Posts Tagged ‘travel’
Lookout Bothy, northern most tip of the land
The last visitor’s summary on AllTrails for Lookout Bothy – Rubha Hunish said “super muddy but impeccable views”. Rubha Hunish is a 3.4 mile trail on the northermost tip of Trotternish peninsula (link). On a clear day, one can see the Isle of Lewis across the ocean.
If I were to create a word cloud from the AllTrails reviews of Skye trails, following terms will dominate – “view”, “slippery”, “muddy”, “rocky”, “scramble”, “windy”, “rain”, and “fog”. They don’t distinguish one trail from another. So you have to rely on some other marker. In this case, we relied on our BnB, Woodbine Guest House, owner, Steve. He loved Quirang first and Rubha Hunish next. We did both on the same day since neither on its own was a particularly long trail.
The Rubha Hunish was an evening walk. The days are so very long in Scottish summer that it might well have been afternoon. Our only deadline was a dinner reservation at 7. Scottish Highland hospitality industry recommends dinner reservations. There are not enough restaurants to feed all the tourists who land there. We reached the bothy, the coastguard lookout, in good time. The views were indeed impeccable. And no, we didn’t walk down the cliff to the Hunish. There are paths leading down – I would need to be a goat to walk those.
What happened next was simply incredible. At least it was incredible for me. We ran into a short stretch of boggy land. Because we had taken our Californian weather with us, it wasn’t impossibly muddy that day. What it was instead was a soft ground, you had to move quickly before your feet sank. The trail had disappeared into the boggy grassland, so one had to try a few directions before picking one. Sometimes retracing and starting over became necessary. That jiggy-jaggy near random walk on the bog made return to the trailhead interesting, particularly given that we were targeting a 7 pm dinner. I might have freaked out if we hadn’t especially noted an octogenarian who had crossed this route a little ahead of us. We knew we would make it, whether we would get dinner or not was the only unknown. It turned out that we made dinner time.
Btw, Rubha is Gaelic for “headland” and Hunish is Norse (link) and means “headland of the bear cub” reflecting its shape. It illustrates the Skye’s Norse and Gaelic heritage.
I had gone to Scotland for the crag, the bog and the fog. Between the Quirang and the Lookout Bothy, we experienced the first two. Fog would elude us this trip.
Cuith-Raing (or The Quirang)
Skye is uniquely famous for its crags (and the expansive sky). I would say the same thing for Himalaya, but it is very hard to comprehend the seemingly infinite scale of Himalaya. Skye mountains feel more human scale. I can imagine living in Skye and loving a crag. And getting to know the crag intimately like the back of my hand – across the 1000 hours of sunshine and the remaining 7000 hours of rain, fog and snow.
The mountains in Skye are part of Appalachian-Caledonian Mountains (link). The range was formed 250 Million years ago and is now scattered across continents – eastern United States and Canada, Greenland, Scandinavia, the British Isles, Brittany, the Iberian Peninsula, and the Anti-Atlas Mountains of Morocco. The oldest rocks in Skye are in Sleat peninsula (southernmost point), Lewisian Gneiss from 2.8 billion years ago. The final shapes that we we see today are result of glacial activity in the last ice age about 20,000 years ago (link).
Our BnB, Woodbine, is located in Uig. It is a good ways up from Portree, the commercial center of Skye. It also meant that we were rather close to the Quirang mountain. It took almost no effort to get there. The last few miles are a single track lane with passing places. The parking lot was nearly full by 10 am. If it weren’t summer, when sun rises at 3 am, I would have tried to catch Quirang at sunrise.
The trail The Quirang, it is a 5.2 miles out and back and should take anywhere between 2-3 hours. That assumes you are walking normally on a trial. It will take twice as long, if not longer, if you the kind that is impressed by rocks. As soon as you get off the parking lot, the view opens up and keeps on producing one grand view after another. So you can’t stop snapping pictures. The valleys, the lochs, the ocean, the sheep, sheep poop (I mean the daisies), the rock slides, the streams, the cliffs, the heather, the tranquil pool and the expansive blue sky.
We snapped a few hundred pictures and made only the first mile and back in three hours. Eventually I had to turn around so I could find a public toilet, the landscape (and the crowd) does not allow for a quick duck behind the bushes.
Where a sheep poops, a daisy grows
They say that the Scottish landscape is dotted with sheep. And they are right. From Inverness, we had headed out to Uig in the Isle of Skye. Apparently, the tourism in Isle of Skye has skyrocketed. The culprit is modernization, the island got connected to the mainland by a bridge on A87 in 1995, replacing the ferry-only option. And who would blame the high rate of tourism. Isle of Skye with its perpetual fog laden craggy landscape looks otherwordly.
Skye has ~1000 hours of sunshine annually. That is about a 1 in 8 chance of sunshine. Of course we had taken our California weather with us to Skye for our three days. While it was hot in Perthshire, Skye remained relatively cool during our stay. The first thing that strikes your eye is the green moss like cover on the mountains. As your eyes adjust to the green, you start noticing the white dots. On closer inspection, they appear to move. Soon you realize that you are looking at sheep. They are practically everywhere on the island.
I read in Peter May’s Lewis trilogy that sheep are not too smart and they startle easy. They also like camping on the road to avoid the midges. And one has to be careful driving, so as not to catch a startled sheep. There might have been time when sheep owners tried building barricades for their flock. But they try no more. How else would the sheep be everywhere? I wondered if they are even keeping counts. We noticed some with colors on them – blues and oranges and reds. I guess one needs no more than five colors (link). We didn’t catch any startled sheep. We did catch a number of adorable ones.
If you are hiking on the island, chances are, you are walking with the sheep. You have to especially watch out for their poop. Sheep are everywhere and so is their poop. Scotland is a land of signs. Outside of India, I have never seen as many signs in my life (did we inherit the habit from the Brits?). You can bet seeing a sign forbidding you to step on a daisy. I read that to mean they want you to be careful so you are not stepping on sheep poop.
Skye hikes are popular. There are hundreds of others with you on hikes. But they are surprisingly quiet. I had a near profound experience in Inverness the day before we entered Skye. We were at the Chanonry Point, a piece of land that juts out into the Moray Firth, a piece of land popular with humans for dolphin spotting. There were dozens of us shivering in the wind, waiting for dolphin sighting. And a solitary dolphin did appear and goofed around for over half and hour and amused us all. We all watched. Quietly. Most of us took photos. Quietly. Even the kids watched quietly. I could not but remember my Antarctica trip where the humans chattered louder than that penguins, non-stop.
In the Scottish highlands, even when you don’t see the sheep, you hear them. Particularly the young ones who are persistently calling out their mothers. Baa, Baa, …. the only sound that you hear on your walks along with the sound of the wind.
An ancient forest in Cairngorms National Park
The Romans called Scotland ‘Caledonia’ and Caledonian pine trees are the name for the native Scottish pine. Incidentally, I had first come across the word Caledonia in the Astrix and Obelix comic series. Caledonian pines do not look like Douglas firs. To experience the ancient Caledonian forests today, one has to visit the Cairngorms National Park. Here in Cairngorms, the forest is dominated by regenerated Scottish pine with a native understory of wild berries, juniper, heather and rowan.
The morning after the grand multi-course dinner at the Old Manse of Blair (link), we headed up to Inverness along route A9. Our starting point near Blair Atoll starts to skirt Cairngorms. Aviemore, the heart of Cairngorms, nearly halfway to Inverness, is where we would stop to explore the Cairngorms. The “Big Tree” country Hermitage woods hike (link) with its American Douglas firs and Japanese larches is a beautiful forest but isn’t a native Scottish forest.
Before Aviemore, we stopped at a small town called Kingussie for lunch and to explore the Ruthven Barrack ruins, an important historical site in Jacobite uprising (link). Kingussie itself is not forested. From the on top of the hill where the barrack is situated, one can see the forests. At the top of hill, it was also 80F in shade.
By the time we had reached Aviemore, we had decided to walk a short trail called “An Lochan Uaine (pronounced oo-an-yi, The Green Loch) circular”. The trailhead is at the Glenmore Visitor Center. I was dreading a traffic grid lock but that wasn’t the case. The crowd was reasonable given that the visitor center is right by the popular Reindeer Center. The hiking path essentially takes one to the loch and then loops back. Aside from a short stretch that needed scrambling up a steep hill, the path was accessible all the way. Views included rows upon rows of Caledonian pines, a tranquil meadow, the “mystical” green lake, views of Loch Morlich and at least one gnarly old tree. Here in the forest of Cairngorms, it was remarkably cool. By the time we would get to Inverness, we would also be greeted by thunder and rain.
Sticky toffee pudding in Blair Atholl
I had to try the sticky toffee pudding at The Old Manse of Blair (link) restaurant, a Michelin restaurant in Blair Atholl in Pitlochry. The restaurant sources their ingredients within a 30 mile radius. I haven’t had a sticky toffee pudding before so I can’t compare. I can only say that this was an excellent cake. The interior was moist, the sweet and salty toffee sauce had a delicate burnt caramel flavor. The chef has replaced the more traditional dates in the pudding recipe with parsnips, the later being local to the highlands. If the service staff hadn’t mentioned the parsnips, I might have been left wondering about the woody nutmeg flavor.
Theirs was a prix fixe menu. It had been a while since we had done a multi-course meal. I find the act of sitting for two hours physically taxing. I had requested the service staff that I be allowed to get up and walk about their premises – so I could be more ready for the pudding. They were amused and suggested that we walk as long as we liked. And we did, we were gone for a good thirty minutes. The servers later told us that they were starting to worry if we had skedaddled without paying!
Hermitage woods, Perthshire
Autumn is the best time to visit Perthshire…..
Our first pitstop after leaving Edinburgh was Dunkeld, a cute little town not too far from Edinburgh. The nightime stay was to be at Pitlochry, another cute little town just 9 miles north of Dunkeld. We had planned for an easygoing day, a long lunch followed by rambling along the River Tay or the Hermitage Woods, visiting the Dunkeld cathedral, hugging the last standing Birnam Oak and exploring Beatrix Potter Hilltop house and garden. However, plans do go awry, as they did in our case. The heat wave that was running amok through Europe was also nipping at the heels of Scotland. It was the first clear day since reaching Scotland. Perthshire was well over 80F in shade.
The morning was spent trying to get our rental car and then being anxious around the roundabouts ( anxious is not quite the right word, is there an english word for confused+amused? ) . By the time we had reached Dunkeld, it was well after lunch hour. It was hot and even the Aran bakery fare had wilted under the heat. It was going to be hot well into early evening. So we limited our plans to exploring the shaded “must-see” Hermitage Woods (link).
Perthshire is known as the “big tree country”. Hermitage Woods is the result of tree growing efforts by the Dukes of Atholl. Apparently, seeds were shot from cannons! Douglas firs, first brought over as seeds from North America, grow tall in the Hermitage Woods. And the Dukes were fond of Japanese larch trees. So the firs are interspersed by Japanese Larch and the native trees. The overall appearance looks like mixture of pine and temperate forest. Autumn is the best time to visit Perthshire when the trees turn the color of gold, red, copper and amber.
Edinburgh jewel, Water of Leith walkway
So now we are a week into the Scotland vacation. Edinburgh proved to be a lovely place to babysit the jetlag. It was a bit windy at times, but not the kind that makes you hold on to your hat. It was drizzly but not the kind that soaks you. So we walked. We were staying at The Raeburn in Stockbridge. From there, we walked to museums. We walked to the Royal Mile. We walked the Royal Mile. We walked the Botanical Garden. We walked to dinner. We averaged 7 miles a day. The nicest of these were the Water of Leith walkways. It is like going into a tunnel from one point and emerging somewhere else. Except that the tunnel is a walkway by the river, it is green, only allowing humans and their dogs to walk. The river is clean enough to encourage a bird habitat – we saw herons and mallards. Houses abutted on the walkway. Restaurants too. There were sculptural points of interest.
I wasn’t quite sure what I was expecting from Edinburgh. It is an old town with beautiful stone buildings. Perhaps I was expecting to be able to take a lot of photos of rows of beautiful buildings. But that didn’t happen. Like anything old, these buildings needs a lot of upkeep. Nearly every other building facade were scaffolded. It is as if the modern life and the old stone buildings were not in congruence. The older buildings looked like rows and rows of marching soldiers, built in strict conformity to a code from a bygone era. The modern shop fronts did not share any theme. Even at the entrance to the Edinburgh Castle, was a massive steel grandstand, a temporary summer construction to allow visitors to enjoy the musical performance of Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo.
I was expecting the city to be touristy but found that to be the case only in the vicinity of the Edinburgh Castle and a few hotspots like the Botanical Garden or the Scottish Gallery. The rest of the city felt very laid back. The museums had a good collection of art, but they too were laid back. There was no entrance fee, no significant effort to curate the collections or tell stories, no significant presence of security, no bag checks. I could stand 2 inch from the priceless art pieces and no one cared. Every neighborhood in the city had a green space with benches. The joggers were out irrespective of rain or wind. The restaurants looked equally booked for dinner at 6:30 as they were at 8:30. Ditto for cafes. It was as if life was flowing along at its own routine pace unaware of the top 10 things to do in Edinburgh.
Ready, steady and waiting to go
This one is not a competition unless one counts competing with other vacationers. But this is a bucket list trip. Soon we will be on a flight heading up towards Scotland. If all goes to plan, this is what happens.
We land in Edinburgh and stay four nights. We explore the city and work off the jetlag. During this period, we also get used to the shifts in weather, set aside work worries and get into the vacation mode. Then we hop on a rental car and start heading towards the Perthshire. We stop at Dunkeld and walk along river Tay. Our first night outside Edinburgh is spent in Pitlochry. Next day, we head up towards Inverness. But before we do, we have the option of checking out Pitlochry, or Kingussie. This is when you wish time would dilate and you could do both. But we prefer lingering. Inverness is a two night stay. And here too, we will have options – Cairngorms or Black Isle. We decided not to drive the breathtaking North Coast 500. From Inverness, we will head out to Uig in the Isle of Skye via Achnasheen and Plockton. We stay in Uig for three nights. In Skye I didn’t give ourselves options to leave the Trotternish Peninsula. After Uig, we catch a ferry to Fort Williams and here again we stay two nights to explore the Glencoe region before heading out to Callander. Along the way, we will find ourselves on the edge of the Rannoch moor. From Callander we head back to Edinburgh for our flight back. Our final sight seeing will be the Doune castle where a reenactment of Monty Python and the Holy Grail “Go and boil your bottoms, sons of a silly person!” may occur.
I realized that my utter fascination for the Scottish landscape comes from reading and watching Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories, hundreds of times. Conan Doyle grew up in Edinburgh. The story of the Hound of Baskerville is set in Dartmoor, but when Doyle describes the desolate hills, thick rolling banks of fog, and craggy rocks, I think of Scotland Highlands.
California is five times the size of Scotland. Yet, for such a tiny little place, this trip has been exceptionally challenging to plan. I have been trying for several years now. Any which way you look in Scotland, there are breathtaking mountains and lakes, charming villages, and fantastic food. Everything is must do. Everything is top 10. I first started with reading travel books. Then I hoped that AI would come to rescue. Finally, I had to call up a travel planner, Nordic Visitor, to rescue me. They have taken good care of us, have booked us in adorable B&Bs, kept our city to city travels short, given us time to breathe in-between. We drive a lot more in California on a weekend trip than we would drive on this ten day trip.
Yet, I am anxious. All of Scotland has thunderstorm, rain and wind in common. The mountains are often fog laden. This time of the year is also peak midge season – they swarm. If you aren’t careful, they will suck your blood and leave the sites itchy. Then there are many places that are the exceedingly touristy – I hear of the crowd being described as “gridlock” and “infrastructure failure”. I am a morning person, but I don’t like to head over to the car park first thing in the morning. I can’t share nature with noisy crowds. On the Antarctic trip, I was surrounded by chirpy humans, chirpier than the penguins. My movements were also circumscribed due to the fragility of the environment. I couldn’t get away to find a moment of quiet, I couldn’t listen to the nature undisturbed by the humans even for a single minute. I had felt extremely annoyed.
So, wish me luck this time and more importantly, wish me grace.
Spring walks on the coast
Our coastal parks are either Redwoods or beaches or clifftops by the beaches. The trails may skirt the Pacific ocean or start off at the sea level and climb up an adjacent cliff, or climb up the Santa Cruz mountains.
This spring, after a lot of deliberation, we bought a convertible, a car that my spouse and I have discussed with adoration for the last three decades. We now are proud owners of a little two seater, a Miata. It feels purpose built for the mountain roads that separate the valley from the Pacific coast. We have been walking the mountain trails these last several years, but now the drive to the trailhead is part of being out in nature. Driving in a convertible is the equivalent of walking in nature. You can hear the birds, smell the petrichor and be awash in the dappled sunlight. Much like I deliberate over the trail properties, now I deliberate over the drive properties. Is the road narrow or twisty enough to allow us to slow down? Is there an alternate county road to the highway? Will the road give the Miata bumper a chin rash?
Post Miata, a number of our hikes have started off on the coast. One stayed on the beach, one climbed into the Redwood forest, and a few that climbed the dead cliffs covered with scraggy vegetation.
Festival of (star) lights
Diwali, a festival of lights.
This year’s Diwali ended up being a festival of star lights at Death Valley National Park, the darkest sky that can be, amidst a federal government shutdown.
We had made a call earlier in the summer to sign up for a star gazing event organized by Eastern Sierra Observatory, in Panamint Valley. The site was by the side of a county maintained dirt road, Indian Ranch road. The organizers are astrophotographers themselves. They were quiet until a few days before the event. An earlier flash flooding in August had resulted in closure of several roads in Death Valley. Three weeks ago, the federal government had shut down resulting in the shutdown of National Park Services. It had rained recently and as a result, the county road was badly rutted in places. The organizers had crafted a detailed and helpful email on road access – “Take Hwy 58 from Bakersfield and not the twisty Hwy 178”, “Whatever you do — first navigate to Ballarat first”, “Do not approach the county road from north”, “The road is bumpy here and there, so drive slowly”, …
I wasn’t sure what to expect. This was our first communal star gazing event. On one hand was the government shutdown and poor road conditions. On other hand, the 2025 Dark Sky Festival in Death Valley National Park, held in Feb, had reported over 6,800 attendees. Our camping experience hasn’t yet prepared us to deal with a primitive campground. The site was going to have porta potties, but not water. Instead, they were going to bring large telescopes to look at planets in our solar system and star clusters that are million light years away. I couldn’t stand the idea of star gazing while being unbathed for 3 days in a hot valley. So, we had also checked into the Panamint Springs Resort. The rutted county road meant we were going to be driving an hour each way from Panamint Springs Resort (daytime) to the campsite (nighttime) and back, but it also meant that we were going to be fed, washed and rested. Even then, I was a little apprehensive. I needn’t have been.
In the end, 150-180 vehicles had congregated at the event, not thousands. They were respectful of the dark sky. Everyone used red lights when they needed to use a light. There was no music playing. While the historic temperature averages predicted 60-90F, we ended up with 50-85F. As far as Death Valley goes, it was positively balmy weather. They had suggested bringing 12 inch stakes and we were glad to have followed the suggestion. We experienced gusts of wind throughout our stay. It was particularly windy when we were setting camp. I remember feeling a brief moment of panic when we weren’t sure if we would be able to put up the tent. But we did and the tent stayed put. There were a couple of welcome surprises – a starlink WiFi access and a food truck.
It couldn’t have been better star gazing experience. We have been going to Pinnacles National Park (Bortle 3), but Death Valley sky is darker still (Bortle 1). We would get to the campsite by 4 or 5 pm, and set up photography gear. During earlier part of the evening, there were organized events. One evening we listened to a panel of astrophysicists from Caltech. We looked through giant telescopes and saw globular cluster and rings of saturn. We ate simply. We would select the star cluster and set up the photoshoot program and catch a snooze before moving on to the next star cluster. Each night we ran two programs. We managed to shoot several hours of Andromeda galaxy, Pleiades cluster, North America nebula and the Orion nebula. These are relatively large objects in the sky – easier for beginner gear and skill set. The location of the site caused a dome like effect, the night sky was surrounded by mountains on the horizon. The desert landscape meant no tall trees to interrupt the view. It was stars as far as eyes could see. And more with binoculars. And more still with camera. Along the milky way, nearly every pixel was occupied by a star. We saw meteors. We saw satellites.
It was not an unpleasant experience sleeping (somewhat fitfully) while listening to the periodic shutter of our DSLR. I woke up with a start once because a donkey was braying. The occasional gust made the tent cover flap and added to the fitfulness of the sleep. We would wake up early, wrap up the gear and drive back to the Panamint Spring Resort. There we would grab breakfast, enjoy a hot shower, catch naps, inspect the photography artifacts from night before and plan the upcoming night’s shooting. On the very last night of our stay, we decided to skip the campsite and shoot from the resort’s well maintained campground. Our neighbor was a loud group that kept the fire going until well past midnight. The sky was so dark that it didn’t stop us from being able to see the stars, infinite of them. For the first time, I could actually see a nebula, the Orion nebula, through binoculars.
Stars make me happy and sad at the same time. More than anything, they make me want to live my life at its fullest. I truly believe that there are millions of intelligent species elsewhere in the universe and we are not unique. Heck, our planet has thousands of intelligent species! I want desperately for SETI to succeed. But I have finally come to grapple with the fact that there is simply no way for us to hear observable noises from another planet for a long time. That long time is perhaps a million years. Andromeda, the nearest large galaxy, which likely hosts a human like intelligent lifeform or two, is over 2.5 million light years away. Humanity has been making observable noise only the last two hundred years. Even as I write it, I want to hold on to a little iota of hope.
Across the Puget Sound
Today’s story is about a small plane flight. It originated from Boeing Field, Seattle and landed in Friday Harbor Airport, San Juan Island. Apparently, San Juan Island is in Salish Sea’s banana belt. The arial view of the Puget Sound is described as the highlight of this short flight.
These planes are tiny. In addition to the two pilots (ours only had one), it can accommodate eight passengers. There are four rows of seats, each row has one seat on either side of the plane. There isn’t much between you and the outside – the 6000 square miles of the sea, the Olympic mountains, the straits of Juan de Fuca, the 400 islands and unending blue sky. These planes fly low, and I had packed my binoculars in my day bag, ready for island spotting (and really hoping to see whale activity on the ocean surface). Statistics doesn’t quite apply to one’s own situation. The day we flew out, all the precipitation that is statistically due in the banana belt in the month of August fell on this one day in August. As a Californian, who has often picked up the phone to watch a fire report, I am not averse to rain. However, given everything the ride over the Puget Sound had to offer, all I got was the clouds.
Orcas of Salish Sea
It will be underwhelming to just say that I loved every minute of this four hour trip. It was a thrill of a lifetime, although wish me luck, I want to have many such thrilling adventures in my life. A weekend trip to San Juan Island materialized the dream of seeing the orcas up close.
Before the story, we have to start with the confusing terminology – killer whales. A – Orcas are not whales, they are largest members of dolphin species. B- Some of them might be whale killers, but not in our neck of the woods. Here in our pacific northwest, the resident orcas exclusively eat chinook, the fattiest salmon. The transient orcas eat marine mammals like harbor seals and porpoise. They eat what their grandmother taught them to. Frankly, their persnickety eating habits remind me of some members of my own family!
In the language of Haida, orcas are called Sgan (sometimes written as Sgaana or SGaana). “The word for killer whale in Haida is “Sgan” which means “supernatural,” and also “the chief of the underworld.” In mythic times, killer whale was chief of the underworld. They say that when you go underwater to visit the territory of the killer whales, it’s no different from being on land, except that because you’re in their world, you see them as humans.” — Robert Davidson, internationally acclaimed Haida artist
Back to the story. My first interest in orcas coincided with my interest in the gentle humpback whales. I am now convinced that humpback whale is my spirit animal. These two species are not friends so, and therefore, my position on orcas is not particularly friendly. That is not to say I don’t admire the grandmother orcas. One of my favorite wildlife program is The Wild with Chris Morgan. Listening to the episode, “Evesdropping on Orcas: Love, Grief and Family“, I have grown to appreciate how close they to human kind. I am not known to be fond of humans either.
Read the rest of this entry »Embracing Schrödinger’s cat
Exposure therapy suggests that if you are afraid of spiders, then to get over that fear, spend more time with them! For instance, if I were afraid of spiders, I might photograph spider webs covered by morning dew. I think that exposure therapy works by rightsizing your expectation of the outcome. An anxious brain tends to catastrophize, but in real life, outcomes are not extreme. As you gather experiences through exposure, you rebuild brain circuitry and eventually, you start to lean towards the common outcomes.
If exposure therapy had worked on its own, my travel anxiety would not have existed for decades. I am moderately well trod and have been traveling since I was a kid. It is only recently that I have turned a corner and it has felt like a switch instead of a long winded effort. To see where Schrödinger’s cat fits in, stay tuned…
Read the rest of this entry »Flowers of Tijara Fort
The Aravali range is India’s oldest mountain range, ten times older than the youthful Himalayas that are still growing. This 400 mile “line of peaks” has been eroding for over 500 million years. The range cradles the Thar desert and stops the desert from taking over more of Rajasthan. In places, all that is left of the range are stubs. Mining of the Aravali is an ancient activity in itself. Copper mining dates back to 5th century BCE. I grew up in what was then a small town, Alwar. Most people know Alwar for its famous sweet, Kalakand. I, however, remember my time in Alwar for the Aravali range. I was fortunate to have an Aravali stub right opposite my primary school. For a child, a stub is as tall as a mountain and its base camp was only a hop skip and jump away from the school gate. My father was stationed in Alwar and occasionally, the family would tour the Alwar district with him. On these tours, we would naturally weave in and out of the Aravali range, sometimes with the sun high up in the sky. And on such occasions, the Aravali would glitter, the mica of the mountain range would reflect the sun. I continue to like my mountains, skies and oceans to glitter!
Read the rest of this entry »Human penguin interaction
In Antartica, the penguin gets more agency than the tourist. That seems totally fair, we are the visitors to their home.
They build their nests further up from the ocean, on exposed rocks where the snow has melted away, in clusters, so they get some shared warmth. They travel to and fro to the ocean to secure food for themselves and their little ones. It turns out, that like bears, they take the same path in snow repeatedly which ends up creating highways. And then when tourists go to visit them, we create these temporary trails that invariably intersect their highways. Now, humans are required to maintain a healthy distance from these birds, avian flu is here too. These intersections create memorable moments. During the trip, I saw a handful of curious penguins who would watch us or come to us or sneak up behind us. But most of them didn’t really care for us. They would keep on doing whatever they were doing, micro-napping in between, tens of thousands of times. Grooming and napping. Thinking and napping. Shitting and napping. Sliding and napping. Waddling and napping.
Read the rest of this entry »A new year hike on the Ice
I am no stranger to hiking through poor visibility (Mindego Hill, San Bruno). The sensory deprivation where you disengage and simply focus on the action of walking can bring mental quiet and a new appreciation of an otherwise familiar environment. Here on Antartica, the environment is brand new. Walking on snow and ice with the bulky jacket, boots, and life vest was proving to be an act of controlled slipping while alternately sweating and freezing. There was no rookery at the site, which meant no guano and no smell. Photographs were already proving to be difficult due to lack of familiar objects that define the scale of the environment, like the trees or rivers. So don’t judge. Here is what the camera saw over the course of a two mile hike, climbing perhaps 200 ft.
Read the rest of this entry »Hello Doreo, it is a pleasure to meet you
This is my first friendly chinstrap. I have decided to call him Doreo, derived from a dark oreo. Perhaps he fancies himself as a Mateo, but what he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him. He was curious and came within a few feet. I am assuming Doreo was a he because the colony here had chicks and the mums were all fussing over their chicks. This lot are distinctive with that strap under their proud chins. I wonder what he thought of me, swaddled in an orange parka, looking like a larger and less elegant version of himself.
The chinstraps are a talkative lot. I found myself waiting for over an hour for the humans to stop talking, so I could record the penguins. In the end, I had to cobble together from over 20 separate recordings to eliminate the human noises. While waiting, I got the opportunity to watch them closely. They groom. They squawk. They do some ballistic pooping, including the chicks. Later I learnt that they have specialized physiology that allows them to poop several feet away from their nests (link). They seem to ponder a lot. Later I learnt that they can micronap 10000 times a day (link). I had thought more stones more better, progeny survival being correlated with size of their stone nests. What I saw was preference for specific stones. Either they were just killing time, or like me, they did like the looks of one stone over other. I saw a lot of pink poop. Later I learned that their poop, called guano, colored pink due to a krill diet, is visible from space (link). I learned more about unregulated krill fishery (link) and took the vow again to never eat farmed fish (hello, plant based diet, I come to you in this new year!).
Read the rest of this entry »An epic trip to the end of the world
For normies like us, there is no physical training needed to go to the end of the world. An experienced polar adventure company will take you there, care for your safety, keep you warm and well fed. They will help prepare your packing list and compliment it with polar parkas, hiking poles and boots. They will give you mandatory trainings. They will prepare you for the day and give you educational lectures.
Read the rest of this entry »
Locomotoring 