A Walk on the Wild Side

My regular readers (both of them) will no doubt know from my previous reports that every year for the last 8 or 9 years I have hiked the three Yorkshire Peaks of Pen-y-Ghent, Whernside and Ingleborough. This is not for any charitable cause or any great quest, it is simply because they are there. It is an annual escape from the pressures of work and the city life to somewhere calm and restful, where I can drink good beer, enjoy good food, in good company and if I'm honest I even enjoy the hiking. Well at the start I do. And usually at the end. It's the 26 miles in the middle I don't enjoy quite so much.
Anyhow normally I try to hike a decent distance once a month, even through the winter to keep match it, so to speak. This year however, work, life, injury and ....well everything really, has conspired to prevent me doing so, and I have to admit I have put on weight and am not feeling quite so ready as I would normally for the challenge in just over a fortnights time. I have this long term progressive ailment called "ageing" which means that things I did easily 20 years ago are now getting to be a bit difficult. And when I go to bed fully functioning I cannot guarantee that everything will be in working order the next morning. My left knee injury is a long term issue which for legal reasons I am not allowed to talk about, but lets call it my old war wound - that plays up awful first thing. And now my feet have joined in - one or other, or both will be very painful to walk on for the first two minutes of any random day, for no obvious reason. I have the mind of a 22 year old but in the body of a 47 year old who has aged an extra 20 years due to 28 years of shiftwork in a very physical job.
So, this month has seen a crash course in decent length hikes to get me up to speed. So far I've done Halsham Round, a local hike of about 8 miles, and Kiplingcotes to Eton and back on the old railway track bed. These are both fairly flat walks however - well living on the Holderness Plain we are a little short of decent hills around here. But I do have a cunning and devious plan that gives the knee and calf muscles a similar workout - Spurn Point.
For those living elsewhere who have never heard of it, Spurn point is the little finger of land that sticks out into the North Sea just above the Humber, in geological terms it is a relatively unique feature, a hooked spit, caused by erosion of the soft boulder clay between Bridlington Bay and Easington, the deposits from which wash around to the mouth of the Humber where the form this strip of land. It is a curving belt of land with a spatulate end, 3 miles long and as little as a few metres wide in places. It has the sea with a beach to one side, and the mud flats of the estuary on the other. This means it is a great place to hike, as not only is it beautiful with diverse wildlife and fauna, but it also has many different surfaces to walk on - mudflats, stony beach, grass meadow, concrete road and heavy going soft sand. Or at least that is how it used to be.
Allow me to elucidate. The natural process that causes the point to build up is cyclic, and over 100 years give or take 10, it should build up, then breach so that the end becomes an island, then wash away as it builds up again, slightly south of it's previous location. This has gone on for thousands of years until the Nepolionic Wars, when the military importance of the Humber Ports meant the estuary had to be protected. So the peninsula was reinforced and not allowed to breach. During the two world wars it was further reinforced, with concrete bunkers, pill boxes and even a light railway being installed to supply munitions from Easington to the gun battery at the tip of the point. The upshot of this interference is that the breach has been overdue for the last 120 years or so. Of course once the war was over all military interest was lost, but the defences have lasted a good seventy years since their last reinforcements. Indeed many pillboxes remain and with a little work could still be used for there original purpose today. But winter 2013 finally saw what nature had been battling to achieve for over 200 years, and the sea broke over the narrow section, washing away the road and separating Spurn Head from the mainland. We now have Spurn Island - twice a day. High tide sees the land cut off for a couple of hours at a time. Now there are other islands that have this same sort of status, Lindesfarne Springs to mind. But Lindesfarne, otherwise known as Holy Island has a permanent and well maintained causeway linking it to the mainland. Spurn simply has land that is there and then not, and each tide changes the route of the "road" that will re-link it once the tide recedes. Today the road diverted along the beach, because the original road has long since washed away. It takes a proper 4x4 to get across, by which of course I mean a Series Land Rover or Defender. Other than an Argocat style six wheeled machine three Land Rovers were the only vehicles I saw on Spurn Head today, in stark contrast to my last visit when cars were allowed the full length and you could, should you be stupid enough to own one, take a Smart car to the lifeboat station.
Much of the road is concrete, built by the army long ago, but the more recent sections over the narrow neck of the point were made of blocks that fitted together like a jigsaw, such that as the land moved the road could be lifted and replaced easily. Even this only delayed the inevitable breach and the land eroded from under the blocks, which now lay scattered and broken, destroyed by the power of the tide and nature.
The Lifeboat Station of course is one reason why a road was maintained along the land in recent years. I believe that Spurn Lifeboat Station is the only fully manned 24 hours station in the country, and this reflects it's importance on the coast and for the Humber. Inaccessible at times due to weather conditions even before the breach it is even more isolated now. Housed at the end is a small community of full time Lifeboat crew and their families.
When I worked as a Coastguard I once plotted the locations of telegraph poles into our GPS to assist in mapping searches. These poles are now gone - the telephone wires either run underground or no longer connect the houses and lifeboat station. I suspect they must now rely on mobile phones and radio for contact with the outside world. Whether or not they are connected to the National Grid for electricity is anyones guess.
But is it a remote and desolate place? No, far from it. Their housing has a homely if somewhat utilitarian look and feel. Spurn is tranquil, quiet, peaceful, restful - a beautiful place of solitude, great for reflection. As I walked I found myself in a state of heightened awareness, without the need for chemicals or alcohol to assist me. It was as though the silence accentuated the remaining senses. Deprived almost of any sound, my eyes were picking up Painted Lady butterfly's, brown tailed moth caterpillars, little white moths, - at this point I wish I had more knowledge of nature, because I can only describe the birds as hovering hawk like things, and whilst I recognised Gorse and Bracken there were other things and blue flowery things, and stuff. Rabbits abounded, and although I didn't see any today I have seen deer roaming wild. I once came around a bend in the track to be met face to face by a young stag, a matter of 10 feet away. So startled were we that he forgot to run away and I forgot to get my camera out, we just stood and looked at each other for maybe a minute before he turned and strutted away. Just over six feet tall, handsome, lean and muscular, a prize specimen I must have looked to him.
Crossing the point where the tide breaches daily I could see how thin the strip of land is - it was always thin in the past but now it's as little as 30 feet, and only a few feet above the low tide line. The point is owned or certainly maintained  these days by the Yorkshire Wildlife Trust, and a good job they make of it. They could promote it a bit better and it could do with a bit of a clean up - some of the litter could be removed, and there are a few buildings they could put into service as holiday lets for example, but other than that they are doing a decent job. They post the daily tide times and a warning of when it is dangerous to cross to the island and back. For the very stupid, they have provided a shelter in the form of a hut, which seats four, where you can wait until the tide turns. I suspect that four seats will not be enough during the summer, when people from Barnsley and Bradford with no knowledge of how the sea works come to visit. I was once astounded to learn as a coastguard that the most successful fundraising area was the Midlands, where grateful landlubbers dug deep to provide funds for those hardy souls who looked after the coast and had rescued them when the boat they won on Bullseye capsized.
Stepping past the breach point, the land widens out, but you still get that unnerving sensation that you are now on dangerous ground. The tide can, and will cut you off if you do not keep an eye on your watch. There is, in fact plenty of time to walk the three miles to the tip and three miles back before the next tide, but it is noticeable how much the tide has moved when you return to the pinch point. It certainly makes you realise this is a walk on the wild side.

Smeetons Light, the old lighthouse to the left on this picture currently stands on the mudflats, but was on dry land when it was built. Matthews Light, the newer lighthouse has recently been awarded Heritage Lottery funding and is now surrounded by scaffolding as it is under renovation to become a new visitor centre. Click here to read more about the plans to renovate it
http://www.hulldailymail.co.uk/Work-start-Spurn-Point-lighthouse-restoration/story-25967975-detail/story.html

Returning through the pinch I was passed by one of the Land Rovers used by the lifeboat crew and river pilots who operate from the jetty at the point. As skilful as the driver was I noted he was only marginally faster than my walking pace as he traversed the shifting sands on what is now effectively the sea bed between the wannabe island and the mainland. Only a Land Rover or possibly a Toyota Landcruiser could have achieved it, but lets be honest, the Toyota would look out of place.

My walk was most enjoyable and I'm pleased to say the knee stood up to the terrain nicely, dry and soft sand, wet and sucking sand, concrete road, meadow and pebble strewn beach. bring on the Three Peaks, I think I'm ready for you.

Naming your car is just silly

People who name their cars. What is that all about? Calling a chunk of metal and plastic Boris, or Herman or Cecilia or whatever it's just stupid.
But the manufacturers are more guilty than the end user. At least the man in the street, or let's be honest, it's more likely the woman in the street gives his or her car a proper name. The manufacturers have run out of sensible names and are now making them up. Hence we have the Vauxhall Zafira, the Nissan Qashkai, the Suzuki Celerio, the Renault Kadjar..... the list goes on. These are just made up names, a random selection of letters designed to be globally acceptable and inoffensive. But they are just complete bollocks.
Some car makers refuse to get involved and just use numbers and letters - BMW, Volvo and Peugeot generally just use numbers. But the others just get silly.
Am I the only one who wants car names that mean something? The Cortina, and the Capri evoked images of exotic foreign destinations. Okay, there was a period during the 80's when car makers simply looked to the top shelf of W.H.Smiths for inspiration, and we ended up with the Fiesta, Escort and mini Mayfair. But by and large they made an effort using proper English words. Thus we had the popular, the prefect, anglia, sceptre, scout, victor, ensign and such like. We also got the Viva, meaning long life, which was a contradiction and most rusted away quicker than the customers could file a warranty claim.
So, we are left with a future of random vowels and consonants to describe your latest transport, which means that you will soon be driving a dsfghjk and it will be your own fault. Personally I will call it Herbert.

My car has a cold.

One of the problems with my Vectra has always been the lack of heat. In the past cars were inefficient beasts that turned petrol into a little bit of power and a lot of heat and noise. Engines however have been getting more refined and efficient over the last few years partly because of the environmental argument (which is nonsense) that they damage the atmosphere, but mostly because of the price of fuel. The result is my Vectra will do up to 70 miles per gallon but generates little heat from the engine, certainly on my 22 mile commute to work a candle on the dashboard would be more beneficial. The problem is a big lazy engine turning a tall geared gearbox, resulting in the engine barley ticking over in 6th gear for most of the route. I could of course thrash the balls of it in third, but then all the efforts to maintain fuel economy and keep it quiet would have been worthless.
What it needed was an old school engineering solution - i.e. a bit of cardboard stuck up in front of the radiator. This would restrict airflow causing the radiator to heat up quicker, and thus the cabin heater would warm up quicker too. Clever huh?
A little too clever for my own good. Pulling out onto the main road today I noticed a distinct unwillingness to put power to the wheels, even though the throttle was wide open. Slipping into neutral revealed the engine would not rev past 2000 rpm. Examination shows that those clever boffins at Vauxhall made two air intakes, controlled by a thermostatic valve. In summer it sucks in nice cool air, and once the car has warmed up it also takes in warm air. But for cold running it takes air from behind the radiator, where it is warm. I think you can see where this is going. Yes, I had effectively strangled the car by blocking off it's air supply.
The effect is akin to hiking with a cold. It is not pleasant, but you can just about breathe between sneezes and snuffles, right up until someone asks you to sprint up a hill, which quite frankly just isn't going to happen. Air cannot enter your lungs, because the filter is blocked. It is of course well known that you don't catch a cold because you are cold, you catch a cold because it's a virus, and virus thrive in the warm if you dressed in summer wear you wouldn't catch a cold, you'd catch hypothermia.
And the same is happening to the Vectra - by trying to keep it warm I have given it a cold.

Christmas shopping without the zombies

I have spoken before, last year to be precise, about the phenomenon known as the Christmas Shopping Zombie, so I won't go into it again in detail. Read last years post if you want to remind yourself. Needless to say I was keen to avoid them this year.
The nearest large town to my home is Hull, which has been designated the UK city of Culture 2017. I have spoken on this subject too, so will say no more, other than that Hull will need to improve an awful to in less than 3 years if it is not to disappoint. Don't get me wrong, it is, or rather could be, a great city. It is let down by a minority of the people that live there, a road infrastructure that doesn't work, (rather like the minority of people) and a depressing backdrop of buildings which have never been repaired after the Luftwaffe used the city as a dump for all the unused munitions they had left over from anywhere else they failed to bomb. This means that a shopping trip into the city is not a prospect I look forward to.
Firstly there is the hassle of getting there. Whilst there is a bus, carrying many bags of shopping on it isn't really feasible, so it's the car then. Which means a slow arduous trek of 10 miles that should take 10 minutes but takes nearer 30.
Then you have to pay £7 to park near a derelict church with the very real prospect that your stereo and wheels may be missing when you come back.
Next you have to walk past the tracksuit clad chain smoking unwashed hanging around outside the shops selling stolen chocolate bars or begging for cash.
Then the shops themselves are full of the aforementioned zombies. And nothing worth buying. So what to do?
The wife suggests Meadowhall, but this simply means driving a lot further for pretty much the same shops, more expensive parking and similar zombies but with different accents.
York was tempting, because it has historic little gift shops and lots of street entertainment - jugglers, musicians, magicians, mimes and people who stand still for a living. And, last time I was there, Darth Vader and C3P0. But York is also full of students who irritate me by speaking in tongues. If they are bright enough to be studying nuclear physics or whatever York University teaches, why can't they speak English?
I might end up stuck in Hull after all. But then inspiration struck. It meant driving 60 miles each way, but I made a day out of it all and heading for a different North East Coastal town. I will keep the identity of this town secret, because when it comes to Christmas shopping it is a little gem. Nestling on the clifftops it has a variety of shops selling all sorts of trinkets and gee-gaws, just the sort of tat that makes ideal Christmas presents. And in a shock move that took me entirely by surprise North Yorkshire Council has suspended all parking charges until 1st March. Free Parking. Yes, Free! Hull could learn something from this.
I parked near a derelict church, but had no fears of my car being attacked, because the church in question had been vandalised by someone called Henry almost 500 years ago, so there was little chance of him coming back. Apart from this, there were no tracksuited unemployed idle youth to be seen, probably because the car park was at the top of a very steep hill and they were too lazy to walk. But that was not the case, even when I got down to the shops there were no layabouts to be seen. The shops were devoid of zombies, indeed devoid of almost any customers at all, meaning that I could browse at my ease, and had the full attention of the friendly, welcoming and interested sales assistants. The whole experience was a delight. Topped off with Fish and Chips from an award winning outlet, instead of Bob Carvers greasy spoon in Hull, I then enjoyed a relaxing drive over the moors and enjoyed the beautiful scenery and sunset.
A grand day out, Grommit, and not a zombie in sight.

How to replace the nearside headlamp bulb on a 2006 model Vauxhall Vectra.

So many enjoyed my entry on how to replace the offside headlamp bulb on a 2006 model Vauxhall Vectra, that I thought I might write up the other side, having just done that job too. So here goes.
How to replace the nearside headlamp bulb on a 2006 model Vauxhall Vectra.
1. Weigh up the work involved in removing the battery and fusebox that appear to be in the way. Note the water bottle filler neck also positioned right behind the headlamp. 
2. Having learned your mistake from doing the offside headlamp, do not fall for it and remove the cover for the easily accessible main beam lamp, instead attempt to reach the cover for the very inaccessibly dipped beam lamp. Graze the back of your hand on the sharp edges of the moulding of the washer bottle filler neck. Curse loudly.
3. Take a small child, preferably your own and attempt to explain what is required. After fifteen minutes and several attempts, accept that whilst their hand is small enough, they do not have the wit or the strength in their fingers to remove the cover, which was put on with superglue, by an ape, at the factory.
4. Measure your own hand, and the space available, which will be smaller. Work out how much more space would be available if you could just get the washer bottle filler neck out of the way, which is almost, but just not quite enough.
5. Remove the plastic clips that hold the washer bottle filler neck to the front slam panel by snapping them gently. Curse in Latin whilst doing this.
6. Get your hand to breathe in and hold its breath whilst you remove the cover from the back of the headlamp.
7. Working blind again, pull off the electrical connector (the bulb will come with it) but unlike the offside headlamp there will be no mysterious metallic “ping” noise and nothing will fall into the engine bay. This is normal.
8. Replace the bulb noting the specially shaped backplate which will only allow the bulb to fit in one way etc etc blah blah see instructions for offside headlamp, steps 7 to 11.
9. Drop the cover for the headlamp into the most inaccessible part of the engine bay ensuring that it either snags on something halfway down just beyond reach, or falls all the way through to the undertray which is held on by about a million screws all of which you will have to remove to get the tray off to retrieve the headlamp cover.
10. Having replaced the headlamp cover and the engine undertray replace the washer bottle filler neck attaching it to the front slam panel with a zip tie.
Job done. Estimated time 10 minutes. Actual time 1 hour, two cups of coffee.
Difficulty rating. ****king annoying.

How to replace the offside headlamp bulb on a 2006 model Vauxhall Vectra.

How to replace the offside headlamp bulb on a 2006 model Vauxhall Vectra.
Since the Haynes manual doesn’t cover this seemingly simple task, here is a step by step guide for those undertaking this job.
1. Disconnect the battery using a 10mm spanner for the terminals. Use a short spanner which will not accidentally arc against the wing, causing a spark.
2. Using a blunt screwdriver, carefully break the fiddly little clip that holds the connector to the Mass Airflow Sensor on the air filter box. Curse loudly. Swing the cable away to one side.
3. Using a 7mm spanner which you don’t have, or a pair of pliers, gently round the nuts on the jubilee clips that hold the pipework to the mass airflow sensor, cursing as you do this. Constantly push aside the wiring that keeps falling back into the way.
4. Having removed the airflow sensor and related piping attempt to pull the air filter box of the rubber retaining bungs and lift it out of the engine bay. Graze the back of you right hand and tear a fingernail on the left – any will do, as you will be ripping them all off eventually.
5. Grow the fingers on one of your hands by an extra inch, then reach behind the headlamp in the space you have now created and twist the wrist to an unnatural angle to remove the cover from the back of what turns out to be the main beam headlamp. Reverse the process to replace this, then repeat on the even more inaccessible dipped beam headlamp cover.
6. Massage life back into your fingers and suck the blood from any deep cuts. Now using a torch in one hand, use the other two hands to gently pull the connector from the back of the bulb. Curse as the bulb comes out with it, something goes “ping” and an unknown but mercifully superfluous spring metal wire part flies off into the depth of the engine bay.
7. Spend five minutes with the torch familiarising yourself with exactly what it was holding the bulb in, and work out the bulb orientation – it will only fit in one particular way due to the shape of the base plate. This position is hidden by the shadow of your hand in the torchlight whatever position you hold the torch in, so you will have to work blind. Once you have found the position, apply firm pressure to push the bulb in place on the spring clips.
8. Grope around the bottom of the engine bay, in the inaccessible gaps and retrieve the bulb and try again.
9. And again.
10. With the bulb now in position replace the wiring connector (a push fit) taking care not to unseat the bulb. Reseat the bulb.
11. Test the bulb works. Puzzle at why it doesn't until you recall that you disconnected the battery at step 1. Reconnect the battery and test the bulb again. Do not miss this step at all costs, or you will be starting again from the top, when you get to the last step.
12. Replace the headlamp dust cover, using a small childs hand on an adult arm.
13. Attempt to refit the air filter box. Marvel at how something so large could have come out of such a small space. Graze knuckles, preferably your own, but use a bystanders if available, curse loudly without hesitation, repetition or deviation as you wrestle with the air box until it finally surrenders and goes back in place.
14. In a loud voice shout “For crying out loud, you bastard” as you realise the wiring for the mass airflow sensor is now trapped beneath the air filter box. Remove the airfilter box and repeat step 13 as many times as it takes, before eventually using gaffer tape to fix the wiring out of the way so it can’t fall again.
15. Replace the mass airflow sensor and associated pipework. Drip blood gently onto the rounded nuts securing the ducting to make them more difficult to turn with the pliers you have now lost.
16. Refit the electrical connector on the mass air flow sensor, replacing the clip you broke earlier with a new one made out of a paper clip, or use duct tape to hold it in place.
17. Attempt to replace the battery connections and realise you already did that at 11 above and have been working on live electrics since.

Job complete. Estimated time 10 minutes. Actual time 35 minutes. Why not change your airfilter at the same time and get two jobs doe in one?

The tax spiral

"Unto Caesar pay the taxes," one man famously said when questioned about paying taxes "for it is his face upon the coins." Shortly afterwards he got nailed to a tree, which just goes to show.
It is indeed right and proper that we pay taxes. But do we have to have quite so many of them. And whilst I don't mind paying a fair tax, I object top paying tax on a tax for something I paid tax on already.
The newest tax to be proposed is the Mansion Tax, which will be aimed at those who own houses worth more than £2 million. These are obviously rich people, who should be taxed for being successful. I expect most footballers will be happy to pay this tax, and they can certainly afford it. But what about those unfortunate people who have lived in houses which through the governments ineptitude, assisted by greedy property developers and town planners have risen into that band whilst they stay on the same income? Other people made their house worth more, not them.
My own modest plot falls nowhere near the £2 million threshold, but he's the rub. In the North of England it could be any house worth more than £400,000, and mine might soon come quite close. it's nudging towards £300,000 already.
So far as I see it I have earned money by working, and I have paid income tax on that money. I bought a house with what was left and had to pay Stamp Duty tax for the privilege. Then I had to pay council tax to live in it. And now I might have to pay mansion tax as well to keep living in it. There is of course a plan by the Labour Party to ease that burden, so that you don't actually pay anything towards the Mansion Tax until you are dead. Brilliant - now they've even found a way to tax me after I'm dead. Up until this they relied on my beneficiaries paying inheritance tax on what I left behind. But of course they'll want that too, although they will deduct the value of the Mansion Tax from the estate value before inheritance tax is calculated. No doubt they will want VAT on the tax as well.
Of course you can avoid the tax entirely by being rich and then renting a house. Or you could just be poor and never pay any taxes at all.
Tax on cars is equally strange. Again you earn money and pay income tax, and with the bit you have left you are allowed to buy a car, on which you pay purchase tax, and VAT. Then you must pay vehicle excise duty, which is a tax on ownership of the car, and if you intend to drive it you will need fuel, on which you pay fuel duty and some more VAT. And you must insure it, which is tax in disguise, and pay some more VAT on the insurance. If you choose instead to simply park it, then you must pay a parking charge, yet another tax in disguise, probably with VAT as well, and if you forget to pay or overstay you get a fine (tax?) with VAT on it. And if you are unfortunate enough to live or work in the capital, there's yet another tax to pay for the congestion that has been caused by turning half the road into "special users lanes" for those on buses and riding cycles who don't pay tax. And don't be tempted to use those bus lanes either, or you'll be taxed/fined for that too. Even if you go green and environmental and buy a G-Whiz electric car you'll still be paying VAT on the electricity.
It's all enough to drive you to drink - but there's tax on that too.
Income tax was of course originally charged to finance a war with the French. We should have stopped paying it years ago, we just got used to it.
I found some comfort then when they announced on the news that Britain was being charged an extra £1.7 billion by the EU for being so successful in managing our economy. Cameron was furious, and said he will not pay it. Good for him .But then it dawned on me - they'll only find a way of making me pay it.