Five Months is Over.

I'm back in Wyoming after my five months. There are so many entries I missed making that I hope to fill in some of the blanks as time permits. Missing: a weekend on Loch Hourn and climbing Ladhar Bheinn with Roy and Marta Bilkova; a weekend on Skye with Penelope and hiking the Quaraing and climbing Bla Bheinn; a weekend with Penelope on the Isle of Mull climbing the classic scrambling route via A'Chioch on Ben More and visiting the island of Iona.

Missing also is an account of golf in St Andrews with Alexander Konovalov and Peter Nightingale. An evening at the Scotch Malt Whisky Society in Edinburgh with Edwin Brady. A second (unsuccessful) attempt at Salmon on the Tweed gratis Allen Brady (Edwin's father) including a Spey casting lesson from Andy Murray.

For all the fun I had, I also got top quality technical work done with Ian Gent, Peter Nightingale, Roy Dyckhoff and Edwin Brady (publications forthcoming.) Thanks also to Kevin Hammond and his functional programming language research group.

Now that I'm intermittently blogging, check out Old Gunkie in WY, my new one.

Bidean nam Bian

On the south side above Glencoe there is a large massif whose main summit is Bidean nam Bian. Edwin Brady and I climbed Bidean and one of its satellite peaks, Stob Coire Sgreamhach. We descended the NW shoulder Stob Coire nan Lochan into the Coire and back to Glencoe.

Both Bidean and Sgreamhach are classified as Scottish Munros (peaks over 3000 feet in elevation.) By current classification, there are 284 Munros. To be counted among the Munros, a peak must have more than 500 feet of prominence from its neighbours. Although Stob Coire nan Lochan at 3658 ft. is well over 3000 ft. its summit does not rise more than 500 feet above the col where it meets Bidean nam Bian and so is not classified as a distinct Munro but is a "top".


Our route took us across the River Coe and up the Lost Valley and up the steep snow slope to the col between Bidean and Stob Coire Sgreamhach. Clicking on the photo above shows the snow headwall leading to the col (low point between the two peaks; Stob Coire Sgreamhach to the east (left in the photo) and Bidean nam Bian to the west.

I had been loaned an ice axe for the climb, and though Edwin had walking poles, he did not have an ice axe. Neither of us had crampons (yet). The further up the Lost Valley we walked the more steeply the headwall loomed and the more my hopes of ascending it without proper tools diminished. I've ascended such slopes before; it reminded me very much of the slope to the col between Snowpatch and Bugaboo spire in the Bugaboos. This slope runs out 600 feet below to an impressive cataract flowing down into the floor of the valley. Edwin insisted we continue on, and we saw a number of parties ascend the headwall, including a large group without ice axes. Based on that we decided to try it. I took the photo (displayed to the left of this text) on descent from Sgreamhach of a party from a Mountaineering club in NE England ascending the headwall.

Once we'd gained to col we left out packs and scrambled to the top of Stob Coire Sgreamhach, our first Munro of the day. The photo at top is of me on the summit with Bidean nam Bian behind. As we headed up the ridge to the summit of Bidean nam Bian, the weather continued to deteriorate with rising winds and drizzle. On the summit, the wind was high enough that it buffeted you off balance if you were caught mid-step. We snapped a few photos and, without lingering, started our descent.



As we descended, the wind continued to increase in velocity and the drizzle turned to icy rain. With the temperature dropping, and the snow firming up I was concerned that Edwin did not have an ice axe, and neither of us had crampons. Fortunately, the party form Sunderland caught up with us and one of them had a backup pair of instep crampons they loaned Edwin. After these were strapped on his boots, his security on the snow improved significantly and we were able to safely descended to the col. The video linked above is of Edwin making his way down the upper section of the ridge. On the saddle, we felt some relief. The other party descended the steep snow slope from the col back into the Lost valley. I felt the slope was too steep to attempt without an axe. Edwin agreed. The map clearly showed the exit from the far end of the ridge (over Stob Coire nan Lochan) to be a far gentler slope. Dropping off the col into the Lost Valley clearly was the quickest exit from the heights, but I felt the risk of a tumble without the possibility of self-arrest was too great. So we somewhat reluctantly headed up the ridge toward the summit of Stob Coire nan Lochan.


But the wind, blowing from the East, only increased in velocity with extreme gusts knocking both of us down more than once. From the speed of the mists blowing over the summit it was clear that, if anything, the wind was blowing harder above. Based on this, about 250 feet from the summit, we traversed out west onto the vast scree and rock slope that is the west side of Stob Coire nan Lochan. Away from the ridge, the winds were manageable. After tedious going on loose rock, we rejoined the ridge at about the same elevation we'd started at. And after easier descent, the skies lightened and then we even caught some sunlight from the West.

This photo shows the view of the north side of Stob Coire nan Lochan, with a number of classic Scottish winter climbs going up the gullies. Our descent traversed the ridge from left to right from just below the summit until we were able to descend a gentle slope into the Corie. By the time I took this photo, we'd been going seven and a half hours and it took another two to get back to the car (and another two and a half to get home to St Andrews). In the end, this turned out to be one of the most satisfying mountaineering trips I've been on in a number of years.

Salmon Fishing on the Tweed

A goal for my trip was to do some salmon fishing in Scotland. I brought equipment to do so (and didn't bring enough for the mountains.) In a talk I gave at St Andrews early on, I announced my interest and suggested that anyone who might know how I might achieve my goal of salmon fishing should talk to me. Edwin Brady came later and said his father was a long-time salmon fisherman and had rights to fish on the River Tweed, one of the most storied salmon rivers in the world.

When Edwin's father Allen visited St Andrews sometime in early March, he stopped in my office and we talked a bit about fishing and showed one another our flyboxes. At that point he invited me to fish the Tweed, though he said he would wait to call me until the Springers were in and the water was at a decent level.

Springers are the spring run salmon that may tend to be smaller than those picked up in the fall run, but which are fresh and bright and quite lively fighters. A good springer could go as much as 25 lbs, though generally they are smaller.


Scottish fishing is a highly structured affair since all water is private. This means that you always pay to fish, essentially renting the right to fish from one bank of the river in a particular section. For less popular waters (e.g. the Eden that flows through Cupar) you can buy a season ticket and have access to a stretch of river that is miles long. On more popular water, you purchase the right to fish a beat whose length is maybe 100 yards and only from one side of the bank or from a boat in that stretch. On the Tweed, beats can go for from around 40 pounds to as much as 400 pounds per day.
Each section (which may consist of many individual beats) is managed by a ghillie whose services are included in the price of the beat.


In late April, I got the call that I would be able to fish the river on 3rd of May. The section is known as Lower Lennel. THe Tweed here is the boundary between Scotland and England. I was scheduled to fish in the morning on the beat known as the Pot pool and then fish the Bottom Wellington (Wellie) in the afternoon. The ghillie was Douglas Tate (Dougie) and he guided me to the Pot Pool. After fishing the main bit by wading in from the Scottish side of the river, he took me out in a boat which I fished from for about an hour. We discovered that aside from fishing, we had a common interest in stalking. He is an avid deer stalker and, being a ghillie on the Tweed, has many connections. He helps in a culling operation in the Highlands where he killed more than a hundred and fifty Red Deer last year alone. Dougie left me to my own devices around 10:30 to and I fished hard, trying to get the hang of the highly technical Spey casts which are the fundamental technique for casting the 14 - 16 foot long double-handed rods used in salmon fishing -- but concentrating on trying to get good long drifts through the best holding water.

At lunch (1 PM) the anglers break for an hour. Allen met me on the bank of the Pot a bit after noon and we ate lunch together at the bothie shown behind us in the photo. My waders were leaking a bit and my arms were tired from casting and the rest was welcome. Allen had planned on coming up to the river with an old angling partner, but his friend was too ill to make the trip. The other anglers proved good company, including Christopher who sang me the 1955 number one hit Jimmy Young hit "The Man from Laramie".

After lunch, Allen walked upriver with me to the Bottom Wellie beat. He stayed with me for a bit while I fished my way down the beat, giving me some confidence that I was not doing too bad. The wind was blowing downstream (from my right to my left) and so I was doing my own cobbled version of the double spey cast where you drop the line upstream, then downstream and then out with a backhand. After Allen left, Dougie came by and spent part of his afternoon trying to teach me Spey casting techniques with a more suitable rig than my own. It is hard for me to convey how truly bad I am at taking instruction in physical activities. If you try to imagine taking dancing lessons from Fred Astaire and you might have some idea of my Spey casting lesson in the afternoon. As I beat the water, with each cast, prospects for actually catching a fish diminished to nil. I resigned myself to the idea that Spey casting is a highly technical skill and that I was getting excellent instruction. Dougie tried to teach me the single Spey cast, which I was no good at with the intermittent downstream wind, and also the circle-C which I was a bit better at.

One fish was caught and released in the morning (on the same beat I fished in the afternoon) and that was it for the day. Two had been caught the day before. Once hope I realized I had only photos of Allen and myself. I'll get more photos of the river and surrounding environs next time.

Extreme Geography of Britain

Is it possible? To drive north from St Andrews to John o' Groats, and then back south to Fort William to climb to the top of Ben Nevis, and then home again to St Andrews in a single weekend? It took some driving and some serious walking, and a bit of snow climbing, and some more driving, but I left Saturday morning around 9 AM and was back in St Andrews at 8 PM on Sunday. All together my route (by no means the most direct) included around 600 miles of driving on the exciting Scottish roads, with around thirty of those miles on the famous single tracks.


Duncansby Head is a mile or two form John o' Groats and is commonly considered (like Lands End in the south) the extreme point on North end of the British Isle. From Duncansby head, to the north you see the Orkney Islands and just a short walk south over the crest form the car-park is a view of the Duncansby Stacks and the Thirle Door, a large tunnel carved through the cliffs by the North Sea.



Duncansby head is, by all accounts, one of the largest seagull rookeries in Britain and there were thousands of birds. With the tide out, I managed to get down onto the stony beach and was able to make my way across slick seaweed covered rocks to the Thirle door. There were gulls (mostly Fulmars) nesting on every tiny ledge and in every nook and cranny on the sandstone cliffs. At any moment, looking down the shoreline, there were a hundred birds in the air with thousands more nesting.

With the summit at 4,406 ft, Ben Nevis is the highest point in all of Britain. I ascended the so called tourist route which follows the old pony path used to supply the observatory that used to sit on top. Being out of shape and with an unusual snowpack for this late in the year, was as much of a climb as I could handle. The pony path zigzags up the slopes just to the left of the right skyline of the peak as pictured here. I was glad to have a borrowed ice axe kicking steps up the steeper part of the climb from the Red burn to the summit plateau. The actual pony track was buried in snow from there up. It is ten miles round trip from the car and the elevation gain is nearly the entire height of the mountain.

I have climbed rock and ice and mountains since I was in my teens and Ben Nevis has always stood high in my esteem. I learned many techniques from Alan Blackshaw's Mountaineering: From Hill Walking to Alpine Climbing published by Penguin in 1970. This book has a decidedly British take on climbing including many photos taken in mountains of Britain. Ben Nevis is where modern ice climbing was first developed. This weekend was, according to more than one climber I spoke to on the summit, the best conditions seen in fifteen years with many of the big climbs that are rarely in good shape perfectly formed. I saw many groups top out onto the summit plateau from the north face. A number of the most difficult climbs in Britain saw ascents this past weekend.

On Loch Hourn

Rite of Spring

Hill of Strone (above Glen Prosen)

Sunday, I climbed the Hill of Strone (512 m) on the south side of the road into Glen Prosen. Across the glen and to the north is another Hill of Strone (850 m). That larger hill is shown in the photo above. There had been a snow storm on Friday and Saturday that left the peaks to the north snow covered. There was patchy snow on Strone. I got there a bit late to try for the larger hill so I parked at the base of the smaller one and headed up. In Scotland, walkers have very liberal rights of access allowing anyone to walk virtually anywhere.

Not far up through the heather, I jumped a pair of grouse. And then more, and after seeing more than a dozen I lost count. Near the top of Strone, I jumped two up close and clearly saw that they were Black Grouse (Tetrao tetrix). The wind was high and so they did not hear me approach until I was on them. When they jumped I clearly saw they were large black birds with brilliant red wattles (patches) over the eyes. I had been assuming they were the more common red grouse and I am not sure that I wasn't seeing both species. All appeared to be black grouse whose numbers have been dangerously low but seem to be on the rebound. The photo shows three departing in high wind; it you click the picture you'll be able to view a larger copy of the image. They tend to take off rather slowly into the wind and then swoop left or right across the wind and soar low downwind with great speed.

We do not have these birds in North America. They are central figures in one of my favourite books, Turgenev's variously titled^&Dagger Memoirs of a Sportsman which is a collection of stories translated into English many times. I have read a number of translations and by far my favourite is Isabel Hapgood's translation in which the Black Grouse are called Black Cock, another common name for Tetrao tetrix. As far as I can tell, Hapgood's translation contains the most accurate translations of naturalistic terms. Others variously translate from the Russian as Black Grouse, Heath Grouse and as just plain Grouse.

On the walk up Strone I'd seen tracks in the snow (wondering to myself if they were hare or fox) and I'd watched a single hare run off at high speed over the skyline when I got too close. As I passed the col between Strone and Eskilawn (607) I saw an amazing sight, a drove of white hares frantically running in every direction except mine. These turn out to be Mountain Hares (Lepus timidus). I was able to capture part of the scene on video and I also captured (barely) some grouse in flight. I will include the film in a later post.

As I continued up Eskilawn, the weather deteriorated and the sun dropped lower in the sky and, as it did, I saw more and more wildlife. There are an amazing number of hares and black grouse, too many for me to count (and who could tell how many I'd seen more than once.) With so much prey about, I am quite surprised I only saw one pair of raptors early on in the walk. There are so many eagles and hawks at home in Wyoming.

^[&Dagger] Other titles include, Annals of a Sportsman, A Sportsman's Sketches, Sketches from a Sportsman's Album, Russian Life in the Interior: Or the experiences of a Sportsman, and A Sportsman's Notebook.

Bagpipes (and Art and Food) in Edinburgh

Spent the weekend in Edinburgh and caught this piper on High Street in Old Town. At least on the weekend, from almost anywhere in the heart of the city you can hear bagpipes somewhere in the distance. Personally, being a Philip Glass and Steve Reich fan, I like the music a lot. The background drone feels to me like Tibetan throat singing and the repetitive nature is (for me) like a traditional version of Philip Glass.

Edinburgh is a beautiful city and we were lucky enough to be able to have the use of the Dyckhoff flat on Jeffrey St. for Saturday night.

Seeing this Freud at the Modern Gallery was an emotional experience for Penelope. She (and I) have been studying Freud's work for years and (is it possible) have never seen a painting of his in person. The embarrassing thing for me is that I looked at this painting my first time through the gallery some weeks before and did not recognize it as a Freud!

While we were in town, we spent time in the National Gallery and in the Portrait Gallery both of which have wonderful collections. The famous Sargent Lady Agnew of Lochnaw is in the National Gallery. This is another painting Penelope has studied from reproductions for years. Aside from the permanent collection which is extensive, the portrait gallery was showing the BP sponsored portrait award which included 60 works chosen from over 1800 entrants. This show was both inspiring and frustrating. There seemed to be a rather too strong emphasis on photorealism with the more abstract work selected for the show being somewhat weak.

We had some very good meals, including lunch in the Dome on George Street where I had Haggis wrapped in Filo dough with a whiskey, mustard and cream sauce. This is the old bank of Scotland building. We had a good (but in no way exceptional) meal at the Barioja Tapas Bar on Jeffrey St. The best part was the nice Rioja we drank. Lunch the next day in an anonymous pub on High Street where I had a very good Steak and Ale pie.

Edinburgh is a beautiful city and we plan to spend more time there soon.

Penelope is here!

Penelope (my wife) is here for a month. Here she is, jet lagged by the North Sea.

Among other things, she's a painter, here's a link to her web-page PenelopeCaldwell.com. Trying to let studio space in St Andrews is turning out to be a challenge. She'll be here for a month now, and will be back for May into mid-June. I've taken out an ad in the St Andrews Citizen looking for space.

There is an charitable organization here in Scotland called Wasps Artist's Studios that has building all over Scotland for use as artists studios -- 16 in all. But the waiting list is quite long for space, and although there are a few within reasonable commuting distance of St Andrews, they are full.

The Lomond Hills of Fife

I climbed West Lomond Hill, the highest point in Fife. The day was blowy and cold, and I had a bit of a late start so I only did the West Hill which is the higher of the two. Starting from the Craigmead carpark, the walk up the West hill is about 4 1/2 miles round trip with an elevation gain of 656 feet. The walk up East Lomond hill is about half the distance gaining half the elevation. The path I took to the top (straight up the east side) is clearly visible if you click on the photo.

This shot shows the summit marker. Walking there I passed a very serious woman walking alone. She was dressed head to toe in a red Gortex suit and using a pair of ski poles for balance. She looked to be training for an expedition to Greenland. I asked he about the trail to the top up the east side and she told me that which ever way I wanted to go was my choice and that there were many trails. She volunteered that she'd already been to the top and was taking a different one round the south side. When I arrived at the summit the wind must have been gusting to 50 mph; I was almost blown over trying to take a few photos. There was a woman with about eight lightly clad children hunkered down in the rocks nearby. On my way down, I passed a few more people who all commented what a nice day it was.

The town just below the hills is Falkland, which was mobbed with walkers dressed to the nines for hiking wearing rain jackets and hiking boots, with many wearing breeks and carrying walking sticks or ski poles. The town itself is magnificent with beautiful stone houses, an old castle and a church and with streets barely wide enough for a single car to pass.

The hills are visible from many parts of Fife and I have used them for navigating while driving. In the panorama below you can just make out (on the right side) the Firth of Forth and (on the left) the Firth of Tay.

Cooking for one.

I'm in the habit of cooking something on the weekend that will last most of the week. That way, when I get home from work at seven or later, cooking is not a chore.

When I first arrived in Scotland, I bought the casserole dish pictured here (there was nothing like it in the house) since a pot like this is fundamental to much of my cooking. It's nothing special, I picked it up in the grocery store cooking isle, but it's perfect for my purposes.

Pictured is my imitation of cassoulet. Haricots, a hunk of pork and some left over roast chicken, wings and drumsticks. Sorry, no sausage or duck confit in this one -- maybe next time. Soak the beans overnight, drain them and leave them in the casserole dish. I had a wedge of pork rump, fat on, which I browned in a bit of olive oil and then added to the pot with the beans. Sauté four five or even six cloves of chopped garlic in olive oil and then add three medium sized onions, diced; chopped parsley, salt, coarse ground pepper, thyme and I threw in some rosemary too. A bay leaf or two would be good, but I didn't have one. Once the onions are soft add a couple of cups of dry white wine, and let that reduce for a bit before adding the chicken stock - about 8 cups. After it gets to a boil, pour this over the beans, just covering them with the liquid. I put it into the oven with the top on just at a simmer and left it for a few hours. When I came back I added the chicken legs and thighs and turned up the bringing it to a good boil and remove it from the over. The whole thing takes an hour in the kitchen and I'll be eating this all week - and loving it.

Last week I made a rather amazing recipe from Mark Bittman's column in the NY Times, Short Ribs with Coffee and Chilies. I never, in a million years, would have thought of braising beef in coffee and red wine, but it is wonderful. I recommend watching the video linked at the bottom of the article Coaxing Exotic Flavor From Familiar Elements. This recipe uses an idea I've been using for some time, using chilies - not for their hotness but for their flavor. A bit of chili can make food taste round in your mouth, without really being hot. I use them often in red wine based stews. In the kitchen here, there were some small dried chilies hanging on the wall which worked fine - I think that at one time they may have been a decoration, but I've eaten most of them. I did not find "short ribs" but used a very inexpensive "Scottish Boiling Beef" which seems to be much the same cut.

My first week here in Scotland I made a beef stew in red wine; also using the chilie trick. I follow the method I learned from Rick Bayless's classic Mexican cookbook Authentic Mexican: Regional Cooking From The Heart of Mexico for preparing dried chilies. Slit them open to remove the seeds, trying not to crumble them completely. Dry roast the chilies by putting them in a hot dry cast iron frying pan and pressing them flat with a fork or spatula. They'll bubble up and brown. Don't worry if they burn a bit but you don't want them black. I put them in a cup with a bit (say 1/2 cup) of water and microwave them (Bayless does not use the microwave) for a minute or so. Be careful when you remove them - a whiff of the steam will take your breath away. Drop them in a blender and you have a chili sauce to add as needed.

Bittman's philosophy of cooking largely matches my own. In general I know that, with a bit of care and minimal effort, it is possible to prepare food at home that is far better than that served in all but the finest restaurants. Probably everyone already knows this. If you don't think so, watch the Bittman video to see how easy it is to make this rib recipe.

Bookshops I know and love

After visiting the National Gallery I drove into the heart of Edinburgh and managed to find a couple of very nice used and rare bookshops. Armchair books is at 72-74 West Port and occupies two narrow shops that are adjacent to one another. The owner is somewhat cranky as evidenced by a sign on the door saying something to the effect of: "The government is trying to close me down and so, at any moment, this shop may revert to a private premises in which case you are my guest." The owner was there and I asked him about the sign, and was told about the governments efforts to close him down because he is deemed a fire hazard, among other things. In any case, I asked him if there were any other shops nearby and he said the only one he could compare to his own was in Paris, Shakespeare & Co.. I've been to Shakespeare & Co. and I think the comparison may be a bit of a stretch. But actually, I may like Armchair books better, it is dustier, has a broader selection and is a bit less "Literary". So I pressed him a bit more and then he did point me to McNaughtan's bookshop about a mile away. It was getting late and so I decided to visit McNaughtan's on another visit. As I walked towards the car park, and less than a block from his shop I hit another very good second hand and antiquarian bookstore, almost as good as his own I'd say. This one is Edinburgh Port Books. And there was another smaller one half a block further on. Now that I'm back in St Andrews and have access to the web I see that there was another shop (Andrew Pringle) less than a block downhill from Armchair that he neglected to mention as well. In any case, I bought two books at Armchair, one an inexpensive copy of Negly Farson's Going Fishing first published in 1942 and which is illustrated with woodcuts by C.F. Tunnicliffe.


This image alone is worth the cost of the book. I also purchased a copy of Salmon Fishing by "Tavener & others" first published in 1935 and which is volume X in The Lonsdale Library of Sports, Games & Pastimes published by Seeley Service & Co. Limited in London.

As for book shops ...There is another Shakespeare & Co. in Berkeley CA as well. It's not particularly noteworthy. Last time I was there, I asked if they were affiliated with the Paris store and was told that they were. This is contradicted by the information on the Paris store's website. With Moe's books and Black Oak Books also in Berkeley, it must be the best used book town in the world. I think, for scholarly titles Moe's and Black Oak would be hard to beat. Black Oak has the most extensive collection of math and logic books anywhere. (No, I haven't been to Powell's in Portland.) The Strand in NYC is wonderful as well although I seem to recall having left a bit disappointed the last time I was there. In 1988 or so I bought used technical books in London at Skoob books near Russell Square. I can still remember the name because "Skoob" is "books" spelled backwards and so the name is a palindrome. I just googled them to see if they're still around and in fact, they advertise themselves as The best secondhand bookshop in London. When I was last there, they had an very good collection of logic and theoretical computer science titles and I am looking forward to getting there again when Penelope comes in March and we visit London together to look at art.

Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art.

Drove to Edinburgh for the second time today. I went to the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art and the Dean Gallery with is just across the road. Unfortunately, the Dean was between shows and so there was little to see. There was some surrealist work on the first floor that was nice to view in an intimate space There was a small collage by Kurt Schwitters that, as always, was beautiful.



On the lower floor of the National Gallery of Modrn Art there was a sparsely hung show by landscape painter Carol Rhodes. The paintings are oil on masonite, mostly aerial landscapes and showed a very nice sensibility for the quality of oil paint on masonite. Individually, many were very good, but overall the presentation was somewhat weak. There was an awkwardness of the drawing in a number of the paintings which, if intended, just wasn't quite wrong enough to be right. But I am being too harsh, the quality of paint reminded me of the early work of my friend Philip Rosenthal and I really enjoyed the show.

Upstairs they had two paintings by Gerhard Richter. One of the paintings is from his blurred photo realist series and the other was from the "Abstract Painting" series. It was nice to be able to see them together in the same room. I must admit that I never really have much appreciated the mechanistic results of his abstract painting series. This one looks pretty good in the small image I included here, but in person, the medium sized (5'x5') painting is lacking in the same way they always are for me.



There was a Richard Long installation of an "X" made of slate behind the building called "The Slate Cross". In size it is maybe 30'x30' and is made of 8 tons of slate. Looking for some more information on it, I see that a photo of it from above (scroll down a bit in page linked to his name), it has a nice effect, better than walking around it at ground level. In general, I like Long's work quite a bit more than Andy Goldsworthy whose work is quite similar but which is better known. The content in Goldsworthy's work seems to be its prettiness in the context of nature and it is contrived for just this effect. Long's work (going back to 1960's) is conceptual in content but concrete in implementation. The artifacts created from his explorations might be mistaken for those of Goldworthy. Still, this piece didn't do much for me in person, perhaps I'm not attuned to the aesthetic of Cornwall slate. I am sorry to have missed his recent show "Walking and Marking" of which this piece is remnant.

I did very much like a conceptual piece by a Scottish artist named Douglas Gordon called List of names random started in 1990 and ongoing. It is essentially the all the names he can recall of everyone he's ever met. The names are carefully stenciled on a wall in the stairwell that is three stories high. His account of the process, of forgetting and misremembering is important. And besides, how did they get all those names so straight and true.

There is a very nice Vuillard on the third floor
La causette [The Chat] painted in 1893. Vuillard's work is often small (this one is 12"x16") and precious and the use of black (real black) in this painting is stunning when seen in person. The image here does not do it justice.


So this brings up a rather interesting second order aspect of art works; some work seems to photograph well, looking better in photographs than perhaps it does in person, while other work does not photograph well but is good in person. It's possible that the image of the Vuillard could be better, but in my experience this is work that has to be seen up close to be appreciated to full effect. This failure of representation of representations was a theme in William Gaddis' dense novel The Recognitions.

The gallery does not permit photography, which is rather disappointing. At the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC, you may take photographs, but you must not use a flash, which seems a reasonable rule to me. The images I included above fall under fair use (or since I am in the UK, fair dealing) of copyrighted material and all copyrights are held by the artists.

Nottingham -- DTP 2008.

Spent the first part of the week in Nottingham at the Workshop on Dependently Typed Programming. It was a very interesting workshop organized by Thorsen Altenkirch and his group at Nottingham. Programming with dependent types in Nuprl is what I've been doing in my research for some time. There seems to be a kind of moment right now when it has come into its own.

I didn't have time to take many photos, but here's another pub photo (an almost lost genre that I am working to reestablish) of some of the conference attendees.


Left to Right: James McKinna (now at Nijmegen), Noam Zeilberger(CMU), Xaveier Leroy [mostly hidden](INRIA), Connor McBride (Alta Systems), Sebastian Hanowksy, Ulf Norrell [blurred](Chalmers), Peter Morris(Nottingham), ???, Randy Pollack[blurred] (Edinburgh),???, Sean Wilson(Edinburgh).

Left to Right: James, Noam , Xavier[more visible here], Connor [blurred by duck], Sebastian [hidden], Ulf, Peter, ???, Randy [blurred],???, Sean.

These are low light hand held shots taken at F2.8 with an exposure of 8/10 of a second taken with a Canon G9. They've been stitched together with the Canon software which didn't do such a good job here (look at the picture on the back wall) but they weren't very carefully panned to match up either.

Television is serious business in Scotland.

I got this in the mail the other day.

>
I do not watch TV here but still the issue is rather complex. Is it illegal to have a television on the premises if I never turn it on? Seems to be the case. I have no desire to pay for something I don't use, but I have no desire to break the law either. It has been suggested that disabling the receivers by removing the cables from the house would be enough -- but others disagree.

This is apparently how the BBC is funded.

In and around the office.

Well, appearances to the contrary, its been a
busy week at work. Roy and I made good headway on the proof transformation project.

The photo shows Kevin Hammond and a few members of the functional programming research group out at the pub. They are, left to right, Steffan Jost, Vladimir Janic, my officemate Alexander Konovalov, Christoph Herman and Kevin.

Kevin leads the functional programming research group.




My officemate Alex is in the middle of the pub photo. Alex is an algebraist who works with the GAP system.

And here's a shot of the office, and of me in it.





I had two young visitors in my office for a while on Tuesday afternoon. I made a couple of videos of magic tricks they performed for me. Here's the floating stick magic trick. And here's the old coin through the elbow trick.

The weather on Tuesday was great and I wandered around St Andrews at lunch time and took some photos. You can see a few of them by clicking on the photo below.

Road Trip to the Western Highlands

Took a rather long drive with Roy Dyckhoff and his wife Cecilia to Tomdoun on the River Garry between Loch Quoich and Loch Garry yesterday. Roy and Cecilia are building a house on some land they own along the River Garry and the trip was ostensibly to go and have a look at how the construction was coming -- it was a great chance for me to have a driving tour of the highlands.

We left St Andrews at about 8AM, drove to Tomdoun, walked their land for a bit more than an hour, spent another hour eating at the Hotel and got back to St Andrews by 7 PM. The weather was mostly overcast throughout most of the day though it did partly clear a bit in the afternoon giving us some great views as we headed back east out of Glencoe.

On our way up to Tomdoun we passed the Laggan Dam, here's a video I got with the new camera of the overflow spewing. Roy says he hasn't seen this kind of display for more than five years. It has been the wettest January on record in Scotland.





A bit further along, just north of Dalwhinnie, I made this short video on the road declared to be the most dangerous road in the UK. Not that I could tell, in fact I thought the one lane road I captured in a later video was far more exciting, as far as roads go.




To get the Dyckhoff property on the river Garry, you must drive on one of the notorious single lane roads that are common in the Highlands.


We did encounter one other vehicle on our way out, the other driver backed up a short bit to a pull off and we were on our way in no time. Of course you need to keep a close eye for cars that might be coming down the road in the opposite direction.

We inspected the house which is under construction and walked the Dyckhoff's land which is quite beautifully situated above the River Garry.




If Cecilia ever sees this, she may be angry with me for putting it up (and should feel free to ask me to take it down), but here's a portrait of her, sitting on a rock on her land.


The house itself is near Tomdoun -- a place name on a map with a hotel where we had a tasty lunch. There seems to be good fishing at Tomdoun, the hotel has the fishing rights for twenty four miles of river and Loch shore. A day ticket to fish is 25 pounds and it seems that the fishing may be rather technical -- just up my alley.

Here's a portrait I took of Roy in the bar at Tomdoun.


We returned to St Andrews via a different route through Glencoe which offers spectacular scenery though our view was hampered by the broken low clouds. The photo at the top of the post is of the peaks as we headed out of Glencoe headed east. By following the links to any of the photos you'll get to a small album with a few other photos from the trip.

Thanks to Cecilia and Roy.

Among the Academics

I'm reading Bill Bryson's Notes from a Small Island loaned to me by Ian and Judith. It's raised some doubts in my mind about my own idea for this blog, the problem being, that Bryson has so well described specific incidents of the kind I imagined I would experience and then write about. But unlike Bryson, whose ear for nuance of language is astounding, I realize I'm no Mencken. Well, my own observations are, of course, my own.

There's certainly an undeniable quaintness of language in overheard conversations and in everyday encounters and that quaintness. It is undoubtedly a significant part of the appeal of Britain to Americans. How the quaint usages of common language permeate the culture and manifest themselves in polite behavior is the thing that Bryson is so adept at describing.

I certainly don't mean to romanticize, there are obviously whole parts of the society that could not remotely be described as quaint. I'm thinking of, for one example, the dark depiction of heroin addiction in Edinburgh in the film Trainspotting. Somewhat contradicting myself I'll point out that the title of the film refers to the quaint and uniquely British hobby of trainspotting which consists of collecting serial numbers off locomotives in the hopes (I imagine) of seeing them all. So even the dark view of heroin addiction portrayed in Trainspotting has its own quaintness.

Regarding trainspotting, when I was twelve years old I traveled with my grandparents on a British ship. I met an English boy on the ship whose hobby was planespotting. It's the close cousin of trainspotting. I was dumbfounded by his extensive catalogs listing the registered tail numbers of commercial aircraft. We went to the Athens airport in Greece together (with his parents) and he was absolutely thrilled to collect the Playboy jet which had a black bunny symbol painted on the tail in addition to the number. Heady stuff for 12 year olds. I briefly imagined my own my future as a planespotter and recorded the tail number for myself. It is hard to describe, but there was a sense of ownership that came with having that number tucked away in my pocket. I quit my new found hobby later that day when I discovered I'd lost the scrap of paper I'd written the number on.

A rawer example of a darker side of British culture is Bill Buford's account of the violent world of soccer hooliganism in his book Among the Thugs. I witnessed an example of "laddism" in Cupar on a drizzly Saturday afternoon in my first week here. On the footpath that runs out of the town center along the Eden, I passed a rowdy group of drunken adolescent boys (there were maybe eight or ten of them) two of whom pissed on the path in front of me as I approached . And although they were surely harmless, they did put me on my guard.

But still, to the American ear planted (so to speak) among the academics, there is an undeniable quaintness of speech and a sense of civility, politeness and a generally all round display of good manners that is very appealing.

And so it begins ...

Well ... here I am at the University of St Andrews in Fife Scotland as a visiting Professor of Computer Science, on sabbatical leave from the University of Wyoming. I've linked to my St Andrews web page in my profile and you can link to the University and Department from there including a link to the research project I am affiliated with here. I'm working with Ian Gent and Roy Dyckhoff .

I'd (of course) planned on trying to keep notes since I arrived, and (of course) I am behind having arrived on January 22. I will at least try to do something. I hope to keep track of rather more personal items here; occasional notes from an American living in Scotland kind of thing. But right now, I need to get off to the office -- I'm scheduled to give a talk on Friday that I have not started to prepared yet.

More soon ... I hope.