The Dog and Castle

I don't like being stuck indoors and do my best thinking when walking or cycling. It feels like there are two main reasons for this. The first is that when you're on the move all the other things that might need doing simply can't get done (Though I could hardly fail to have noticed that its not unusual to keep up a constant flow of cyber-chat. But I have an old fashioned attitude and just use it to talk about something in particular and not as a way of constantly announcing my continued existence like a sheep bleating in a field.) The second is that they're both rhythmic activities and out of this rhythm thoughts just seem to flow. Unless, of course, the rhythm gets disrupted and this week it's been disrupted by a wounded dog.

A dog's world is a world of smells. There's acute interest in which other dogs have passed by or in what traces of an abandoned sausage roll might still be stuck to the pavement. This means that a dog's journey through the world is one of fits and starts. But, unless my dog is in season and, paradoxically, we become street walkers because that's the best way to avoid other dogs, she spends most of her time off the lead. That way I can wander at my own pace while she can sniff to her hearts content;.and then put on a brief spurt to either catch up or hurtle ahead.

This week, however, she's been injured. Not that you'd know it from her demeanor, but you would from the two wounds bound by stitches. We won't go into the circumstances, because that would only embarrass another dog, but it does mean that she's not allowed to run until they've had time to heal. And, because one of them is near her collar and I can't risk pulling too hard, this means meekly following where she sniffs. Sometimes we go forwards, but often we go back. Sometimes she stops a while and I stop too, and stare, only to look down and find her waiting for me to move again.  We're both frustrated. She can't run and my train of thought has been disrupted.

Eventually, having made our disjointed way down through Peasholm Glen to the North Bay, I gave in and let her off on the beach. There weren't many other dogs around and I'd made sure that I'd left the ball at home. Much sniffing later she made her way up to a patch of grass in front of the beach huts and lay down to gnaw on a stalk of sea weed.

The Dog and Castle

Shortly after the picture was taken her ears pricked up and she stared off to the left. In the distance, coming down a slip way, was Patch a fellow whippet. Since she looked ready to hurtle, it was back on with the lead and off out of sight round the corner.

Going forward?

We may not like getting older but, in the developed world, most of us would feel short changed if we only got three score years and ten and, while it's true that you only get to be one age at a time, it's a pity that we don't seem to have much choice over the order. From smooth faced babies to wrinkly old codgers the signs of aging are the signs of decay.  The thermodynamic arrow carries us with it to the grave..

For physicists time is a real conundrum. At the level of particle physics all the reactions that take place are reversible, you simply couldn't tell if a film of the events was running backwards.. Step up to the scale of everyday objects and there's no problem. Cups very rarely assemble themselves from a pile of scattered pieces. The general tendency for things to become more disordered, unless there's an input of energy from outside (which inevitably comes at the expense of even greater disorder somewhere else), gives time a natural direction. 

Even the order of events isn't completely fixed.  I might think that event A happens before event B but for another observer in a different inertial frame, i.e. someone that I would judge to be in motion, they could be equally confident that B comes before A. The one thing we do know is that the dimensions of time and space are thoroughly mixed up. Whilst Einstein's two theories of relativity may seem counter intuitive, unless you're blessed with that particular kind of intuition, they undoubtedly work. For example, one of the predictions of the Special Theory is that when you speed up an object it gets heavier (this is so that the combination of the energy it has by virtue of its mass and the kinetic energy it has by virtue of its motion remains the same for all observers no matter how they might happen to be moving). This means that the protons being accelerated in the Large Hadron Collider get heavier as they speed up and the super conducting magnets that keep them on track have to adjust to this increased mass. Programmed by the equations of the Special Theory they contain protons moving 10,000 times a second around a 27km circle in a tube little wider than a drain pipe. So far, the theory works with astonishing precision. The surprisingly non trite explanation for the the existence of time, given by the physicist John Wheeler, is that "time is what stops everything happening all at once".

It's how we think about the passage of time, the metaphors that we use, that is the point of this post. For psychological reasons upon which I could only speculate, most cultures in the world think of the passage of time as a metaphorical journey. One in which the future lies before us and the past gets left behind. Hence we get the expression "going forward" as a replacement for "in the future". Perhaps, getting drawn into half arsed speculation, this usage is tied up with the general idea of progress and of their being some sort of goal towards which we progressing. 

However, a recent article in the New Scientist suggested that there are some cultures in which it isn't the past which is behind us but the future. After all, we can see what has happened in the past but can only guess what might happen in the future. And so, just like being in a rearward facing seat on a train, the future comes up from behind and turns into the past as it flashes by. 

Spike Milligan might have sung "I'm walking backwards for Christmas" but I'm going backwards for life. 

Picking your excuse

I'm off away to the Lakes for a week of walking and cycling and, being beyond the range of a decent mobile signal let alone wi-fi, its unlikely that anything will get posted until I get back.

Meanwhile however, a letter has appeared in our local paper to which I feel an annoying need to respond. It's about wind farms and you can read it here.

I keep getting this sense that I've been through all this before and I'm now wondering more about my feeling of a need to respond than about the nature of the response itself. 

What good will it actually do to go through a point by point rebuttal or even to concede that there are risks associated with wind farms but they're to the health and safety of those who build and maintain them not the nebulous stuff about flicker (Just think how you'd work out for how long for each day the turbine blades and the Sun are going to be lined up, how this depends on your precise location and how often you're likely to be there when it happens). I suspect that "smart-arse strikes again" is the likely response however many suspicious references, from no doubt vested interests, I might care to quote.

One key thing that does come through this letter is the sense of there being some sort of conspiracy. Either our decision makers have been duped by vested interests or they've got vested interests themselves. But conspiracies are hard to undermine with evidence, particularly if all you can show is that there isn't any evidence of a conspiracy because this then becomes evidence of the conspirators ability to cover things up. So, not likely to be much luck there.

My own hypothesis, for what its worth, is that what's important about wind farms is their sheer visibility. For people like me, who take climate change seriously, they're a visible sign of doing something about it. For those who are against them they are a visible reminder of a responsibility that they'd rather not acknowledge. They're a visible reminder that to deal with the threat of climate change we simply can't go on as before.

I think the Tea Party understands full well that dealing with climate change will make it impossible to live as they do now. That's why their first step is to deny that its happening, the second to suggest that the theory isn't actually backed by evidence but has been invented precisely in order to subvert their way of life, the third to selectively pick their own evidence and turn this into myth. 

If one excuse, for not doing anything, doesn't work then just pick another. 

Circle to Circle

Earlier this week I went for a mountain bike ride around the town. Le tour à vélo de montagne de Scarborough, as it were. We've had strong cold easterly winds for the last couple of weeks but, unlike many parts of the country, it's been dry so there was hardly any mud. I went in the early evening so the Sun was low and from the west. Coupled with an almost clear blue sky, and the fact that I was wearing my distance glasses, the line between land and sky could not have been crisper. 

On my return I vowed that the next day I'd go out and get some pictures. It's a circular route, with an optional lollipop detour, and so I had to decide where to begin. I happen to be chair of a Friends Group for the old Scarborough to Whitby railway (The Cinder Track) and a few year ago we won a lottery grant to make a few improvements along the line. One of these improvements was the tidying up of a messy little bit of space and the installation of an art work that would give directions in an interesting way. So we had a contest.

The development and implementation of the chosen design, by Adrian Riley and Rachel Welford was recorded in a blog Railwayart.com and includes a specially commissioned poem from John Wedgewood Clarke.  But the thing we've never decided is what to call it. The Art Work at Woodland Ravine Bridge (AWAWRB) is about as close as we've got. 

Now, because the route is circular I had to choose where to start and where better than the AWAWRB . as I pedaled along it suddenly occurred to me to call it "The Circle" and hence the title of this post.

The author's shadow reveals a hat

From here the route heads south along the Cinder Track towards the gloriously named Safe Ways Park, so called because Sainsbury's were distinctly unhelpful so rather than name it after them we just asked the kids what they called it. On the way it passes under Manor Road Bridge

The line was triple tracked through here and the bridge has an incredible echo.

Up through the Sainsbury's car park and across the lights into Londesborough Road. Down here you'll find what's left of the old Excursion Station and the view back down Londesborough Road would have been many visitors first impression of Scarborough.

Not working class terraces

After a brief on road section down Londesborough Road onto Valley Road and then into the Weaponess Valley car/coach park, the route takes you into waste land, which will shortly be developed into a grandly titled Sports Village, and around the back of the old gas works.

The two big rabbits that have just loped off to the left don't think it's waste ground

After passing through a small industrial estate you get to The Mere. A place which used to be more popular until shopping took over.

A tiny family enjoy a picnic

Heading straight on past The Mere takes you into the woods which flank this side of Oliver's Mount.

Surprisingly twiggy for April

At the end of the path you come to Musham Bank roundabout but avoid the traffic by immediately turning left up a bridle path which goes up the dip slope of Oliver's Mount.

Just like being in the Wolds

As you go up the hill the views open out and when the Sun is slightly lower in the sky than in these photos Bempton Cliffs stand out in the distance.

I think I can make out the cliffs, but only just

After going straight across an open field you end up on the road which comes up the eastern side of Oliver's Mount. At this point I think its worth taking a slight detour to see the view from the War Memorial.

Every picture I've taken from here has a bike in it...

Back to where we started the detour, down the hill towards the town centre and then turn right to go between the golf club, the University and the sports grounds of the local private school. If you go more or less straight across the main road you find yourself at the top of the famous Holbeck Hall landslip; the one where the hotel fell into the sea.

Halfway down and lots of loose stuff to go (+ finger)

Once you're down just follow the coast all the way around both bays until you get to the Sea Life Centre.

In loose sand its easier to walk

Across North Bay from Hairy Bob's skate park

At the Sea Life Centre there's no choice but to go back up the hill. Cross the main road into Hillcrest Avenue and over the meadow at Newby Farm to rejoin the Cinder Track.

Sea Life Centre (lump on the right is Oliver's Mount)

Heading south  along the Cinder Track takes you past yet another golf course.

There's that finger again

The route ends up going past Manor Road Cemetery, where there used to be a footpath alongside the railway. One of the jobs we did was to open up the view by taking out the redundant fence on the old railway side.

Manor Road Cemetery on left (spot the missing fence)

And back

That shadow is still there

Which reminds me of the time that I went in search of the dog pooh that I'd made a mental note was "next to the shadow of a dog".

+ For those who need numbers, the overall distance was just over 12 miles

Drowning in CO2

A few years ago I was sat in a rather dull meeting at The Spa in Scarborough. The meeting room was lit by chandeliers each containing about 20 incandescent light bulbs. As my mind wandered I began to estimate how much CO₂ was being emitted to produce the electricity used during the meeting and then imagined what would happen if this CO₂ was pumped into the room.

What follows is a recreation of the original calculation.

There were 6 chandeliers each with 20 bulbs. Assuming each was rated at 60W this gives a total power consumption of 7200W (6 x 20 x 60W) = 7.2kW

The meeting lasted about 2 hours so the total energy used was 14.4kWh (7.2kW x 2h)

For each kWh of electricity the average quantity of CO₂ emitted is 0.47kg

So the total CO₂ emitted was 6.77kg (14.4kWh x 0.47kg/kWh)

At standard temp. and pressure the density of CO₂ is about 1.98kg/m³

So, the volume of CO₂ emitted was about 3.4 m³ (6.77/1.98)

The room was about 6m x 5m and therefore had an area of about 30m²

CO₂ is denser than air so, if the air in the room was still, could form a layer along the floor about  0.11m = 11cm deep (3.4m³/30m²).

Estimating a typical sitting nostril height of about 1.10m this means you'd have to sit through 10 meetings, one after the other, before anyone was at serious risk of drowning in CO₂ 

Now, either there were more bulbs, the room was smaller or I underestimated the density of CO₂ , but I remember that I thought we were just about to have to stand up to avoid choking on our own emissions. 

It seems the meeting would have had to have been even longer to put us out of our misery.

Postscipt: I must learn some way of putting in subscripts and superscripts without having to go into HTML