Sixty-eight feet long, and about ten feet wide. That’s about the size of an executive jet aircraft. Can you imagine eighteen people living, working and sleeping in so small a space, especially for prolonged periods of time?

Those are the conditions under which the crews in the Clipper Round the World yacht race live while they’re at sea. All of them have paid, or been sponsored to do all or part of this race, even though a complete circumnavigation would cost four times as much as a round the world trip in a cruise liner.

Nevertheless, the race organisers describe it as a race for ‘people like you’. They like to point out that more people have climbed Mount Everest than have sailed around the world, and most of those who have are professionals.

Not that there’s much difference; as yachtsman Sir Robin Knox-Johnston, the founder of the race, points out, the sea makes no distinction between the amateur and the pro.

Little or no sailing experience is called for at the time of application. However training is given both before and during the race and, even when only one leg of the race is completed, everyone will be a seasoned, experienced sailor, able to turn themselves to the many and varied tasks involved.

The boats were designed by English designer Ed Dupont, and built in Shanghai, China. They are all identical, constructed of a layer of balsa wood sandwiched between two layers of glass fibre. They each carry a wardrobe of eleven sails, the selection and setting of which is left to the preference of individual skippers.

Each of the yachts is sponsored by a city, an area or a country, and is crewed by a professional skipper, and people from all walks of life … ‘people like you’, in fact. We met a 27 year old sales assistant and a 45 year old lawyer. All age ranges are covered, from teenagers to septuagenarians.

This year, the race started from Southampton, and before the race, I was privileged to be invited to the naming ceremony for the two Australian boats, the ‘Gold Coast’ and the ‘Geraldton’.

Before the ceremony, sailed in the boats on Southampton Water, to give us some idea of what it would be like, living in such a confined space. Probably the most important skill to be learned is, if you don’t have anything to do, keeping out of the way of anyone who has!

At the naming ceremony, Sir Robin made a short speech, wishing each boat good fortune then both skippers sprayed the bows of their respective boats with champagne. And, that’s the last alcoholic liquor that will be allowed on board for a while … the Clipper Race is strictly ‘dry’!

Muscat Harbour

The main factor that gave Oman its importance is its strategic position right at the tip of the Arabian Peninsula. Contrary to popular belief, it is not in the Arabian Gulf, but has the Gulf of Oman on one coast, and the Indian Ocean on another. But, entirely cut off from the rest of the country by the United Arab Emirates, is the Omani enclave of Musandam, from which Oman can control south bank of the Straits of Hormuz, through which pass 20% of the world’s seaborne oil shipments from the countries around the Gulf.

Even before the discovery of oil, the capital and main port, Muscat, was noted for trade, both legal and illegal. Silks and pearls, slaves and spices; all passed through Muscat, especially after the Portuguese explorer Vasco da Gama identified it as an important stop on the trade routes from India to Europe. In 1507, the Portuguese actually took possession of Muscat and its surrounding area, and remained in power for about 150 years until the Omanis, under Sultan bin Saif, wrested it back.

Nizwa Fort

But, the Portuguese didn’t only control Oman. They held much of the West African coast, especially the important trading ports of Mombasa, in present-day Kenya and Zanzibar, in what is now Tanzania. It took Sultan bin Saif, succeeded by his son Saif bin Sultan nearly fifty years to conquer these, thus giving Oman a vast domain, which they held until 1856, when the ruler died, and an argument between his sons caused Oman and its colonies to go their separate ways.

Around the time he ousted the Portuguese, Sultan bin Saif built the Nizwa Fort, on the site of an earlier fortification over an underground spring. Really, it was more in the nature of a fortified palace; there are several such forts in Oman, for it seemed that just about every sheikh or leader of the time felt a need to fortify his home. It’s a hilly country, and sometimes it seems, like some parts of Germany, there’s a castle on every hilltop.

Nizwa Fort

You can even see some of these forts in Muscat itself, as you sail into the harbour. Unlike other Middle Eastern cities, development is more restrained, for the Sultan has ruled that no towers or skyscrapers shall be built. So, many of the old buildings remain … and, rather than reel off a list of them, here’s a video.

Oman

Albreda

The first Europeans to reach the Gambia River were the Portuguese explorers commissioned by Prince Henry the Navigator to look for a sea passage to India. They didn’t pass up the opportunity to use their new discovery for trade purposes, though. They introduced the ground-nut to the river-banks, and started the export of what was, for many years, to become the main commodity from the area. Slaves.

The end of the slave-trade in the early years of the 19th Century, though, left the Gambia with just the ground-nut as its sole tradeable commodity. So, they’re looking to tourism to give a boost the country’s economy. It could be an uphill job, for there’s not a lot to display on this particular stall. Although very rich in bird life, birds aren’t everyone’s thing, and Gambia isn’t particularly rich in the kind of wildlife for which the rest of Africa is noted.

Then, in 1976, Alex Haley published his novel, Roots. Haley claimed that his book was fiction, but based upon actual events. It tells the story of how his ancestor, a young man named Kunta Kinte, was taken from the village of Juffure in 1767 and transported to America. There has been some controversy about this book; at one time, Haley was even accused of plagiarism of another work.

But, nevertheless, Gambians took advantage of it, and many people liked to take the ‘Roots’ cruise. A modern sea-going cabin cruiser took visitors about 20 nautical miles up-river from Banjul, the capital and visited the former slave station at Albreda, and James Island as well as Juffure.

The Royal Navy took over James Island to use as a base for anti-slavery patrols after England outlawed the trade in 1807. Before that it had been a slave station, changing hands regularly between Portuguese, German, French and English slavers. The fort was badly damaged by an explosion in the powder room; it is said that blue glass beads for trade, stored in a nearby warehouse, were scattered by the blast, and can still be found on the riverbank to this day.

Fort James

These destinations seemed to be an honest attempt at minimum-impact tourism. The boat could only carry about two dozen passengers, so the villages are hardly swamped.

At Albreda, there’s the ruin of a former French slave station, a cannon, bearing the cipher of King George III, for the English held Albreda at one time and the ‘Freedom Flagpole’. When Albreda was under English rule, it is said that liberty was guaranteed to a slave escaping from the French who was able to reach it.

Between the two villages, there was a small museum, ‘The Exhibition on the Slave Trade’ and a ‘tourist market’, consisting of half a dozen souvenir stalls. Apart from these, they’re just two African fishing villages, trying to get on with their own leisurely affairs. Two dozen people, staying for not much longer than a couple of hours, didn’t seem to affect them too much. I had a feeling that, as soon as we left for James Island, it wouldn’t be long before the slight ripples we’d made in this particular peaceful pond were stilled for a while.

We visited the compound of Alex Haley’s distant kinsmen, the Kinte family, to hear from them the story of their common ancestor, Kunta Kinte. Before this, however, the Chief had to be called upon, as the courtesy of the country demands, to ask permission to visit the village.

That’s a good check. Maybe, in a future time, if visitor pressure gets too heavy, and begins to affect the village adversely, the Chief will have the courage and good sense to say ‘no!’ occasionally?

Juffure

Mosaics at the Bardo Museum

When we visited Tunisia, we didn’t stay in Tunis, the capital city. But, we felt that it should be visited, and there were plenty of tours from Souss, where we were staying.

First, they took us to a museum. I thought the last thing I wanted to do in Tunis was to spend time traipsing around a. museum. But, the Musée Bardo is different. It used to be the palace of the Bey, or ruler of Tunisia, until the French occupation in the 19^th Century.

I did think the guide rushed us rather hastily around the few Carthaginian artefacts to be seen, and wondered it the conquering Ancient Romans did such a thorough propaganda job that, even now, modern Tunisians gloss over that period in their history?

But, the museum’s main theme is the best collection of mosaics I’ve ever seen. And, there aren’t just the familiar floor mosaics, there were wall decorations, too. We were allowed to photograph them, too, provided we didn’t use flash … on payment of the customary one dinar for a photographic permit, which we encountered at just about every attraction we visited.

They collected them from all over Tunisia, and the guide told us how to tell them apart. If there’s writing on them, it’s in Roman script on the Roman ones (stands to reason, really!), and in Greek lettering on the few Byzantine ones. Muslim ones are abstract shapes, rather than images of people or animals, for this was against their religion.

By the time we left, I had completely changed my mind about museums. In fact, I thought they might have allowed us more time there.

You can even walk on some of the mosaics

From the Bardo Museum, they took us to where I really wanted to go, Carthage. There’s not a lot there to indicate that it was once the hub of a thriving empire, which even predated the Roman Empire. That was a great pity, for, in History and Latin lessons at school, the Carthaginians were always portrayed as the Bad Guys … or, indeed, one of the most evil bunch of blots ever to walk the earth.

And, if possible, I wanted to get the Carthaginian take on the affairs of the time.

The Carthaginians fought three wars, the Punic Wars, against the Romans, and with each one, they lost a substantial part of their empire. Finally, in the Third Punic War, the Romans took Carthage itself, and completely destroyed it, even sowing the surrounding fields with salt, so nothing would grow there for a considerable time.

The Antonine Baths, Carthage

That’s probably one of the earliest examples of the saying that history is propaganda spread by the winning side!

All that is left of the Carthaginian civilisation is a few meagre, insignificant grave-sites, from which some gold jewellery, now in the Bardo Museum, was recovered.

Eventually, the Romans built their own city there, reasoning that it was a good site for the capital of their new province. And, indeed it was. Looking out over an excellent view of the bay, Carthage is now one of the better suburbs of Tunis … the Presidential Palace is nearby.

But, little remains of the Roman city, too, except for the remains of the Antonine Baths. After the Romans left, the city was sacked, first by the Vandals, then by the Arabs, who took most of the stone to build their mosques and castles, and set up their capital in Kairouan.

Carthage

There are, however, a few Roman sites remaining, and we visited the Antonine Baths. However, we didn’t stay long … it didn’t give much of an impression of ancient Carthage. I mean, would you get much of an impression of a house if you only saw the bathroom?

We rounded off our visit to Tunis with a call at Sidi bou Said, another better suburb of the city. During all of our stay in Tunisia, people kept pointing out where films were made. The English Patient; Star Wars, The Life of Brian … I don’t know if any were ever made at Sidi bou Said … but they ought to be.

Certainly, there were the usual tourist stalls, but they sell a better style of craft-work than those elsewhere. But, we weren’t really here to buy, just wander the streets of pristine whitewashed houses with the woodwork picked out, always in blue. And have a coffee, and take lots of pictures, of course.

Blue and white at Sidi bou Said

I wondered if there was any particular reason for this blue and white colour scheme. I know they originally did it as an act of patriotism in the Dodecanese Islands. Under Turkish rule, they weren’t allowed to fly the Greek flag, so they painted their houses in its colours, instead.

Another place Sidi bou Said made me think of was Portmeirion, in Wales, where they filmed the cult TV series ‘The Prisoner’ … maybe this is what made me think of film sets?

Sidi bou Said

Biomes, Eden Project

We’ve been meaning to visit the Eden Project ever since they opened it in 2001. Of course, we knew people who had been there before us, and their descriptions varied from ‘Well, it’s a lot of plants…’ to a lot of high-flown, incomprehensible environmental buzzwords.

But, it’s hard to say what the Project is about in simple English; it’s best to make a visit, and try to work it out for yourself.

The Project started in 1998, as a worked-out, 60-metre-deep china clay pit; probably the most sterile man-made landscape that could be produced. It revolves around three ‘Biomes’. The sides and floor of the former quarry are one of them, the ‘Outdoor Biome’, where plants are grown that can tolerate the Cornish climate.

Inside a biome

The enclosed biomes, within which the climate is controlled, are huge, bubble-shaped structures made of gigantic hexagonal pieces of transparent plastic, in the same way as an insect’s eye, or a honeycomb.

It might be thought that the Eden Project experience could be the same as visiting the tropical house at the zoo, or a hothouse at the Botanical Gardens. It’s true to a certain extent … but the enclosed biomes have been accurately described as the biggest greenhouses in the world!

Although few of the plants shown are really rare, the displays show them off in as nearly a natural surrounding as possible, and explain what they’re used for, and their place in the scheme of things.

All these things come from plants

There are two enclosed biomes, the Humid Tropics biome and the Warm Temperate biome. And, an important building is the Education Centre, for a large part of the Projects work is teaching about the products that come from plants and, even more importantly, how to preserve them as a sustainable resource for future generations.

It's not only about plants!

Since sustainability is one of the Project’s watchwords, they have, naturally, to ‘practice what they preach’, and make as little impact as possible on the local environment. They try to employ people from nearby, and use material from local sources where practicable. And, they try to recycle as much of their rubbish as they can.

High up on the rim stands the reception area where you buy your entrance ticket. Some people think the price is a little excessive, but some of what you pay goes towards the Eden Project’s conservation programmes worldwide.

And, if you’re a UK taxpayer, you can give even more without it costing you anything, because, by some system, our Wicked Tax Baron will refund the taxes they have to pay on your ticket.

You get down to the floor of the pit in one of two ways. You can walk down the zigzag path, through the gardens of the Outdoor Biome. Or, you can ride the Land Train, which will take a dedicated track through the same gardens.

You’ll find representatives of any plants the mild Cornish climate will support. Tea bushes, hemp trees and the ingredients of beer are shown here … and, if you thought that a certain product ‘doesn’t grow on trees’…. you’re probably wrong!

Maybe you’ll have something to eat or drink in the restaurant between the enclosed biomes. If you leave anything, the chances are high that it’ll be recycled. There are no fewer than five bins into which waste can be sorted.

If you visit again, you’ll probably find the Eden Project completely different, especially the outdoor biome, for the displays change with the seasons. If you’re intending a further visit within twelve months, you might consider paying a little extra above your original ticket price for a ‘Passport’, which entitles you to unlimited free entry for a year.

Or, to receive a quarterly magazine, invitations to talks and workshops, and special entry deals at other gardens and museums, you could become a ‘Friend’.

When it’s time to leave, the way out, as at most attractions, leads through the souvenir shop. While many attractive items are on sale, maybe you won’t need a souvenir. You’ll never forget the Eden Project … and you’ll probably want to return at another time of the year.

www.edenproject.com.

Statue in the reception area

Spirit of Migloo

When we’re talking about whales, we tend not to measure them in metres, or even feet and inches. In Britain, the usual unit of measurement is London buses; weight is measured in African elephants … an adult humpback whale weighs as much as eleven elephants.

On ‘Spirit of Migloo’ they have a better idea. The triangular sun-shade above the upper deck is about the size and shape of the tail of the average blue whale. ‘Migloo’ is the name of the only known white humpback whale, which was seen in Australian waters some time ago, and still appears from time to time … in the language of Australia’s indigenous people, it simply means ‘White One’

Watching for whales

‘Spirit of Migloo’ is just one of the boats that set out from Queensland’s Gold Coast to take people out to see the whales. She’s a modern, luxurious catamaran fitted with the latest instrumentation.

www.whalewatchaustralia.com.au

‘But we don’t use radar or sonar’ they said ‘It would disturb the whales too much’

So, they rely on experience and know-how … and, probably, messages from a friendly helicopter pilot … to find them, and so confident are they that they offer a refund in the event of not seeing any. However, they do use audio equipment, so that passengers can hear the whale song.

The boat belongs to ‘Seaworld’, a marine theme park, and you can, if you wish, buy a deeply discounted combination ticket, which allows a cruise and entry to the park. Of course, there are some fairground rides here, and some ‘Disneyfication’ of even the marine-themed attractions. There probably has to be, to get people in and to raise money for their underlying purpose, marine conservation.

We were here to see the Southern Humpback Whale. Every Southern winter, that is, from June to November, they migrate along the eastern coast of Australia from their feeding grounds in Antarctica to their breeding grounds further north, off the coast of tropical Queensland.

Only 20 minutes out, we saw plenty. I was expecting a series of splashes and spouts some distance away, but some of them even got close enough to the boat to enable some really good photos or video to be taken … IF you were quick enough.

We saw whales!

That’s one of the advantages of digital photography. You can take a ‘machine gun’ approach which, admittedly, results in some shots of blank sea, These can easily be discarded, though in a way that wasn’t possible with film … unless you were VERY rich!

I wasn’t so lucky with the video, though; fortunately, my grand-daughter, Ellie, got some good footage I was able to use, and was kind enough to let me incorporate it into my video.

Goodbye!

Whale Watch Australia

The Dead Sea

When we visited Jordan, we ate lunch in what was then one of the lowest restaurants on earth. But, it wasn’t low in the sense of being cheap, or because not very nice people eat there. Jordan’s Dead Sea Spa hotel is 400 metres below sea level, which is as low as you can get on the surface of the Earth.

However, since our visit, another hotel and restaurant has been built, even closer to the sea shore, which beats the Dead Sea Spa’s record.

The price of the lunch included use of the hotel’s private beach and facilities.

We were driving from Amman, the country’s capital to the ancient rock city of Petra, and had options of taking the main road, or that running along the banks of the Dead Sea. It was an easy choice, really!

The Dead Sea is an inland sea, surrounded by land on all sides. The River Jordan flows into it, as do several others. But, nothing flows out, because water can not flow uphill. It just evaporates away in the sun, leaving the water many times saltier than the oceans are. Most visitors like to bathe in the waters of the Dead Sea, because there is so much salt in it that it’s impossible to sink.

Floating in the Dead Sea

It makes it difficult to swim in, but easy to float. Many people like to be photographed floating in the sea, reading their favourite magazine. There are no fish, and very little can grow on its shores. That is why it is called the Dead Sea. We were warned we must be very careful not to swallow any water because it is poisonous. I got a little splash on my lips, and certainly would not want a mouthful!

It stung a little bit, too, where I nicked myself shaving that morning … but that nick healed in record time.Some doctors recommend bathing in the Dead Sea because the waters are said to be able to cure some skin complaints. We bought a packet of Dead Sea salt to take home and put in the bath

Salt Crystals

A lot of people like to take the ‘mud treatment’, and say that does feel good; whether it actually does you good, I am not qualified to say. Most of the beaches have a ‘mud man’ but he was not around. So, we applied the mud ourselves. You can not mistake it; it is the stuff that feels like wet talcum powder.

If you feel like a hot tub after swimming in the salt or mud, there are naturally heated hot springs and pools, and even a hot waterfall not far away. The showers at the hotel were closer, but not so much fun.

We were told that the lowest point on earth is getting lower. Jordan is a desert country, and needs a lot of water for the farmers’crops. They take the water they need from the rivers that flow into the Dead Sea. When we went on our way again, we saw a new dam being built on the Moujib River, which is one of the best known for its spectacular wadi; the narrow canyon cut through the rocks.

This means that the level of the sea is dropping. Even the Jordan River itself, with water taken from it by the Lebanese and Israelis before it even enters Jordan, is almost stagnant, and contributes little. Scientists say that, if something is not done soon … they suggested building a canal from the Red Sea … the Dead Sea will be completely dried up in about 50 years.

ZigZag Railway, near Lithgow, NSW

Although the trains of the ZigZag Railway, in Australia’s Blue Mountains will fascinate an enthusiast, even someone who has no interest in the machinery would admire the engineering skill that went into a line designed to overcome a serious obstacle.

The whole purpose of a railway is to reduce the friction of the wheels, to enable a heavier load to be carried for the same amount of power. That lack of friction works against the train if it has a steep slope to climb or descend. The usual way is to tunnel through the hill, avoiding the slope altogether.

'City of Lithgow' at Clarence

This, though, is very expensive, and, when they built the railway westward from Sydney in the 1860s, Engineer-in-Chief John Whitton did not have the money available to him. So, he decided to climb and descend the mountains by way of zig zags.

If you’ve ever tried to climb a hill on foot, on a bicycle or in a car, you’ll know that the easiest way up or down isn’t a direct route. It’s best to approach at an angle, and you’ll probably need to reverse direction at least once. You may have noticed that many mountain paths and roads form zig zags, usually, with a tight turn to be made at each angle.

So, when the railway reached the mountains in 1866, it needed to climb to a height of over 3000 feet. They did this by means of the Lapstone Zig Zag. This needed very little work, apart from laying the trackbed and the rails, and has now completely disappeared. But, to descend the mountains on the other side, at Clarence, much more work had to be done.

Over the next three years, the Lithgow Zig Zag was built, but, instead of just laying the track, as they had at Lapstone, they had to build bridges and short tunnels as well as the zig zag arrangement.

Clarence Station

Trains would descend down a gentle diagonal slope to a station called Top Points, where the engine would be unhitched. It would ‘run around’ to the front of the train, couple up again, then set the points to proceed further down the slope, but in the opposite direction, to Bottom Points Station. Here, the engine would ‘run around’ again, before proceeding on its way to Lithgow.

By 1907, however, traffic on the railway had increased so much that the laborious procedure on the two zigzags was causing unacceptable delays, so tunnels through the mountains were proposed to replace it. The ‘Ten Tunnels’, as they’re known, were completed in 1910; Clarence was by-passed and the Zig Zag Railway fell into disuse. The trackbed was used as a walking trail for the next 65 years.

It wasn’t until 1975 that a group of enthusiasts thought that such a fine feat of engineering ought to be preserved, and used for the purpose for which it was intended. So, it was decided to rebuild the railway, using largely volunteer labour. But, probably for reasons of economy, they laid the track to the 3’6″ (‘Country Railway’) gauge, rather than the original ‘Standard’ 4’8½”. Since this gauge was rarely, if ever, used in New South Wales, it meant that locomotives and carriages had to come from Queensland and South Australia, where it was more common.

Even now, the railway is run by the ZigZag Railway Co-operative. This, with the exception of a very few salaried employees, is a consortium of volunteer enthusiasts dedicated to the preservation of this historic formation, and the skills associated with the operation of steam trains and other veteran carriages and wagons on it.

Diesel Railcar at Clarence

On week-days, or on days of serious fire risk, they usually use a diesel railcar for the trip. It’s an old train; a vintage, metallic-finished diesel, but, on a Wednesday, or a week-end or holiday, there’s usually a steam engine running.

The coaches came from the Queensland Railway, although there are older coaches from the South Australian Railway in a siding. One of the engines is a beautifully preserved, ex-Queensland Railways unit built by Walker’s Limited, of Maryborough, Qld., in 1956.

'City of Lithgow' at Top Points Station

The round trip takes about 45 minutes, and if it’s a steam train, the engine will ‘run around’ at the Top Points and Bottom Points stations; passengers are welcome to leave the train at these times for photography, or just to stretch their legs. If you’re lucky, and can come when two trains are running, you can photograph the other train, too … preferably, as it toils up the hill. A diesel, however, doesn’t have to ‘run around’ when it changes direction; the driver merely takes up his position at the other end of the train.

At the Bottom Points Station, it’s only a short walk to the platform of the Sydney-Lithgow railway. If you’re going back to Sydney, the line will pass through the tunnels which replaced the ZigZag Railway.

If you’re going the other way, the line goes beyond Lithgow … and will, eventually, on its way to distant Perth, reach the Nullarbor Plain, and the longest stretch of straight railway track in the world. Truly, a complete contrast to the zigzags!

Vintage Carriage

Gloucester Docks and Oliver Cromwell

It’s a pity the Oliver Cromwell will sail no more, for she’s one of the few paddle-wheelers on British waters. She wasn’t originally built as a paddle-boat, but converted from a Dutch barge in 1990, for multi-day river cruises up the Severn from Gloucester.

Now, England isn’t exactly the first country that comes to mind when taking about river cruising The Severn is only about 220 miles long, and only navigable by larger vessels as far as Stourport, in Worcestershire. It can’t really be claimed as the longest river in England, as much of it is in Wales. But, it can safely be claimed as the longest river in Britain.

Sadly, some years ago, it was found that the cost of the inspections required to renew the Oliver Cromwell’s passenger licenses made the cruising business unprofitable so she remains moored at Alexandra Quay in Gloucester Docks as a floating hotel and restaurant.

Her owners, English Holiday Cruises, replaced her in 2000 with the Edward Elgar, an 80-tonne vessel with a length of 88 feet, which was purpose-built for cruising on the Severn. She can accommodate 22 passengers, and is the largest inland cruise boat which can provide overnight accommodation in the United Kingdom.

Edward Elgar

I recently took a short cruise on her along the Gloucester and Sharpness Canal. Since the Severn Estuary is tidal, and therefore not always available to larger shipping, it was by-passed by the canal. Ships would sail into it through the Sharpness Lock, to be man-hauled up to Gloucester.

They did, eventually, use draught horses for this task, but only after considerable opposition from the haulage gangs who had to seek work elsewhere.

Since the Gloucester and Sharpness was a ship canal, it’s much wider than the usual English narrow-boat canal, and therefore presents no obstacle to the 18-foot-wide Edward Elgar. Neither are there any locks, except at either end of the canal. There are swing bridges, but these are operated by professional bridge-keepers. Indeed, each bridge has a notice threatening dire penalties for unauthorised people attempting to operate it.

Ruddy Duck at Slimbridge

Close to the canal is the world-famous Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust’s reserve at Slimbridge, founded by the well-known naturalist Sir Peter Scott, the son of the polar explorer Robert Falcon Scott. Here, a vast variety of waterbirds can be seen. Some of them are permanent residents of the reserve; others are migrants, free to come and go as they please.

But, however far they travel, they usually come back to the Severn Estuary and Slimbridge, for they realise that, to preserve the birds, they must also preserve the wetland habitat in which they thrive.

We spent the evening moored at Purton, a short distance from the canal’s terminus at Sharpness. The Severn runs really close to the canal at this point, and erosion of the river bank threatened the integrity of the canal. So, as a preventative measure, the authorities built a sea-wall … but not from traditional building materials. They beached several redundant ships and barges which, gradually, got encroached upon by the bank itself. But, the ships aren’t forgotten; they’re still recognisable as boats, and a plaque records the name of each of them. Several individuals and businesses in the area sponsor some of them, too.

Early in the morning, I got off the boat to photograph it at its moorings. But, I forgot to take my key, and no-one else was awake yet, to let me back on board. So, to fill in the time, I took a short walk around the hulks. I’m glad I did, for nothing encapsulates the history of the canal more than the boats which sailed on it.

Aboard the Edward Elgar

Disclosure: I cruised on the Gloucester and Sharpness Canal as the guest of English Holiday Cruises (www.englishholidaycruises.co.uk). However, any opinions expressed are mine.

The Roman Baths, Bath

I had to pick my time carefully to visit the city of Bath. I wanted to go before the bulk of the tourists came, but after the rush of Christmas crowds around the many shops. But, that’s the way it’s always been, for visitors have been coming to Bath since before the Romans came, over 2000 years ago.

Bath is the only place in Britain with natural hot springs. They aren’t of volcanic origin; they are heated by water passing over the limestone of the nearby Mendip Hills. Ask any American soldier … he uses the same principle in the heat packs used to warm up his field rations.

The Roman Baths

The waters flow at 13 litres a second, at a constant temperature of 46ºC (115ºF) and contain 43 different minerals. So, in addition to a refreshing soak, they’re also medicinal, whether bathed in or drunk.

In the Pump Room, I tasted some of the water … and wished I hadn’t. It was slightly warm, and tasted as if someone had boiled up a handful of old pennies in it. Of course, I only tried it out of curiosity, rather than need. I wasn’t suffering from any illness or disorder, so can’t say whether it’s curative or not!

What I’d come to see was the building that draws most visitors to Bath. The Roman Baths weren’t just for getting clean. They were a place for discussing business, gossiping or just hanging out and meeting friends. The baths usually consisted of a tepidarium, or warm room, a caldarium or hot room, followed by a plunge in a cold pool. Some baths had a laconium, providing a dry heat, like a Scandinavian sauna.

Normally, fires tended by slaves provided heat … but here was naturally-heated water, with the bonus of a plunge in the curative waters.

While the 18^th Century Georgians dug the foundations for what we see today, they uncovered several Roman artefacts. From these, a good idea was obtained of what the baths looked like. They were built next to a temple dedicated to their goddess, Minerva, as well as to the British goddess Sulis, to whom the springs were held sacred. An illustration of the old British proverb that ‘cleanliness is next to godliness’!

The Georgian walkway.

Sadly, the Romans didn’t leave their tradition of cleanliness. A Roman Emperor once said that he took a daily bath because he didn’t have time to take more. A thousand years later, Queen Elizabeth I, who ruled England from 1558 to 1603, is said to have taken a bath once a month … whether she needed it or not!

Some Britons didn’t take a bath at all. The springs remained open, though, for those who wished to drink the waters.

Until the mid-20^th Century, most houses didn’t even have a bathroom. The usual method of bathing was to fill a portable iron tub with hot water in front of the fire. This happened once a week, usually, although coal miners could bathe at the end of every shift, receiving an allowance of coal to heat water for this purpose.

Although I never lived in a house without a bathroom, my grandparents did. Showers weren’t usual till the 1980s. Fortunately, I have a bath and a shower … and my philosophy is ‘a bath for relaxing; a shower if you just want to get clean in a hurry’

But, the tradition of the communal bath hasn’t quite caught on here yet. But, with the introduction of the jacuzzi and sauna in some places, maybe it will?

Maybe we’ll even go back to bathing as the Romans did?