E,w,a&f #greenLiving Earth 1; resources

Aside from our travel and heat, the main resources we consume as humans are through packaging. Mainly food. I now know more about the wrapping food and my ideas have shifted towards increased packets.

Supermarkets are not ‘bad boys’, sustainability is demonstrated through food gifting and charitable donations. Did you know they give free food to their staff to combat poverty?

There is a three way division of waste: biodegradable, recyclable and waste. I generate very little of the latter.

We are fortunate that biodegradable matter is collected from the doorstep in Dorset although I compost all of mine, including toilet paper – more elsewhere. I also wash my eggs shells, saving these to add a calcium layer to the outdoors compost bin.

Recycled material is collected fortnightly: iron [tins], paper and hard plastics mainly. Dorset initiated the use of light technology to sort hard plastics at their recycling centre in the late nineties leading the field at that time.

My waste is minimal. I sub-divide the soft plastics into a bread bag, up-cycling the remainder, which is often zero. If I was to add the bread bags to my black bin they would need to be collected once a year. Instead I recycle them at a large supermarket where they enter the recycle chain quickly as polythene plastic. This is used as covers, over cardboard for cases of bottles and packets. One of the most efficient recycle loops in the UK, with stripped plastic returning on the delivery lorries, alongside out-dated food and the bio digested methane utilised to break-down the polythene, and power the trucks.

I scratched my head about soft plastic on hard trays but the injected nitrogen lengthens food decay times, reducing waste further. I save the trays, lifting veg in my fridge drawer above the naturally transpired moisture and further extending decay times.

Fridge drawer with containers inspired by the research that Tupperware have completed recently

So how much waste do I actually create?

Very close to zero with my reuse, upcycling and donations; unwanted coat hangers went to the charity shop recently. My clothes are cotton, wool or silk so could be bio digested.

Wood is difficult but I tend to take to the pub fire, along with confidential documents.

It is not difficult to divide waste and reach zero, it should be all of our’s ultimate aim.

Bin collections are fortnightly and I am lucky if my green bin is full bi-monthly. Forgetting to put the bins out, or remembering to bring it in is no longer a problem. Glass goes with it but is mostly upcycled, more later.

Think global; act local.

Faggots, fathoms and fingerposts

The Ashen Faggot is a long bundle of sticks bound by ash bark strips and burnt annually at Epiphany. The girth is limited by the fireplace whilst the length is more contentious. Pagan, or Medieval, or Christian in origin it marks rebirth and the beginning of the traditional new year.

The timing of the bands breaking are significant and therefore the overall length of the faggot [bound material] important. Folklore suggests that these lengths were determined by the heights of giants, the tallest of the community. This is a similar argument to utilising their ‘foot’ length to determine horizontal distance.

A quick survey of my congregation revealed a maximum height of 6’8”.

This is a Somerset and Devon tradition, Ashton is in the former county. Here in Dorset, our giant is celebrated on the chalk but if you return to an era where little was written down altitude was measured differently. 1056 yards divide exactly by both 6 and 8 and so either could be adopted. The nautical mile is trickier, but more accurately aligns with the earths circumferences.

So, prior to recording numbers in common, site depth was measured in fathoms [it still is!] altitude was as well, mast heights, curvature and matelot heights. The most fearsome pirates were some fathom high!

In comes the faggot, potentially a fathom long to reflect the giants of our counties. Dorset has a reduced seafaring tradition compared to say Devon but the bloody assises and Tolpuddle martyrs link the sea to our red signposts and penal transportation.

Number 15

And so with Dorset faggots of potentially a fathom high, [they are constructed vertically and burnt horizontally] why has the fathom slipped out of common use. The clue here is with the quaint custom of marking direction and latterly distances. Miles were an obvious inclusion and inhabitants saw these printed for the first time. What about the sub-division? A mile was divided into 8 parts, the furlong. Occasionally these are still found on fingerposts and milestones.

One of the three protected grade 1 signposts in Somerset.

Furlongs divide conveniently into 660 feet, 220 yards, 40 rods, or 10 chains. Even more conveniently, two furlongs can be easily represented as 1/4 [2/8], or 6 as 3/4. The fractions were easily represented on signposts, far easier than furlongs or indeed fathoms. The yard passed into common usage and fathom was confined to the sea. Mountains were measured in feet.

Credit: the Milestone Society via Geograph.

Who knows the true fable, it is locked in folklore.

Photo – Ken Ralph

It seems a shame that the fathom was superseded by the SI unit of the meter but a base of ten makes so much more sense.

Revisiting the 365 project

Starting February 2023 I decided to revisit each square of the 365 project on line. There were reasons for this. Firstly I had forgotten some of the minor places and wanted a systematic way to reread the book. Secondly I wanted to share my [often poor] photography and also identify places for a revisit. I didn’t have photographs of Scorhill stone circle; for example.

The complete project

So how can you find my daily tweets? Simply follow @365Dartmoor on Twitter, or look for the hashtag #365in365

The Red Posts of Dorset [and Wessex]

A red post is an unusual sight, probably as so few still exist in the UK, largely in the southern counties of Dorset and Somerset.

The Sherborne wooden post.

The history of these eye-catching posts is unknown but legends abound. Plotting onto a map identifies that they are mostly about 18 miles from Dorchester Gaol, a days march from Weymouth. It is most likely, that they were collecting points before transfer to deportation ships, and so the three in Dorset – including Bere Regis and Horsey – focus on the county town. Extrapolation westwards strengthens this argument further with Heywood and Chard as central places and routes eastwards.

Other legends abound. Why are they red? Obviously a bloody occurrence, well little academic evidence exists. Possibly criminals unable to make the march or sea voyage to Australia, and the Tolpuddle Martyrs story is firm in readers minds. The facts point to legend, nothing more.

The Bere Regis sign.

Three red signs have survived in Dorset, probably, with Somerset and Cumberland as they ignored Worboys requests to upgrade to a standardised system. The sign on the A31 is best known but on a busy and cluttered junction.

Horsey

The Horsey sign has had the wooden fingers removed. Disappointing, but easily replaceable as the plastic white lettering no longer has a heritage value.

Chard

Ignoring the red post on the Quantocks, Both Somerset signs are now tired, one misses the finial, the other [above] has had both arms repaired.

The Sherborne sign remains the finest example in the best position, but I am biased. Another has been recently replaced in London, which accounts for 6 out of 7.

Poyntington

There is a word of warning here. The seventh post was in Cornwall, notice I’m using the past tense here. It is no longer there and a recent BBC local news account talks of its theft. Again nobody knows but if they are being stolen to order, then the future could be bleak. Get out and visit one while they still exist.

2020

Finishing off the 80

Post 365 I wanted a different project. To collect all the tors seemed huge, those above 500m focussed on the North Moor. I went through the A to Z atlas of Dartmoor and highlighted any mention of a tor; there were 80.

Postbridge is the quickest way onto Flat tor for me. The route crossing Braddon Lake is easiest but rather than follow the route up to Broad Down stay with the wall. The stile is obvious and the route across 496 pretty much pops out at the East Dart waterfall.

From the tinners hut I leapfrogged to the next hut and up onto the peat pass struggling up hill slowly by line of direct bearing. Flat Tor was unassuming but I didn’t care the project was done and I needed to celebrate. The way back followed the range markers and Cut Hill water. I was heading for the falls.

A celebratory swim

I had a quick dip and ate my pasty before returning to the Ring of Bells at North Bovey and a decent pint of Reel Ale.

Is tech killing adventure?

Yesterday I stepped back onto paper. Teaching is so much easier. A shared perspective.

The route is scribed; organically.

Eyes wander, over the edges, unbound by screen. Paper is unfolded, unfettled, explored.

Confirmation

No instant Strava routes, no Google maps with pop up tea shoppes, no links to social media.

Take a camera. Wander aimlessly. Explore the map.

Mindfullness in the Lake District.

The English Lake District is our premier national park with highest mountain and deepest lake. The crowds focus around the honeypots – Windermere, Ambleside – but also Scafell Pike and more recently roadside camping.

The Eskdale Gap, isolated, beautiful.

My heart lies in the west, I lived and worked within the community for 15 years but recent visits had focussed on canyoning or the mountains. This time it was different, post lockdown. I sought out old acquaintances, directed my efforts towards reset and lapped in the environment.

Clints quarry, a carboniferous limestone quarry now regenerated for orchids.

Originally I had planned to visit in the first week of August but a torn Achilles put stop to my reset – not mine. With accommodation collapsing I put out a request with a local games group and two beautiful people offered quickly. My first morning, at Clints lifted me immediately; desperate to get out I got up and almost dashed to this cleft.

Borrowdale from Castle crag.

The central Lakes had already held me aloft; presented the perfect view, allowed me to soar with renewed acquaintances. I scooped up Castle Crag as I transited west, meeting an old school friend and family at Grange. We climbed, chatted, reconnected; my ills wept away. The genuine concerns over COVID, buried deep.

Latterbarrow and the Moss; upper Calder.

Along the western fringe, before altitude takes over the foothills identified by Bill Birkett offer genuine solitude; the Corbetts of the Lakes. Gentle climbs to 360 degree views and solitude offered isolation; I walked, alone. The masses had ebbed. The green, cut by meanders was healing.

St Bees beach.

The west also has a superb coast. Majestic sandstone cliffs teeming with birdlife, chaotic moraines and expansive beaches. St Bees still felt like home and to hook up with landlady, gardener and hotel manager again reminded me of the genuine commitment of Cumbrians. They offered, cared, shared and loved.

The sea north of Whitehaven.

My main accommodation provided access easily to Eskdale and it was a joy to share the off-beat waterways. As I moved on I rediscovered the beach. The girls swam, I sat content, reflective, gazed into pools, listened to lapping, my mind wandered a thousand miles away.

Canyoneering, a bottom up approach.

I treated two groups into the water in Eskdale. We slipped away, buoyant and bubbly. Head under, eyes open, padding along the bottom and stumbling over trees and rocks. It was dawning, the environment, not the activity was key. Nature offers so much, I simply slide through.

Ennerdale water, unvisited.

Even the static water offered a reflection of up-high. A pebble drop of cascading circles. We paddled to the other end; lay in the sun, dreamed of days gone by, opened hearts.

Black Sail way

On my final day, even with offers abounding I headed high. Not to the top of mountains but searching vistas into the interior. My father-figure accompanied me, respectful of his experience and we contoured, watched the lay of the land and waded waist deep. This is true mountain; not the rocky wilderness pounded by boots but chaotic lumps thrown up by glaciation.

The flank of Eskdale, untouched

I always knew the people were special; one of a kind. The landscape gives them their kindness, the honesty missing in so many places today. I am grateful, to have missed the hoards, forgotten of the terrors of COVID-19 and reconnected to this beautiful place. Thank you to all of you who shared it with me.

Water re-emerges

At mid-point lockdown I was rewarded with a half term break. An opportunity to escape the pressure of online learning. My garden was an oasis but the nips out into the nature reserve a half-baked reset.

Welcome to Silvabeck

Since leaving the Lakes I have been borrowing a Mad River Legend but with funds behind me, decided a new investment may revolutionise my lockdown. Once on the water this is the ultimate isolation activity. Next task is to find those quiet places to launch.

Trolley attached

The next task is the fettling! The supplied air bags were removed – to reduce weigh – and reimagined so that they could be reintroduced easily. My trolley was strapped up and the kneeling thwart fitted using a adjustable plate,

15 foot canoes have two seats fitted and the direction is changed when you paddle solo. The solo seat is set up with the expectation of a load in the front and so empty, the bow sits high. The solution is to fit an additional brace or ‘thwart’ which you perch your bottom on. Paddling on your knees lowers your sense of gravity and also uses far more of your body.

The quick release, and adjustable thwart ‘ramps’, they will be tidied up further.

Straps, travelling kit and personal effects have been organised and reorganised into dry-bags and buckets and then a framework has been constructed on the side of the house to give Silvabeck a home and a little help with lifting on the yoke.

Even Lancelot has hooks below now, sheltering below the mothership.

I started to explore launch options on the Great Western canal, Stour and Parrett settling on Langport and the three launch sites [with pontoons] have become my go to venues. They are understandably busy at the moment but a fall in weather discourages the numpties, inflatables and wild swimmers.

Yesterday I discovered another gem with steps, swing and swim pool. Adventures abound.

Ollis80 re-emerges

With lock up as the antithesis of lockdown I headed to the moor with my Ollis 80 list. This is a hit list of the 80 tops mentioned in the A to Z map book of Dartmoor.

15 Corndon

Over the week I visited:

4 Bell, 52 Mell, 79 Yar, 15 Corndon, 3 Bellever.

79 Yar Tor

Its a great project if you have completed the 365 challenge as about half are included.