not quite on my soap box again

So I'm concerned, worried, scared about the environment. Apparently the science is in and, apart from ignorant non-experts, everyone agrees global warming has reached crisis point. We've really stuffed it up. What I find most troubling is that we madly keep on with wrecking our home, despite the warning signs telling us something is seriously wrong.

There have been some interesting online articles recently, chewing over the reasons for, and implications of our refusal to address this issue. There is some evidence to suggest climate sceptics have fallen prey to an elaborate defence mechanism designed to prevent them from thinking about death. Never mind that avoiding the issue and denying climate change brings us all closer to the end of life as we know it. Just don't think about it. Say it isn't true.

Other climate change, brain function, behavioural scientists think the risks seem too remote for us. The earth is spiralling towards cataclysmic upheaval, rising sea levels, potential ice age, and mass extinction, but it's not happening tomorrow? Oh well. Turn the air-con up, drive don't walk, and eat as much meat as you like - it might never happen!

Then there's the industry lobby. Think of all the profit we'll lose if we don't keep on pumping carbon into the atmosphere! Seriously, the economy will fall apart. We'll all die if we don't have more money. So don't even think about charging tax on carbon emissions. We just can't afford that cost. Too bad that it might kill us all in the long run - economic growth is key.

I find it singularly depressing. No matter what Frank and I do to reduce our carbon footprint, it will never be enough, because too many other people don't care, or they simply love money more.

Shame on you.

But we'll keep plugging away despite all that. We have solar power on the roof. It's even connected now (after 4 months. long story) so we power our house from the sun all day. We've started charging mobile phones and tooth brushes during the day, to save drawing from the grid at night. We walk or ride the bike when we can. Meat makes much less regular appearances on our plate. Just about everything we do is accompanied by a quick calculation of its environmental impact. For example, tonight we cycled to the river front for fish and chips. The calculation runs something like this:

Cycling = carbon neutral. Fish and chips = unsure of stocks of fish we ate therefore unable to calculate accurately. Communal cooking = less environmental impact than heating oil at home to cook fish and chips ourselves. Overall = not too bad, but might be better if we ordered a salad instead.

We like to think it all counts. And of course it does. But is it enough? Only if everyone else gets on board! Come on people - time to make a difference for our planet.

she's just asking for a fall

Pride is bad. Very bad. Or so I was led to believe by my parents, who constantly quoted 'pride goes before a fall' at me and even went so far as to give me an anti-pride postcard when I was yay high.

It was one of my favourite postcards (I had a few), but not even its great charm was strong enough to sink its message sufficiently deep within my psyche that I forever put self pride to death. I say this because I am about to praise myself. Boast. Glory in my success. Call it what you will, this post is one big orgy of pride.

Not that I'm beating myself up about this because 1) in view of my propensity for self flagellation, 2009 is my year to refrain from all beatings, personal or otherwise and 2) in my adult wisdom I have come to the conclusion a little pride in one's achievements is not such a bad thing. Allowed to grow, of course pride might become a monstrous blight on any person's character, but basking in the glow of a job well done seems to me to mirror God's satisfied observation that his creative efforts were incredibly good.

So here it is: today I cycled 26 kilometres (16.1 miles) around the city. I thought it was 40km (24.9 miles), but google maps reliably informs me it was only 26. First I cycled to the primary school I work in. That involves riding up a dirty great hill which in truth I walked up, and even that nearly killed me.


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All those oohs and aahs from some suitably impressed colleagues did wonders for my self esteem before I sallied forth to my old bible college stomping grounds to present a back care lecture.


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Thankfully the students had all been slogging it out in the garden and were just as hot and sweaty as I was. Although to be honest a large part of the ride was spent gliding down the other side of the dirty great hill.

After offering my favourite back care tips (it's all in the pelvis power I say) I jumped back in the saddle and trecked home. I present two maps here, because there are a couple of dirty great hills between the bible college and my house and google maps offers the shortest route which includes said hills. I myself prefer a flatter journey, so I rode quite some extra distance in order to spare my legs.


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This is all amazing enough, but my greatest source of pride is the way I rode. In the past I've been all timid and cautious and keeping out of cars way, which is pretty sensible when you think about it. Riding through town today however, I had to do some tricky lane changing in order to navigate our crazy one way streets and get to where I wanted. So I put on my aggressive self, which isn't so different from my usual self, and sat out in the middle of the lane preventing any cars from passing. I had to ride like the dickens so they didn't become too irate but I did it! I mastered riding through peak hour traffic and busy streets. (Ah huh. That was totally pride you heard there.)

When I thought about my cycling plans this morning I doubted I could last the distance. I'm really not that fit. So it is wonderfully satisfying to look back on all that riding and realise I can do it and not only did I make it but I found it exhilarating, and I want to do it again. And the icing on the cake? I managed to stay on the bike the whole way up the hill leading up to our house!

Am I good or what? Ha. You don't have to answer that - it's a rhetorical question... I already know.

I suppose the question is, will I fall off my bike now? Because as they say, pride goes before...

two sets of rules for me please!

There's not much use having a bike if you don't ride it, so yesterday, after slathering myself in sunscreen (a rare occurrence - I hate the stuff), I pulled it out of the garage and set off for a friend's place twenty minutes away with a couple of good hills in between.

I'm no great bike rider - it's been a number of years since I've ridden any significant distance. Actually my last real foray into cycling was some time ago in Ireland when I set off on a full day affair around Dingle Peninsular in the rain. Despite the rain, the scenery was beautiful. Rolling hills of the greenest green imaginable dropping dramatically away into the sea, and stonewalled fields dotted around with sheep. Incredible.

Beautiful it may have been, but I still have flashbacks to the struggle to move forward in the wind as giant raindrops lashed my face. At one point there was a warm, welcoming pub where I dripped puddles of water all over the floor while sipping on Devonshire tea. When it was finally all over I had the joy of discovering I'd developed a pilonidal sinus.

My problem yesterday was not with wind, rain or pilonidal sinuses - it was the traffic.

I'm rather timid when it comes to cycling on the road with scant protection around my body while hulking metal frames whiz past me at speed. I'm also too embarrassed to ride on the footpath (besides it's illegal!) so I face something of a dilemma. Where can I ride?

My solution yesterday was to dismount, walk through an underpass and trudge along the road for a couple of hundred metres until I reached a place where I felt the road was safe enough! I then jumped on the bike and boldly set off proper.

This post is testament to the fact that I survived the ordeal without being knocked to the ground. Most cars politely cut a large track around me, leaving plenty of room to spare... except for two who sped past me in a narrow space where I had no where to go. Scared though I was, I kept my nerve and didn't wobble into their path at all!

I got to thinking about cycling and driving and realised I live by double standards. (In this and everything else!)

When I'm in the car, I slow down and allow cyclists plenty of space, but inside I get annoyed. "Hello??! I'm trying to get somewhere quickly here! Do you have to get in my way?" As soon as I can I swerve around them and speed down the road.

When I'm cycling, I ride along thinking, "I'm entitled to this road just as much as you are, so don't get shirty with me! Just slow down and you'll be able to get past me in a minute." As the cars swerve around me and speed down the road I hurrumph at their impatience.

I've noticed the same thing when I'm walking along a footpath. As a driver I grudgingly allow pedestrians right of way, muttering to myself about how I should have the priority here. When I'm the pedestrian I wait for the car to pass, thinking all the while of road rules that say pedestrians have right of way on footpaths. I can't win and neither can anyone else! There seem to be two sets of rules running tandem in my mind!

Ultimately I'm just plain selfish - I want my own way all the time. Driving or cycling, walking or driving - I'd like to go first thankyou.

So that'll be two sets of rules for me please! One to suit me in every set of circumstances thanks!

seeing the city with new eyes

I think I'm rediscovering my city! Which is nice, after complaining for the last four weeks that I feel trapped on a small island with nowhere to go and nothing to do.

The Christmas bike finally arrived, so we took advantage of the long weekend with a few leisurely rides. They would have been leisurely if my bottom didn't hurt so, and my legs didn't turn to jelly on the hills!

Apart from the discomfort, we had a great time and discovered a tangle of bike tracks I never knew existed. Ride along the river this way; ride along the river that way; head out to a heritage forest and ride around the forest; ride to the museum and take in an exhibition on woven baskets; ride to the fish and chip shop on the foreshore; ride amongst majestic oak and chestnut trees. It was wonderful!

Before my very eyes I felt our city being transformed into a place of hidden treasures and delight. Boring? Never! We didn't have time to explore every track in every direction, so I'm looking forward to packing a picnic and taking a different path next time.

We did stop at the museum and visit an exhibition called 'wovenform' that displayed woven baskets from many of the aboriginal communities. It was incredible what they can do with grass and plant roots. Truly beautiful, and if the warden hadn't been keeping a close eye on me I might have picked one up and brought it home to use! I'll have to learn basket weaving and make one for myself... or maybe it would be quicker to commission one?!

In the museum I picked up a brochure from the 'Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra'... I had no idea they host so many concerts throughout the year. Then in April there's a festival called 'Ten Days on the Island', featuring art, music, and theatre from the island nations of the world.

Who said nothing happens in Tasmania? Who said this city is boring? Who said Sydney or Melbourne or London are better places to be? Whoever it was, they were wrong! They just have to open their eyes and see what's already there and get involved!