Sunday 26 November 2017

Water. A few thoughts.



At the end of the summer I was asked to write a short article for our church magazine about water. This is not, as I say in it, in any way an academic paper, and all the statistics in it can be easily found on-line, if you have time to look. But I do think that these points are worth sharing more widely, so here they are.

Water is one main theme for St John’s during 2017. Water is our principal focus during Creationtide. So the Editor has asked me to write an article on the subject. I am not going to attempt anything lyrical or passionate on the subject. This has often been done by others, much better than I could do. Instead here are various facts. This is not a scientific paper, nor am I an expert, but as far as I can find out, these facts are accurate. I hope they will provide a stimulus for thought, a stimulus for prayer, a stimulus for conversation, and a stimulus for action.

The human body is about 60% water. The bones lower the average, of course. The brain and the heart are well over 70% water.

The dreadful floods in Texas and neighbouring states, caused by Storm Harvey have been fully reported. At the time of writing (August 31st) 33 people have been killed and about 100,000 homes have been affected. Also during August there has been severe flooding in India, Bangladesh and Nepal. These floods have killed about 1,200 people and left millions homeless. Many have been killed in mudslides. Niger is affected by severe flooding every rainy season. This summer has been no exception. Between 40 and 50 people are reported killed and thousands have been made homeless.

Our planet is as likely to be affected by drought. That strange phenomenon El Nino has made drought conditions worse than usual in many parts of the world in the last couple of years. The countries of Southern and Eastern Africa have been worst affected. In an article for the “Guardian” in March Lucy Lamble reported: “More than 20 million people in four countries are at risk of starvation according to the UN, making this the biggest crisis facing the world since 1945.” Oxfam describes the drought in Eastern Kenya and Southern Somalia as the worst in living memory. USAID, the US Government’s agency in this field, reckons that food insecurity caused by El Nino will continue in Lesotho, Madagascar, Malawi, Mozambique, Swaziland and Zimbabwe till some time in 2018. Prosperous countries are, of course, better able to mitigate the effects of drought, but climate knows no frontiers. Parts of the state of Montana are experiencing exceptional drought as I write.

The relationship between drought and migration is extremely complex and is the subject right now of much academic study and debate. It would be inappropriate for me to pronounce definitively on the subject in an article such as this. Suffice it to say that there clearly is a connection. In September 2015 “Time” magazine carried an article headed: “How climate change is behind the surge of migrants to Europe.” According to the UNHCR there are some 65.6 million displaced people around the world. The number drowned trying to cross the Mediterranean Sea in the first half of this year was over 2,000.

The pollution of water is a vast subject on its own. According to the National Academy of Sciences 1.8 million people die every year from diarrheal diseases such as cholera. Tens of millions of others are seriously sickened by water-related ailments. Meanwhile at sea there is the problem of plastic pollution. Sir David Attenborough summed up the situation:
“There is no away- because plastic is so permanent and so indestructible. When you cast it into the ocean it does not go away.” An article in the July edition of “National Geographic” tells how the area of severe plastic pollution in the Pacific covers roughly one million square miles. This is not just the notorious “garbage patch” of highly visible plastic waste. Even more alarming are the microplastic particles that may be so small as to be unnoticed and do not necessarily float. The creatures that live in the sea inevitably eat them; we do not yet know what consequences will follow.



I am sorry that I cannot write a more cheerful article on this subject. But I guess if everyone who reads this article does a little, well it will add up to a little more. 

Sunday 12 November 2017

The West Highland Line. Sketches.

On Friday I did something some of my friends regard as crazy - I took a day-return from Edinburgh to Mallaig.



I was lucky with the weather; it was more or less as I hoped all the way there. On the way back it was too dark to care, but I had three books with me.


On the way I was doing thumbnail sketches out of the window all the time. My art teacher said I ought to make a blog-post of them, so I have. Here they are.

The first section of the line from Glasgow Queen Street goes down the Clyde estuary, though Dumbarton and on to Helensburgh. It was near Helensburgh that I saw the first snow of the trip. Once the Cobbler came into view we were well into the Highlands. The snow line was around 750m, and there it stayed  for the rest of the way.


After Arrochar the line goes up Loch Lomond and over the watershed to Crianlarich. We frequently saw stretches of the West Highland Way. The foreground trees were as beautiful as the hills beyond, with rich autumn colours. But there was little hope of drawing them from a moving train.


Above Crianlarich the line takes a great curve round a corrie under Ben Dorain, whereas the main road goes straight on. After Bridge of Orchy it takes off across Rannoch Moor, where no road is. There is a station at Rannoch (just reached by road) and on at Corrour, reachable only on foot (or off-road equivalent).


Across the moor there kept being sights of magnificent snow-covered hills to the west. Although I have walked a lot of Glencoe and the Mamores in my time I could not be sure what was what; but that did not make the view any less. After Corrour we went down by Loch Treig. The hillside there is so steep one marvels at the engineers and navvies who built the railway.



Then we went down the Spean to Fort William, and a grey shower swept in, so I drew houses instead of hills. After Fort William the train does not turn; it sets off backwards. But that was no matter. There was so much room that I could dot from seat to seat as the view called. On the whole I preferred to be on the sea side. The sketch of Loch Eil, incidentally, was made of multiple views, as I was able to glimpse through the trees.


At Glenfinnan the voice of the ticket collector rang out, reminding us that we were crossing the Harry Potter Viaduct. The weather had cleared again. As we go down towards the sea at Loch Ailort there is one of my favourite sections, where the line goes the other side of Loch Eilt from the road. One feels in the heart of the hills.


Finally the line goes north up the Atlantic coast. There is Loch na Uamh, here Charles Edward Stuart landed in July 1745. Then there is a fine view of the extraordinary Sgurr of Eigg. So, with a glimpse of the white sands of Morar, we drew into Mallaig at about 1.30.


Next time you have a day off in Edinburgh or Glasgow, why not do likewise?