The beauty of history

I've just spent a memorable weekend exploring Ironbridge, arguably the home of the Industrial Revolution, and the picturesque Dee River valley in Northern Wales. Look for a couple of posts shortly. What's with the radio telescope you ask? That's the Lovell Telescope at the Jordell Bank Observatory, east of Liverpool. I noticed it was within an hour's drive of my weekend destination and so I made a detour to see it for myself

At the time of its completion in 1957, the current 76.2 metre dish was the world's largest steerable antenna. It was activated just weeks before the Soviet Union launched Sputnik, the world's first artificial satellite. This meant that it became of few instruments in the West that were able to accurately track the satellite's orbit around the earth using radar.

Unfortunately, I arrived at the facility after it had closed for the day.  However, I was happy to enjoy some stunning roadside views of this famous facility lit perfectly by the late afternoon sun. 

Llangollen

Llangollen is another iconic place I’ve always wanted to visit. It’s a small, picturesque village in Northern Wales, located just a few miles from the English border. My initial interest was provoked by images of the stunning Pontcysyllte Aqueduct built a few miles from town. This impressive structure is a slender cast-iron tough that carries the Llangollen Canal across the Dee River valley. The aqueduct is 316 metres long, rising almost 39 metres above the surrounding valley.

It was built by the great civil engineer, Thomas Telford, in 1805. Telford was also responsible for the construction of the Llangollen canal, built to feed water from the River Dee to the Shropshire Union Canal. If that wasn’t enough, Telford also modernised the ancient road from London to Holyhead in Northeast Wales that passes through Llangollen, known today as the A5 highway.

For many reasons, Garry and I never quite made it to Llangollen while we were living in the UK. As a result, since returning to Australia I’ve made it a personal ambition to actually get there. Last weekend, this goal was finally achieved when I rented a car and drove north while in London for business. I’m glad I made the effort. Llangollen turned out to be one of the prettiest, most memorable locations I’ve ever visited in the UK. Much of the original village has been carefully preserved, sitting on the banks of a truly picturesque river, each half linked by an equally impressive stone arch bridge.

Aside from the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct, Llangollen is also famous for its lovingly restored steam railway that runs through the Dee Valley. The original rail track arrived in the town in 1862 and operated until 1968. Since its closure, more than seven miles of track between Llangollen and the nearby village of Carrog have been carefully restored by a volunteer society of rail enthusiasts. The society runs steam train rides several times. On Sunday I caught the first train of the day to Carrog and back.

It was a wonderful adventure. A large crowd gathered on the restored Victorian rail platform to watch the train pull up in a cloud of steam and smoke. Once the engine was coupled to a set of restored carriages we slowly departed to the rhythmic sounds of a chugging engine and clattering wheels. The river valley was picture-perfect. Sheep scattered as we passed and I felt a sense of history in my hair as I hung out of the window watching the train round each bend.

Upon returning to Llangollen I wandered along the town’s riverwalk and through its narrow, winding streets. Mid-afternoon I joined a tour that drove a small group of us to the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct where we boarded a canal boat, crossed the aqueduct, and then along the Llangollen canal back to town. The tour took roughly two hours, passing through yet more postcard-perfect scenery. The view is made all the more memorable by the canal’s unusual location, sitting high up on the side of the valley.

If that wasn’t enough, even my hotel room delivered an unexpected treat. I stayed at the Hand Hotel. Originally a 17th-century coaching inn, the building backs onto the grounds of the Church of St Collen. Collen is a popular Welsh saint who is reputed retired to Llangollen after murdering a local man-eating giantess. 

My hotel room was on the hotel's second floor. Much to my delight, it came with a classic view of the stone church and its immaculate grounds. The current stone building was begun in the 13th Century, but later remodeled in 1864-67. I later learned that Llangollen’s name is actually derived from this church. In Welsh, Llan means enclosure, and thus the town’s name literally translates as Collen’s enclosure. 

Even better, over breakfast, my table offered a scenic view across the Dee River valley to an isolated hill overlooking the town. On the hill’s crest the ruins of Castell Dinas Bram, a castle built in 1260, are clearly visible. I’d encourage anyone to visit Llangollen if they get the chance. You won’t be disappointed.

Birthplace of the Industrial Revolution

More than thirty years ago I completed a school project on bridges. I recall being fascinated by the different construction methods used to span all manner of obstacles. I think this was moment that my love for civil engineering was born.  Today, I’m still fascinated by these remarkable feats of engineering; as more than one post in this blog will testify. Over the years, one bridge in particular has always captured my imagination; the Iron Bridge spanning the River Severn near Telford, England. Eveb the village it links is fondly called Ironbridge. Last weekend, while based in London for work, I hired a car and drove north to finally see the bridge for myself.

This structure is the world’s first cast iron bridge; possibly the world’s first large scale bridge span built entirely from metal. Upon completion in 1779 it heralded the arrival of an entirely new, significantly stronger, building material; one the ultimately built the modern age. Previously, only wood and stone had been available for large-scale construction. Within decades, other pioneering iron milestones including steamships, skyscrapers and large-scale industrial factories were emerging across the industrialised world.

All these milestones can be traced directly back to the actions of one man, Abraham Darby. In 1709 he first smelted iron using coke instead of wood-based charcoal. Coke, prepared from coal, was more plentiful than wood, thus enabling iron to be manufactured cheaply, in unprecedented volume. He lived in Coalbrookdale, a village located in valley less than a mile from the site of the Iron Bridge. The company he founded later went on to smelt iron for the first Iron Bridge, then built first steam locomotive for Richard Trevithick in 1803.

 Darby’s original iron furnace has been carefully preserved as part of the town’s fascinating Museum of Iron. The brick structure is largely intact despite centuries of weathering and neglect. Today, its crumbling remains are protected by a stunning triangular glass atrium. Exploring this structure was a surreal experience. As I looked into its bulbous interior I struggled to comprehend that one of the Industrial Revolution’s defining moments happened right here.

I feel a similar sense of awe and pioneering majesty standing under the iron lattice of the Iron Bridge. It’s a remarkably elegant and graceful structure as its design and construction was based on established carpentry techniques. This meant that each member of its frame was cast separately, and fastened using mortise and tenon, and dovetail joints. The bridge comprises more than 800 iron castings of 12 basic types, many of which were carefully customised to fit the final structure.

Its main arch span stretches 30.5 metres across the River Severn. At its highest point, the span provides 18 metres of clearance below. Smaller stone arches link the main span to the opposing river banks. When first completed, a toll was charged for its use. The original toll house still stands today on the edge of its southern approach. Vehicular traffic was barred from bridge in 1934, but it remains in use for pedestrians. Interestingly, a toll was still charged for pedestrians up until 1950. Today, you can cross the bridge for free, as well as wander scenic paths laid alongside and underneath it span.

Rena hits home

It’s been heart-breaking in recent days to watch an environment disaster unfolding along the coast of Mount Manguanui in New Zealand. The beachside city where my parents live has seen its pristine white sand beaches fouled by oil and debris from Rena, a container ship, that ran around on Astrolabe reef. The reef, roughly 20 kms offshore, was first marked on maps by early European explorers more than three hundred years ago, so its location is well known. Naturally questions are being raised as to how a modern ship ran into such a outcrop, at 17 knots , in broad daylight on a relatively calm sea.

Within days of running aground rough seas hit the region, stressing the vessel to the point that frightening large cracks have appeared along its midsection. The swell also left it leaning at a precarious angle, resulting in the loss of 88 containers so far, 30 of which are currently unaccounted for. This tally is expected to rise as more foul weather descends on the area.

For days now I’ve watched photo after photo published of a beach littered with cargo from burst containers (which include frozen meat patties and animal skins). Most distressing is the realisation that these images were shot from the beach metres from my parent’s home. This is the same beach that Garry and I were frolicking on as recently as January this year. Regular readers may recall we made good use of our jetlag one morning to venture down to the shore to watch the sun rise.

The opening image on this post was captured by Katie Cox earlier this week and published by the New Zealand Herald.  The other images are also taken from the Herald's files.  It's grim stuff.

Hooray for Hollywood

We finished our Southwest USA road trip with a three-day stopover in Los Angeles. While I’ve stopped in LA many times over the years, this was Garry’s first proper visit. Of course it wouldn’t be a California vacation without a hire car to get around. To make things as authentic as possible I splashed out and booked a convertible. However, we saved a fortune on our hotel by cashing in some credit card loyalty points. It ultimately cost us US$30/day and was located next to a large Westfield shopping mall. This pleased Garry no end as he was keen to make the most of end-of-Summer clothing sales.

Our first evening in LA was taken up by a visit to a local coin-operated launderette. After two weeks on the road we were both running short of clean clothes. It made for a novel evening as we hung out with dozens of the other people doing their laundry. At times it felt like a scene from a movie which was rather apt considering Hollywood was a few short miles away.

The following morning we drove down the freeway and through palm fringed streets to the La Brea tar pits. I’d visited the area back in December 2009. However this time the water table was much lower making the naturally seeping tar and petro-chemical fumes far more prominent. I was also delighted to find the main fossil excavation pit open for viewing. It’s fascinating to peer into the excavated pit’s gloomy depth and spot fossils still sitting in the black ooze.

Our next step was Hollywood Boulevard. This allowed us to see the famous Hollywood sign, admire memorial stars embedded on the sidewalk and go searching for the footprints of famous actors outside Grumman’s Chinese Theatre. The recognizable names are everywhere from Frank Sinatra to the Marilyn Munro. Even Kermit the Frog has his own memorial star.

Our second full day in town was devoted to shopping. I took Garry to the best shopping mall in town, the Beverly Centre, where we both shopped until our arms groaned under the weight. Our final day in town was then spent visiting Santa Monica beach to see its famous amusement pier, stand at the west terminus of Route 66 (you may recall we visited a popular section of the highway in Winslow, Arizona) and enjoy a leisurely lunch in the sun.

All too soon it was time to tackle the rush hour traffic, collect our luggage and make our way to the airport. Garry ensured our vacation ended on a high note by securing an points upgrade to First Class on Qantas’ uber-comfortable Airbus A380. Hooray for Hollywood.

Gunfight at the OK Corral

Tombstone, Arizona; they call it “the town too tough to die”. It’s also one of the best preserved towns in the midst of what once was the American Wild West. The town’s original 1880’s buildings have been lovingly maintained. The result is a streetscape that wouldn’t be out of place in a classic Western movie. The main street is lined by a shaded boardwalk protecting the entrance to saloons, brothels and stores. However, unlike a Disney stage-prop set, the buildings aren’t quite as spotless and exhibits are often worn and dusty.

Tombstone is also home to the OK Corral, the site of an infamous gunfight long since immortalized in more than one movie. On October 26, 1881, in a six-metre wide lot behind the Corral three cowboys faced down four rival townsmen. In less than a minute, 30 shots were fired, leaving three cowboys dead and two other seriously wounded.

Today, visitors can watch an amusing reenactment of the gunfight twice a day, staged in a simple amphitheatre alongside the original Corral. Alternatively, you can push a button at the actual gunfight site and watch some clumsy animatron robots crudely reenact the fatal scene. It’s probably the only truly chintzy tourist gimmick in town.

We spent 1.5 days exploring the township, learning all there was to know about the gunfight and host of other excentric characters that gave the town its enduring reputation. Highlights included the Bird Cage Theatre where an elevated row of opera boxes along its opposing walls were used by prostitutes to ply their trade rather than well-heeled theatre-goers. In fact, we discovered that many of the well-heeled local were the prostitutes. It seems that the wives of many prominent locals, including the sheriff, were prostitutes at one time or another.

Several horse-driven stagecoach tours also operate around the town. They’re undoubtedly a bit of a gimmick as a horse cannot travel far in 15 minutes at a leisurely pace. However, this does give the drive plenty of time to share all manner of amusing anecdotes about the town and its history. The odd stray bullet hole was also pointed out along the way.

I was fascinated to learn that that much of Tombstone’s colourful history took place over a surprisingly brief period. The town was founded in 1879; near a recently discovered silver mine. This made it one of the West’s last frontier towns. Within a year the town was the fastest growing city between St Louis and San Francisco. In fact, its population grew from less than 100 people to more than 14,000 in less than seven years.

The mines struck water in the 1880s and were kept open by a pump operating 24-hours a day. In 1886 the main pump house caught fire, seriously damaging its pump. The mines flooded and the cost of repair was deemed excessive. Mining in the area rapidly declined and the town began to falter. By 1990, less than 700 people remained. However, savvy locals turned to tourism in a bid to save the town. Today, Tombstone attracts almost half a million visitors annually.