The natural Navigation: The Right Course, Naturally

I’m just back from six days in Cairngorms in the Scottish Highlands.

In the foreground of the first picture you can probably make out some indentations in the snow and ice. On first glance these impressions can look like footprints, but they are actually grooves and ‘tongues’ that have been carved and sculpted by the prevailing local winds.

In the the second photo, you can see that in this case they are giving a reliable indication of west/east.

In the book I explain how these tongues are used by indigenous Arctic people, like the Inuit, and how they come to know the different characters of the tongues and therefore which winds, and, critically, which wind directions have formed them.

Nothing tickles me more than stumbling across an obscure reference to an arcane relationship between humans and the natural world. The tickling sensation is particularly acute when the reference is historic and it concerns celestial objects.

On New Year’s holiday in Strathconon in the Scottish Highlands I waded merrily into Simon Schama’s, ‘Citizens, A Chronicle of the French Revolution‘. The subject matter was rich enough and when generously layered with Mr Schama’s oppulent language it was a feast worthy of the Christmas period.

Following on shortly from the sentence, ‘The arrival of the Palais-Royal as a quotidian carnival of the appetites drastically altered all that.’, I learnt that the palace forecourt used to be home to cannon that would go off at noon each day when the sun’s rays passed through a carefully aligned lens to ignite the fuse.

I lay awake after reading that, thinking of how one…

Read More...

Just back from minus 15 degrees in the Scottish Highlands and the unseasonable season continues! It’ s great – even if it has cost me a Land Rover Defender (AXA have just left a message to say that mine is a write-off following a failed negotiation with a stout beech tree).

Here I am taking a break from family duties and checking that the snow is doing what I have come to expect of it. The compass feels very light after hours of hauling a tobogganing sled, weighed down by two lumps, up the hill repeatedly.

…from the Scottish Highlands.