Volunteering

Having moved away from Carradale village, we promised ourselves that in our new location we would not take on any of the rather onerous community responsibilities that we had previously saddled ourselves with. We would do this by avoiding joining local committees, this being the route to over-commitment, and so far we have been successful in this.

But this does not rule out volunteering.

The local community trust that manages the remains of our village's ancient castle needs volunteers to help maintain the paths and surrounding gardens and this is a regular once a month activity that I seem to have talked myself into. Then of course there are the beach cleans - periodic organised attempts to remove human debris from a small area of our coastline - which we are happy to participate in. Then, quite suddenly and at short notice, a message appeared on a local social media page requesting help from 'someone with sailing experience'. How could I resist.

The Royal Yachting Association (RYA) provides a qualification for yacht skippers which is recognised throughout Europe, perhaps even further afield. This is essential for someone who wants to make commercial use of their boat, hiring it out for holidays or other adventures. To qualify fully as an RYA Yachtmaster requires passing a theory exam followed by a practical test of your ability to handle a vessel, something that includes giving appropriate directions to the boat's crew so that boat handling, manoeuvring, mooring, sailing, motoring, etc., is all carried out correctly and safely. On a sailing boat the practical part requires you to have at least two crew members to whom you can give directions and this was what the 'sailing experience' request was all about. As it happens, being a crew member for the exam is a role I have filled before so it seemed perfectly natural, therefore, for me to put myself forward for this once again. It turned out, however, that on this occasion there would be a few things I wasn't quite expecting, so it turned out to be quite an exciting day.

The first little twist was the weather. The forecast wind on the chosen day would have discouraged most sailors from leaving port - 25 knots or more with gusts of over 40 knots and torrential rain showers, albeit interspersed with bright sunshine. Along with this there was a sudden drop in temperature brought on by the north westerly wind coming down from somewhere closer to the Arctic Circle. I would certainly need all my wet weather sailing gear and many more layers of clothing than I had worn all summer. Added to this, however, was the fact that the qualification now requires the boat to be sailed and navigated at night, in total darkness, which explains why we left the shelter of the harbour around four o' clock in the afternoon. By this time what heat there was in the day was disappearing fast, being sucked away by the rain showers which kept sweeping down from the surrounding hills.

Once on board the yacht I was briefed by the skipper, a Belgian man called Robin, whose command of English was thankfully very good, and he was first asked by the examiner to do a series of manoeuvres around the marina before we set off to sea, bringing the boat safely alongside a pontoon so that the crew could step off with mooring lines and secure the boat. All went well with this so we then left the harbour where my job as crew, and after stowing away the fenders and mooring lines, was to raise the appropriate sails so the engine could be switched off and we could begin to make our way upwind to our eventual destination some ten miles away.

The sailing boat was normally sailed by just the skipper and his wife as crew, and at over forty feet in length this was a sizeable sailing cruiser on which they had been living for some years. The deep keel made her a powerful sailing boat, so long as the crew were strong enough to raise the heavy mainsail and tension the sheets on one or more of the headsails as well. Which of course was where I came in. My role on board was to act solely on the directions of the skipper, no matter what I might think should be done, since this was part of what he was being tested on for the RYA qualification. So as soon as we started sailing upwind, pounding into the short choppy seas with spray flying over the boat interspersed with the rain showers, my role was simply to hang on and keep my head down to avoid getting too wet.

After a few tacks we sailed into the shelter of an island where we were required to anchor the boat, manoeuvring completely under sail, which again our skipper managed quite successfully. Once anchored the sails were lowered, but not for long as we then set off again, raising the sails once more as the boat leapt about in the waves, to continue our passage up the loch to reach a more sheltered stopping place known locally as Otter Ferry. I have sailed a variety of boats, some big, some small, so none of this was beyond my experience but it was, nevertheless, one of the most exciting bits of sailing I have done for a long time. I took a turn on the helm as we powered our way northwards at over six knots, the boat heeled over as the gusts blasted in, and I was impressed by the way she handled herself such conditions. I was less impressed by the bucketloads of spray that kept drenching me and my fellow crew member and I could feel the heat gradually seeping from my body as the night closed in. But despite all this we made it to our mooring just as the last of the remaining daylight slipped away.  

I think we were all rather relieved when having secured the boat to a mooring buoy we could go down below into the shelter of the saloon where dinner was being heated up for us. Warmth gradually returned to our bodies and we could hear the wind had moderated outside so perhaps our journey home might be a little less fraught. Before we could do this, however, the skipper's next task was to sail the boat into another small harbour, this time docking in total darkness alongside a pontoon without the help of the engine. For those who are not aware, sailing boats do not have brakes. So the only way to come alongside safely is to lower the sails at precisely the right moment and let the boat's momentum carry you slowly in until close enough for your crew step off and get the mooring lines secured to stop any further motion. There is no turning round and trying again if you get it wrong, no second chance, and if you don't get the boat close enough the crew should never fearlessly leap across the gap onto the dock - there is too much chance of something going wrong with this. I am happy to report that our skipper judged things perfectly and it all went without a hitch, the boat coming to a stop at precisely the right point.

Sailing back home was a downwind run, uneventful in the lighter wind and the clouds had also rolled away revealing a beautiful starlit night with a faint glow from the aurora to the north. It was now after midnight and by this point the cold had penetrated all the extra clothing I had put on so when our home port finally came in sight it was most welcome. My job for the day would soon be over. All in all I found the experience exhausting but very satisfying and the skipper and his partner seemed grateful that everything had gone so well.

More importantly this seems to show that even sailing opportunities can be found simply by volunteering.

Looking ahead

Nothing in life stays the same forever. Age comes along and messes up most things eventually but well before that, for us anyway, our everyday activities are subject to change. We moved into our present house nearly two years ago, a new location, with different places to explore around us which in turn brought us different ways in which to spend our leisure time. Gradually and often imperceptibly our lives have changed. One of these changes is in the way we shop. We have multiple choices now and they are closer to home, an easy distance to walk with a shopping trolley. There are even two different hardware shops close by, something which is difficult to understand when you have lived in a tiny village for so long. It feels like we have moved into a city! Then there is the way we move about. We like to walk, or cycle if we can but to go further afield we now have the benefit of a long distance bus which we can easily hop on to if we ever feel inclined to visit our nearest city, Glasgow. So perhaps it is inevitable that we should reconsider all our activities, the things we do indoors, along with the things we like to do when the weather is appropriate to spend time outdoors.

Decorating the house has been a big thing for us and then the garden has taken a lot of time and effort to bring it to the point where it has what we regard as the right mix of wilderness and cultivated areas. Creating a pond, one with the right mix of wild things that can look after themselves all year, has been a learning experience. It requires patience, the aim being to step away and let the beetles and bugs do their thing in peace. They have been doing this since long before humans came along so there is really no need for us to mess around trying to make the water right for them. Once they are 'happy' then other animals, amphibians perhaps, will be attracted to live there too. It took a few modifications before we managed to get the pond water level to stay constant - not too shallow when we have a dry spell but topping itself up from the garden runoff when it rains and a nice boggy area for it to overflow into. We have already spotted some small frogs in and around the pond and are looking forward to the next frog breeding season, the early spring, to see whether they consider it suitable for their little ones.

As the growing season comes to an end our garden's wild bits, which we have left completely alone, present a challenge if we are to follow guidance on managing this. At least once a year a wildflower garden should be mown, the idea being that this will allow the fallen seeds to germinate and by picking up the cut grass the soil will be less fertile, something that wild flowers enjoy. Mowing requires a heavy duty strimmer - the grass stems are waist high - and raking up all the cuttings afterwards is quite a physical task so we wait for a dry period to come along and when this does arrive the scorching sunshine that comes along too makes this a multi-day hot enterprise.

Internally our house is 'finished', not a term I ever thought I'd be using, but we have redecorated every room, stripped away all the wallpaper that came with the house and ripped up the floor coverings (carpet; including that laid in the kitchen and bathroom!), replacing them with something more to our taste. The last pieces of fresh wallpaper were pasted on with some relish since these may well be the last I ever stick up. My wallpapering skills will fade from memory over time, unless of course the whole lot slides off the wall and we have to start all over again.

So what is next, I wonder.

Something we have missed, being so busy working on the house since we moved in, has been our desire to roam further afield. Scotland is a country we love but we have still not explored it as fully as we would like.

So now we have the resources to do this we shall be pointing ourselves in a new direction. Our bikes are light enough to be slung on a carrier behind the van then unloaded when we reach a place with quiet roads or forest trails we can ride on. Already a few experiments have taught us our physical limits, in terms of distance and ruggedness so the future is beginning to look quite exciting.

Body changes

It is pretty obvious really. I mean first of all we are born, then we grow bigger and stronger until we reach a point where this stops. From here on although our body size may change little, various bits do begin to wear out. The speed with which this happens is delightfully unpredictable and we have very little control over which bits will wear out first. When we first begin to notice this we might consult with a doctor to establish what is happening to our bodies but there comes a time when the doctor will simply use one of the most upsetting phrases ever spoken...'This is fairly normal for someone of your age'.

One of the most noticeable changes to our bodies that happens as the years pass is the loss of a certain amount of hearing. We can all be grateful for the subtitles that appear on the TV screen when we're watching a foreign film (this is something we take completely for granted until they get the spelling wrong or something gets lost in translation) but to accept the need for them when the actors' words are in our own language, this is a big step to take. One might try to disguise it at first by saying that they are mumbling their words or that their (American?) accents are so strong that it is difficult to make out half of what is being said but gradually there comes a point where the subtitles are switched on for most, if not all, the TV programmes you are watching. The alternative to this, turning up the volume, is likely to be unacceptable to others in the vicinity, those whose younger bodies have yet to change in this way.

Of course there are these things called 'hearing aids', electronic devices that are supposed to improve the quality of one's life by boosting the sound frequencies that one's ears no longer respond to, mostly higher pitched noises. [At this point I did consider adding a picture of some sort to illustrate my text but only an audiologist gets to see inside my ears so instead I have found an appropriate icon.]

Based upon my own experience I can confirm that these gadgets are far from perfect. Go outside on a windy day with a pair of these things in your ears and you almost certainly won't hear the car coming up behind you until it is too late, let alone the voice of the person shouting a warning beside you. Then there is the issue of replacing the tiny batteries every few weeks without dropping the new ones and losing them, again something that can become more difficult as more bits of the body don't function as well as they used to.

Not long ago, however, some very clever person recognised all these problems and made use of some of the artificial intelligence floating around these days to build some more efficient gadgets to stick inside your ears, things that will recognise wind noise, for example, and suppress this particular frequency so the car engine can be heard. A few years ago a device like this might have required you to carry a computer-sized box around with you but thankfully these modern day things are tiny and barely noticeable when worn.

It has, however, taken me several steps to get to the point where I was prepared to try such sophisticated gadgets. One supposedly clever pair of hearing aids that I tried seemed to work fine until I walked past the self service checkout machines at our local supermarket. It appears that these things have cameras focused on you which emit bursts of electronic noise normally inaudible to human ears. The hearing aids did hear it, however, picking it up and passing it through into my ears as a violently loud clicking noise. Even the audiologist couldn't believe this could happen.

STUNT EAR

What I now have sitting quietly behind each ear are things that constantly adjust themselves to the environment they detect around me, mimicking in many ways what my brain once learnt to do. I even had a choice of colours - so naturally I chose silver to blend in with my hair. Wind noise now seems no worse for me than it is for those with younger ears and the devices seem to know when I am in a noisy place with lots of people talking and they do their best to suppress most of the chatter. These things go further, however, in that they use Bluetooth to pair with a mobile phone or a computer so that I can stream music straight into my ears or conduct a phone conversation with someone that only I can hear. This puts me on the same plain as many others in this modern age who walk around with earbuds playing music into their ears from a device hidden elsewhere on the body. Best of all my hearing aids use rechargable batteries which means no more fiddling around with changing the tiny things.

I am not kidding myself. I know my hearing will never again be perfect, no one can expect this. But the improvement once these gadgets are in my ears is both significant and, strangely, hardly noticeable now that I am used to wearing them.

Rain, rain and more rain

The west coast of Scotland has a maritime rainforest climate.

OK, so anyone imagining scorching temperatures right now with us spending most of the day wearing almost nothing, jumping in the sea to cool off now and again, needs to understand just what the term 'rainforest' actually means. Well, first of all there is the rain. To qualify there must be at least eighty inches (204 centimetres) of the stuff each year. Along with this, as the name suggests, there must be trees, most of which, according to the standard definition, should be evergreen. But there are other things that grow only in this environment which are distinctive to a rainforest. These are plants that grow on other plants, 'epiphytes', and the reason they can grow here is because of the presence of moisture in the air. They can obtain nutrients from the water, dust and debris around them. Although they do need other plants on which to grow they are not necessarily parasitic.

They might be ferns, mosses, and lichens but there will also be fungi which, although technically not plants, will feed upon decaying plant matter.

So if we live in a rainforest here in Scotland then what are we missing? Could it be the heat? Of course we all know about tropical and sub-tropical rainforests and how these are so endangered due to the actions of us humans but there are other places, like on the west coast of Scotland, where the annual rainfall meets the definition and the epiphytes flourish but the climate is definitely not tropical. This is called a 'Temperate Rainforest'. Although not scorchingly hot here we do benefit from a climate that is less variable than other places in the UK; milder winters - frosts are less common - and cooler summers too. The true wild characteristics of a rainforest are often difficult to spot but they are here if one knows what to look for.

We have been on guided rainforest walks locally, taken to the best places to look for particular mosses, places where the ferns are hanging from the branches and the lichen and funghi cover every available bare piece of wood. The trees are often not evergreen (although the Scots Pine can only be regarded as a native) which means that the whole forest changes with the seasons so it is always an exciting place to visit at any time of year.

Did we know, when we first came to live here, that we would be living in such an environment? Well not really, although we did know about the rain. We have learnt so much since we moved here and now take any opportunity that comes along to learn more about just how precious (and vulnerable) the environment around us is. We have also learnt to live with the rain, to adjust our lives so they fit in around it. We know there will always be a dry spell that follows rain, no matter how long we have to wait for it. One of the features that comes with so much rain is the way it runs away, soaking into the land or else rapidly gushing downwards into the sea. We try not to be too smug about it when we hear the flood warnings and see pictures of houses inundated by rising water levels elsewhere in the UK but despite us getting significantly more rain here this is generally not the way it affects us. This may be largely because this part of Scotland is sparsely populated by humans so there is much more uncultivated land and this soaks up the rain and then releases it gradually over time. There is also the fact that our hills are steeper than much of the rest of Britain so there is less chance of water pooling and causing flooding. What can happen after significant rainfall, however, is that those steep hillsides become unstable, particularly if the soil is not held in place by tree roots, and landslips can cause significant disruption when this happens.

Which brings us neatly back to the forests. We may live in a temperate rainforest climate but this does not mean that everything is thickly covered with rainforest trees. Sadly much of the forested land is cultivated, covered with a single species of non-native tree being grown for the value of the timber. These areas are clear-felled then re-planted on a multi-year cycle and lorries carrying massive cargoes of logs are a frequent sight on our roads, logs which are then loaded onto ships and taken away for processing into chipboard or other wood related products. Maybe our kitchen worktop came from locally grown trees, who knows.

As I write this it is not, for once, raining outside. Indeed the sun is out and the forecasters predict a run of rain free days. We welcome this, of course, but before long we will be missing the rain and wondering whether our climate is going to change into something else.

Cycling in today's world

Riding a bike is a skill that many acquire at an early age and, rather like walking, once acquired it can stay with us; never to be forgotten. Today we live in the age of the motorcar but despite this cycling clings on as a popular activity. In Britain though its role has shifted away from being an important means of transport to and from work towards being more of a leisure pastime.

But nothing stands still for long and it now seems that another shift is underway which is taking cycling in a different direction, even encouraging many who would never have seen themselves as cyclists before to revisit the saddle. I am, of course, referring to the Electrically Assisted Pedal Cycle or EAPC for short. In just a few revolutions of the planet it seems that one of the features of cycling that had previously discouraged many - arriving sweaty and breathless at one's destination, legs complaining - has been eliminated. The speed with which the availability and popularity of these machines has grown is quite remarkable, so fast, in fact, that our governments have struggled to come up with understandable and sensible regulations that apply to their use. Speed and power limits; controls determining the way that electric motor assistance is activated; age limits for electric bike sales; these are just some of the regulatory controls that have been introduced in the last few years and with the bike market changing rapidly, new features are constantly being introduced to satisfy the emerging demand so it is likely that the regulations will change again, in order to keep up. Contrast this with the 'ordinary' bicycle which may be ridden almost anywhere, by anyone, without regulatory interference. It is, rather like sailing, one of the few remaining freedoms open to us in this way.

Two years ago, as part of a European tour in our campervan, we visited Holland, a place that felt as if it was a different world, largely because the bicycle is still accepted by Dutch people as a primary, everyday, form of transport. Of course one can always argue that Holland is a flat country and it makes perfect sense, therefore, that cycling should remain popular but this argument falls flat when one looks at cycle use in the less hilly areas of Britain. The dominance of the motor car owes much more to cultural influences than the shape of the landscape, car ownership and use being seen as a sign of higher status here. Sadly this has been the dominant thinking for so long now that our infrastructure, particularly the roads, are not generally designed with the more vulnerable cyclist in mind.

Then along comes the electric bike. At first these are hideously expensive toys, attractive only to those with large amounts of money to spare. But gradually, as is the way with many new technologies, things get cleverer and more affordable as new brands emerge. Even some car manufacturers start offering their own electric bike models.

On a recent visit to the centre of the city of Glasgow (a place we rarely visit) I was surprised by the prevalence of chunky tyred electric bike riders weaving in and out of the pedestrians on one of the car free streets, these clearly being used for local deliveries within the city. The quieter country lanes near where we live have always been used by cyclists wanting to avoid main roads but now we see a high proportion of them with electric motors assisting them up the hills. And where there are cycle paths, which provide a safer environment for those on two wheels, it seems as if a whole new population of riders has emerged, less obviously fit nor tightly clad in Lycra shorts but keen cyclists nevertheless. All this has happened in a relatively short period of time, just a few years, which is far too rapid for anything else to have changed in the surrounding infrastructure. Our roads are still full of stinky cars and lorries which present just as much of a threat no matter what type of bike is being ridden there. So where are we now heading with this emerging technology pushing along the humble bicycle?

Before considering this it is worth noting that the bicycle is not the only thing to which electric motors have been added. Electric scooters seem to have emerged simultaneously and these were swiftly banned from use on public roads or paths for reasons known best to the legislators. 'Segways' with their two wheels side by side can be seen in some European cities being used by the local police to get around and more recently motors have been fitted to wheelbarrows, some of which can be ridden, just like the electric suitcases seen at some airports. Electric wheelchairs have been around for many years and 'wheeling', as it is known, is seen as acceptable as it provides mobility for those who might otherwise lack it. But when electric powered quadcopters become commonplace one wonders how acceptable these will prove to be. All this ignores the electric cars, vans, buses and even some lorries which are now proving ever more popular on our roads. I suppose we should not be surprised that electric motors fitted to just about anything are so commonplace. Toothbrushes, food mixers, saws, valves, lawnmowers, window blinds, surfboards, gates; the list is endless.

If we were starting from scratch today, designing a world for us all to live in, then it would make perfect sense to take into account the electric bicycle, a motorised form of transport that we have now come to accept, albeit with some reservations. Charging stations for electric bikes might be fitted outside supermarkets and the parking area would look vastly different to what it does now. Cycle lanes would be significantly wider to accommodate cargo bikes, many with trailers towed behind, which would mean the space available for four wheel vehicles would be severely restricted or else separated entirely and moved elsewhere. Once again Holland is the model for this.

Realistically changes like this are unlikely to come about quickly in Britain but as the cost of electric bikes comes down perhaps we are looking towards a time when many more choose to ride instead of using the car. As a result it seems inevitable that there will be increased conflict between cyclists and other road users in the years to come. There have already been changes in our Highway Code which have shifted the balance of responsibility towards car drivers and away from cyclists in general, providing guidance for two wheeled riders on how they should position themselves on the road for maximum safety and for motorists on how much space to leave when overtaking a cyclist and also on giving way for cyclists and pedestrians at junctions. How much further our legislators will go in the future remains to be seen. Tomorrow is a world away but the recently elected labour government has a transport secretary who seems determined to promote more 'active travel' so perhaps there is some hope.

So what is it that has prompted this particular blog episode?

In case nobody has already guessed, we have recently purchased electric bikes. We are not city dwellers so will be using these largely riding for pleasure on some of our quieter roads, roads that have hills, both steep and bendy, which is where the electric assistance will come in useful. The interesting, and unexpected, challenge for us arose because our nearest bike shop is many miles away, far too far to cycle, so we had the new bikes delivered to our home, each one arriving in an enormous cardboard box.

Inside the box are all the parts of a bike so all that is required is a full day's work to assemble these into a working machine. Download the video first to see how it is done then crack on with the small collection of tools that are provided, in all quite a satisfying experience. Once the fully working bike been created there is just one more requirement before we can zoom off down the road - the rain has to stop.