slowly acidifying the oceans and destroying their capacity to strip the excess CO2 out of the atmosphere. The pace is quickening, not slowing.<br /><br />A familiar problem with our perception is referred to as 'shifting baselines' or to put it another way, people don't miss what they never had to appreciate in the first place. Every generation bases its life-view on what exists in their moment, their time. The oceans, the environment and the wildlife differ only slightly from our childhood, but the cumulative damage from generation after generation is almost beyond repair and in some cases already past fixing.<br /><br />Fifty years from now, scuba divers and naturalists will still seek out what's beautiful in the oceans, and just as now, fight to save what they have. They'll spend some time trying to appreciate what's been lost for ever but will not, of course, be able to bring it back.<br /><br />So do we continue to shift our baselines and move happily forward, each generation accepting what it has as the norm? . . . . Of course not. We have to round up the horses, recover what our ancestors misplaced. The responsibility of those 'in the moment' is to freeze the baselines of our generation and try to pass them down unaltered so others may have what we have. Perhaps future generations will no longer look back and lament the greed and the mistakes of the past, but instead be grateful that our generation was the first one to understand the problem and begin to apply a solution, however imperfect.<br /><br />We cannot bring back extinct fauna and flora from pre-industrial days and perhaps we cannot immediately stop the temperature-raising carbon build up, but just because we cannot see the end of the line, doesn't mean that we cannot begin applying the brakes with greater urgency. We can't see precisely what outcomes will result and what real impact we can make, but even a little positive change is better than lazy indifference. Perhaps we'll see no change at all in our lifetime, but we have to look further than ourselves and do what we can regardless.<br /><br />The buffers lie ahead somewhere, and we need to tie down what we have.<br /><br /><div> </div>Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619423046651908332noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594892415869015010.post-3658150563450188542009-08-09T12:33:00.000-07:002009-08-09T13:36:36.551-07:00AdventuriseAdventure racing is fun. Tough, muddy, fun and a guilt-free way of consuming 2000 calories of fried food in a single sitting afterwards. As a way of beginning to raise awareness about my cycling expedition around the americas' I spend odd weekends competing in outdoor events where I can chat to like-minded folk and get some feedback about my plans for 2011. Triathlons, cycling sportives, MTB trails, half-marathons etc. are all enjoyable accomplishments but my favourite is adventure racing. This is fantastic and addictive way of exploring large amounts of beautiful English coastline, deep forest, rocky foreshore, serene lakes and muddy trails. Teams and individuals turn up suitably prepared for 4, 8 or even 24 hours of full-on charging around the designated local environment using various modes of travel including, but not limited to: running, mountain biking, kayaking, climbing, zip wires and anything else a devious course setter can accommodate. About 5 minutes before the staggered starts (to stop people following the guy in front!) competitors receive a map which give them fairly precise locations to dozens of electronic checkpoints with differing points values. The rest is simple. Get through as many checkpoints as possible, using the relevant mode of travel, collect the points and return to the finish before the time limit expires, after which penalty points can be incurred at a rate which can render the whole day's exertions as pointless, literally. Checkpoints are usually reasonably well hidden in beach front caves, undersides of rickety wooden bridges, in the middle of a muddy bog or half-way up a tree. You'll return exhausted, probably muddy, maybe wet and definitely hungry. The most proficient competitors will expertly plan and time their route around the area ensuring they reach the finish line with perhaps a minute remaining. As for myself and my teammate, our timing is sometimes a bit out, and we arrive home with 20 or 30 minutes remaining, not really enough to venture back out and find some more points and usually too knackered anyway. However, this methods ensures we tuck in before the BBQ runs out of cheeseburgers. All the winners get is a medal.Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619423046651908332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594892415869015010.post-70348609405576829392009-08-05T07:46:00.000-07:002009-08-05T08:35:55.502-07:00cyclisto imbeciliosSo . . . there I am, merrily pedalling my down Chiswick high street giving a cheery wave to the polite bus driver as he nudges the front wheel of his vehicle ahead of me and shepherds me gently onto the pavement. I ever so gently remonstrate with him, but his hand gestures suggest he may not be willing to discuss the matter over a drink after work. Carrying on my way, I'm pondering on the meaning of 'imbecile' when I'm confronted with the real reason why London cyclists are sometimes regarded so lowly. I'm overtaken by your typical bad news bike courier, one geared, minimalist, grubby chic machine ridden by a grubby chic imbecile. I fail to understand exactly how he's unable to see the half a dozen people walking legitimately across the zebra crossing 4 yards in front of him. Not even slowing, he careers at terminal velocity through a 12 inch gap between the 6-year-old and the old lady, offering loud advice to both of them on the danger of being on the road at this time of day. Every cyclist in London bears the brunt of the antagonism created by this idiocy every day. The bad feeling created by the few is shared out equally among the many. If my bus driver friend actually managed to swat one of these morons, I'd happily buy him a drink.Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619423046651908332noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594892415869015010.post-13380398935764904252009-08-03T13:46:00.000-07:002009-08-03T14:14:51.977-07:00Fishy talesWhen I first began taking an interest in the sea, it was as an angler wholly ignorant of issues of species populations, biomass and food chains. There was something wonderfully raw and wild about the sea, and something mysterious about its depths. I'd read reports and seen pictures of 200lb marlin and tuna being hauled up onto the quayside and readily bought into the vision of men as proud hunters battling the elements and their prey and emerging victorious. The problem was, however, that when I went fishing there was no prey taking my hook. I persevered and mastered the craft, researched the baits and feeding habits of my chosen target. I listened to the boat captains and the old sea dogs telling me where great fish were to be found. It took some time to realise that generally these guys were telling me about the days of their youth, when they could pluck the cod out of the sea with every cast and every trip would be plentiful. Even younger skippers wouldn't seemingly not get dishearted with the declining numbers, they'd justput it down to the weather, try another day, search another patch, change the baits. They never appeared to want to admit the real problem, that harvesting requires seeding, farmers leave their fields fallow in order for them to recover nutrients. Not so the fishing industry. It is, of course, essential to their job security to talk up the prospects of big catches to their clients. When I began fishing, my biggest enjoyment was to see the fish close up and then watch them swim away. Since this was my goal, I later found a much better way to achieve this with Scuba diving, and stopped fishing. Many skippers see the benefits of catering to divers and have turned away from fishing. I'm amazed that local authorities cannot see the economic benefits of the dive industry replacing an unsustainable fishing industry along our coasts. Why can't we sink more artificial reefs, invest in an industry which has a future. I spend a great deal more money diving that I ever did fishing, it's a boom industry and a sustainable one!Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619423046651908332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594892415869015010.post-41757683827482351922009-08-03T05:20:00.000-07:002009-08-10T07:15:28.141-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM2wOC6kRNnqmrgk84KWhQ7j_8FrLnLj8NI4B29-T4uugZaVMBWbVUPzo98JEsUHzgkMH7pRGXREvy0rv0ZsCFCIYt_jlhEcZeRconEnLLr0tmRKLosUlhsNO8YJ_HEDG5el-4WfMfHzq-/s1600-h/cyclist-silhouette1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 377px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM2wOC6kRNnqmrgk84KWhQ7j_8FrLnLj8NI4B29-T4uugZaVMBWbVUPzo98JEsUHzgkMH7pRGXREvy0rv0ZsCFCIYt_jlhEcZeRconEnLLr0tmRKLosUlhsNO8YJ_HEDG5el-4WfMfHzq-/s320/cyclist-silhouette1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365711504470706946" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />This will be my mission statement, and pretty much sums up what I'll be doing. Hopefully it will remain true up to and through the journey. It's totally impossible at this stage to know what curve balls will get thrown my way over the next two years prior to leaving. But this gives me a 'baseline' which I can publicise and begin raising some charity funds. If things change then I'll roll with them as they do.Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619423046651908332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594892415869015010.post-56290734960062070032009-08-02T13:32:00.000-07:002009-08-02T13:39:49.029-07:00links in a people chainIf all life on land were to vanish tomorrow, the creatures in the oceans would replenish and thrive. But if the life in the oceans were to perish then we would perish with them and this is the course we currently hold. We're all capable of understanding this, yet many of us choose to turn a blind eye, to declare what's beneath the waves as out of sight, out of mind. How long do we ignore what's happening? How devoid of life do the seas have to be before we realise that not having fish to eat will be the least of our problems?Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619423046651908332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594892415869015010.post-81858035799543426752009-07-31T09:15:00.000-07:002009-07-31T09:28:45.037-07:00Welcome to goinganextramile<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Hey, my first ever blog, never too late to learn.<br />And the reason? A huge personal ambition about to be fulfilled. In the Spring of 2011, I'll be taking my bike to Deadhorse, Alaska to begin a 29,000 mile circumnavigation of the coastlines of North and South America. It will take me 3 years, and I'll be using the trip to raise money for Global Vision International Charitable Trust and to raise awareness of the need for marine conservation to be taken more seriously by us all. It's taken me 9 months just to get to the point where I've registered a domain name, opened a justgiving web page, begun writing a blog, stopped dreaming and started planning. Now I've got to go away and actually devise some content to put on the web-site. But if anybody is reading this and would like to visit: www.justgiving.com/goinganextramile then they'll quickly get the idea.The planning list is getting longer and longer but at least I've got plenty of time, no money, but plenty of time.<br /></span>Paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619423046651908332noreply@blogger.com0