Sunday, April 12, 2009

Censorship by Amazon.com

Amazon recently instituted a policy to remove sales rankings from titles it considers "adult." It seems, however, that these "adult" titles primarily address GLBT (gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgendered) issues.

Amazon's policy was revealed by Mark Probst on his blog, http://markprobst.livejournal.com/15293.html.

The problem is not so much the removal of sales rank statistics from book pages, but the effect that removing the rankings has on search results. This is Amazon's response to Probst: "In consideration of our entire customer base, we exclude 'adult' material from appearing in some searches and best seller lists. Since these lists are generated using sales ranks, adult materials must also be excluded from that feature."

To see for yourself the effects of such a policy, do the following searches under Amazon's "All Departments" category.

First, search for the book "Leaving India" by Minal Hajratwala. As of 1700 EST Sunday (April 12), the only result that showed up in the first four pages of results is a link to a used bookseller's entry where the book, with an MSRP of $26, is being offered for $77 (the book just came out a couple of months ago and is not anywhere near "rare"). Minal is a lesbian, but that is only peripheral to her story, which focuses on her family's migration from five villages in India to five continents.

The main entry for the book does show up in a search result under the "Books" category, but potential readers would have to know to switch categories (I only do so to filter out extraneous results, like DVDs from book searches and books for DVD searches). In this search, Minal's book was being offered for $17.81, a far cry from $77 in the "All Departments" search which, as it is the default on Amazon.com, is the one most readers are likely to perform.

If you do a search for Mark Schleifstein's "Path of Destruction" -- about the effects of Hurricane Katrina -- under the "All Departments" category, the link to the book's main entry shows up right at the top.

Any author who links to Amazon should reconsider the policy. Anyone whose work addresses gay and lesbian issues are probably already affected. What other controversial topics might be similarly targeted in the future? Books that address evolution? Stem-cell research? Youthful anarchy?

There is a Care2 petition already set up to protest Amazon's action. It can be found at http://www.thepetitionsite.com/1/in-protest-at-amazons-new-adult-policy.

Dave

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Review: Letters to a Young Journalist

Samuel G. Freedman
Letters to a Young Journalist
New York: Basic Books, 2006
ISBN: 978-0-465-02455-1. 183+viii pp. $22.95 (US)

Toward the end of Letters to a Young Journalist, Samuel G. Freedman discusses a dark time in the spring of 1997 when his hopes for literary success based on the book The Inheritance –- one of two runners-up to the Pulitzer Prize in General Nonfiction –- seemed dashed. Despite excellent reviews and high honors, the book had only sold a few thousand copies.

Sam was teaching a book writing seminar at Columbia University’s Graduate School of Journalism that semester, and while sitting before his students in that seminar, he thought “Why the hell are they listening to me? Don’t they know I’m a failure?”

The day I read that passage, I sent Sam an e-mail saying that we –- yes, I was one of the students in that seminar that semester –- listened to him because he was not then and is not now a failure.

I stand by my statement, and submit Letters to a Young Journalist to support it.

Letters to a Young JournalistAt a time when journalism is in upheaval, when journalism schools are being upbraided for not emphasizing the technological fad of the last five minutes, when newspapers and magazines are dying and many professional journalists wonder whether the profession will still allow them to make a living in this age of citizen (in other words, unpaid) journalists, this book offers a very personal meditation on what it takes to be a good journalist –- what it took yesterday, what it takes today, what it will continue to take in the future.

For those of us who witnessed Sam in his Old Testament, maybe-not-fear-of-God-but-damn-sure-fear-of-Sam glory, the book is relatively mild. But Sam does not indulge in insincerity. He tells you what he believes in clear, spare language. The fire that makes him one of the most inspiring teachers I have had is evident throughout.

In Sam’s world, there is no substitute for hard work. In his journalism, there is no substitute for the basics: diligent reporting, thoughtful writing, and cold-blooded editing. Flourish is no substitute for substance. Brilliant lines are no substitute for strong narrative. If a passage you love – maybe it’s the best passage ever written – if it does not advance your story, it has got to go. The most important lesson he offers young journalists, though is that if you claim the mantle of nonfiction, your work better not be fiction.

Sam makes these points and many others, using examples from his own career as well as that of others. In doing so, he displays mastery of one of the other hallowed elements of journalism –- the telling detail or anecdote. While Letters to a Young Journalist is not a textbook, Sam’s mastery of narrative, even in a book of advice like this one, makes it a pleasure to read. As a result, any young journalist who reads it is much more likely to remember the lessons therein.

In the past, journalists were segregated by medium or skill set: print versus broadcast, newspaper versus magazine, still photography versus film, reporters versus writers versus photographers versus editors. Those days are over: Journalists are now advised to learn dozens of new skills unimaginable to journalists of my father’s generation. The journalists’ vocabulary has evolved: from typewriter to Word to WordPress; from engraving to photo to Photoshop; from lead blocks to waxed paper to Quark to Dreamweaver; from broadsheet to Web to Blog and, now, Twitter.

With all the advice being offered to journalists concerned about surviving in their profession today, it seems easy to forget the fundamentals of good journalism are independent of platform. No matter what medium a journalist feels most comfortable in –- old media, new media, or social media –- there is no substitute for the essence distilled in Sam Freedman’s Letters to a Young Journalist.

–30–

Link

Sunday, March 08, 2009

Review: Battle for the Southern Frontier

Mike Bunn and Clay Williams.
Battle for the Southern Frontier: The Creek War and the War of 1812
Charleston, S.C.: History Press, 2008
ISBN: 978-1-59629-371-7. 192 pp. $22.95 (US)

If you are looking for a comprehensive narrative history of the Creek War and the War of 1812 in the southern states and territories of the United States, look elsewhere.

Battle for the Southern Frontier coverBut ... if you want a concise overview of the related conflicts and guide to some of the sites, persons, and documents involved, this book should be in your personal library.

Bunn and Williams sought to write an introduction to the Creek War – which helped trigger the larger, better known hostilities of the War of 1812 – and the southern campaigns of the latter. Without Andrew Jackson’s decisive defeat of hostile Creeks at the battle of Horseshoe Bend in March 1814, much of what is now Alabama and Mississippi might still remain an Indian territory; Without his crushing defeat of the British at New Orleans in January 1815, European powers might still be clinging to power on this continent.

LibraryThing Early ReviewersTo be honest, I grew up in Louisiana, but most of my “knowledge” of the Battle of New Orleans came from the old Johnny Horton song – that despite the fact that a number of my ancestors participated either in that battle or in other military actions in the Creek War and the War of 1812. I had never heard of the Creek War, other than some vague references to Horseshoe Bend.

The Battle for the Southern Frontier has given me a greater understanding of what my family faced as they moved west from the original British colonies to lands west of the Mississippi River. It has also given me a feeling for those who lost the war, especially the Creeks, Cherokee, and Choctaw who -- whether they fought with or against the United States -- were ultimately forced off their native lands for one farther west in what is now Oklahoma, only to lose much of that land, too, in time.

The information in the book about sites and personalities, together with its reproduction of some of the original documents regarding the conflicts, makes it possible for me, or anyone else with roots or an interest in the topic to make pilgrimages to the sites where the history was made and better appreciate the experience of those involved on either side.

If we do make those pilgrimages, this small book will prove a convenient travel companion should we need to refresh our memory on site.

– 30 --

Link

Sunday, January 27, 2008

Ascension Island Expedition -- Ascension Island, Day Three: The Dive

HIGHLAND SPRINGS, Virginia (Friday, January 25, 2008) – I was nervous when I woke up Sunday morning in my room at Ascension Auxiliary Air Field. This was going to be my big day. The dive gear I had lugged with me 10,000 miles from Richmond eastward to London; northward from London to Thurso, Scotland; southward from Thurso to Oxford, England; and then from Oxford even farther south to Ascension Island was either going to prove useful, or it would prove to be a total waste of shipping weight and effort.

This was the day I was to go scuba diving to see some of the sea life off Ascension.

Paul Fuller leads the way

I had many reasons to be nervous. I had been scuba diving only six months. All my dives at that point had been in fresh water; This was my first ocean dive. I was diving with people I had never met before: my contact, Jimmy Young, and his friend Paul Fuller. Some of the equipment I was using – tank, regulator, and buoyancy compensation device (BCD), in other words, the stuff that was to keep me alive – I had never seen before. This was to be my first dive from a boat as well as my deepest dive to that point. If I screwed up and got swept away in a current, I had thousands of miles of South Atlantic Ocean to drift in before reaching any alternative landfall.

Oh, and I hadn’t had much breakfast and NO coffee – none of the places that sold coffee to walk-in customers like me were open at the time I had to meet Jimmy and Paul at the pier in Georgetown.

I donned my swim gear and dive skin, loaded my dive bag with mask, fins, snorkel, and camera into our Obsidian Hotel rental car, and Tom Smith drove Steve Stephenson and I down to the pier. It wasn’t a long drive from the air field – nothing is a long drive from the air field – but I had plenty of time to repeatedly and silently recite a version of the Alan Shepard prayer: “God, please don’t let me fuck this up.”

Since I had not met either Jimmy or Paul before, I had no idea whom or what to look for when Steve, Tom, and I arrived at the Georgetown pier. I walked up to a group of divers unloading equipment from a small sport utility vehicle. They turned out to be a different group of divers. Paul and Jimmy were easy to spot after that – it’s not that big of a pier.

Das Boot (Copyright © 2007 Steven L. Stephenson)

They were loading dive equipment into a Zodiac – à la Jacques-Yves Cousteau – that was sitting on a boat trailer. I’ve seen the type of rig before: john boats, bass boats, other small boats loaded on trailers pulled by your everyday car or truck. So far, so good. Something was missing, though. The boat ramp.

The Georgetown pier was at least 10 feet above the sea surface. I scanned the beaches around the pier but saw no place to back the trailer into the water. I doubted Jimmy or Paul planned to shove the Zodiac over the rail. So how were they going to get the boat in the water?

Ready for liftoff (Copyright © 2007 Steven L. Stephenson)When our gear was stowed to Jimmy’s satisfaction, he went up to a large shed – garage – at the end of the street adjacent to the pier. An engine started, and the next thing I saw was a small, green, self-propelled crane heading to the pier. Jimmy was at the wheel.

Up. . . (Copyright © 2007 Steven L. Stephenson)

He drove to the end of the pier next to the trailer and positioned the lift arm over the center of the boat. Paul then attached lift straps that ran under the boat to the hook at the end of the crane’s arm.

. . . Up. . . (Copyright © 2007 Steven L. Stephenson)Jimmy lifted the boat a bit, Paul tested then straps, then Jimmy picked it completely off the trailer and lifted it over to the edge of the pier. Paul and I watched as he lowered the boat into the sea, then Paul went down the notorious steps that led from the top to the base of the pier and jumped in the water. Paul swam to the boat, climbed in, then unhooked the straps and threw them in the boat. Jimmy drove the crane back to its parking space. Paul started the Zodiac’s outboard motor, steered the boat to the base of the steps, and tied off the pier while Jimmy and I made our way down the steps.

. . . Away (Copyright © 2007 Steven L. Stephenson)I crawled in, found a seat on the side of the boat as Jimmy and Paul directed, and waited for my heart and respiration rate to slow down. Before my vital signs had a chance to return to normal, Jimmy and Paul cast off the lines; Paul put the motor into gear and steered the boat out of Georgetown Harbor toward the vast Atlantic that lay ahead. I waved back toward Steve and Tom, then turned my attention to the sea.

Paul unhooks the Zodiac (Copyright © 2007 Steven L. Stephenson)

Sailin' away (Copyright © 2007 Steven L. Stephenson)

MECHANICSVILLE, Virginia (Saturday, January 26, 2008) – In some ways, the trip to the dive site was like a ride in a john boat on a very, very large lake. But what a lake it was! We hugged the shore of Ascension on our right – no shore was visible to our left. But there were other craft, sail boats, motor boats, and one large, mysterious ship (the MV TSgt. John A. Chapman, on contract to the U.S. Military Sealift Command) moored off Georgetown.

Black durgon

A rock hind feeds off the bottomBy the time we passed the north end of Long Beach, we were alone. We didn’t travel too far before Paul eased the throttle back and Jimmy dropped anchor. I think it was somewhere between Pyramid Point and English Bay. A few yards from the boat, a guano-covered rock jutted out of the sea. Brown boobies (Sula leucogaster) and black and brown noddies (Anous minutus and A. stolidus, respectively) alternately zipped around us and rested on the rock and shore nearby.

Ocean triggerfishJimmy, Paul, and I got our gear together. I nervously assembled the BCD and regulator that I had borrowed from them, put my camera together, and realized that I could not remember how to use the strobe on my camera, a Sea & Sea Motor SeaMaster Pro-EX. I couldn’t remember a lot of things at that point – so I kept reciting Alan Shepard’s prayer to myself.

Black durgon and ocean triggerfish

Sand tilefishPaul told me to attach the camera rig to a line, which he then lowered overboard. He then told me to don my gear, sit on the side of the Zodiac, and roll backward (as I had seen Jacque Cousteau’s crew do so many times on TV). When I was ready, I stuck my regulator in my mouth, put my right hand over the reg and my mask to keep them in place when I hit the water, and tumbled over the side.

Paul searches for sea urchins

Black durgon laying on the bottomMy nerves settled as I sank down to the end of the line where my camera was suspended. I attached it to a D-ring on my BCD, then swam over to the anchor line and followed it down to the bottom as Paul had instructed. The waters surrounding Ascension, because of the low nutrient levels, are very clear. So clear, in fact, that one can easily get disoriented in the open water without some other frame of reference – hence the need to follow the anchor line.

Blue surgeonfish feeds off the rocks

I could see the bottom from the boat, but to actually reach it I had to go down to a little more than 65 feet. Once we were all together, I followed Jimmy and Paul down the slope to a depth of 75 feet.

Jimmy Young hovers

The wall leading up to the rock and the nearby shore was quite steep, the dark-gray color of the lava that dominated much of what they called “clinker” on Ascension. From the base of the wall, the bottom sloped more gently out to deeper water. Unlike a coral reef, there were few obvious signs of life attached to either the wall or the bottom. The bottom itself was light gray, littered with gravel-to-cobble sized volcanic stones.

Rock hind, left, and fangtooth morayThe life was there, of course. Black durgon (Melichthys niger) and ocean triggerfish (Canthidermis sufflamen) were the most abundant of the larger fish, which included sand tilefish (Malacanthus plumieri). Blue surgeonfish (Acanthurus coeruleus) fed among the rocks on the bottom. Rock hinds (Epinephelus adscensionis), fangtooth morays (Enchelycore anatina), and sea urchins (Diadema antillarum ascensionis) tried to hide their bodies among the rocks. Smaller species, such as the resplendent angelfish (Centropyge resplendens) and Lubbock’s yellowtail damselfish (Stegastes lubbocki) were more successful at concealing themselves.

Tom Smith inspects the haul of his plankton net (Copyright © 2007 Stephen L. Stephenson)I shot up a roll of film, but since my mind blanked on the use of the strobe, I kept it off. After the film was developed, I learned one of the cardinal rules of underwater photography – if you want to capture the colors at depth, you really need to use a flash! I noticed little more than a yellow-green tint to everything I saw, but the film didn’t capture the range of color I saw. There was nothing wrong with the camera, though. Water filters the light, absorbing some colors (reds and yellows) before others (blues and greens). Our brain adjusts for the effect, so that things look more or less normal to us, but film has no similar ability to compensate. The underwater photos you see here are much bluer on the original slides – but I have added back some of the missing color digitally after scanning the slides.

Green sea turtle tracks on the beach in Georgetown (Copyright © 2007 Stephen L. Stephenson)

Sand and rock (Copyright © 2007 Steven L. Stephenson)Being more nervous – and probably in much worse physical shape – than Jimmy or Paul, I used my air up faster than they did. I made my way back to the anchor, swam around it until my air pressure dropped as low as I cared for it to drop, and followed the anchor line back to the surface. I swam around the surface until Paul showed up, then we crawled in the boat and got our gear in. Jimmy was last to surface. With us all together and the anchor raised, Paul started the motor and steered the boat back toward Georgetown.

The Georgetown pier (Copyright © 2007 Steven L. Stephenson)

Georgetown (Copyright © 2007 Steven L. Stephenson)Going down the steps on the Georgetown pier earlier that morning was easy: A slip would have landed us in our destination – the boat. Getting out of the boat onto the steps upon our return, however, was another matter. The British journalist and author Simon Winchester has written about the treacherous steps on the pier. In his book, The Sun Never Sets, he writes of “nearly drowning myself as I leapt for the rope at the bottom of the Tartar Steps, missed, and slipped on the slime. . . .”

Pyramid Point (Copyright © 2007 Steven L. Stephenson)As Paul pulled the Zodiac up to the pier, Jimmy and I each grabbed ropes. But the treacherous swell kicked in, lifting the boat up and pulling it away from the pier. Like a fool, I held on to my rope. My feet pulled away – leaving me dangling like a pig on a slanted spit – and my hands slipped and I fell in. With my glasses on!

Settlement in center of island (Copyright © 2007 Steven L. Stephenson)

Ascension Auxiliary Air Field (Copyright © 2007 Steven L. Stephenson)

Green Mountain (Copyright © 2007 Steven L. Stephenson)

Tank farm south of Georgetown (Copyright © 2007 Steven L. Stephenson)I crawled to the surface, realizing that being between a boat and a pier in a nasty swell was a less-than-ideal situation. Paul pulled the boat away. I tried to climb up on the base of the steps, but they wouldn’t sit still. I eventually grabbed one of the ropes and tried to pull myself up. Twenty years and 50 pounds ago, the gambit may have worked. Not this time, though.

Catch of the day (Copyright © 2007 Steven L. Stephenson)

Before the fall (Copyright © 2007 Steven L. Stephenson)A number of people called out suggestions. One, from Jimmy I think, was to hold on to the rope and let the swell lift me up on the steps. When a big enough swell came, I swung my legs forward as if in a sitting position. The water deposited me on the concrete on my stern. It wasn’t a dignified landing, but it worked! My glasses even managed to stay where they belonged -- on my head!

Jimmy and I (Copyright © 2007 Steven L. Stephenson)

Jimmy and Paul pulled up. Steve and Tom – who had explored the area around Georgetown while I was on the dive – helped us unload the boat. Steve, Tom, and I said goodbye to Jimmy and Paul, and Tom drove into Georgetown so that I could find some coffee before my caffeine-deficiency headache set it. We then headed back to the American air field so I could get ready for work in Ascension’s terrestrial environments.

Sunday, January 20, 2008

Ascension Island Expedition -- Ascension Island, Day Two: Green Mountain

Entrance to Green Mountain National ParkMECHANICSVILLE, Virginia (Saturday, July 7, 2007) – Afterward leaving Jacqui Ellick and her Green sea turtle nesting project, I returned to the the American air field to shower, prepare lunch for the day (peanut butter and jelly), and head into the field with Steve Stephenson and Tom Smith.

A donkey shares its thoughts

View from road to Two Boats VillageThe three of us first headed into Georgetown. I may have been the reason – one of my biggest problems on the island was in dealing with a caffeine deficiency. I wasn’t staying at the Obsidian Hotel or its affiliates. I wasn’t stationed at the American or British bases, working for one of their contractors, nor working for one of the other outfits on the island, like the BBC, which had a cafeteria for workers. Thus, I had no easy access to coffee, and unless I were in the right place at the right time – mid-morning was NOT the right time – I was screwed.

Looking toward Two Boats Village
I found some overly baked coffee at one of the restaurants in town. Like a homeless person digging cigarette butts out of the garbage, I took it and was grateful for what I could find.

Steve Stephenson looks for something to shoot at
Looking toward GeorgetownWe left Georgetown and headed toward Green Mountain. This was our first opportunity to get a really good look at the interior of Ascension. In some ways, the landscape reminded me of the deserts of southeast Arizona – it should have, for the bulk of the greenery visible was mesquite (Prosopis juliflora) and prickly pear cactus (Opuntia vulgaris) introduced from the deserts of North America.

Cones in the mist
For the most part, the green was but a garnish. The most prominent color was a rusty red mixed with ashy gray of the cinders, ash, and lava from the numerous volcanic cones and vents of the island.

Road to Garden Cottage
As we passed Two Boats, however, the volcanic desolation gave way to forest. Steve and I have spent lots of time in forests – we’ve worked together since 1992 in studying the forests of Virginia and West Virginia, for example, and we’ve both seen our share of tropical forests. The forest on Green Mountain, however, was much, much different from anything we had ever seen.

Cloud forest

OK, there were trees, shrubs, grasses, herbs, vines, ferns, mosses, etc., like you would find in any mesic (moist) forest. But this forest was completely artificial, consisting of species from around the world thrown together in a haphazard fashion. And it works! It is healthy. It is maintaining itself. It is modifying the surrounding environment, for good in some ways, for ill in others.

Ginger

GingerOn the good side, Joseph Dalton Hooker, a botanist, friend of Charles Darwin, and one of the earliest supporters of Darwin’s theory of evolution, proposed the planting of an artificial forest on Ascension in a report to the British Admiralty in 1847 for the purpose of enhancing the climate – in other words, increasing the rainfall. He recommended that certain types of species in certain areas: shrubs in ravines, trees up on Green Mountain, tropical crops in the wetter areas near the mountain’s summit.

Bloodflower

Chandelier plant

Hooker’s plan seems to have worked. The forest, consisting of species from Africa, the Americas, Asia, Australia, Europe, and the Pacific, seems to have taken root. Anecdotal evidence seems to indicate that rainfall has increased, at least on Green Mountain.

Marratia purpurascensThe problem is, however, that some native plant and animal species have been adversely affected by the introductions – some have gone extinct, others are on the verge of extinction. The groundwater regime has been disrupted. Historic springs, such as Dampier’s Drip, on the flanks of the mountain have gone dry as the trees have pumped the water out of the ground and into the atmosphere via a process called evapotranspiration.

Garden Cottage

Garden CottageMECHANICSVILLE, Virginia (Sunday, July 8, 2007) – Near the summit of Green Mountain is the colonial administrator’s residence. Higher up is Garden Cottage (now part of the Obsidian Hotel) and an abandoned barracks for the old Royal Marine Garrison. The Garden Cottage is aptly named. It has long been the site of a garden for the British personnel stationed on the island. Ascension conservation staff manage several greenhouses and open-air gardens there. Someone takes care of a number of ornamentals on the cottage grounds. The gardens there used to be so successful that the British would sell surplus produce to passing ships.

A tunnel runs through it (Green Mountain)When we arrived at the Garden Cottage, I went ahead to meet with Stedson Stroud in the greenhouses. There I ran into Dominique, a woman returning to England with her husband, Mike, and son, after working several years as a conservation officer in the Falklands. Steve and Tom had mentioned an interest in going there (as I am), so I introduced them to Dominique when they caught up with me.

Ascension land crab

While I waited for Steve and Tom, Stedson spotted an Ascension land crab (Gecarcinus lagostoma) on one of the greenhouses. He measures them as part of an effort to monitor the populations health, and asked me to help catch it. I had the hard job – catcher. Stedson used a pole to knock it loose from the mesh that covered the greenhouse. Somehow I, whose baseball career is marked with a lifetime fielding percentage of .000, managed to catch the crab unharmed. Stedson measured it, I photographed it, and we let it go.

Road to the old Royal Marine Barracks

When Steve and Tom arrived, I introduced them to Dominique. They had quite a conversation. As they talked, I began walking up to the summit. Steve and Tom would join me before long.

Norfolk Island Pine

Norfolk Island PineJust below the notch where Breakneck Valley reaches the crest of Green Mountain, I found Elliot’s Path. I followed it for a bit to the east, and saw the southeast shore of the island for the first time. I turned back verily quickly and tried to core three Norfolk Island pines (Araucaria excelsa) along the trail. Working along the slope was pretty damned difficult. One particularly hard part was crawling through the bananas (Musa spp.) – they didn’t offer too steady of a handhold as I slipped on the moist leaf litter.

Bananas

Royal Marine BarracksSteve and Tom eventually caught up with me – Tom drove up to the abandoned marine barracks in a notch at the crest of Green Mountain. I joined them as they headed up. When we reached the barracks, we were greeted by a stunning sight – Breakneck Valley, a cleft that runs along the southeast slope of the mountain from the crest down to just above sea level.

Breakneck Valley

Breakneck ValleyThe climate is much more pleasant near the summit of the mountain. Temperatures are cooler. It is often breezy – to the extent that gale force winds can be considered breezy – as a result of the nearly constant southeast trade winds. Oftentimes it is foggy (cloudy), as the moisture-laden air carried by southeast trades is forced upward over the mountain, cooling as it rises and forcing the water vapor in it to condense to form water droplets.

Mist over the mountain

Mist over the mountain

Mist over the mountain

Mist over Breakneck Valley
Mist over Breakneck ValleyThe British took advantage of this to boost the water supply for their garrison there, paving over the head of Breakneck Valley. Condensed water was collected at the base and fed into a pipeline for transport of the water to the settled areas of the island.

Breakneck Valley

Green and brownMECHANICSVILLE, Virginia (Friday, September 21, 2007) – The summit of Green Mountain consists of twin knobs reached by the Dew Pond Trail, which winds gently along the contour up the marine barracks and around the south slope toward the saddle between the two knobs. The trail then splits, one branch leading to an antenna on the shorter western knob, and another up to the Dew Pond at the summit of the Eastern (and highest) knob.

Dew Pond Trail

Looking west

Looking west

Slopes of Green MountainMECHANICSVILLE, Virginia (Sunday, January 20, 2008) – On the northern slopes of both knobs, a lush forest – basically an artificial cloud forest – of mixed species, including Red gum (Eucalyptus camaldulensis), Norfolk Island pine, mulberry (Morus spp.), screwpine (Pandanus spp.), Cape yew (Podocarpus elongata), and banana (Musa spp.). The southern and eastern slopes are covered by vast expanses of ginger (Alpinia speciosa); grasses, such as greasy grass (Melinis minutiflora), cow grass (Papsalum conjugatum), and dropseed Sporobolus spp.; and patches of Bermuda cedar (Juniperous bermudiana) and other tree species.

Dew Pond

Bamboo forest

The alligator that guards the Dew Pond (Copyright © 2008 Steven L. Stephenson)The top of the mountain is covered by one of the weirdest forests I have seen – a dense bamboo (Bambusa spp.) stand that surrounds the Dew Pond (itself complete with Blue water lilies (Nymphaea capensis) and a toy alligator). While walking up a boardwalk on the Dew Pond trail to the summit, I passed another land crab – at more than 2,800 feet about sea level!

Ascension land crab above Dew Pond

Eastern shore

Don't look downThe trail then drops down and winds precariously around to the north slope of the mountain. I did not follow it far enough to learn whether or not it joined Elliott's Path. I did drop into a clearing on the eastern slope, with views of the eastern portions of Ascension. As with most views of the island from Green Mountain, the scenery was spectacular. Somewhere in the distance was Africa. Waves like tiny strands of white thread bathed the shoreline below. Of more immediate concern, however, was the steep slope at my feet. A good gust of wind could have knocked me over and down -- with no chance to stop for hundreds of feet.

I preferred the shelter of the forest, so headed back up to meet Steve and Tom.

Tom is dwarfed by vegetation

Rugged slopes in Breakneck Valley

I try to work despite the wind and slope (Copyright © 2008 Steven L. Stephenson)

I core a Bermuda cedar (Copyright © 2008 Steven L. Stephenson)

Extracting a core (Copyright © 2008 Steven L. Stephenson)After my explorations along the Dew Pond Trail, I returned to the slopes above Breakneck Valley to core some Bermuda cedar. The wind beat the hell out of me on the steep slopes, making work difficult. I got little done before Steve and Tom joined me for our return to our lodgings on the American air field.

Back to the Marine barracks

Steve collects samples

Science of Dune coverBy the time we got back, I was pretty tired. I worked on trying to check my e-mail – that did not work – and later went out in search of dinner at the Volcano Club on the American air field. When I got back, I tried to read some of Frank Herbert’s Dune. I was supposed to write an essay on the ecology of Dune for a forthcoming book, The Science of Dune: An Unauthorized Exploration into the Real Science behind Frank Herbert’s Fictional Universe (BenBella Books, 2008). In my contribution to the book I managed to compare the terraforming of the desert planet Arrakis to the British effort to terraform Ascension. This night, however, sleep came faster than the end of whatever chapter I was trying to get through.

Wideawake Field in the distance

Ascension Island Expedition -- Ascension Island, Day Two: The Beach

MECHANICSVILLE, Virginia (Sunday, June 24, 2007) – I met Jacqui Ellick and a couple of helpers on Long Beach early Saturday morning.

Jacqui Ellick
Jacqui is a long-time resident of Ascension, the publisher of the local newspaper, The Islander, and a volunteer with the Ascension Conservation Centre. Besides leading turtle tours, she has been conducting her own research project on the nesting of the green sea turtle (Chelonia mydas).

New nest pit

Green sea turtles are endangered. The beaches of Ascension Island serve as a major nesting area for the species. Jacqui’s research involves the monitoring of the numbers of new nesting sites throughout the season. She locates new nests by following turtle tracks from the shore inland, then looking for unsorted sand deposits that indicated burial of eggs – female turtles all-too-often give up on a pit before beginning the laying of eggs and will not waste effort filling an abandoned pit back up with sand.

Steep berm at edge of beach

Green sea turtle tracksWhen Jacqui finds a new nest, she records the location using a global positioning system, then she and her helpers rake over the turtle tracks that led to the nest. (This is how she can differentiate newer sites from older ones.) The work was hard – sand is not the easiest material to walk on. I cannot imagine how difficult it is for 800-pound turtles with flippers instead of legs.

Dead sea turtle hatchlingThe sand was littered with detritus from dug-up nests – as the nesting season wears on, it is difficult to find a patch of sand that has not been visited previously by another turtle. Seabirds and crabs, such as the Ascension Island Sally Lightfoot Crab (Graspus adscensionis), feast on the exposed eggs. Even when the nests aren’t disturbed, hatchlings that emerge after sunrise are easily picked off by predators. I observed Ascension Frigatebirds swooping down on the beach for tasty morsels, whether alive or otherwise.

Ascension Island Sally Lightfoot Crab

Friday, June 22, 2007

Ascension Island Expedition -- Ascension Island, Day One

Visions of SpainGEORGETOWN, Ascension Island (March 12, 2007) – The flight crossed Spain – I took some photographs – and apparently flew around Africa rather than crossing over it. For those who stayed awake on the flight, the flight offered a series of movies and television shows, as well as a number of listening options. They also offered TWO pretty decent meals. (And it looked like the other passengers had much more leg room that is normally available on an American airline.

Arrival at AscensionWe arrived on Ascension about 0730 the morning of March 9. Since we had already obtained permission to enter, getting through immigration here was a breeze. A woman from the Ascension tourism office gave us a ride to the American portion of the air base.

Welcome to Ascension
Maj. Jason EdelbluteWe met Maj. Jason Edelblute, the commander of the American base, who gave us good news. We would be allowed to stay in base quarters for the duration of our trip – which saved us quite a bit of money. We told him more about our research. After we had a chance to settle in a bit, he took us into Georgetown so that we could meet the personnel at the Ascension Conservation Centre.

Ascension Conservation Centre

Obsidian HotelThe new director at the Centre, Suzanna Musick, was a bit overwhelmed as she had just arrived on the island – on the same flight. Stedson Stroud, a longtime employee, filled us in on what the island was like. I went in search of the bank to get money, but left empty handed as their credit hard machine was out of action. I was able to get money from the Obsidian Hotel, though.

Ascension's general storeAfter getting money, we went to the store for groceries. Sometime during the afternoon we ate fish and chips at the Obsidian, then Tom and Steve went back to the American base. I stayed behind at the Conservation Centre to help them resolve a problem they had with their geographic information system. I somehow fixed it.

Georgetown
GEORGETOWN, Ascension Island (Wednesday, March 14, 2007) – I spent the rest of the day and night Friday getting to know some of Georgetown. Steve and Tom were pretty jet-lagged, so stayed at the barracks. I was eager to go on a tour to observe green sea turtles (Chelonia mydas), which are about at the peak of their breeding season, so cleaned up and headed down to Georgetown about 6 p.m.

SkittlesI ate a fishpie and chips at the Saints Club, then had ginger ales bought for me at the bar by various Saints. The club also had a games room with a pool table as well as another room where a raucous card game was going on. Afterward I headed out back and watched a much more serene game of skittles -- a precursor of ten-pin bowling.

I enjoyed my brief time there, but had to get over to the Conservation Centre for the turtle tour. I asked the two people that looked in charge if I could use Stroud’s phone to call Jimmy Young, a man I had contacted earlier about diving. A woman there, Jacqui Ellick, helped me track down Young at his girlfriend’s house after my attempts to reach him failed. Young and I set a time for Sunday morning at 9 a.m. Meeting Jacqui was fortuitous -- she was the one leading the turtle tour to nearby Long Beach.

The tour began with a brief video and discussion of the turtles at the Conservation Centre. Then we headed to the beach. I helped carry equipment, which (I think) led to Jacqui’s invitation to accompany her in search of females in the process of laying eggs.

Jacqui is impressive. She, like most people on Ascension, is a Saint. Her eyes were as sharp as an owl’s on the moonless beach (we were aided, however, by the lights of a freighter anchored offshore). She could spot turtles where I could barely notice shadows. A few minutes with her, however, sharpened my skills in seeing and hearing turtles.

At first, I only saw them at a distance, but within 30 minutes we began watching one female in a hole closely. She had dug a deep pit, but was stalling toward the end. Jacqui and I spotted several females nearby, however. The first female we watched crawled out of the pit before laying any eggs, but as she aborted, more came onshore.

Green sea turtle burying her eggs
Eventually we found one laying eggs, and Jacqui called the members of the tour over to observe. In general, flash photography is discouraged when turtles come ashore, but females can be photographed while laying eggs – but only from the back.

Green sea turtle hatchlingsA group of us then released a bucket of hatchlings that had been studied by a graduate student here. The hatchlings were slow to make their move to the sea, so Jacqui began separating them and turning over those on their backs. I began to help, and was so focused on the job that I failed to notice a wave coming for us. Jacqui’s warning and the movement of the others got me up from a sitting position, but my ankles were in water and some hatchlings were under my feet. I did not move until Jacqui told me where I could safely step.

As the night broke up, I hitched a ride back to the American base with Jacqui and Ian. I told Jacqui I would meet her the next morning to help her with her efforts to collect data on new nest sites.

Sunday, June 03, 2007

Ascension Island Expedition -- Berwick-Upon-Tweed to RAF Brize Norton

Berwick-upon-TweedSHEFFIELD, England (Thursday, March 8, 2007) – Today began well. I had a good, though somewhat interrupted sleep. Before breakfast, I walked to the train station and learned southbound trans were operating as scheduled. I returned to the bed & breakfast for an excellent meal (egg sunny side up, English-style bacon, sausage, toast, and grapefruit.

Elizabethan-era ramparts, Berwick-upon-Tweed
Walls of Berwick-upon-TweedI asked the male proprietor (I think they are a husband-and-wife team) about a bike shop nearby where I might be able to get the cart repaired. He suggested one, gave me a map, and . . . Success! The guy at the bike shop was great, as was the solution, which became obvious to me as soon as I entered the shop: training wheels.


Walls of Berwick-upon-Tweed
With my cart fixed and nearly two hours to kill before my train was to leave, I headed for the walls of Berwick – a city noted for the frequency with which it changed hands between the Scots and English. The site is impressive. It is awe-inspiring, yet disturbing, to think of the amount of resources spent on military endeavors throughout human history.

Gardens and walls, Berwick-upon-Tweed
Vicious dog with stick
While walking along the wall I was attacked by a vicious mutt (Alsatian and collie mix) with a stick. The owner and dog were walking, and the dog paused around what turned out to be a five-foot branch. I thought it was a bush until I looked back at the dog and saw it running down the path with the branch in her mouth.

Walls of Berwick-upon-Tweed
Walls of Berwick-upon-TweedShe came up to me, and when I reached out to pet her, she jumped back and grabbed her stick. I knew what that meant, and the tug-of-war was on. She was not going to let me quit. When I broke off a smaller branch and tossed it to distract her with a game of fetch, she took one step toward the smaller piece, then returned to HER stick.

The last I saw her, she was attacking her mother with that same stick.

Walls of Berwick-upon-Tweed
My sightseeing done, I returned to the bed & breakfast, fetched my gear, and walked back to the strain station, stopping to take more photos on the way.

Next stop, Oxford and a bus or taxi ride to RAF Brize Norton.

Berwick-upon-Tweed
GEORGETOWN, Ascension Island (March 12, 2007) – The train was brutally crowded as it pulled into the Oxford station. I got my gear ready as best I could and a kid helped me carry some of it out off the train.

Berwick-upon-TweedI pulled myself together, walked into the station and found Steve Stephenson and Tom Smith, my colleagues for the journey, waiting for me. We scrambled around the station, grabbing some last-minute food and searching for a taxi. We found one – ₤36 for a one-way ride to Brize Norton. Fortunately, we were splitting the fare three ways. While traffic was heavy, the views of the Oxfordshire countryside made the ride pleasant.

Berwick-upon-Tweed
Berwick-upon-TweedWe checked in as soon as we arrived at RAF Brize Norton and were quickly approved to go through. We had to wait for a shuttle to the terminal and were rather impressed. It did not look like a military installation, but a small version of an airport. Baggage check-in was a little screwy – I was told I could not fly in shorts – but they were generous in allowing the three of us to average our allowable weight. I would have had to pay a hell of a lot of money for going over my weight limit otherwise.

Berwick-upon-TweedAfter obtaining our boarding passes, we waited. We ate the sandwiches we bought at the Oxford station, hung out with some British army guys, and watched TV. I used some pay terminals to check my e-mail. We heard an announcement that the plane would depart late, but we were called to go through pre-flight security checks earlier than I thought we would. A shuttle bus took us out to our plane, a 747 operated by XL airlines. I got a window seat at an emergency exit. I made sure I knew how to operate the doors in case of an emergency.

Fortunately there was none.

Oxford Station

Ascension Island Expedition -- Strike! (Thurso to Berwick-Upon-Tweed)

Glimpse of the Scottish HighlandsLEEDS, England (Thursday, March 8, 2007) – I woke up at 0445 hours to get ready for my departure from the Thurso rail station. A taxi (the same driver who took me to Scrabster; ₤3) took the to the station. I arrived there about 0625, about 30 minutes early. For awhile a diver of a car parked next to the platform was my only company, but a few minutes after I arrived a young Danish man, Jacob (spelling?) showed up and mentioned the strike.

Glimpse of the Scottish HighlandsJacob had arrived in Thurso the night before, and on the way ScotRail personnel told him the ride would end in Inverness just before the strike was to begin at noon. The train had only two cars, and was pretty crowded at that, so I shared a table seat with Jacob. We talked some, looked out the window some, and read some, and sure enough, at Inverness we were told it was the end of the line.

Glimpse of the Scottish HighlandsInverness was a madhouse between the train and bus stations. I asked for rental cars, but the rental car places either did not rent one-way, had no cars available, or were too damned expensive (₤80 per was what I was told at one place).

North Sea
Low tideAfter a round-trip taxi ride to the airport in search of rental cars or flights, (and which included a pleasant conversation with the taxi driver as well a pass by Culloden – the futile last gasp of the Jacoobite cause), Jacob and I returned to the bus station in search of tickets south. He got a bus to Edinburgh. I wanted to get to Berwick-upon-Tweed, but royally screwed up and booked a ticked to Stirling – in central Scotland – instead. Fortunately Alison realized my mistake and called me back to warn me. I rebooked to Edinburgh, where I hoped to catch a train or bus south to Berwick.

Glimpse of the Scottish Highlands
The ride took us back through the Cairngorms. The weather was gorgeous, and the snow-capped peaks majestic. After awhile, though, I just wanted the journey to be over.

One of he casualties of the strike was a planned trip to Dundee, where I hoped to meet Alison’s uncle Douglas and Aunt Mary. Another casualty was my sanity.

Glimpse of the Scottish Highlands
Oil rigIn Edinburgh, I hoped to get money from an ATM. No luck at the bus station. I went on to the train station, and while there, the cart I bought to help haul my gear gave up the ghost – or at least one of the cheesy plastic wheels did (a damned shame as the cart cost me (₤21, or about $42 US). I was reduced to dragging my gear along. I first went to find out about southbound trains. No trains were running, but GNER had shuttle buses bound for Dunbar and Berwick-upon-Tweed.

Glimpse of the Scottish HighlandsI then went in search of dinner, made an order, but the place told me after preparing the sandwich that their credit card machine did not work, though. This was an unfortunate turn of events as I had NO cash. I tried two more ATM machines at the station. Again, no luck.

By now I was beginning to get desperate. There was a bank of three more ATMs within view. I tried the first one, no luck yet again. But the fifth, from a different bank, coughed up ₤20. I then headed to a Burger King at the station, only to be told it was closed. I started for the sandwich shop again, but they were dropping their gates.

InvernessTwo shuttle buses arrived. I put my gear on the first one, only to learn that it was full before I could board. I moved my gear to the second bus, and got on, relieved as it started south.

Glimpse of the Scottish HighlandsThe bus left about 2000 hours, 14 hours after I left Thurso. We arrived in Berwick about 2130 hours. My efforts to find lodging for the night fell to naught, until I called the 40 Ravensdowne Bed & Breakfast. They had a family suite available for ₤40 – more than I wanted to spend, and more than I had at the time (₤20). I decided to take the room just to get the damned night over with. Since I was worried about money, I did not call a taxi, and instead walked into town with my 70 pounds of gear and a broken cart. I got hopelessly lost. After passing a police station on my last wrong direction, I stopped off at the station, picked up the phone and was told someone would be out shortly.

Two officers came out, the first one telling me the door had been open. I apologized with a quick recap of my exhausting day, told him what I needed. He pointed me in the right direction. As I left, I apologized again.

“Nae worries, mate,” he said.

Glimpse of the Scottish HighlandsI thanked him and headed back down the street. As I rounded the coroner onto Ravesdowne street, I saw the proprietor at the front door looking for me. She set me up with a room and I called Alison. We had plenty to talk about, with my crazy night, with a store in Edinburgh double-charging me for the cart, AT&T screwing Alison over use of her phone card (one idiot there argued with her that the card could not be used for local calls – Relevance? Truth? – and that her attempted calls to me using the card were local).

Well, afterward Alison successfully used it to make a local call. There is also a little problem with the fact that my cell phone number has a 44 (United Kingdom) country code. Since 1776, Virginia and England have been in two different countries. Oh well.

Glimpse of the Scottish HighlandsThe Virginia Credit Union was also causing problems, with no credit showing for the overcharge on the cart, delays in crediting deposits made IN CASH, and other problems. Some of my debits weren’t showing up yet, so I went in search of ATM machines. The first one I tried, from the Royal Bank of Scotland, did not work. The second one, from Barclays did. I left with enough money to pay for my room as well as questions as two why I could not get any money from five previous ATMs. Three of them, however, were from the Royal Bank of Scotland, so I suspect some kind of network issue.

I tried to catch up on my writing back at the bed & breakfast, but gave up, tried to read, and quickly fell asleep.

Ascension Island Expedition -- Orkney

NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE, England (Thursday, March 8, 2007) – I need not have worried about the previous night's storm. When I woke Tuesday morning, the wind that howled outside (and sometimes through) my window was nowhere to be heard. The sun was bright, with scattered clouds. This was looking good.

Preparing for departureAfter breakfast I caught a taxi (₤4) to the Northlink Ferries port at Scrabster to board passage on the MV Hamnavoe (₤26 round-trip, or return as they call it). A light breeze blew across Pentland Firth, which connects the North Atlantic to the North Sea.

Hazy glimpse of Hoy
Old Man of Hoy
Tug in Scapa FlowWhat can I say about the passage? Spectacular? The views of Dunnet Head, the northernmost point on the Scottish mainland, and of Hoy and Flotta, islands on the southwest portion of Orkney were, well, spectacular. I got a good look at what is arguably Hoy’s most famous resident, the Old Man of Hoy, a stone pillar that rises dozens of feet above the North Atlantic waves that crash into the base of it. I also saw what looked like a waterfall that dropped off the southwest portion of Hoy into the sea far below.

StromnessAfter about an hour at sea, the Hamnavoe steered east into Scapa Flow, and soon pulled into its berth at Stromness, on the southwest coast of Mainland, Orkney’s largest Island.

DARLINGTON, England (Thursday, March 8, 2007) – I wish I could say a lot about Stromness, but I was there just long enough to catch a ride elsewhere. I had originally hoped to see Scara Brae, the Neolithic settlement site, but bus access was limited, thus I selected plan B. I bought a one-day Orkney Rover pass (₤6), which would allow me to get on and off as I wished) and headed for my first stop, Stenness.

Standing Stones of Stenness
Ring of BrodgarNear Stenness are three World Heritage sites, the Standing Stones of Stenness, the Ring of Brodgar, and Maes Howe. I walked up a road to the Standing Stones, a stone circle with a few giant stones that still stand. It dates to about 5,000 BP (before present).

Ring of BrodgarThen I walked up to the Ring of Brodgar, about a mile away. On the way, I was accosted by a border collie and a black lab with muddy paws – who christened my formerly clean jeans. (Of course, I did NOTHING to encourage their visit.)

Ring of BrodgarI cannot think of an adjective that adequately describes the Ring of Brodgar (4,000-4,500 BP). Amazing seems rather weak. Nearly 30 large stones remain, as well as a most that surrounds the ring of stones, a few large cairns and other structures.

Barnhouse Settlement
Barnhouse SettlementOn the way back to the main road between Stenness and Kirkwall I decided to stop by another site indicated by a sign on the road next to the Stones of Stenness – the Barnhouse Neolithic village. It dates to more than 5,000 BP. The settlement has been partially reconstructed. The highlight is a large building that may have been a ceremonial center. One large residence and several small ones are also there.

Barnhouse Settlement
I was still tired and sore after my experience walking from Wick to Noss Head the day before, so I decided to try a shortcut to Maeshowe, a burial mound about a mile or more away. My shortcut consisted of walking along Loch Harray. It was NOT a good idea, but once committed, I persisted in my error. Most of the walking was slow, but uneventful, at least until I reached ditches I had to cross. One I had to jump. My right foot sank into the mud at the far edge and I ended up landing on my face on the other side. Too bad no one was there to capture the moment in videotape.

Long walk to nowhere
MaeshoweEventually I reached a point where I could neither realistically go on, nor return, so I cut into a farm field and headed for a churchyard surrounded by a stone wall. There was only one way across the wall – up and over – but I could not have climbed it myself. Fortunately there was a trough of water for the sheep. With a little help from someone else’s concrete, and with my apologies to the permanent (and deceased) members of the churchyard, I made my way back to the main road an on to Maes Howe visitor’s center.

Waiting for the busRather than wait for the guided tour to the tomb, I decided to wait for the bus and write a couple of postcards (puffins for my son, Malcolm, and a seal for my daughter, Mei).

St. Magnus Cathedral
St. Magnus CathedralYORK, England (Thursday, March 8, 2007) – I did not have a lot of time to spend in Kirkwall, the main city in Orkney, but I made the most of what time I had. Near the bus stop was St. Magnus Cathedral, a eleventh century structure that is majestic both inside and out. The cathedral was open, so I walked up and down the aisles, taking not nearly enough photos of its magnificent interior. A couple of men were either rehearsing or working on the gorgeous organ in the center.

St. Magnus Cathedral
St. Magnus Cathedral
St. Magnus CathedralA model of a Viking longship is berthed upon an altar in the santuary, and several centuries of memorials to lost Orcadians adorn the walls. One modern highlight is the bell from HMS Royal Oak, sunk by a German submarine in Scapa Flow in 1939 with more than 800 lives lost.

St. Magnus Cathedral
Earl's palaceAcross the street was the Earl of Orkney’s palace, another example of spectacular medieval architecture as well as another spectacular building. I do not know what the other building was but I suspect it may be the bishop’s residence. After visiting the cathedral and Earl’s palace, I went in search of a post office from which to mail my postcards to Malcolm and Mei.

Bishop's residenceI also found a bakery and bought a meat pie and a drink, and had lunch in front of the cathedral. I used my few remaining minutes to walk around the cathedral’s neighborhood, then took off for the bus stop. I arrived there early, and decided to go across the street to a couple of stores in search of nail clippers with which to trim my claws. No luck.



KirkwallThe bus ride back to Stromness was uneventful, but I had a nice conversation with a young mother and her 10-month old, teething, and intense-looking daughter. Her gray eyes did not miss anything. (Her mother said she often won staring contests.)

Sea stateThe wind had picked up that afternoon, but the ferry captain said he expected a smooth passage back to Scrabster. He was right, but I got a good glimpse of how turbulent the sea could be, with wind whipping up a nice foam over the surface of the waves.

Old Man at sunset
The Old Man looked better in the afternoon light, but the overcast to the west kept him somewhat enshrouded in shadow. I still enjoyed the view. As is my habit, I spent the passage outside rather than in, but the wind beat the hell out of me for my trouble.

Endless headlands
Sunset glimpse of Hoy
From Scrabster, I caught a bus (₤1) back to Thurso, and eventually found a grocery store open that had nail clippers as well as a few snack items for what I expected to be a long travel day back south.

Fire over the Pentland FirthWhile on Orkney, my wife, Alison, called to tell me about a possible strike by railroad signalmen later in the week. The strike would affect my travel plans if it happened, as I was planning to do it all by rail. But I could learn nothing of the impending strike in Thurso.

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Ascension Island Expedition -- Caithness

FORSINARD, Scotland (Wednesday, March 7, 2007) – Monday, I took a Rapson’s bus over to Wick, on the northeastern coast of Scotland. I was not very interested in visiting Wick, but it was the jumping-off place to get to Noss Head, site of a working lighthouse as well as the Clan Sinclair Study Centre, and Castle Sinclair Girnigoe, a complex of two Clan Sinclair structures that were recently added to the WorldHeritage list.

SurfI was supposed to call Ian Sinclair, the owner of Noss Head and the director of the study centre, and arrange for him to pick me up from Wick, but I could not reach him on the phone. I was told by locals it was about a three-mile walk to Noss Head, so I had lunch and set off.

It was longer than three miles.

Space, wind, and hairThe walk, while long, was pleasant. I stopped a short distance out of Wick to photograph the surf slamming into the shore. I had conversations with sheep, a pony (who got a gentle scratch on the nose for his trouble), and several dogs along the way.

I had some problems, like what do you do when your bladder is screeching for relief and there are no trees in sight for several miles/kilometers in either direction. I will leave my solution to your imagination.)

KINBRACE, Scotland (Wednesday, March 7, 2007) – Eventually, I passed the last farm on the way to Noss Head, finally made contact with Sinclair (he had been at a doctor’s appointment when I first called), and entered the Noss Head property. I had been battered by the wind for more than an hour, my legs felt like rubber, and I was plain damn tired. I had been walking with my head down, watching my shadow as the wind whipped my hair into shadowy patterns that looked like dark fire, thus failed to notice I had come into the presence of a large highland bull.

Highland bullThe bull stared at me, I said hello to him and had a little chat, and continued on up to the lighthouse without any interference from him or his compatriots. As I reached the light I was attacked by a border collie, Charlie. (Charlie attacked me silently with a waggy tail.) We exchanged greetings, and I went on to find Sinclair.

Noss Head LighthouseKILDONAN, Scotland (Wednesday, March 7, 2007) – Sinclair is an amazing individual. He used to run a commercial diving business, then began manufacturing dive equipment such as dry suits and hot-water suits. He bought the lighthouse grounds from someone who had let the property fall apart, restored the keeper’s houses, and moved in to what had been the assistant keepers’ homes.

Sinclair knocked out a wall that had separated the two homes to make it one, and in the large central room he established the rather impressive Niven Sinclair library. It holds a substantial number of references on the Sinclairs, related families, Scotland, and more.

Vicious Charlie attacking red ballWe chatted for a bit over coffee, and then set out to visit the castle site. He got a four-wheeler out of what had been a barn, started it up, and Charlie – who had been viciously attacking a large red ball previously – began digging up part of a ditch and barking at mysterious creatures lurking in the mud. Charlie was quite a mess when he came up for air.

Cliffs of Sinclair Bay
Path to the castlesHELMSDALE, Scotland (Wednesday, March 7, 2007) – We started down the road to the path that leads to the castle, but the buggy was stopping intermittently, so he returned to the barn and I continued on foot by myself. Just before arriving at the castle sites, I noticed the dramatic cliffs dropping off into Sinclair Bay. I had to take some pictures. Sinclair rode up as I resumed my walk to the castle site.

Crossing the moatBERWICK-UPON-TWEED, England (Thursday, March 8, 2007) – Sinclair gave me the insider’s tour of the castle. The restoration work has gone well. The most distinctive part of the Sinclair portion, which featured a weakly supported chimney, was on the verge of collapse, but has been stabilized. The work was recently finished and the scaffolding removed.

Rubble from collapsed chimneyExcavations have been done on portions of the complex, and the data is now being analyzed. Sinclair and I crawled through the ruins, visiting rooms – including guardhouses, officers’ quarters, spiral stairways, latrines built into the walls that emptied into the sea, a dungeon in Girnigoe, and the chief’s quarters on the second floor of Girnigoe. I visited a hidden room off a chimney in Girnigoe that could be accessed easily via an easily concealed passageway in the chief’s quarters.

Castle stairwellAfter going through the castles we climbed up another scaffold that took us up to about the third-floor level of Girnigoe. The wind was picking up, the scaffold was shaking a bit, and I was nervous, but the views from the top were worth the effort and fear.

Charlie watches for seaborne invaders
View of stabilized chimney, Castle SinclairWhen we climbed down we walked to the end of the point where the castles are located. There are the remains of what they believe to be animal pens, a blacksmith shop, derricks, and other structures hidden beneath centuries of overgrowth.

Before leaving I walked down between the point and the mainland. I touched the North Sea, and it touched me.

Inlet from Sinclair BaySinclair and I returned to the lighthouse for coffee and bisquits (cookies), and he drove me back to the bus stop in Wick. While there, I was accosted by three young boys whom I felt were trying to see if they could pick my pocket. When they found that I was not going to leave them an opening, they started talking to me. We had a grand time talking about fags (cigarettes), poontang (I did NOT bring that up, nor did I prolong the discussion), and even serious things like school.

They left, I still had a long wait for the bus, and went into a bar for coffee and warmth. I had a nice chat with a guy up in Wick to build a scaffold for another castle restoration. In time, the bus showed up and I returned to Thurso, cold, exhausted, and damp, but exhilarated after a tremendous day.

Castle Sinclair Girnigoe, with Sinclair Bay in backgroundNEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE, England (Thursday, March 8, 2007) – That night, a wicked storm blew through the area, with gale-force winds and hurricane-force gusts. I was hoping to go to Orkney the next day, but worried the ferry would not be able to make it.

Ascension Island Expedition -- Edinburgh to Thurso

STROMNESS, Scotland (Tuesday, March 6, 2007) – I haven’t had much time to write since my trip up to Thurso from Edinburgh on Sunday. I would have liked to write more on the train, but there were no power outlets. I had to stop after about little more than an hour. I have been running pretty hard since getting to Thurso.

Firth of ForthSo I will return to the trip up. I left Edinburgh on time on the 1:55 p.m. GMT train. Leaving Edinburgh was interesting enough, but the Firth of Forth really took my breath away. From there we headed inland toward Perth. The landscape again proved amazing – large expanses of deciduous and coniferous forests – and that was before we reached the Cairngorm Mountains.

CairngormsThe Cairngorms are not as high as the Rockies, maybe not even the Appalachians, but they are stunning. Even in the clouds and rain that enshrouded us for almost the entire trip up, the Cairngorms looked majestic. The snow-capped ones were the most impressive for me. Somewhere, I cannot say where, I saw a red deer stag alongside the tracks.

THURSO, Scotland (Tuesday, March 6, 2007) – We arrived in Inverness around sundown. A bunch of kids – boys not quite become men – boarded the train en route to Thurso to attend a gamekeeper’s college. (One of them confirmed that I had seen a red deer.) They were rowdy and loud, but were OK. They were entertained by another man, a local who apparently spent some time in the United States and Canada.

ThursoThe train pulled into Thurso around 10 p.m. GMT. It was dark and cold, but I had a short walk to the Waterside Bed & Breakfast, where I had reserved a room. Someone was waiting for me, got me set up quickly. I dashed out in search of food – getting it from the Charlie Chan Chinese takeout restaurant. I regret to say it was some of the worst Chinese food I have had. I am normally pretty tolerant, but what I ordered had little taste.

St. Peter's and St. Andrew's ChurchAfter I ate I went exploring the town. I saw it had a beach, and headed off in search of it. It was fairly easy to find. I stuck my fingers in the waters of Pentland Firth – a passage between mainland Scotland and Orkney that connects the North Atlantic to the North Sea – to add that to the list of waters I have connected with (by touching or sailing on them). The major ones (oceans and inland seas) include the North Atlantic, North Pacific,Pentland Firth South Pacific (via the connected Java and Flores seas), Indian Ocean, Caribbean Sea, Gulf of Mexico, Chesapeake Bay, San Francisco Bay, the Bay of Fundy, Balikpapan Bay, Puget Sound, Lake Superior, Lake Ontario, Lake Huron, Makassar Strait, Lombok Strait, Alas Strait, and Strait of Juan de Fuca.

Ascension Island Expedition -- London to Edinburgh

DurhamBLAIR ATHOLL, Scotland (Sunday, March 4, 1007) – Yesterday (Saturday) I wrote off-and-on until we reached Newcastle, England. The train turned around, and I switched sides to have a seaside view as we continued north. The plugs on that side of the train weren’t working, so I had to stop writing when the battery got too low.

The cost (in terms of lost writing time) proved worth it, however. But I digress...

Newcastle waterfrontOn the way to Newcastle we passed through Durham. Durham has a famous cathedral, and I noticed a castle as well as some other large, spectacular, Gothic-style building (well, I think it was Gothic) nearby. Newcastle itself had some spectacular views. The Tyne runs right through Newcastle's downtown, and the waterfront area is amazing.

When I switched sides of the train, another man was doing the same. He was helpful, confirming that I would have a seaside view, and he added that it was worth the trip. He had a Scottish accent – but not Edinburghian or Dundonian. We did not talk much at first, but that changed when I noticed a huge expanse of water to the east – the North Sea. In the distance, I noticed a large rock – and island – an on it an old castle-looking structure. It proved to be one of the things I really wanted to get a glimpse of on this trip, Holy Island, the site of Lindisfarne Cathedral.

Holy IslandOur conversation proved unstoppable after he confirmed that I was indeed seeing Lindisfarne. He pointed out the locations of old watchtowers built during World War II, houses built into the cliffs overlooking the North Sea, important islands and landmarks. We talked about the often hostile relationship between the English and Scottish – a topic begun as we passed through Berwick-upon-Tweed, a city that changed hands many times until it finally ended up in English hands. In the process, we discussed the Jacobite Rebellions; the leadership, or lack thereof, of Bonnie Prince Charlie; the role of Scotland as a proxy battleground between English and France; and the Scots’ unfortunate habit of fighting among themselves as much or more than they fought against the English.

ALNESS, Scotland (Sunday, March 4, 1007) – I arrived in Edinburgh on time at about 4:19 p.m. GMT. My friend, Rob Wilson, was waiting for me as I walked out of Edinburgh’s Waverly Station. Our first stop was to look for some kind of dolly-like apparatus to put my heaviest bag – containing my tree-ring, diving, and camping gear – on to make it easier for me to tow it around airports and train stations. We found a suitable candidate, but I waited to make sure I had enough money to pay for it.

Then we went to Rob’s house to drop my gear off and to meet his family. I had heard about his wife for years (actually they have only been married for the last couple of years). I think she was pregnant with their son David when I first met Rob. The baby-in-waiting is now an energetic and entertaining teen (as was his friend Alex who was going to spend the night). Andrea was rather hobbled, however. She had broken her right collarbone and her left thumb in a bicycle accident a few days earlier.

Rob cooked us all an excellent meal, and then he and I departed to experience some of Edinburgh’s night life with another friend of his, a Canadian spending part of his sabbatical at the University of Edinburgh. We hit several pubs downhill from Edinburgh Castle. The castle is a stunning sight in itself, but even more amazing when viewed at night, with its walls lit up from its base high above the rest of the city. We strolled down part of the Royal Mile, viewed a total eclipse of the moon, heard some good music and witnessed dozens of Edinburghians and Edinburgh visitors in various states of disrepair.

We started back a little after midnight. Rob and I talked shop (tree-ring stuff) until he could stand it no longer and went to bed. I worked a bit, but gave in to exhaustion a little after 2 a.m.

---


Rosslyn CastleDespite setting two alarms for myself, I woke up late (about 9:15 a.m. for Edinburgh, but still 4:15 for Virginia). My ambitious plans for seeing Rosslyn Chapel, the Royal Mile (again), and Arthur’s Seat in one morning had to be given up.

Rosslyn ChapelWe had a leisurely breakfast (well, Rob and I did; Andrea was trying to get David and Alex ready for church). Rob and I left around 11 a.m. GMT, I bought the dolly thing, and we did a quick tour of Rosslyn Chapel, Rosslyn Castle, and parts of Rosslyn Glen.

Ascension Island Expedition -- Mechanicsville to London

DARLINGTON, England (Saturday, March 3, 2007) – I’m finally settling down to the point where I can think about writing a bit. The time is now 2:12 p.m. GMT, and I am on a train that just pulled into the Darlington Station, about two-thirds of the way between London and Edinburgh, my destination for today.

Yesterday (Friday), the day I departed from the United States, began surprisingly organized for me. I had most of my packing in order, but got held up deciding what books and magazines to take with me. I needed some books for references while I finish some writing projects here. Other books, and the magazines, I wanted for reading because I figured I would have a lot of time to read while riding planes, trains, and such.

I struggled so much with the decision I failed to make it to Virginia Commonwealth University for my 9 a.m. class. I was not planning to lecture, but I wanted to make myself available for students who may have had questions for me before my departure. (My apologies to anyone who did show up.) I forgot a few things I needed, but they way I typically pack, all went quite well.

I drove down to Lexington, N.C., to my parents’ house, got a little better organized, and they drove me to Charlotte-Douglas International Airport. USAir packed a hell of a lot of people on an Airbus A330 – I barely had enough room to bend over and pick things up from the floor in front of me – but my rowmate, an English businessman, and the several college students surrounding us made pleasant company.

Maine coastThe flight was an overnight flight, and parts of it were spectacular. We headed up the East Coast, then turned east over the Atlantic somewhere over Maine. The highlight of the flight for me came about two and one-half hours into the flight, where we passed over Newfoundland. The island was snow covered. Ice filled the fjords and bays. The lights of the cities and towns added a spectacular effect. Unfortunately, the bright moonlight made it all but impossible for me to get good photographs of the scene.

Over IrelandShortly after sunrise (for us at 37,000 feet) Saturday I spotted the coast of Ireland. The landscape was still hidden in the shadows of dawn, but what I could make out of the landscape was spectacular. I’ll need to find my way over there someday. Then we passed over the Irish Sea to England. Its southern coast is likewise spectacular.

We arrived at London-Gatwick International Airport on time. While heading to the immigration area, I met a student from Randolph-Macon Women’s College in Lynchburg, Va. We later ran into one of her professors. I guess this could lead to a discussion of globalization, but I’ll pass for now.

London, the railway viewFrom Gatwick, I took the Gatwick Express to London’s Victoria Station. On the short ride, I shared a table with a medical student on break from Emory University and an Italian woman (and Indian cinema fan) returning from a vacation in Berlin to her job in London. The three of us had a nice conversation on the way, although my attention occasionally drifted while I took in glimpses of the English countryside. It changed from suburban/rural around Gatwick to urban/industrial in London. While some of the neighborhoods looked quintessentially English – others looked like typical scenes of urban decline, with rubble and gang-style graffiti enhancing the effect.

I have a history of overpacking for almost any trip, and when we arrived at Victoria Station I had reason to consider whether or not I was about to pay the wages of my sins in that regard. While I actually doubt I packed too much given my itinerary and goals, I had to carry a lot of weight, which was not a good thing in the madhouse that passes for a train station. From Victoria, I took the Underground to London’s Kings Cross station. The crowds there were not so bad, but the long walk from the Underground to the rail station damn near did me in. I walked to the nearest practicable car, dropped my gear off and collapsed in a seat.

The English countrysideThe train to Edinburgh departed Kings Cross on time at 11:30 a.m. GMT, and shortly afterward I tested the cell phone I bought for the trip. (It worked.) Exhaustion was starting to catch up with me (I had been traveling for about 21 straight hours by then. We did not have to travel far out of London, thought, before we hit vast swaths of rural areas. The beauty revived my enthusiasm (even though I snoozed a bit, too.)

Friday, January 05, 2007

Weird, but true (another bear story)

MECHANICSVILLE, Va. -- I made my first attempt at a master's degree from 1983-1985 in the geography department at the University of Oklahoma. For all of my scientitic career, I have preferred field work. In keeping with my preferences, my thesis research was going to be a field project -- a study of high-elevation forests in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains of southern Colorado in the summer of 1984.

I was working in the Blanca Massif area (a little to the southwest of the Great Sand Dunes) in the Upper Huerfano River valley. The river -- little more than a creek near its head -- was at the bottom of a narrow 2,000-foot-deep glacial gouge. Because of the high ridges on the east and west, sunrise came late and sunset came early.

One afternoon, after an exhausting day of field work, the sun disappeared over the ridge before I had a chance to wash my dishes after dinner. It got cold quick -- my base camp was above 10,000 feet -- so I decided to cut corners and just dry my dishes as best I could, put them in the back of my pickup truck, and get in my sleeping bag as quickly as possible.

I was awakened at some point that night by the distant sound of something banging on metal. I dozed again, but the sound kept waking me up -- and it got closer each time. Finally, I heard a big slam and heard the sound of the springs creaking on my truck.

I was in a little Eureka! Timberline tent with the windows zipped up because of the cold. I didn't know what to do. Part of me wanted to stay in the tent, but part of me wanted to get out and face what I was certain was going to kill me. I could see nothing with the windows as they were.

The part that wanted to face my soon-to-be killer won out. I got dressed. Despite the noise I made, nothing attacked. I zipped down the windows and peekd out. Nothing attacked. I crawled out of the tent. Nothing attacked. I shined a flashlight around the campsite and saw nothing. Still, nothing attacked.

I looked for a tree to climb in an emergency. The ones that were big enough had no limbs within reach. The ones with limbs within reach weren't big enough. I wasn't in an ideal situation, and I knew damned well that something was nearby.

I thought about it for a minute, and decided to walk up to my truck. I shined the light through a camper shell window, and, yes, I had a visitor -- a black bear.

Well, I was 24 at the time and not especially bright. I didn't like the idea of that bear in my truck eating my food. So what to do? Sit around until it finishes with my supplies and comes after me? No. Open the door of the camper shell and tell it to get out? No.

I had a .30-06 rifle I had borrowed from a friend in case of emergencies. This seemed like an emergency. Unfortunately, the rifle was in the truck. Fortunately, it was in the cab, and I retrieved it without incident.

I loaded it, walked back to the camper shell, and thought about dispatching my problem, but I wasn't comfortable with the idea of shooting the bear -- it was a bad enough idea in general, and an especially bad idea in my truck.

Still, I wasn't inclined to let events unfold in the bear's good time.

Then a great idea! I would get in my truck, and begin driving it out of the mountains. If I got all the way out to the plains below, I would shoot it.

I got in the cab and started the truck, then shined the flashlight back in the camper shell. The bear looked nervous.

I backed the truck out onto the Forest Service road, and drove about 100 feet. I stopped and shined the light back in the camper shell. The bear's head now was just behind mine -- only a bit of tempered glass, a bit of plexiglass, and about four inches separated it from me.

For some reason, though, I wasn't nervous. Maybe it was because the bear was the one looking REALLY scared -- like scared shitless.

I turned my back on my rider, drove about another hundred feet, and stopped. This time, I heard a big slam and my truck bounced up and down on its springs.

I pulled over, waited a few minutes, and looked for my guest. It was nowhere to be seen.

The idea of staying in the neighborhood with the bear close by didn't seem too appealing, so I broke camp in the dark. All the time I was annoyed at myself for apparently leaving the camper shell unlocked. But when I was ready to put my gear in the truck, I found it was locked! The bear had pried out the latch on one side and forced his way in, then, after his short ride, back out. I still had to unlock the damned thing to get it open.

The next morning, down at the base of the mountains, I took stock of the damage. The bear had gotten a lot of my food. And I confirmed that it had been scared -- shitless.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

The search for a missing airliner

NOTE: With the exception of the map, the linked images can be downloaded in a larger format (3000 x 2000 pixels) and used by news organizations interested in illustrating stories about the difficulties involved in the search for the missing plane. All I request is notification of and credit for such use.

MECHANICSVILLE, Va. -- Many of you may have heard about the Adam Air jetliner that was reported missing Monday in Indonesia. The story has been an especially tragic one. Reports early on Tuesday said that survivors, including three Americans, had been found. Those reports were refuted later by Indonesian authorities.

The initial news that the Boeing 737 had disappeared must have been disturbing enough on the families and friends of passengers and crew, but the added confusion -- with the raising then dashing of hopes -- must be making matters even worse.

The flight took off from Surabaya, on the island of Java, heading toward Manado, on the northern tip of Sulawesi. It would have had to cross first the Java Sea, then possibly over portions of the Flores Sea, and ultimately the Makassar Strait before having to cross the mountainous center of the spindle-like Sulawesi. Once over Sulawesi, the flight path would likely have taken it from about halfway between Ujung Pandang in the southwest and Palu in the center, over to Manado in the northwestern tip.

I made a round-trip between Balikpapan, on the island of Borneo, and Ujung Pandang during my expedition to Indonesia in 1994. The flight from Balikpapan to Ujung Pandang was more or less direct, crossing only the Makassar Strait. The strait is a large and deep channel. At the time I flew, weather was reasonably clear, but the strait can be a difficult place to find anything in the stormy conditions that have prevailed this week; locating wreckage can be nearly impossible. It does not help that much of the coastlines lining the strait are sparsely populated, making it even more unlikely that anything that washes ashore will be quickly noticed.

Conditions for those searching for wreckage on land are even more challenging. Central Sulawesi is mountainous, sparsely populated, and heavily forested. After a brief meeting with other members of the expedition in Ujung Pandang, I took a one-stop flight back to Balikpapan. The stop was in Palu, a city at the head of a bay that partially cuts across the peninsula leading to Manado.

Among the many challenges are the rugged slopes. Wreckage can be scattered in such a way as to hide evidence of the impact of an aircraft. Then the tropical climate comes into play. In the humid air, a little bit of uplift -- common in mountainous terrain as the ridges force moving air up and over the barriers -- leads to rampant cloud formation. Clouds obscure the ground directly by coming between the surface and the observer, but clouds also cast shadows over portions of territory that are in the observer's direct line of vision.

Another problem is the seemingly endless, featureless terrain. Forest-covered ridges follow forest-covered ridges. Haze obscures view of more distant areas. Landmarks are difficult to discern, as one mountainous spur looks like another. The conditions are enough to fill searchers with despair. The nature of this remote, rugged, sparsely populated territory makes it easy for rumors to spread unchecked to raise false hopes elsewhere.

These images above should show how difficult it is to spot a crash site by air in this region. But the image at right should show how difficult it is to mount a land-based search. Clearings reach up from the lowlands into the montane forests, but they only go so far. None can be regarded as an easy point of entry to the interior of Sulawesi's forests.

The final photograph (below) was taken as my return flight to Balikpapan left Palu and was making its turn over the Makassar Strait. Here you can see all the factors -- terrain, forests, water, and weather -- that are making the search for the missing airliner so difficult.


Saturday, December 30, 2006

Welcome to the newly converted

MECHANICSVILLE, Va. -- It seems the Bush (II) administration has gotten a touch of the not-so-new religion.

The administration, which has shown tremendous reluctance to list species as threatened or endangered under the Endangered Species Act, is weighing the recommendation that a high-profile species -- the polar bear, Ursus maritimus -- be listed for protection.

Even more remarkable is the administration's reasoning behind its recommendation. Climate change -- the problem we haven't had to worry about for the first six years of the Bush (II) administration -- is destroying the Arctic environment on which the species depends.

“Polar bears are one of nature’s ultimate survivors, able to live and thrive in one of the world’s harshest environments,” Secretary of the Interior Dick Kempthorne is quoted as saying in a Dec. 27 press release announcing his decision. “But we are concerned the polar bears’ habitat may literally be melting.”

Kempthorne is ordering a yearlong study of the polar bear's status to determine if it should ultimately be listed as a threatened or endangered species.

The problem for some polar bear populations, especially the Western Hudson Bay population, is that the Arctic ice pack has been shrinking. The bears do most of their feeding on the ice -- the ice is teeming with prey, such as ringed seals. As the ice pack shrinks, obviously, the bears' habitat shrinks. Even for polar bears that visit land, such as in the Hudson and James bays in Canada, their lives are tied to the ice. Females on land may fast for as long as eight months while waiting for the ice to return.

But as the ice pack retreats farther and farther from shore, polar bears have to swim longer distances to reach the ice. This can have catastrophic consequences. In a phenomenon rarely seen until recently, carcasses of drowned bears have been found. While drowning has probably always been a cause for polar bear mortality, it stands to reason that if bears are forced to swim longer distances over deeper waters, more and more will meet that fate than before. The longer swims will take an especially high toll on the young.

As of now, some populations of polar bears -- such as the Western Hudson Bay population -- are shrinking. Cub survival rates are declining. Bear weights are declining, which indicates an inadequate diet. There is also evidence of increased cannibalism among polar bears, as well as possibly higher rates of drowning.

As I have stated before, in this blog and elsewhere, a prime cause for shrinkage of the ice pack is warming of the Arctic. Loss of ice sets in motion a positive feedback: reduced ice cover leads to lower albedo (reflectivity) of the Arctic; lower albedo leads to more solar heat absorbed by Arctic waters; more solar heat absorbed by Arctic waters leads to warmer waters; warmer waters leads to reduced ice cover; and so on. . .

The Department of Interior's press release points out that analysis of climate change is beyond its scope. It does add the following comment:

"However, climate change science and issues of causation are discussed in other analyses undertaken by the Bush Administration. The administration treats climate change very seriously and recognizes the role of greenhouse gases in climate change."

I hope the administration, in its waning years, practices what it has herein preached.

The U.S. Fish & Wildlife service is seeking public comment on the proposed ruling. The comment period will run 90 days from the date the proposal is published in the Federal Register (the anticipated publication date is 11 January 2007). More information about the proposal and related issues of polar bear conservation can be found at the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service - Alaska's Polar Bear Conservation Issues page.

For more information:

Center for Biological Diversity polar bears page

Polar Bears International

World Wildlife Fund polar bears page

A personal note:

The best opportunities for most North Americans to see polar bears can be found in Churchill, Manitoba, Canada. Churchill is known as the polar bear capital of the world. The Western Hudson Bay population of bears comes on land during the summer. The bears are a popular tourist attraction -- ecotourism is a major part of Churchill's economy.

I saw a mother and two cubs on 28 July 1994 alongside railroad tracks near the southern part of town while riding the Canadian National (now the Hudson Bay Railway) into town. I was visiting the area to do some tree-ring sampling while on a two-month-long expedition to northern Saskatchewan and Manitoba. I was ecstatic to see polar bears from the safety of the train. I spent my three days in the field, however, doing my damnedest to keep them from seeing me.

Photos and more from my visit to Churchill can be found on my travels site.

Friday, December 22, 2006

The story behind the image -- Tramps


MECHANICSVILLE, Va. -- The image above is called Tramps. It was taken in April 1996 on the island of Sumbawa in Indonesia. This was toward the end of a two-month-long expedition to Indonesia in search of tree-ring chronologies that would help my colleagues at Lamont-Doherty Earth Observatory reconstruct the past climate of Southeast Asia and Australia.

Due to an overly ambitious research plan, the field team -- consisting of me, Paul Krusic, and his wife, Rachel -- split up about halfway through the expedition in Sulawesi. I continued alone on to Lombok, where I would make contacts with officials of PT Newmont Nusa Tenggara, a mining concession that was in the process of establishing an open-pit copper and gold mine in southwest Sumbawa (the island to the east of Lombok).

The Newmont folks put me up at their mining concession and provided logistical support in the guise of supplies and personnel, both professional environmental staff and local guides. After some discussions, we decided to focus on a tropical tree with relatively soft wood -- all the more easy to core by hand -- that should have been fairly common in the area. Locals carved dugout canoes from the trunks.

The field crew and I were dropped off by helicopter at an old exploratory drilling pad, well away from the site headquarters in rugged hills covered by rainforest. I made the mistake of relying on the locals to look after logistics. We had everything we needed save water -- and fully charged batteries for the radios so that we could call in for a supply drop. Ultimately, it was my responsibility for the oversight, as it was my research they were helping with.

We spent our first few hours in the area obtaining water supplies. First, we gathered up left-behind five-gallon water containers full of animal and plant debris, cleaned them out in a nearby creek, then filled them with more water from the creek. I then dumped a healthy supply of iodine tablets in the water in the filled bottles to sterilize what we would drink.

After we took care of our water supply, we began to explore the nearby forest. Our guide was supposed to know where the trees we were looking for were located. We never found them in sufficient numbers to justify coring any, though. I've often wondered whether his difficulty in finding the trees was intentional -- a way to protect the canoe supply. If so, it was a wasted effort, as much of the area has since been cleared for the mine.

Many people refer to the rainforest as a jungle, and they think of it in Hollywood terms -- as a thick tangle of vegetation requiring machetes (or parangs and they call them in Indonesia) to cut a path through the trees, vines, and brush. Actually, mature rainforest is fairly open near the ground, as so little light reaches the forest floor not much vegetation can grown down there.

But, where there are openings, the Hollywood vision is realized. Quite a bit of light reaches the ground. With plenty of light, plus a long growing season and ample rainfall, you will find lush, virtually impenetrable greenery. This photo was taken as such a place. We were on a trail that was running along -- maybe crossing at this point -- a creek.

The humans -- visible at the lower left -- are puny, dwarfed by the trees, tree ferns, lianas, and other plants that surround us. It is easy to be forever swallowed up by such an environment. Fortunately, we weren't.

Unfortunately, humanity's appetite for resources is swallowing up -- has swallowed up -- this forest.

This part of my expedition proved not to be successful. After several wasted hours trying to find enough trees to justify coring, I thought it best to move on. Unfortunately, we couldn't radio out -- because of the battery situation -- so the local guide and I hiked out of the hills to the coast, where another mining camp was located.

We were racing sundown, going up and down rugged ridges. Toward the end I was near the point of physical collapse, surviving only because the guide and I would periodically switch packs. (He shouldered my much heavier burden better than I did, I have to admit.) At points, I just fell to the ground and lay there for a few minutes to catch my breath, then would crawl on my hands and knees until I picked up enough momentum to stand and walk. We reached the camp in twilight.

--30--

Monday, June 26, 2006

Lindzen needs a reality check on climate change

MECHANICSVILLE, Va. -- From what I see in Lindzen's latest "critique," of climate change believers published in the June 26 Wall Street Journal (http://online.wsj.com/article_print/SB115127582141890238.html), he's got some problems with facts. He has made a number of statements contradicted by recent scientific studies. I review some of these troublesome statements here.

I will begin with the Arctic. Lindzen says, "the Arctic was as warm or warmer in 1940; that icebergs have been known since time immemorial; that the evidence so far suggests that the Greenland ice sheet is actually growing on average. . ."

Lindzen could have checked the data as I have. The extent of the Arctic pack is decreasing overall, with the greatest declines in the Northern Hemisphere summer months, which is the time of greatest heating in the Northern Hemisphere. The extent of summer ice is at its lowest since 1900! It has been steadily decreasing since about 1950.

This is critical to the northern hemisphere climate as sea ice reflects most sunlight that strikes it and stays cool. Open water absorbs most sunlight that strikes it (and correspondingly warms). Water changes temperature slowly, and stores the heat absorbed -- to depths of several hundred meters as opposed to a few meters on land. The absorbed heat is then released slowly, so that the time of first freeze comes later over time, and the first thaw comes earlier.

With a shorter frozen period, the ice pack likewise shrinks. Smaller ice packs melt more quickly, thus exposing more open water to sunlight for longer periods. More heat is absorbed, and on. The system is a positive feedback in which a change in one direction enhances further change in that direction.

Some studies (such as Polyakov et al., 2003) do indicate that temperatures were warmer in the Arctic in the 1940s than in the 1990s. What Lindzen did not mention, which is significant, is that almost all of the weather stations selected in the study were on land. The critical action, however, is over the ice cap -- over the ocean -- where we have almost no long-term data.

In Polyakov’s study, involving 75 climate stations, nearly two-thirds were SOUTH of 60 degrees North Latitude. From their map, I estimate about a third were located between 70 degrees and 80 degress. I counted only five north of 80 degrees. Since the Arctic Circle lies at about 66.5 degrees North latitude, I surmise that less than half of their stations are truly in the Arctic.

The observational data are as follows: Arctic ice thickness is decreasing; The extent of Arctic ice is decreasing; The annual duration of Arctic ice is decreasing; Arctic water temperatures are warming. Fundamental physics -- the thermal properties of water -- indicate that Lindzen is on thin ice with respect to his comments on the Arctic.

With respect to Greenland, all the studies I am aware of indicate that Greenland is losing rather than gaining ice. If the Greenland ice pack is "growing" it is only in the horizontal dimensions. Glaciers near water often spread out as they melt -- meltwater lubricates the ice contact with rock below and allows them to slide downslope more easily.

Lindzen needs to be reminded that glaciers are three-dimensional objects. In the vertical dimension, Greenland's ice pack is getting thinner. In fact it is losing volume. In other words, the Greenland ice pack is shrinking rather than growing. Thus begs the questin, how can the Greenland ice pack be growing while losing anything from 30 to 80 cubic kilometers per year (Kerr 2006). Inquiring minds want to know.

With respect to sea-level rise, a recent study (Overpeck et al., 2006) says: "Polar warming by the year 2100 may reach levels . . . that were associated with sea levels several meters above modern levels. . ." For the metrically challenged out there, two meters is a little more than six feet. During the time period that was compared to present in the study, sea levels were as much as six meters above current sea level. That's about 20 feet. I doubt all of that rise could be achieved in less than 100 years, but a two- or three-meter rise would be devastating to many coastal communities -- such as New York City.

Lindzen failed to mention that alpine glaciers had been in retreat since the end of the Little Ice Age -- which coincidentally ended in the early 19th century. Anyone who knows climate history knows his failure to mention that significant climate milestone is disingenuous. What he also failed to mention is that the rate of glacial retreat has accelerated -- in some cases dramatically -- since the 1930s.

It is true that glaciers in some regions are advancing -- an increase in precipitation (ironically driven by global warming) can alter the mass balance in some regions so that glacial growth occurs. But the truth is that most alpine glaciers are retreating (see http://www.grida.no/climate/ipcc_tar/wg1/fig2-18.htm). Some are in danger of disappearing altogether. Many high-elevation ecosystems are in danger of disappearing, too, because the climate is changing too rapidly for species to adjust. Alpine tundra -- the pretty stuff in many David Muench photographs -- is especially vulnerable, as the tundra will likely be overrun by subalpine forest before sufficient soil forms at higher elevations (soil formation is a slow process at any elevation) to allow tundra plants to get a toehold in the areas exposed by retreating glaciers.

With respect to malaria, Lindzen should review the scientific literature. I had no trouble finding two recent studies (Pascual et al., 2006; Zhou et al., 2004) that found links between climate variability and malaria incidence. For example, Zhou et al., writes "Significant change in climate variability has coincided with increased magnitude . . . and frequency of malaria epidemics since 1989. . . [A]nalysis found that monthly rainfall and maximum and minimum temperature were significantly correlated with monthly malaria incidences. . ."

Sure, as Lindzen says, malaria has been a problem in much of the United States in the past. Mosquitoes do not need tropical temperatures to survive, as anyone who has been in the Arctic in the summer can attest. But Lindzen ignores basic biology -- warmer temperatures and longer seasons lead to longer periods of activity for insects and other disease vectors, which can lead to increase incidence of the diseases they carry. Warmer temperatures and longer seasons allow species limited to the tropics and subtropics to expand their range into temperate -- even subpolar regions -- which can lead to spread of diseases into areas where they have not previously occurred.

Lindzen’s argument about linking specific hurricanes to global warming is a red herring. If there is only one climate scientist who claims such, why bother refuting such tripe? Nevertheless, warmer sea surface temperatures will lead to increased intensity of storms, if not increased frequency. The physics is pretty basic -- warmer water temperatures lead to greater evaporation, greater evaporation leads to more water vapor in the air, more water vapor in the air leads to greater instability, and greater instability leads to stronger or more frequent storms. Of course, many things affect the development of hurricanes and other tropical storm systems, but it all begins with evaporation from surface waters.

As for what Lindzen calls the lassitude argument, which in essence says that something is happening, we cannot explain it, therefore it much be human-induced climate change, the most recent IPCC report used statistical techniques to detect the influence of human activity on climate. While people may quibble with the statistical procedures used, the claim of human interference is clearly based on firmer ground than, "I don't know what else it can be."

Lindzen seems to have a difficult time acknowledging that humans can exercise significant influence on natural ecosystems. He should spend more time hanging out with unemployed fishermen along the New England coast who have overfished and depleted the source of their livelihood.

Now I'll address Lindzen's credibility as to the Oreskes study. In Oreskes's study (Oreskes 2004) -- which is only ONE page long -- she wrote that she analyzed "928 abstracts, published in refereed scientific journals between 1993 and 2003, and listed in the ISI database with the keywords 'climate change.' "

In comes Benny Peiser. He says ONLY 913 of 928 papers had abstracts to examine. (Maybe we should launch a Congressional investigation into scientific misconduct!) Many readers may not know that an "abstract" is a term of art for scientific publications -- a very brief summary of an article, printed at the top (often in smaller type), that allows scientists to get the gist of an article before they decide to read the rest of it. Abstracts are a hell of a time saver for a busy scientist.

So 15 of Oreskes's source articles have no abstract. That's less than two percent of the total number of articles she consulted. Did they have a summary? Is reading the summary materially different from reading an abstract? No. If some or all of the 15 articles had no abstract or summary, could Oreskes have done what most scientists do -- actually read the body of the 15 papers to learn what they said?

Does this discrepancy in reporting her methods affect Oreskes’s results? Of course not! She had a sentence in which to describe her methods. She did a pretty good job, I think. No scientist, not even the great Lindzen himself (probably not even Peiser), reports all the tweaks needed to make raw data usable. To put it bluntly, this is a non-issue.

Next, let’s evaluate the discrepancies in Oreskes's and Peiser's results. Here is what Oreskes wrote:

"Of all the papers, 75 percent . . . either explicitly or implicitly accept[ed] the consensus view; 25 percent dealt with methods or paleoclimate, taking no position on current anthropogenic climate change. Remarkably, none of the papers disagreed with the consensus position."

Peiser wrote a letter to Science in response to Oreskes's paper. In the letter (http://www.staff.livjm.ac.uk/spsbpeis/Scienceletter.htm) he makes another petty complaint: Oreskes made a mistake in reporting the search terms she used to locate relevant papers for her study. She originally wrote that she searched for articles mentioning "climate change" -- which turned up more than 12,000 references in the source database. She instead used the term "global climate change," which turned up about 1,000 references. Oh my, what double-dealing! (Actually, the term "global climate change" is a more relevant term.)

Peiser modified the categories used to classify papers, which makes direct comparisons with Oreskes’s paper difficult. He claims that only 13 of 1117 studies (one percent) from the period 1993-2003 explicitly endorsed the consensus view that humans are causing some form of climate change. I am pretty sure I could find quite a bit more than that just mining Peiser’s data. He says that only 40 percent either explicitly or implicitly endorsed the consensus position, and that 57 percent were neutral to the consensus position -- a figure more than twice as high as Oreskes reported.

He the clams that 34 of 1117 studies either rejected or expressed doubt about the consensus. (Note that Oreskes's used the category “reject” rather than “reject and doubt.”)

Peiser's modifications of categories, his inclusion of op-ed pieces, and his own judgment (of which I cannot judge, being that considerable subjectivity, including his own, is involved) may have innocently produced the differences he describes between his and Oreskes’s results.

To get to the 34 “reject or doubt” studies, Peiser included op-ed pieces and commentary in addition to scientific studies. Oreskes included only scientific studies.

Peter Norvig, on his Web site at http://www.norvig.com/oreskes.html, reported the results of his own investigation into the discrepancy (I have edited out citation numbers):

"Of the 34 articles, I would say that [two] clearly reject the consensus, but they are editorials, not scientific papers (and [one of those] is from an oil industry trade association). [Two] doubt, but again are not scientific papers. [three] and maybe [one other] doubt, and [one] says that both greenhouse gases and solar activity are roughly equal contributers [sic] to warming; so I counted it as 'doubt' but it is close to 'reject.' So overall I would say that Oreskes is correct; that Peiser has not shown a peer-reviewed scientific paper that clearly rejects the consensus. I would also say that Peiser is correct in that he found at least 4 papers that place some doubt on some of the premises of the consensus, but he is widely wrong in claiming 34."

A list of the Peiser 34 can be found at http://timlambert.org/2005/05/peiser/.

Peiser ultimately concluded:

"This is not to deny that there is a majority of publications that, although they do not empirically test or confirm the view of anthropogenic climate change, go along with it by applying models based on its basic assumptions. Yet, it is beyond doubt that a sound and unbiased analysis [in other words, Peiser’s analysis] of the full ISI databank will find hundreds of papers (many of which written by the world's leading experts in the field) that have raised serious reservations and outright rejection of the concept of a "scientific consensus on climate change". The truth is, that there is no such thing!"

From my own observations as a scientist I think it is safe to say that Peiser is wrong about the lack of consensus. Scientists (like myself) can be a disagreeable lot, but our disputes are often over minutia rather than major concepts.

Peiser ends his letter to Science by requesting that Oreskes's paper be withdrawn. Science neither withdrew Oreskes's paper, nor did it publish Peiser's letter (a sound decision, in my opinion).

I'm glad to see that Lindzen acknowledges that more greenhouse gases lead to more heat trapped in the atmosphere, but I reject his assertion that carbon dioxide is a minor greenhouse gas. The primary greenhouse gas in the atmosphere is of course water vapor, but carbon dioxide is probably No. 2 on the list, followed by methane, nitrous oxides, and CFCs.

According to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (http://www.cmdl.noaa.gov/aggi/), the amount of radiative forcing -- essentially, the amount of heat trapped in the atmosphere by a particular gas, or, in this case, the amount of additional heat trapped in the atmosphere by an increase in a particular gas -- carbon dioxide accounts for 1.7 watts per square meter (W/m^2) of the Earth's surface. This is the increase over the forcing due to additional carbon dioxide since 1750. The forcings from other greenhouse gases (besides water vapor), are 0.5 W/m^2 for methane, 0.16 W/m^2 for nitrous oxide, 0.23 W/m^2 for CFCs, and 0.086 W/m^2 for other greenhouse gases.

I think it is clear that carbon dioxide is far from a minor greenhouse gas.

To close, I think it is important to revisit Lindzen's conclusions as stated in the Wall Street Journal piece.

1) Lindzen, as a scientist, should spend more time trying to achieve an understanding of climate science, rather than claim that an adequate understanding of climatic processes is too difficult to achieve.

2) Lindzen acknowledges that increased greenhouse gases can affect the climate. He denies, however, that humans can have significant effects on the climate, despite the fact that we are the major source of greenhouse gas emissions on this planet. His logic, such as it is, escapes me.

3) He should be careful in making accusations that others try to establish truth by repeated assertion. I vaguely remember some proverb about glass houses and stones.

REFERENCES (not otherwise linked to in text).

Kerr, R.A. 2003. A worrying trend of less ice, higher seas. Science 311: 1698-1701.

Oreskes, N. 2004. Beyond the Ivory Tower: The Scientific Consensus on Climate Change. Science 306: 1686.

Overpeck, J. T., B. L. Otto-Bliesner, G. H. Miller, D. R. Muhs, R. B. Alley, and J. T. Kiehl. 2006. Paleoclimatic Evidence for Future Ice-Sheet Instability and Rapid Sea-Level Rise. Science 311: 1747-1750

Pascual, M., J. A. Ahumada, L. F. Chaves, X. Rodo, and M. Bouma. 2006. Malaria resurgence in the East African highlands: Temperature trends revisited. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 103: 5829-5834.

Polyakov, I. V., R. V. Bekryaev, G. V. Alekseev, U. Bhatt, R. L. Colony, M. A. Johnson, A. P. Makshtas, and D. Walsh. 2003. Variability and trends of air temperature and pressuremin the maritime Arctic, 1875-2000. J. Climate 16: 2067-2077.

Zhou, G., N. Minakawa, A. K. Githeko, and G. Yan. 2004. Association between climate variability and malaria epidemics in the East African highlands. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 101: 2375-2380.


Monday, June 05, 2006

No time to sit on the sidelines

MECHANICSVILLE, Va. – I apologize for not having stuck to my initial plan for filing at least once a week – two weeks ago, I was at a meteorological education conference organized by the American Meteorological Society and held at the National Weather Service Training Center in Kansas City, Mo.

Last Tuesday, I went down to Blacksburg, Va., to visit the geography department at Virginia Tech University. On Thursday and Friday, I participated in the Greater Richmond Challenge, an event organized by the Greater Richmond Chamber of Commerce in which several teams of people from all walks of life spent 36 hours studying and recommending solutions to problems affecting our metropolitan area.

I’m still recovering from the past two weeks, with another big week facing me – next week I’ll go to Seattle to participate in an AMS oceanography education workshop.

Anyway, I feel the need to write something, but I’ll break with plans again. I wasn’t planning to go political on this blog, but I feel compelled to with an issue being taken up by the U.S. Senate this week – debate over S.J. Res. 1, the Marriage Protection Amendment.

I despise the notion that marriage needs to be protected by the federal government – that should tell you how I feel about the amendment (my opinions will be made more clear by the following copy of the letter I sent to my two senators, John Warner and George Allen).

What are the backers of the amendment frightened of? Does Lou Reed's "Walking on the Wild Side," make them feel the urge to step too close to the line, much like the Sirens lured sailors to destruction in Greek mythology? Do they feel like they are missing out when two male lovers kiss? Is Richard Shelby (R-Ala.) jealous that Monica got to blow Bill's sax rather than himself?

I don't need to be protected. I'd rather be left alone.

Frankly, I am disgusted with the state of political discourse in the United States today. It seems we need someone to hate. The Russians are irrelevant (and alleged allies), much of the former Warsaw Pact is either a member of or seeking to join NATO, the People’s Republic of China is foolishly buying up most of our federal debt (I feel real secure with them holding our paper), the Cubans are market with a lot of potential, and Arabs and Venezuelans feed our need for an oil fix.

We love to yell at and about illegal immigrants – who willingly take the abuse – but we don't want to yell too loudly or really do anything about them because without them, there would be no one to wash dishes in our restaurants.

We could pick on Islamic terrorists, but they are kicking our ass in places like Afghanistan and Iraq, so the less said about them the better.

So whom do we hate? The fairies, of course! No queer, except maybe bull dykes, are man enough to stand up to Miller (Lite)-drinking, Marlboro (Lite)-smoking, miniature-flag waving, patriotic American manhood. Yes, let’s hate them! Let’s make their relationships illegal, round them up and throw them into concentration camps! (Oh, that was done before, wasn’t it?)

OK, the concentration camp idea is out, but maybe we’ll pass a Marriage Protection Amendment to the Constitution. It brings back the nostalgic days of the founding of the republic when the dark contingent (at least the enslaved ones) only counted as three-fifths of a whole white person. How much should the faggots count? Three-fifths? Two-fifths? One-fifth? Zero? Now THAT’S progress!

Proposals such as the Marriage Protection Act make me ashamed to be an American.

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Here is the text of the letter I sent to my two senators:

I am writing to say I am vehemently opposed to S.J. Res. 1, or Marriage Protection Amendment.

If you believe in limited government, as any so-called conservative should, you should act to keep the government from interfering in the most intimate of human relationships. The concept of marriage has survived for thousands of years without U.S. government protection, and will do just fine without said protection for thousands more. If you believe in the Virginian tradition of individual liberty (at least the tradition so often mentioned in tales of the commonwealth’s past), you have to agree that the state – in the generic sense of the state – has no business intruding to such a draconian extent in our private lives.

Make no mistake – a vote in favor of this amendment is a vote in favor of institutionalized hatred. I grew up in the Jim Crow era. I remember the anti-miscegenation laws. My mother and father could not legally marry in many states because of said laws. My father, when he moved back to Louisiana after leaving the Air Force, was told to take his non-white wife and kid and get the hell out of the state. I had hoped our nation had moved past such a disgusting past, but apparently not, given the current resolution.

My parents raised me to manage my personal affairs without relying on the government to make decisions for me. I am raising my two children to do the same. When they reach adulthood, I hope they live in a society where they will feel secure, where they feel free to choose the path that is right for them, and where they know I will love and support them regardless of whom they choose as a partner (even if I disagree with the choice).

Whatever my children choose, it is a matter for me and my family to handle, not the government.

Sincerely,


Dave Lawrence

P.S. Please pass the word to your fellow conservatives that if they want to protect something, they should start with the stacks of shipping containers at the Port of Richmond, not with marriage


Monday, May 15, 2006

Imminent eruption of Mount Merapi


MECHANICSVILLE, Va. -- One of my major concerns is societal collapse following natural disaster. The global landscape is littered with the ruins of societies that have disappeared as a result of environmental calamity – whether caused by extreme drought, major flood, massive storm, devastating earthquake, or catastrophic volcanic eruption.

The world watches the volcanic activity on Mount Merapi, about 30 kilometers north of Yogyakarta, a city of about 400,000 in south-central Java, in Indonesia. Merapi is the most active volcano in Indonesia, which in turn has more active volcanoes than any other nation.

Locals have long recognized the volcanic hazard from Merapi – the name means “mountain of fire.” It is a stratovolcano, a tall (more than 2,960 meters), steep-sided mountain capable of explosive eruptions, ash falls, lava flows, lahars, and nuée ardents – glowing clouds – the type of hazard that destroyed the Caribbean city of St. Pierre in 1902.

Tens of thousands live in the danger zone in the densely populated area around Merapi. It poses a threat to two provincial capitals, Yogyakarta to the south and Semarang, on the coast of the Java Sea to the North. About 1,370 persons were killed in an eruption of the volcano in 1930; 66 were killed in another eruption in 1960. The volcano averaged about five eruptions a century from the 1500s to the 1700s; it erupted more than 20 times in the 1800s and more than 25 times last century (Volcano World; http://volcano.und.edu/vwdocs/current_volcs/merapi/).

Exactly one thousand years ago, Merapi may have contributed to more than the destruction of a city – it may have triggered a shift in power between the Hindu-Buddhist kingdoms which had held sway over much of Java to Muslim kingdoms that asserted dominance over the island afterward.

The late Dutch geologist, Reinout Willem van Bemmelen, in his 1949 book, “The Geology of Indonesia,” claimed that an eruption of Merapi blanketed much of Central Java with ash. The destruction allegedly forced the Kingdom of Mataram, which had been based in the region of what is now Yogyakarta but was being pressed from the west by the Srivijayan kingdom of southern Sumatra, to relocate to the eastern portion of Java.

The vacuum left by the evacuation of the Mataram dynasty paved the way for Muslim domination of central Java.

According to the Global Volcanism Program of the Smithsonian Institution (http://www.volcano.si.edu/world/), the 1006 eruption has been discredited. Nevertheless, the volcano had erupted several times during the time that the Mataram dynasty resided in the area. Indonesians are hosting an international conference, the Volcano International Gathering 2006, in Yogyakarta in September. The conference will commemorate the 1,000 anniversary of the alleged eruption, despite what the Smithsonian says.

And if discussion of the downfall of the Mataram kingdom wears thin, it is almost certain that Merapi will have given the world’s vulcanologists much more immediate events to discuss in the meantime.

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Link

Saturday, May 13, 2006

Welcome to my blog

MECHANICSVILLE, Va. -- Welcome to Notes from the Abyss.

Before you read anything sinister into the title of the blog, it refers to my book, Upheaval from the Abyss, which recounts the story of some pioneers of oceanic exploration and how their work fueled the development of two revolutionary scientific theories -- continental drift and plate tectonics.

My book was classified as history of science for the marketers, and it was, but it was first and foremost a narrative: of the sea, of science, of war, and especially of people who fought against one obstacle after another to learn about the world in which we live.

This blog will be an attempt to continue in that tradition.

When suitably inspired -- I hope at least once a week -- I will write something, maybe about a breaking story in science, maybe about my career as a scientist (specifically, a biogeographer). I may wage war against the forces of ignorance from the dubious bully pulpit of this blog. Or I may just tell some war story from my past in which I should have ended up dead as a result of my own stupidity.

In other words, I don't have a damn clue about what I will write.

I know you can read my profile, but the profile format is a bit limited in providing readers a feel for what drives me to this intersection of science and journalism. I'm not always sure myself -- for much of my adult life I have lived as both, often switching from one career track to the other when misfortune necessisitated a change.

I grew up interested in science, and wanting to become a scientist, but I grew up in a newspaper family. My father, George M. Lawrence, decided to become a journalist in his early 30s, and in 1970 began working toward a journalism degree at Louisiana State University in Shreveport. Before long, he was working at the local morning paper, then known as The Shreveport Times. He would take me to LSU-S with him, and he would take me to The Times with him.

It was a wonderful time to witness journalism -- with Watergate on the national scale, and massive city corruption on the local scale -- and I learned early on the potential of the press to inform and empower.

Still, I never planned to become a journalist, but I always needed money in college, and -- after beginning my own newpaper career as a copyboy -- I was always able to find work in a newsroom. I tried to keep the two careers separate, but in the early 1990s I thought it might be worthwhile to combine them.

So, here I am: a journalist, covering everything from sports to science; an author in search of another book project; and a scientist trying to do research when I'm not reporting, writing, or teaching courses in biology, geography, and meteorology at colleges and universities in the Richmond, Va., metropolitan area.

Our journey begins. I hope you, the reader, and I, the writer, find it worthwhile.

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