A vanishing way of life high among the hills

A vanishing world: Katharine Stewart's celebrated
A Croft in the Hills is contained in A Life in the Hills,
an omnibus edition featuring four of her books

In A Croft in the Hills, Katharine Stewart chronicles the years that she, her husband Jim and their daughter Helen lived high in the hills bordering Loch Ness.

The memoir begins with an account of what led to the family waving goodbye to suburban life and embarking on a shared vision and passion to eke out a living in a remote place. It is the story of how they pursued that desire for a self-sustaining livelihood "on the edge".

The Stewarts chose a location that was susceptible to fearsomely harsh weather and to soaring wonderment and beauty. It is the 1950s, and the young couple and their daughter learn the ways of the land and how to run a smallholding. It involves sacrifices, impoverishment and the unconditional support of neighbours.

At times, everything seems perfect with good fortune shining and life going their way, but there are also setbacks, adjustments and reassessments of what is possible.

First published in 1960, an additional end piece to the book was added by the author in a 1979 update.

Stewart captures a world and way of life that, even as she and her family embarked upon it, was coming to an end. Some of the characters mentioned were already local legends, and many were soon to be gone.

In joining the Stewarts, the reader experiences the turning of the seasons and glimpses a life built on a small, tight-knit community familiar with sparse and enduring hardships, but ready and willing to help one another without quibble or question.

I found this book's greatest joy in the moments where the author shares more deeply her thoughts on what it means to have taken this direction in life, and the fulfillment from simple pleasures far from the city lights.

A Croft in the Hills is regarded as an important record of a time, now 70 years distant, and the indomitable spirit of the Stewarts and those they knew on the hillsides high in the Highlands of Scotland.

I read the book in A Life in the Hills, The Katharine Stewart omnibus published posthumously in 2018, which also contains Stewart's books from the 1990s, A Garden in the Hills, A School in the Hills, and A Post in the Hills.

The combined edition, A Life in the Hills, is published by Berlinn Ltd.

Benches of reflection and gratitude

Peaceful spot: the memorial bench for Geoffrey Burns,
at Cooper's Island in Bermuda

Each bench tells a story. On them are the names of people now departed, who have been honoured with words of remembrance by those who knew them.

In weekly wanderings around these quite nature reserves and parks I've grown familiar with the benches and the names. On each there are usually a few more words that conjure a thought and a moment of reflection.

Curiosity led me to find out a little about who these people were. It creates a small connection and an appreciation for their lives and how fondly they are remembered in these peaceful surroundings.

On the far eastern edge of Bermuda, in the nature reserve known as Cooper's Island, there are three personalised benches.

One is at an area known as "Geoff's Point". It is a tucked away spot of solitude, where the soothing sound of waves washing upon the long sandy beach can be heard. Nature envelops this bench, and two non-personalised benches nearby.

The bench is in memory of Geoffrey Martin Burns. It has his dates, 1990 - 2010, and the message: "To live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die." Geoff was a student and a lifeguard. His friends, including fellow beach lifeguards, on hearing of his passing gathered that day in 2010 to place tributes to the popular young man who had been about to resume his overseas studies.

Ocean outlook: the bench for Adam Godwin
features a quote by Bob Marley

The other two benches in the Cooper's Island reserve that feature names are less than a mile away. One remembers Brenda Mattingly, and the other Adam Goodwin.

Adam died at 22, in 2010. He had a love for the ocean and was a key figure on the Spirit of Bermuda sloop, a training ship that introduced young students to the art of sailing and the adventure of travel.

On his bench is a quote attributed to singer Bob Marley. It reads: "Live for yourself and you will live in vain; live for others and you will live again."

Nearby is Brenda's seat, which a small brass plaque declares is also known as Gigi's Bench. It carries her dates 1954-2016. Brenda was a teacher, and head of geography at the Bermuda High School for Girls.  The seat overlooks a peaceful inlet and faces back towards Bermuda and the north shore where the Ferry Reach national park can be found.

In loving memory: the bench for Brenda Mattingly
is also known as Gigi's bench

Like Cooper's Island, Ferry Reach is another large expanse of tranquility and peace. It is a tract of undeveloped land where nature flourishes mostly unimpeded. A bench at the western end of the park is inscribed in memory of Donna De Silva. It features her dates, 1962 - 2012, along with a quote that has been attributed to actress Judy Garland. It reads: "The greatest treasures are those invisible to the eye, but found by the heart."

I do not know much about Donna, but I appreciate the thought-provoking words on her bench, which looks out from atop a 200-year-old fort at Ferry Point Island.

All these benches are well positioned and serving as quiet spots for reflection on the world, and perhaps a moment to imagine the people who meant so much to their loved ones, who in turn placed a bench in their memory for the benefit of all.

One Mile Jetty was a landmark on journey

Piece of history: One Mile Jetty at Carnarvon, Western Australia,
as it was in June 1988. I dubbed it the "Stand by Me" bridge.

In a remote corner of the Australian outback it had stood for 124 years, until a few weeks ago when a cyclone thundered through and ripped it apart. 

One Mile Jetty, at Carnarvon in Western Australia, was close to a mile long and was built to allow the transfer of goods, such as livestock and wool, from the mainland to ships anchored in deeper water at the far end. It had long become obsolete and suffered periods of dereliction and abandonment - including the time when I paid my one visit, in the late 1980s. 

However, the jetty underwent a renaissance starting in 1998 as a local organisation helped to restore and re-open it to the public as an attraction. It wasn't all plain sailing as a fire damaged part of the jetty in 2007 and, ten years later, the structure was deemed unsafe and was closed once more.

The devastation left in the wake of Cyclone Seroja this month may have ended the jetty's days for good. It is estimated many millions of dollars would be needed to repair the structure. It has been suggested that a short portion of the jetty could be salvaged and reopened.

It was in June 1988 when I visited Carnarvon. I was hitchhiking from Perth to the north-western corner of the state, through the remote Pilbara and Gascoyne regions, and ended up at the jetty as I scouted for an out of the way spot to pitch my tent for the night. 

I dubbed the jetty "Stand by Me" bridge, after the famous railway bridge scene in the 1986 film. It was in a state of abandonment at that time and was closed off as being unsafe. Nevertheless, I explored it. That day I later met a fellow backpacking traveller from the UK. His name was Yorath, and he was from Wales. He'd decided to visit the remote Australian town as it bore the same name as a major Welsh town.

We two travelling strangers struck up a friendship and shared stories at the wild camping site in the scrubland off to the side of the jetty, away from the township. We shared an evening meal of tined potatoes and beans, and tea. Yorath had to leave at some ungodly hour during the night to catch the coach that was heading back to Perth. When I got up the next morning there was only the empty cans to remind me of the meal and conversation the evening before.

I packed up my tent and walked back along "Stand by Me" bridge to continue my trek.

That was 33 years ago, but the jetty has stayed in my memory. It was an unusual landmark on my journey, and also brought a fleeting moment of friendship with another outback traveller who, like me, had decided that a far-flung adventure while still young was the way to go.

When I heard of the destruction of the jetty I was saddened. But I hope some of the jetty remains and can be made safe for visitors to walk along again. I for one would like to reacquaint with it.

Cinema slips away without fanfare

Once a place of imagination: Southside Cinema has been closed
 for more than seven years, and appears unlikely to ever reopen

It stands empty and forlorn, ravaged by climate and weather. There has been no audience for more than seven years, and in all likelihood the final curtain has fallen at the derelict Southside Cinema in Bermuda.

For many decades cinemas have been reducing in numbers, the result of changing tastes. That trend is evident at Southside Cinema.

When it was open, I occasionally went along to watch a movie or two. Films I saw included Pride and Prejudice, She's the Man and Superman Returns. It was convenient and out of the way at the eastern end of the island, far less visited than the two main cinemas in the city of Hamilton. 

Located in the former US baselands, the cinema was constructed by the Americans for personnel stationed at what was once the Kindley Air Force Base, on St David's Island, from 1948 to 1970, and which became the US Naval Air Station Bermuda from 1970 to 1995.

The cinema was operated by the Army and Air Force Motion Picture Service, and was reputed to have access to the latest movies weeks in advance of the civilian cinemas elsewhere in Bermuda.

Once the US military departed Bermuda in 1995, the theatre became a local enterprise.

With a 425-seating capacity it was the largest cinema on the island, which was another reason why I favoured it. It was rarely busy. However, I do remember in April 2006, during the Bermuda International Film Festival, when it was famously packed to the max, with a queue outside that included the island's Premier at the time, Alex Scott. Kudos to Mr Scott for not pushing in (he was behind me in the queue). However, he did not stay for the second feature that day, Neil Young's Prairie Wind concert film.

That spike in popularity was an anomaly. Most of the time the cinema barely attracted a few dozen customers. It was dated, and the once impressive interior was fading with age. The main auditorium lights were always dimmed, perhaps to disguise the dilapidation. Admission was cash-only - no debit or credit cards.

In 2009, there was a double shooting outside the cinema shortly after a late movie showing. 

The cinema closed in 2013. There was talk of it being reopened, but it has remained shuttered.

Now it stands empty, its exterior showing increasing damage from the elements. Who knows how much longer the building will be there? Its days appear numbered.

Southside Cinema served its purpose and brought many hours of joy to countless audiences for more than 50 years, and I can attest to its success in immersing audiences in entertaining "other worlds" - if only for an hour or two at a time.

As Southside Cinema slips away without fanfare, the happy memories of the movies it once showed live on.

Norah Jones connects in disconnected times

Norah Jones: Lifting spirits in uncertain times

There is a calm feeling of connectedness when watching Norah Jones' video updates on YouTube.

In what appears to be her home, she sits alone and plays her songs, with her immediate audience no more than a self-operated camera.

Like most of us, she is handling this world where we are disconnected from all that we previously knew and took for granted.

Yet even in separation, we can connect. Norah does so by playing songs, some that have been suggested to her online, others chosen by herself.

At the end of an evening I unwind listening to her solo versions and feeling empathy with the solace she finds herself in, we find ourselves in, and where she manages to connect in a creative and unconditional way. She is one of many artists who have found a way to share their talents freely with the world in these uncertain times. It is one of the positives that has come out of the pandemic experience.

Her version of Sunrise, one of her earliest songs, I particularly like.

Also, a video of four songs I'd previously never heard before is a favourite way to end the evening before turning in. The songs begin with the poignant You Are Not Alone, followed by Until The End, Don't Know What It Means, and What a Difference a Day Makes. Her voice and musicianship is a treat, and even when she finds herself at a loss to play a tricky or half-forgotten part, she shows her human fallibility in good nature.

Thank you, and keep lifting our spirts, Norah.

VIDEO:Norah Jones sings four songs on November 12, 2020

Fare thee well 'The Flying Scotsman'

The Flying Scot: Michael Whalley in the
Bermuda Day Half-Marathon in May 2011

We were both doing something we had loved most of our lives when we first met - running.

Michael Whalley was an approachable, friendly Scotsman who would always take an interest in how you were. His talent and competitive spirit was evident even though his advancing years had slowed him down, as happens to us all. 

In his prime he was given the nickname "The Flying Scotsman", and in 1981 he achieved a top three spot in Bermuda's signature race, the May 24 Marathon Derby (now known as the Bermuda Day Half-Marathon).

Mike's regular appearance at races meant he was an important fixture of the tight-knit community of runners who share the pain and pleasure of the good, and the not so good, race days. Through those encounters we kept up, to a degree, with one another's lives.

His wide circle of acquaintances continually expanded during his more than 50 years in the island running scene.

I appreciated his welcoming attitude, his candor, and the way he gave support. I have lost count of the many times he called out support from the other side of the road as a race route double-backed. I'd call back. Those mutual calls to one another as we battled our way to the finish line were important sprinkles of encouragement. 

Mike was an outstanding example of friendship, humanity and acceptance. It is hard to think that he is gone, at 74, and that he will no longer be there on race days. I thank good fortune that I was able to have known him these past 15 years. Fare thee well, my good friend.

After a race: Mike Whalley, Otis Robinson and I relax at the post race breakfast following
the 30th anniversary Fairmont-to-Fairmont Race in January 2007

Milestone: Mike Whalley, at 70, finishing the Bermuda Day Half-Marathon in May 2016. Behind
him are Poole Runners' Carole and Paul Ingham. A third Poole Runner (me) can be seen near the
top left watching. Mike's last finish in the famous race was the following year.

Thank you, Captain Sir Tom Moore

People's hero: Captain Sir Tom Moore

"To all those people who are finding it difficult at the moment, the sun will shine on you again, and the clouds will go away," Captain (later Sir) Tom Moore said. "Tomorrow will be a good day."

In the darkest days of the Covid-19 pandemic he emerged as a beacon of light and hope. Captain Sir Tom Moore, as he became once knighted by Queen Elizabeth II last summer, represented the spirt of the nation - and humanity in general - during the great challenge of our time.

It started in April 2020, with much of the world in lockdown as the pandemic spread. Captain Tom captured the hearts of the nation when he set himself a target of walking 100 lengths of the patio at his home to raise 1,000 pounds for charities that support the National Health Service. He aimed to complete his 100 laps, using a stroller, before his then upcoming 100th birthday.

He did it, and in the process gained national prominence and became a rallying point, a symbol for hope, and much more. He had lived and served through the Second World War, and had 100 years of life experience to draw upon. He was also one of us, and reflected and articulated the simple hopes many had but were afraid to utter. When those "sun will shine again" words came from a man of such longevity and worldly-experience, they meant much. 

He achieved his goal of 100 laps, and the public responded. Close to 33 million pounds was raised for the charities supporting the NHS.

Captain Sir Tom died this week, and there is a great feeling of loss. I reflected on what he embodied  as I sat, coincidently, in a place known as "Tom Moore's Jungle" in Bermuda, although it has no connection to Captain Sir Tom.

In a blog post last June, I mentioned Captain Sir Tom as I wrote about the surreal pandemic experience.  His humble humility and spark of belief lifted the hearts of the people in the United Kingdom and far beyond.

I salute you Captain Sir Tom, and I'm thankful to have had you in our midst.

Reflection and wisdom in unexpected places

Quiet spot: atop the ruined fort is the bench seat with its
in memoriam and words of reflection

At times the chill in the air bites. These days of January have felt constantly cooler and more unsettled than usual.

Today the sun shone, but was tempered by a northerly wind. I found a sun trap to rest and enjoy a coffee and let my thoughts wander. I was on a small island, Ferry Fort Island, at the western edge of Ferry Reach, in Bermuda.

In the lee of a limestone fort that had been built 200 years ago, protected from the wind I enjoyed the winter sun.

I wondered about the history of the silent ruins wrapped around me. This place had once been maintained for its historical interest, but now was fully neglected with wild plants encroaching and occupying the abandoned space.

Who were the people who built this fort two centuries ago, and what were their lives like? A gleaming white executive jet took off from the airport a mile away and flew above. What would the builders of this 19th century fort have made of such a sight?

On the journey to this little island I had passed a property called Northwinds. It made me think of today's north wind, and of a haunting ballad called Northwinds from 37 years ago by music group The Stranglers. A year after its release, and two-thirds of a lifetime ago, I'd seen them perform the song. Had time marched on so far and so fast?

Atop the fort ruins is a bench seat that commands a view of the nearby ocean. The seat is inscribed in memoriam to a lady called Donna DeSiliva [1962-2012], including a few words of wisdom and reflection.

I love discovering these unexpected fragments of thoughts in remote peaceful settings, which invite a moment to stop and consider.

Upon the bench are the words: "The greatest treasures are those invisible to the eye, but found by the heart."