... ok, so maybe I'm not a bike expert yet, but after spending the full day at the Cycle Hub in Manchester learning all about cycle maintenance I know a lot more than I did when I woke up this morning. As I have a old and ramshackle bike that I bought for a tenner in a charity shop, I thought it prudent to do a cycle maintenance course so I can at least have half a go at doing it up. I booked an all-day intensive cycle maintenance course with Edinburgh Bicycle Cooperative for £44. Yeah, I know, the maintenance course has cost me nearly five times what the bike cost me, but the idea is that it'll save me money in the long run because I won't have to keep paying someone else when it needs fixing.
The course was held in the Cycle Hub which I hadn't even known existed. It's situated in the basement of Piccadilly Plaza right in the city centre and is a place that provides secure parking for bikes and has showers, toilets and lockers for cyclists to use. Entry is by swipe card and there's CCTV coverage. Prices range from £10 for either 10 individual visits or a one month pass up to £200 for an annual premium membership which includes use of the showers and a personal locker. The downside to it seemed to be the early closing times - 8pm on weekdays and 5pm on the weekend. This wouldn't be much good for anyone wanting to go out after work or working a late shift. Apart from this it did seem impressive and maybe the times will change if there's the demand for it. As I wasn't sure how safe my bike was and certainly didn't trust it to be reliable, I chucked it into the back of the van and drove into Manchester. As well as the Cycle Hub there's also a car park underneath Piccadilly Plaza which has cheap(ish) all day parking on the weekend. I was first to arrive, but soon after I was buzzed in the other four students arrived. Their bikes all seemed a lot newer and in much better condition than mine. We hoisted our bikes onto tall stands which meant we could work on them without too much bending and contorting. (Note to self: must get one of these stands if I decide I'm going to get seriously into this bicycle maintenance malarkey.) We started at 10am and the course ran through till 5.30pm with about 45 minutes break for lunch. We removed tyres, wheels, brakes, gears, pedals, the chain, and a few other bits as well. We then put them all back on again. Successfully. We found out what tools we needed and, as we all had slightly different styles of bikes, we also found out different ways of doing things. At the end of the day we were each given a booklet showing step-by-step instructions for everything we'd covered. I'm sure I won't remember any of it by the time I come to actually do the work on my bike, but at least I know that it's actually quite simple and I feel confident that I will soon figure it out. The tutor also told me that I had a pretty good bike and was quite impressed when I told him I'd got it for ten quid. It just needs a bit of TLC and it'll be as good as any posh bike out there!
Before we get on with the post here's a musical interlude to get you in the mood:
On my list of things to do before I'm 60 I have the challenge of completing a long-distance bike ride. I have a bike - it cost me £10 from a charity shop. I even have a couple of panniers - they cost a couple of quid each from Lidl in Germany. So I'm all set to go, right? Well, not quite. I know nothing about bike maintenance and as my bike is old and cheap this could be a problem. I've read blogs by long distance cyclists who have experienced all kinds of problems with their top of the range bikes, so I'm sure to experience a few jitters from my super cheap bike.
With this in mind I went in search of a cycle maintenance course that would at least teach me the basics. I found this course run by Edinburgh Bicycle Cooperative. They hold various courses in various places, including an all-day intensive cycle maintenance course in Manchester for £49.
Adjusting hub bearings for maximum life and smooth running.
Gear adjustment: including fitting new cables and fine tuning front and rear mechanisms.
Bottom bracket and headset adjustment.
I don't even know what most of these things are, but I've booked and so hopefully I'll soon not only know what they are, but will be able to transform my dilapidated ride into a spic and span, smooth-running dream machine.
Last night I accompanied a group of students to the theatre to see Wicked. I didn't know anything about it beforehand, but hey, it's a free theatre ticket, I'm not going to say no. I knew it was a musical and so expected singing, dancing and superficialness. Yes, there was the singing and dancing but I was surprised by some of the challenging themes it addressed. The show is basically the backstory to The Wizard of Oz and begins with the Good Witch Glinda announcing the death of Wicked Witch of the West to the people of Oz. They are hesitant to believe the good news at first but once convinced celebrate gladly. One asks Glinda 'But weren't you friends with her once?' Shocked silence. Glinda at first deflects the question, then decides to answer honestly. The show switches to flashback mode and we get the story of the Wicked Witch's life from her birth to her death. Born green, her father, the governor, had no time for her and more or less abandoned her. When her wheelchair-bound sister was born she was given the role of looking after her. As teenagers they went off to boarding school together, though Alphaba had been allowed to go only because her sister needed her. She is shunned because of the colour of her skin. Her sister isn't treated much better due to her disability despite them both being in a supposed position of influence being that they are the governor's daughters after all. The theme of racism and prejudice continues and develops into a paradigm of how a society, particularly one in hard times, creates its own scapegoats and how easily people buy into the idea. The scapegoats in Oz are the animals. All animals can talk and hold down regular jobs such as teaching. One by one, species by species, the animals are silenced and in some cases caged. They are dismissed from their jobs and lose all 'human' rights. As people's minds are poisoned against them, there are few to stand up for them and those that do are seen as subversive. That the scapegoats of choice are so readily turned from upstanding citizens into public enemy number one is reminiscent of 17th century witch hunts, 1930's and 40's Nazi Germany, the US's Reds under the Beds anti-communist frenzy of the 1950s and the present day scaremongering and paranoia about 'illegal immigrants' and 'bogus asylum seekers' as propagated by the likes of the Daily Mail. Despite the ill-treatment and disdain, Alphaba is good. Good and righteous she is one of the few to stand up for the animals. When she first arrives at the school she looses her cool and demonstrates her ability at magic. The headmistress, impressed by this ability, takes her under her wing and gives her special lessons in sorcery. Alphaba works hard at these lessons as she wants to attain a standard high enough to warrant an invitation to meet with the Wizard himself. Finally she is able to realise her dream of meeting the Wizard and we find out that her reason for wanting this so badly is because she wants to ask him to do something for the animals. To her dismay, she discovers that the Wizard is not all he seems and his power is due more to clever PR than any real talent for magic. To consolidate his position it is he who is behind the scapegoating of the animals. Alphaba ends up on the run with her name blackened. She continues to fight for justice in Oz, but the Wizard's media savvy PR is far more powerful and effective than her magic. Other characters from The Wizard of Oz, such as the Tin Man and the Scarecrow are woven into the story and we find out their backstories too. Glinda, the Good Witch, starts out as a spoilt and self-centred airhead whose only interests in life are her looks and getting her own way. For her and Alphaba it is a case of loathe at first sight. Thrown together as roommates they come first to tolerate each other and then to become friends. Through her friendship with Alphaba, Glinda becomes the good person she later becomes renowned for being. I really enjoyed the exploration of so many different issues reflective of contemporary life (there are more than I've touched on here), and also enjoyed the way the story was so cleverly linked to the original to become a 'believable' prequel. I can now understand why it is so popular and why so many people rave about it.
Up early this morning to drive to a primary school in St Helens for the first day of my BELA course. I got there early and sat sipping a coffee as the other delegates arrived. There are 21 of us in all. Most of the trainers we'll be meeting over the next few months were there too to introduce themselves.
BELA stands for Basic Expedition Leaders' Award and will qualify me to lead bronze and silver expeditions for Duke of Edinburgh Award students. It's only one step down from the walking group leaders' qualification and so should stand me in good stead to achieve that whenever I get round to going for it.
It's quite a time commitment as between now and November I have to attend three residential weekends. They start on the Friday evening and finish on the Sunday. I have to do another one in March for my assessment. In between finishing the third residential weekend and the assessment I have to fit in 30 hours of leading kids on walks. This concerns me a bit as it'll be in the winter when daylight is short and the weather may be bad. Although this wouldn't stop me from going out on a walk myself I won't be able to take students out in the dark or in torrential storms and heavy snow drifts. I thought I'd be able to backdate these 30 hours to the spring and early summer when I spent, what seemed like, most of my weekends out with kids on practice and assessed bronze and silver expedition weekends.
What I can backdate is my own walking experience. I have to fill in a log of walks I've done myself. Easy-peasy - I've got lots of them logged on here so I just have to flip back through my blog and copy the details over.
Throughout the day we went over the expectations of the course and got a lot of the admin and form-filling done. Then we looked at equipment and did quite an interesting exercise in which we were given an equipment list, a total cost spent and lot of pictures of equipment from which we had to choose items to fit the cost we'd been given. It really showed how little you can spend to get the basics on a low budget and how much you can spend if you want to splash out on the best of everything and/or go for named brands.
We looked at some actual equipment and were advised on how to tell if something is good or not and which items it's worth spending a bit more on to get something decent (basically the things that can hurt you - boots and rucksack and also jacket because being soaking wet and cold is the equivalent of being 'hurt').
All in all it was a good day and I'm feeling excited about my first residential the weekend after next.
What's the best way to learn drumming? Well, according to research the best way to learn anything is to teach it.
I got my new timetable just before we broke up for summer and SHOCK! HORROR! I'm going to be teaching two year 7 classes music. As I am the least musical person I know this is going to be quite a challenge. I'm convinced I'm tone deaf, I have no sense of rhythm, I can't hold a tune, when I sing even cats cover their ears.
Luckily I have a very understanding Head of Music. Before we broke up she asked me what I would like to teach and as I would like to learn drums myself of course this is what I said. I put it on my list of challenges as I think learning a musical instrument will help make me become a more rounded person (at the moment I'm relying on cake to do this) and drums are my instrument of choice because hitting something seems a really good way of dealing with stress at the end of a bad day and this would be a legitimate way of doing this.
The Head of Music spent some time teaching me the basics before we broke up for summer. I got excited, she despaired. We're going to do some work on beats and rhythm and then, a few weeks in, we'll get the samba drums out and start proper drumming. I have a lot to learn before then as at the moment I can't even say the names of the various drums let alone play them.
Just to help me along (and because I'm enthusiastic) I ordered myself some drums over the summer. I've got a set of bongos and a bodhran. I've got these because they were the cheapest out of all the different types of drums and at the moment I just need to something to practice my rhythm and beats on.
As I don't know anything about levels or stages of drumming I don't know what to aim for to be able to say I've completed this challenge. At the moment I'll just say it's in progress and decide later what my actual goal is.
My first morning on North Ronaldsay, the most northerly of the Orkney Isles. It was touch and go whether I'd get here at all; trying to match up flights and ferries was a major pain in the proverbial and it was only after numerous phone calls, copious amounts of head-scratching and much staring at timetables, turning them upside-down to see if they'd make more sense that way, that I finally got everything to work out. I flew up in a tiny plane yesterday evening. Everyone and their dog (well, one dog) was squished together with enough leg room for, ooh, maybe one leg. It was only a 15 minute flight so the squish wasn't a problem. I took some photos of the islands from above, enjoying recognising the ones I've been too.
Arriving at the airport terminal / airfield / toilet with a runway attached, I hoisted my collection of bags as they were passed out of the plane, National Express style, and wandered over to the people waiting to collect passengers. Quickly finding Simon, who it turns out was based at the Fair Isle observatory when I was there in 2010, I piled everything into the Landrover and we drove the few minutes to the bird observatory where I'm camping for the next 3 nights. I had wanted to stay in the hostel so I wouldn't need to worry about carrying camping gear on the tiny plane, but it was fully booked with people who are in North Ronaldsay filming a children's programme for CBeebies. Although I'm camping (£5 a night) I can still use the hostel facilities - fortunate as otherwise I wouldn't be able to cook as I don't think I'd have been allowed to carry fuel on the flight (though liquids and sharp objects were no problem).
I got my tent up and retired to the hostel kitchen, which I had to myself, to cook up enough food to last several days and using all the fresh vegetables I'd bought I'd bought in Kirkwall.
... back to this morning ...
I was up, showered and leisurely breakfasted and ready to head out for just after 10am. Just as the electricity went off. It doesn't usually go off; they've had mains electricity here since the 1983, but today, and possibly tomorrow, there are workmen here doing something to the powerlines meaning the electicity is off for the whole island until 5pm this evening.
I explored the area around the hostel, spotting a couple of heliogoland traps (used to trap birds for ringing) and trying to get to a gorgeous white beach. But there was no way my brain was ever going to be capable of figuring out the knots tying the gate firmly into position and I couldn't be bothered climbing over as I wanted to focus on the north part of the island anyway.
I veered off track to check out a standing stone - the only one known to have a hole in it, and then stuck pretty much to the main road which took me from the bottom to the top of the island. I wanted to get to the north so I could visit the old and new lighthouses.
The old lighthouse was built in 1789 by Thomas Smith and is one of Scotland's oldest lighthouses. The 70ft stone tower which was topped with oil burning lamps and copper reflectors cost £199 to build. In 1806 the building of Start Point lighthouse on Sanday made the North Ronaldsay beacon redundant and it was decommissioned in 1809, its lantern being replaced with a giant stone ball. It was soon realised that North Ronaldsay did need its own lighthouse and a new, much higher one was built close to the original beacon. At 139ft it was, and still is, the highest land based lighthouse in the British Isles. Originally its red brick exterior was left au naturel, but in 1889 it was painted with a couple of white horizontal bands to aid visibility.
I was going to have a look at the old lighthouse first but as it began to rain heavily I made for the new lighthouse which I knew had a cafe and visitor centre I could shelter in. I paused inside the open door at the bottom of the lighthouse itself and then, as the rain paused slightly, went for a wander round the buildings. The former lighthouse keepers' cottages are now rented out as holiday lets by the National Trust for Scotland (and very nice they looked too, from the tiny peek I had through the windows).
The cafe was full of lunching BBC film crew and so I had a look round the exhibition rooms. One room had photos and exhibits concerning North Ronaldsay in general and the other was more specifically on the lighthouse and the lives of the keepers. There are a few short films but due to the power cut I wasn't able to watch them. A smartly uniformed lighthouse keeper popped his head in the door and asked if I was the lady looking for a tour of the lighthouse. I wasn't the lady he was looking for but I was a lady looking for a tour. Billy had been keeper of the light for over 40 years and is a native of North Ronaldsay. He lost his full-time job when the light was automated in 1998 but still looks after it when need be and also acts as tour guide. Today he was in the role of TV star as he was the lighthouse keeper the BBC were here to film. The short 15 minute programme involves Billy showing his (real) grandson around the island and telling him about his life as a lighthouse keeper. He told me he would be with the film crew till about 2.30pm and then he'd be able to do my tour. As the crew had finished their lunch and were getting back to their filming, I went into the cafe to have my lunch.
The menu was somewhat limited due to the power cut but I was still able to have a steaming bowl of home-made carrot and coriander soup with home-made wheaten bread followed by home-made tangy lemon drizzle cake and cream and a cafetierre.
The man running the cafe had time to talk to me as I was now the only person there. He's originally from Essex and has been on the island for two and a bit years. His wife is a nurse practitioner and got fed up working in a busy surgery with 18,000+ patients on the list. She said she wished she worked on a small island with few people and lo and behold there happened to appear an advert for exactly her job on a small island with few people. Although there aren't many people on the island, as it is an aging population she is still kept quite busy. As for the man (let's call him Mark, as I can't remember what he was called but think it may have been Mark), he's got himself settled with his role running the cafe, everything home-made, and giving tours of the adjacent wool mill.
Whilst I waited for Billy to finish up with the film crew Mark offered me a tour of the wool mill. None of the machinery was running of course, due to the lack of power, but he was still able to show me around and explain how everything worked. The mill began when it became unprofitable to send fleeces south to be processed. A chance comment at a science fair in Kirkwall led to a North Ronaldsay couple going on a fact-finding mission to Canada to research small-scale wool mill equipment. It all looked good and the investment was made. Now the islanders can wash, de-hair (North Ronaldsay sheep, like Cumbrian Herdwich sheep, but unlike any others, have wool next to their skin and hair on the outside), card, spin and wind their own wool. The hair, by the way, shows as black threads in the wool and is the part of a jumper that gives it an itch factor. As well as hair being removed, lanolin and large amounts of sand are washed out of the fleeces. This leads to a big reduction in the actual weight of the end product when compared to the fleece at the start of the process.
As my tour finished, Billy appeared and I was straight off on my tour of the new lighthouse. A quick climb up 176 steps (despite being 64 Billy practically skipped up them; I had to stop for a breather) and we were out on the veranda that runs around the top of the lighthouse just below the light.
We stood on the sheltered side, out of the wind whilst he told me the history of the lighthouse. The views looked pretty good today but on a really clear day it's possible to see Fair Isle, Sumburgh Head and Foula.
Ducking back inside we went up into the light itself. The Fresnel lens is made up of many curved and flat layers. Although these days the light runs off electricity with its own generator in case of power cuts, the old parafin lamp is still there. Looking through the lenses everything shimmered, rainbows flickered and images doubled, tripled and flipped upside-down psychedelically.
Billy covered the light-sensors with cardboard to fool them into thinking it was dark. Over a few minutes the bulb came on and started at first to glow blue, but then to get brighter and brighter. Although the bulb itself has a steady glow and does not flash, the revolving lenses make it appear to flash every 10 seconds. Each lighthouse has its own sequence of flashes meaning they are easily identifiable. The beam can be seen for 24 nautical miles. Once the light-sensors were exposed to the light again the bulb switched off immediately.
Back downstairs, Billy walked me over to the fog horn, no longer used as ships can pick up the lighthouse by radar now when it is foggy. A cone shaped piece of machinery fastened just outside the light recognises when a radar is searching and appears as a dot with initials NR on the ship's radar monitor. Billy had intended to put the fog horn on so I could hear it, but then realised it would't work with the power off.
Leaving the new lighthouse I walked over to the old lighthouse which is covered in scaffolding. Funding has been secured via a TV programme to renovate it and the hope is to eventually have a staircase inside so people can also go up inside this one.
I started what I felt would be long walk back to the bird observatory at the other end of the island, but was picked up by Charlie, an aging local with not too many teeth. He drove me all the way back and seemed like a real character. He had a few funny stories to tell on the short journey. He's been up the lighthouse many a time himselft as he was involved in painting it and told me he'd painted the 176 stairs I'd walked up.
Back at the bird observatory I sat in the lounge, with windows on three sides and enjoyed some evening sun.
I called in the community shop in the village of Lady (great name for a village) to stock up on muesli and ask if anyone knew where I could find tidal times for Start Point as I wanted to walk across to the island and lighthouse. No-one knew but a customer googled on her phone and was able to tell me the times for Kettletoft pier which is fairly close and so probably similar.
The low tide was happening right now so I jumped in the van and headed north. I squeezed between 2 cars and set off down the track just as it started raining. At the end of track I met an older couple and presumably their son on the beach making their way back to the track. They'd tried to get out to the lighthouse but given up because of how slippery it was. I picked my way over the beach and soon reached the slippery rocks. Several times I thought I was going to have to give up and turn back but perserverance paid off and I managed to find a way through the rocks, seaweed, slime to get to a stretch of water that I waded through getting my sandals and the bottoms of my trousers completely soaked.
Reaching the island, I headed to the right round some derelict buildings and almost made it to the lighthouse. Unfortunately I was stopped by a wall and an electric fence. I was dubious over whether the fence was electric or not, as there were no warning notices and no sign of anything to power the fence. I gingerly touched it and it was fine. Great, I thought and touched it again to make sure. Ouch! The shock went right to my upper arm. I've never felt an electric fence shock so strongly and I wondered if it had anything to do with my rubber soled shoes being so completely water-logged.
I back-tracked and then tried to walk round the other side of the island. This seemed more do-able but I came to a gate that was seriously tied up and would have needed climbing over. I was about to do this, but couldn't really see if the way was passable up ahead and I was concerned about the tide and how long it might take me to pick my way back through the slime.
I decided I was happy with what I'd done - I'd made it across to a tidal island and had a good wander round, and I could see the lighthouse, looking like a gigantic Everton mint, from where I was anyway.
I turned round and slipped and slid my way back to the beach and the track leading back to my car.
A few facts
Start Point was built in 1806 by engineer Robert Stevenson, grandfather of writer Robert Louis Stevenson. It was the first Scottish lighthouse to have revolving light. At the time this meant it was easily distinguishable from other lighthouses. It's still just as distinguishable today due to it having been painted with vertical black and white stripes in 1915, thus giving it its current elongated Everton mint appearance.
Warning
I rinsed my walking sandals out thoroughly with fresh water to get rid of the salt. As they dried they began to really stink. The smell got so bad I had to seal them in a plastic bag. I've since put them through the washing machine and they smell slightly better, but not much. They've been wet before and it hasn't been a problem so I think it must be from whatever was in that water I waded through. So if you are intending to do this walk, wear either wellies or shoes you don't care about!
