Seems an appropriate shot to mark my last day here. Though, I suppose, this is a descent rather than an ascent, but never mind. Mostly, this has been an enjoyable and interesting visit, but I feel it unlikely I will ever return here.
On April 11th last year I departed on my trip to Namibia, and tonight I should have been in the air again, but instead am sitting out the year’s latest flight delay and am scheduled to depart tomorrow instead. But there are worse places to be stuck, I suppose. The surf was certainly up today, one reason why none of Ascension’s glorious beaches are considered safe places to swim. In the foreground, one of the historic ‘Turtle Ponds’, thankfully no longer used — behind, Sisters’ Peak makes its second appearance.
Now that’s a change of scene: from thatched cottages to a desert island. It’s nearly a year since my research funding award and, consequently, my chance to visit Ascension Island, were confirmed, and 73 days since I uploaded the map of this place to the blog. Zoom into that image and look at the westernmost headland of the island, where you can just about see the label ‘Tanks’: those are what you see in the distance.
St Helena doesn’t have beaches, and the tourist industry of that island may well lament this fact. But Dead Man’s Beach is a stupendous swathe of sand, and right by the main settlement, Georgetown. What a marvellously evocative name it has (though it will be explained not by the shipwreck of some 17th century pirate vessel, but because Georgetown’s cemetery lies right behind it). This is not even to mention the turtles, evidence for whom lies everywhere: but they will, hopefully, be pictured on one of the remaining eight evenings that I am scheduled to spend in the middle of the Atlantic.
In 1960 the population of Dubai was 40,000. As of today it is more than 3.7 million, and continuing to rise at around 5% a year (all figures from Wikipedia). In order to accommodate them, the city is also growing physically. What you see here is not ‘desert’, it is large amounts of sand that have been poured into the Persian Gulf — land ‘reclaimed’ because the sea is not a form of terrain that can be bought and sold. Go to Google Maps and search for “Dubai Island Villas”; you’ll find it just offshore from the Al Hamriya Port, and you’re looking at a photograph of it, as of 24th February 2025.
Captured, perhaps obviously, a minute or so after take-off from DXB this afternoon. I was sat right over a wing again and only got this because of the plane’s considerable roll to the right for a few moments, so this was the last I saw of anything except clouds for the next seven hours. That’s the end of this trip, then, but it seems reasonably likely I will be back in Dubai at some point over the next 2-3 years. It will be interesting (but perhaps also a little depressing) to see what this view might look like in 2028, say.
St Helena sits in such a vast expanse of uninterrupted ocean that sea conditions can often have no direct relationship to what the weather is like locally. The atmosphere was calm today, a beautiful day of weather (in fact, all of them have been, since I came here, except for one bout of mild drizzle last Wednesday afternoon). But the sea…. that was a different story.
“Rollers” are the local name for waves driven by storms way to the north, like off Canada, or Florida, and which just roll down the ocean for thousands of miles until hitting this small lump of rock that happens to be in the way. On one day in February 1846 (see this page) the rollers were so intense that they took out half of Jamestown and about thirty moored vessels. They weren’t quite that bad this afternoon but still, it’s noticeable no one was parking their cars on the wharf.
There was a New Year’s Eve party tonight but none of the pictures taken there really worked, and so let’s end 2024 on what might be an overly morbid note. But I do like the row of old stone-cut graves that sit above Morecambe Bay near St Patrick’s church, Heysham. And the designer of the cover of The Best of Black Sabbath must have liked them too. That photo is better than mine (I’m not even close to getting the horizon straight, and don’t care), but my excuse is that I was stood above them in the most revolting wind and rain; 2024, at least in the UK, really didn’t bow out with great weather.
Since the 10th April, which was day 4,612 and hence 88 days, or 12.5 weeks ago, there have only been 8 pictures taken in Hebden Bridge, a sign of how much travelling I have been doing. But today was the last full day of it all. I may still get another Brighton or London picture on my way home tomorrow but after that I am at home for most of the rest of the summer. It’s been good to use my sabbatical properly, and valuable to have a change of scene: but I also want to go home, not move around so much, settle back in to home comforts, food, the movie collection, friends, that kind of thing.
To bring it all this to an end, then: more Brighton. Both piers, the active and the ruined, have appeared on here before — but not together, I think. Farewell to the south coast, for now: how long before I am back? No idea.
The southern coast of the Isle of Wight is one of the best places in the world to find fossils. This is not, I now realise, because more creatures somehow died here in the past. In fact it is because the entirety of this coast is sliding, fairly rapidly, into the English Channel, and so things long buried are regularly uncovered. Look at the erosion here — and the obvious geology, sandstone on the left, chalk thereafter. If you want my considered opinion I wouldn’t buy property too near this coast.
I have yet to start bringing my own deckchairs to beaches, and Clare and I remain, hopefully, more active than this — we reached Shanklin beach today, on the east coast of the Isle of Wight, after a 7.75 mile walk that you can read more about on my other blog. But in spirit, here we are. Give us ten years — maybe fifteen — and our bodies may be here too.
It’s our silver wedding anniversary this week. “Take me overseas!” the wife demanded, so I said, ‘sure’, and we have headed to the Isle of Wight. Well, you have to cross the sea to get there: starting with Portsmouth Harbour, pictured.
Being 42 