easy max

I was sitting in the middle seat of row 19 on a Gatwick to Edinburgh flight as the captain introduced the flight crew. I burst out laughing when our son's best friend from school was announced as first officer.  I had watched him mature from a 7-year-old in the junior football team that I coached for five years to a fun-loving teenager who sometimes came on holidays with us. Max had spent many a night at our house after various teenage events and finally put paid to the old VHS video recorder by throwing up over it - "to save the carpet" he said. He was always laid back and easy going and now he was in charge of 180 passengers.

It was a relaxed flight and Max announced that we had made good time and would be landing 15 minutes early. I clapped as we landed not out of relief but in delight at his matriculation as a pilot who sounded cool and confident.  I asked the cabin crew if I could say hello to the first officer. They seemed slightly in awe of Max but when I popped my head into the cockpit to say thank you, he gave me his usual cheery smile and high fived me. I embarked feeling pleased that he might not have made it as a footballer under my coaching but he had gained wings instead. We had joked with him when he was training to be a pilot that if we ever heard him say "This is your captain speaking" we would rush for the exits, but not today, 'easy max' seemed a more apt testimony.

Vienna

Upper Belvedere across the frozen pool

Karlskirche

Vienna has always been a place I have wanted to visit and why it has taken so long to get there is probably more a function of flight schedules than anything else. It involves a trip through Gatwick which must be one of the great travel deterrents of our time.  A hundred years ago Vienna was the third-largest city and cultural capital of the world. The changes that have occurred since the start of the twentieth century and the subsequent collapse of the Austrian Hungarian empire have been immense. They are immaculately set out in Stefan Zweig's semi-autobiographical work which describes the changes he experienced in his life. It was written under the working title 'Three Lives' but published as the 'World of Yesterday' in 1942 after he committed suicide after becoming a refugee in London and then Brazil. This was my reading for the trip along with 'Waiting for Sunset', William Boyd's new novel set in Vienna in 1913.

Vienna still has a population of 2 million and a collection of museums that must be amongst the finest in the world. It has a superb transport system based on trams, a relatively new underground and a fast link to the clean and efficient airport. It all creates a relaxed pace of life that must make this city a dream place to live. We spent four days in fine winter weather and were mightily impressed by the high quality and design of the public realm, the clean and safe nature of the city and the outstanding range of places to go and things to enjoy.

This city certainly ranks amongst the best three I have ever visited. Pedestrians and cyclists, who have their own bike lanes, are given priority and trams trump private transport on the roads. They have got the hierarchy of transport right and there is little traffic in the inner ring, the city just works -  if only UK cities could learn to do this. The beer is as good as you would expect and the wine a lot better, the food is limited in choice but the quality is excellent with halibut cheaper than the UK in a country that is landlocked but has excellent Scandinavian links.

Amongst the many highlights were the paintings with Egon Schiele's work on display at both the Belvedere and the quite outstanding Leopold Museum. Klimt was there in spades and many of the leading figures from the secessionist movement including the architect and designer Josef Hoffman, who was the inspiration for the equivalent of the Arts and Craft movement. The Austrian Bank was sponsoring an exhibition of Herbert Brandl at the Kunstforum. Brandl had recently started to paint mountains and his massive canvases created powerful images of abstract mountains.

And then there were the cafes, we visited several of the iconic nineteenth-century haunts of the Viennese enlightenment for coffee, cake and reflection time after a day racing around the city and its pleasures. We became regulars at the Central Cafe which must be one of the best places to while away the hours. Even on leaving Vienna the airport link was excellent taking only 16 minutes from the centre,  running like an atomic clock and comparatively cheap.  Vienna airport is modern and well organised in stark contrast to Gatwick on our return when it took well over an hour from landing to getting onto the train. Gatwick is a high-tech dysfunctional maze as well as an overpriced shopping mall.  But this means nothing to me  - Oh Vienna!

Belvedere Gardens from Upper Belvedere

Schonbrunn palace from the Gloriette

The stairs to the Freud museum

Freud's couch or at least the frame of it

Freud by Dali but sadly no psychoanalysis of Dali by Freud 

Herbert Brandl Painting

Another superb cafe

Prater Fun Fair

Prater for a morning run

Roof of Stephansdom

Parliament Building

Inside the Central Cafe

Natural History Museum

Museums Quarter from a window in the Leopold Museum

Egon Schiele portrait of Wally Neuzil, 1912

Egon Schiele: Reclining Woman 1917

Gustav Klimt: Viale Alberato

Cafe Perl

Otto Wagner Apartments - the Majolikahaus

Late afternoon - Michaelertrakt

Central Cafe for a cake and an argument

Dory Previn

All the news last week was about Whitney Houston's death but Dory Previn died on Valentine's day with an irony in keeping with her songs. She didn't hang herself from the second or third letter 'O' of the Hollywood sign as she once sang but died at home at 85.

It reinforced my belief that music was never better than in the years around 1970. Groups like Cream, Fleetwood Mac, the Doors, Led Zepelin, Santana and Pink Floyd provided the driving soundtrack for our lives but Sandy Denny, Joni Mitchell and Dory Previn provided the poetry and pathos.

Mythical Kings and Iguanas was one of those LPs that mesmerised you with lyrics that were poignant, reflective, disturbing but real. Unlike her male contemporary, Leonard Cohen, who culled sadness for mellow sentimental songs; Dory Previn harvested the sadness to confront the cruelness of life.

She was never perceived as a great musician but I found this version of The Lady with the Braid on YouTube and it shows that even live she was an accomplished artist or try the original version of A Stone for Bessie Smith for sorrow. Lemon Haired Ladies exudes the melancholy of competing for the affection of a man with younger women and was my most played track on the album Mythical Kings and Iguanas. Sing it again Dory it sounds like the pathos was real.

West Highland Way: Milngavie - Inversnaid

       

8:30 a.m. start at Milngavie

Monday, 13 February 2012    Distance    Time                  

Milngavie to Drymen              20km         2hrs 55mins

Drymen to Balmaha                32km         5hrs 4mins

Balmaha to Rowardennan       44km         7hrs 6mins

Rowardennan to Inversnaid    55km         8hrs 56mins  

Dumgoyne Hill

Garadnban Forest

Conic Hill from the east

Ben Lomond from Conic Hill

Descending Conic Hill

Balmaha

Above Balmaha

Storm damage

Rowardennan

Beyond Rowardennan

Feral Goat

The West Highland Way is unfinished business. I have walked quite a lot of it to access hills like the Mamores and run some sections nearer to home in the past. I did have a plan to run the whole walk on a summer weekend in 1991 when I was in my early forties and running well but the idea had to be abandoned when I changed jobs and could no longer catch a train from Glasgow to Milngavie after work on Friday evening when I had intended to run the first 20 miles to Balmaha. It would leave me with two days to cover the remaining 75 miles. I was looking at the guidebook last week and thought it might be possible to complete the walk in three days with stopovers at Inversnaid and the Kingshouse but this requires 35 miles, 38 miles and then 24 miles for the three days. I am now in my mid sixties and have not covered more than 30miles in a day over the past couple of years.  Nevertheless, there is only the trying and nothing ventured... I gave it a go today and completed the first section in less than 9 hours.

The February weather was settled with a coolish breeze and some skittish clouds passing over. I got a lift to Milngavie from Gregor on his way to work in Glasgow and started at 8:30am figuring out this would give me 9 hours of daylight. I would need to average over 4mph but given the occasional stop and the climb of Conic Hill, it would require 6 or 7 miles of running. The start of the walk from Milngavie was a mess with the signs vandalised, mud oozing over the path and dozens of trees lying at the side of the trail following the winter gales. After the first mile, I was past the dog walkers and I had the trail to myself. Once into Mugdoch Park, it was the domain of the Duke of Montrose where views to the Campsies opened up and the Way began to feel more enticing.

There is a wonderful section along Craigallan Loch and even the hutter's abodes by Carbeth Loch looked cheery in the morning light.  The descent to the Dumgoyne distillery provides good sections for running as well as stupendous views northwards and to the volcanic plug of Dumgoyach which hides Duntreath Castle, the venue of our daughter's recent wedding. At the Beech Tree pub, there is an information board denigrating commuting on the former railway and almost celebrating car commuting. Crossing the A81 road below Killearn brings you to the most unsatisfactory section of the walk along the former railway track. It is festooned with gates and agricultural land has been usurped by random commercial and industrial buildings that include the old Killearn hospital site which has been an eyesore for the past thirty years.

The A81 is recrossed and leads to the river Endrick at Gartness, from here there is a 2-mile section along a minor road with no particular distinction. There is a lack of signage until it links to the A811 before Drymen through an incongruous field of grazing sheep. The next section that circuits around Drymen had been closed for a few weeks due to storm damage but was now open.  The Garadnban forest was still a mess after extensive tree felling and the trails were capped by 2 inches of mud.  I stopped briefly at the end of the forest for a bite to eat before entering the open hillside that climbs up to Conic Hill which was beckoning to the east. Despite the climb, I was moving well and enjoying a fine collection of songs on the iPod although I did wonder when 'Time is on My Side' shuffled on whether this was still the case.

Conic Hill provided good views to the north and over Loch Lomond and on the descent its lower slopes were mobbed.  It was the school holidays and dozens of young kids were either making their parents despair by dawdling or angry by going too fast for them - you could bottle the parental angst. Balmaha was heaving and the Council car park was full, I stopped briefly to clear my shoes of stones and dirt and eat a banana before starting the section alongside Loch Lomond.  The timing was perfect with the shafts of afternoon sunshine lighting the shore and lifting the spirits.  I was more or less on schedule despite the difficulty of travelling through the Garadnban forest.

I met an old work colleague and his family picnicking at Milarochy Bay and stopped and chatted for about 15 minutes. His teenage daughter was paddling in the Loch which I thought brave in February, I had once capsized a dinghy here in June and suffered hypothermia before being rescued by a passing speedboat. It was beautiful along the lochside but I was beginning to calculate the miles and hours of daylight left. There was no doubt that I would need to run some sections to make up some time.  I ran a couple of miles on the section to Rowardennan from where I tried to call home to delay my lift home. Mobile reception was non-existent, and the telephone box was not working nor was there a public phone in the hotel, I would have to run most of the way to Inversnaid.

I had never been on the next section of the walk beyond Rowardennan before and I was surprised by the well-made track to the north of the Youth Hostel which climbed steadily after Ptarmigan Lodge.  The light was superb but no photographs were taken as I had packed everything in the rucksack so that I could run. It was easy going at first but the track eventually downsized to a trail between tree roots and steep rock faces.  It was tricky after the cottage at Cailness where a new 4x4 was parked, it must have come ashore by boat looking at the wheel tracks down to the loch but why?

As the light began to fail I came face to face with a black feral goat in what threatened to be the re-enactment of the billy goats gruff scene. It looked hornier than me so I took out my camera and it climbed to the rocks above. The light was fading fast and the last mile dragged but after rounding a few more bends I saw the welcoming lights of the Inversnaid Hotel and reached the finish by 5:40pm, only ten minutes later than scheduled for my lift home.  I had once again managed a walk without requiring my head torch.  My feet were in a bad way with a blister and bloodied around the toes but my lift was there and after a hot bath and supper I had sufficient energy to load the photos and post this.

I will attempt the next two stages of a 3 day attempt on the West Highland Way in April or May when there is a bit more daylight.  The next 38 miles over tougher terrain will require 11 hours. And it did, Day 2 can be seen in West Highland Way: Inversnaid-Kingshouse

Loch Ard Trails

Osprey above the Duchray

Dragonfly on Lochan Spling

Entrance to trails at Milton

Pike on Lochan Spling

Today was another morning of hard frost with the low-lying mist promising some fine views if you could get above the strath. I ran around some of the rock-hard and icy Loch Ard trails and was ecstatic when I emerged above the mist on one of the ridges and saw the blue skies and mountains surrounding the forest. There are almost 200 miles of trails which have been my gymnasium for the past twenty years. In recent weeks I have been revisiting routes that I have not run for many years; a couple of new bridges built at Braeval and Milton six years ago had diverted me from the trails that go deeper into the forest south of Loch Ard. This morning I ran 8 miles returning via Lochan Spling and arrived home for breakfast inspired.

I had noticed one of Rob Mulholland's sculptures of an Osprey a few months ago and passed it again looking almost real in the mist this morning.  I decided to return with the camera once the mist had been burnt off. Rob is locally based, a keen cyclist and a nice guy, and has produced fine public art over recent years. I had encouraged the Council to support some public art in the city after I had negotiated some money for city development. It got lost in the bureaucracy required to satisfy the Scottish Government. Disappointed with the lethargy of my own organisation in failing to fund public art, and having seen the fine sculptures that Forestry Enterprise had built in Grizedale forest in the Lake District, I raised commissioning some public art along the forest trails with Forestry Enterprise.  I was delighted a few years ago when they began to open up the trails with good signing, public art and new plantings which restored the indigenous trees instead of banks of spruce along the edge of the trails.

At lunchtime, I set out for a bike ride that took me around Loch Ard and then across the river Duchray by one of the new bridges and back around to Lochan Spling. I took in three of Rob's sculptures which were magnificent in the bright angled light of February. I met a curmudgeonly neighbour who told me that he didn't like them which I took as an even stronger endorsement.

I recalled that after retiring two years ago February was my favourite month for cycling and running. I had thought at the time it was simply escaping the annual budget setting which was always unnecessarily time-consuming and fraught with pointless political jousting. I know better now that February days can be just sublime, pity there are only 28 days apart from the years of the special ones.

Cruach Ardrain

Cruach Ardrain from Beinn Tulaichean

Snow and Ice below Cruach Ardrain summit

Cruach Ardrain summit with Ben More and Stob Binnein behind

Beinn Tulaichean from Cruach Ardrain

Snow sculptures near the summit of Cruach Ardrain

Thursday 2 February 2012
Time:           4hrs 29mins
Ascent:        1170metres
Distance:     13km
        
Beinn Tulaichean    946m     1hr  52mins
Cruach Ardrain     1046m     2hrs 49mins

An anticyclone had edged in from eastern Europe and we were due some extremely cold but clear weather so it seemed a good idea to get up high and enjoy the views. Unfortunately, a band of low grey clouds had drifted in from the west and spoilt the forecasts.  I set out late to climb a couple of local munros and it was after midday before I started out from the car park at Inverlochlarig at the head of Balquidder Glen. The car park is an excellent facility that boasts a shelter and some useful information boards as well. It is a short walk from here to the Inverlochlarig farm, where you can purchase local venison. A track ascends the eponymous glen. After half a kilometre and having threaded my way through a docile herd of highland cattle I made a beeline for the summit of Beinn Tulaichean.

The snow was lying from 450 metres and it seemed a long slog up the uncompromising and steep slopes, this was not helped by soft snow lying on sheet ice on parts of the route. It was raw and freezing when I arrived at the summit and I needed to put on a third layer of clothing below my jacket. The views were non-existent when I arrived but sporadic thereafter. My water bottle was completely frozen but I had some coffee and a sandwich before deciding to attempt Cruach Ardrain, which could be glimpsed between the clouds. Time was not on my side but it would have been a bit risk-averse not to carry on despite the cold and low cloud.

The descent to the bealach above Coire Earb was easy going and so, surprisingly, was the 200-metre climb through deep snow which eventually curves around to Cruach Ardrain. I had expected that I would need to fit crampons and my hands were numb from eating and drinking on the exposed and bitterly cold summit, but this proved unnecessary.  It had become a pleasant walk and the summit was beckoning, as was a lone raven.

At the summit, I waited for the chance to see Ben More and Stob Binnein shed their cap of clouds but it was a forlorn hope so I turned and descended back to the bealach.  I had identified a route down to the glen whilst at the summit and it proved to be a real time-saver.  There were several sections higher up where I could slide down the snow and thereafter the soft snow lubricated each step as I found an optimal route down to the track in Inverlochlarig Glen. Whilst it was disappointing not to have had the day that was promised it had been a reasonably quick and easy walk in good winter conditions. I was back down before 5pm in the light, this will surprise some walking friends who believe I always finish my winter walks in the dark.

Running Groups

Outdoor gym equipment

I always assumed that I would be able to spend more time running after retiral but it has not quite worked out like that. I did make a determined effort for the first three months and managed to achieve my fastest times for five years but then I had a self-inflicted back injury which stopped me running for six months. Last year I had a heel problem that took away another 4 months so my mileage for the last two years has been less than I would normally do in a year.  I recovered from injury in November and since then I have managed to run regularly three or four times a week. I was already well ahead of my monthly target for January with nine days to go and whilst running in the forest I was stopped by a woman runner and asked if I would like to join her local running group.  I was too polite to say no and I was intrigued by the prospect of running in a group again. I had spent eight or nine years in running clubs when I was racing regularly but I have run almost entirely on my own for the past twenty years.

So on Tuesday evening, after a hard day in the hills the previous day, I was invited to turn up for some group running therapy. Almost all my running is first thing in the morning, running in the dark in the forest with the temperature having dropped below freezing was hardly inviting. But I went and joined a group of four including Angela who had invited me along. We set off at a reasonable pace and headed into the depths of the forest, our head torches vital on trails which are free from light pollution and are harbouring fallen trees.

I ended up running along with Angela who was running well within herself but slowly increasing the pace. After a mile or so we decided to take an extra loop than the other two with the intention that we would catch them up after we got back on the main trail. After a couple of miles, I began to lose ground in the pitch dark of the forest and, unlike other parts of Scotland, there was no aurora borealis here, so Angela had to stop to let me catch up a couple of times.  I was slightly perplexed because I thought I was going quite well and we certainly caught up with the others having done an extra kilometre.

When we caught them I fell into the easier pace whilst Angela went off with one of the other runners for the last mile.  We had run 8 miles, my longest run of the year and I felt good at the finish.  I came home and looked up Angela on Wikipedia - I knew she was a top hill runner but she is a legend.  I felt privileged to train in such an exalted company.  Later in the week, I met an old running acquaintance whom I used to race against twenty years ago.  He subsequently became the world over 50 champion for 1500 metres.  He turns seventy this year and is still training two or three times a day intending to set some age-level records.  He runs about 2500 miles a year with a pulse rate of 38 and is as hard as nails. He is more than likely to succeed as he did when he became a top mountain bike rider in his fifties.

The effect of meeting these two dedicated runners was just what I needed. I have now run for seven of the last eight days and managed my highest monthly total for six years. I had fallen into the easy trap of believing three or four runs a week was all I could manage but after nine miles last night with the running group I was out again this morning at a pace I could enjoy on a perfectly still, sunny but freezing day (it was so bright that we generated 6kWh of solar electricity).  Later on, I decided on a 7/29 fitness campaign for this month and took my outdoor gym equipment for a ride in the dark

Sacrificing Token Bankers

The de-knighting of Fred Goodwin yesterday could have been predicted after the unedifying politics of recent weeks. The main political parties, who spent the last decade lauding the financial sector, are competing to disown and destroy public figures who have been cast as the villains of the bank crisis.  Stephen Hester got it last week for his pay package to clear up the mess created by Fred Goodwin who was savaged this week. The politicians are urged on by the popular press and by the public anger about the damage that has been wrought on the economy. The double standards displayed by our politicians are perhaps no more than we should expect from men who have long ago lost any shred of integrity.

However, instead of legislating or taxing to create a society in which supercharged bonuses and pay levels are scaled back to some capped multiple of the minimum wage or average salaries, they have decided to assuage the public mood by sacrificing the easy targets, our celebrity financial villains. Fred had become so intoxicated with the poker game of high finance that he felt he could walk on water. His board obviously believed him and was happy to surf along in his wake. Stephen Hester took a salary and bonus package that was the going rate for managing a global bank and sorting out the failing RBS was the biggest challenge of all. They operate in a remuneration bubble that the financial community had inflated to bursting point. Prudent Gordon became gullible Gordon by going along with it, as indeed did all the other political parties. Banking was the soaring economic growth sector that they thought would create a new global empire with London as its epicentre. Whilst it is hard to be sympathetic to Fred in particular, making him a victim does not create a fairer society nor establish a new culture of trust in either the financial sector or our politicians.

We have been told for many years that our top bankers or executives would go elsewhere unless the rewards for managing private companies and organisations are maintained. The remuneration of senior executives in banks and the corporate sector is far from being the inevitable result of market pressures as we are frequently told to believe. It is effectively fixed by executives themselves through the remuneration committees that they appoint. The committee will be advised by generously paid consultants who provide the advice that the chief executives and senior executives desire - this will include salaries, bonuses and pensions. 

As for an exodus of senior executives, the early indications are that this is not happening. Pay scales in the rest of Europe have never entered the fantasy financial land that is London and they are not going to in the current economic climate. The most successful economies like Japan, Germany and the Scandinavian countries have far more moderate ratios of chief executive to average pay than the UK. They are more in line with the way the public sector operates in the UK where the ratio of Chief Executive to lowest-paid workers is usually in the range 10 to 20. It is also unlikely that companies or senior executives would leave London where they have a network of support services from PR to legal advice and accountancy. And would they really decamp their families from their homes and schools and the culture, sport and social networks that are so vital for spending their wealth and showcasing their ostentatious lifestyle?

The government could resolve these issues by setting guidelines for pay including pensions and bonuses. They could introduce a tax regime that enforced these. But the present Chancellor and Lord Mandelson for the previous government have long argued against this, after all, shredding Fred is far easier to implement. The last Labour Government seemed determined to keep the big earners onside and Gordon Brown surrendered his social justice credentials at the altar of the financial sector. Alistair Darling was much-maligned but did tackle the issue by challenging and taxing the financial sector. The question now is whether the bullying tendency of the present government will get away with sacrificing Fred or will they carry out a more principled examination of how we reward the corporate sector to create a fairer distribution of wealth? I think I can guess the answer - Cameron and Osborne are part of the entitled financial elite, but the hard-working electorate is not.