Stop thinking like a tourist

With the start of my temporary escape (henceforth just TE) from timetabled routine approaching, I'm still struggling to stop thinking like a tourist.

Over the last 30 years travels have tended to be largely planned around two, or in a few cases three, week blocks of time away from the lab or office. These blocks have had to be planned far in advance to allow things to be fitted around work projects and domestic plans and commitments (and in a few cases trip availability).   I'm still thinking like this. Over the next few months I've got three 'slots' booked each of which could have been done in normal annual leave - although I certainly couldn't have done all three in a three month period. Part of the challenge is booking trips through the usual tour companies. Their bread and butter is mostly based around planning and selling trips to folks taking normal time off from work and returning on a fixed timetable, so a lot of their trips fit that pattern. And to be honest using these companies is generally the easy way to arrange to go places.

I hope that realising that this is how I'm still thinking will give me the chance to do something different later in my TE. My short term action has been to tear up all the ideas that would fit tidily into routine life, there will be chances to do these things in future years. Next step is to figure out something that I wouldn't find easy to fit into the timetables. That probably involves buying one way tickets rather than return ones, and being more relaxed about what comes next. The last time I can remember buying a one-way ticket ticket was when I came back to the UK from the US almost 25 years ago - it's high time I bought another one.

10 More Days

After a couple of years of contemplation and a lot of time talking to people and following the blogs and tweets of various career-breakers, I’m about to join their ranks.

At the end of September I’ll be packing up my desk at the Open University, handing over the Learning and Teaching Systems reins to my colleague Paul (twitter.com/paulbeeby - I hope he’s going to start tweeting soon so I can keep track of what’s happening), and leaving Moodle and e-learning behind for six months.

The first three months are planned – Sri Lanka, Shetland and the South Atlantic - but although I’ve got lots of ideas for the second three months (including some places not starting with S), I have for the first time in a very long time got no firm plans.

One of my frustrations, over the last five years particularly, has been the lack of time to think about the trips I’ve been fitting in around work commitments.  I’ve rushed off somewhat manically to the airport as soon as I could, and spent as much time away as possible – and then plunged back into work again.  One consequence has been not enough time to go through the photographs I’ve taken or to put together the blog postings, or any longer pieces of writing, from the trips.

My hope during the six months way from the office is to have time to make the trips a bit slower than they might otherwise have had to be, to reflect on and to write about my travelling, to spend some longer chunks of time in our house in Shetland, and maybe get re-enthused about e-learning.

I'm not planning to update my work blog again until next Easter – I will be posting here, and I’ll be tweeting (twitter.com/rossmackenzie) when connectivity allows.

Sitting in my study in Oxford on a Sunday morning, I have lots of conflicting thoughts about the time away.  Part of me can’t picture being away from the OU for such a long time (I first joined the University in late 1995 – and the commute to Milton Keynes is just part of what I do most days).

Part of me can’t picture doing anything other than returning to the OU in April. And yet another part of me can’t picture getting back into the formality of the daily commute again.

I'm certainly looking forward to the opportunities this winter will present - and I will give the occasional thought to the roll-out of Moodle 2 at the OU.

Back in the Wild North - Shetland September 2011

Decided it was time for a quick gardening trip up to Shetland.

My work colleagues main pre-occupation ahead of the trip, aside from the observation that it was a long way to go to cut the grass, was that the weather was going to be bad ‘up there’.  The stories of Hurricane Katia crossing the Atlantic to wreak havoc on Britain were all over the media – and that led to the assumption that if it was going to be bad in England, it would inevitably be worse in Scotland and, therefore, near apocalyptic on Shetland.

I’m pleased to report that Shetland came through the battering unscathed – indeed the weather was better (and certainly warmer) than when I came up for the Tall Ships in July.   When I arrived the airport windsock was hanging limp at the end of the runway, and despite some rain over the weekend – the sun did shine, otters got seen, beaches got walked, boats in the harbour got photographed and the grass did get cut.

And when I turned up late back in Milton Keynes everyone just assumed I’d been delayed by the weather and had to spend an extra night on Shetland.  No such luck. Flybe managed to strand me (and lots of other folks) in Aberdeen overnight by encountering “technical  problems” with the plane coming up from Birmingham.

These and other photographs are on Picasa and Flickr

So where is Iceland?

I’m reading Simon Winchester’s biography of the Atlantic at the moment ("Atlantic: A Vast Ocean of a Million Stories"), and thoroughly enjoying it.   His enthusiasm for some of the undersea place-names has made me think back to a blog post I wrote a couple of years ago in praise of the inflight information system on Air Canada.

One of Winchester’s throw away lines at the start of the book alludes to the fact that he ‘must have transversed this particular body of water five hundred times’.  Aside from the fact that this is just bragging, and I’m going to forgive him that he has also crossed ‘this particular body of water’ by boat, a journey that is still on my must-do-sometime list, this did start me thinking about how many times I’ve crossed the Atlantic.

I started by digging back through old passports.  We Brits don’t get stamps when we come into the UK, but I’ve got a fairly substantial collection of US entry stamps – 21 that I can see, plus three for Canada and one for Chile – that 25 trips – 50 crossings.   Easy so far.

Then we come the more difficult trips – how far across the Atlantic do you need to go to have really crossed it?  The Falkland Islands are pretty close to South America (at least so certain Argentine lobby groups would have you believe).  For the sake of this argument we’ll include flying from the Falkland Islands via Ascension as a valid transatlantic crossing (and coming back again).  That gets me to 52 crossings.  

Greenland might technically be part of Denmark (and therefore of Europe) but it’s awfully close to Ellesmere Island (definitely Canada), and only separated from Baffin Island (also Canada) by Baffin Bay and the Davis Strait.  So I think I need to class my trip to Greenland in 2007 as having included another couple of transatlantic crossings. We’ve got to 54 now.

 

However, if we’re classing Greenland as having included a transatlantic crossing, what about Iceland?  When I went to Greenland I went via Reykjavik, so when did I cross the Atlantic?  My map of the Atlantic clearly shows the water between Iceland and Greenland as the Denmark Strait, and the water between Scotland and Iceland as ‘Atlantic Ocean’, so do I get to count my trip to Iceland in 2006 as an transatlantic crossing?  Seems too easy. That’s 56. 

But it doesn’t seem quite right.  The Faroe Islands are on my wish list too – are they far enough away to count as a transatlantic crossing?  Confusing business this travel lark. 

The Photo-a-Day Habit

I got a little bit of local fame (or infamy) last week. 

Junior Photographer, c.1971

Completing a year of sharing my daily photo habit on Blipfoto got me a little item in the Oxford Journal.  I did a short telephone interview with someone from the paper and an article based on the interview appeared plus a photo from my occasional 'Cafés of Headington' series and a self-portrait I took in Greenland trip a few years ago.  The article was mostly right - although I think I might have over-estimated how early I got my first camera.  The earliest picture I've been able to find where I have a camera round my neck was taken in the Alps in summer 1971, when I was 10.  There's no point lying about my age any more, having been outed in the Oxford Journal as a '50-year old Open University IT manager'.  I decided not to complicate things by getting into explaining what an educational technologist was during the interview.

Cafes of Headington. April 2011: Picture # 2298

The newspaper hook was the fact that I'd taken a picture every day for a year, although for me this was just a continuation of a much longer standing habit.  I've been taking pictures regularly since the late 1990's, and I've documented holidays and trips with a camera for a lot longer than this.  The move to digital in 2004 made me start to think a bit more about my photography, and the ability to experiment more and see the results immediately encouraged me to resolve to take a picture each day during 2005.  Having made that resolution just before Christmas in 2004 there didn't seem to be any good reason to wait until the first of January to get started, so my photo-a-day sequence actually started on 24th December 2004, with a picture of an art installation taken from my office window at the Open University.  I also set up this blog to share the images - in reality I don't think anyone else was watching, but the purpose was to provide an incentive for me not to break the sequence.  

Modern Art - Open University: Picture #1

Once I got to the end of 2005, a year which had turned out to include a number of interesting trips both in the UK and further afield, the process of looking for a picture to say something about the day had become a habit, and I just kept going.

Persepolis, Iran, November 2005: Picture # 338

Although I was still taking pictures every day I stopped posting a daily image and this blog changed into my place for reporting on the many trips I was making and a place where I provided links to my Flickr and Picasa accounts.  This was my routine until late July last year when I was encouraged to post my daily picture onto Blipfoto.  28^th July 2010 was my first day on blip, and also my 2043rd photo-of-the-day.

Riverside, Milton Keynes, July 2010 : Picture # 2043

Today was Blip number 382, and photo-of-the-day 2424.

Reaping & Sowing, Oxford, August 2011: Picture # 2424

Two of the questions that the Oxford Journal asked were essentially “What do you look for in the daily photograph?” and “Will you stop?” 

I don’t think I’ve got an answer to the second question – I certainly can’t see a reason for stopping, although I’m sure something will happen one day to break my continuous run.  The first question is more challenging.  If I’m travelling or doing something unusual, I’ll always have a camera with me – on these occasions my problem is usually deciding which of the many images to post. On a more routine day, I might well need to go hunting for a blip.  Sometimes I’ll have an idea that I want to seek out, on other days serendity will offer me something to blip.  The urge to photograph boats one work-day lunchtime, resulted in my discovering that there was actually a marina (on the canal) just a few minutes from office.  If I’m in Oxford (which was the angle that the Oxford Journal wanted) I’ll try to find a blip that says something about Oxford, perhaps people punting on the river or the gate to an Oxford college. Inevitably, the images say something about me and what I’m thinking as well as where I am.  I’ve taken ‘pictures-of-the-day’ on every continent except Africa (an oversight that I must rectify).  I’ve taken pictures when I’ve been happy and miserable – and even when I was laid up with pneumonia.

Oxford, August 2005: Picture # 248

Falkland Islands, February 2009: Picture # 1515

Greenland, August 2007: Picture # 956

My photo-a-day habit is a well entrenched one – over the next few weeks I’ll keep the Oxford, Milton Keynes and Shetland images coming, and after that there should be a few months of rather further afield images to add to the blip collection.

Shetland, October 2010: Picture # 2112

Update: The article in the Oxford Journal managed to find its way to the attention of the OU Communications team - and they (with a little input from me) produced this item on the Open University Platform.

Another Update: 28th October 2011. Picture # 2500

Quendale Beach, Shetland, October 2011: Picture # 2500

  

Tall Ships and Puffins - Shetland July 2011

If you want to see puffins at close quarters, it doesn’t get much better than Sumburgh Head.  I’m not sure if you can actually see puffins without getting out of the car – but it’s pretty close, and it’s only a few steps from the car park to the puffin-covered cliffs.   July is also a really good time to see the puffins en-masse.  In good years there will be lot of feeding of youngsters obvious, just ahead of fledging time.  However, this year hasn’t been a good year for lots of the seabirds and there has been very little evidence of the puffins bringing in sand-eels for youngsters, for which read there aren’t many pufflings around – and the attentions of the bonxies and the hoodies will have taken a toll of the limited number of chicks around.  This means that lots of the adult puffins are just hanging around on the cliffs waiting for the signal to head out to sea for the winter.  The guillemot cliffs, usually alive with noise, are already bare – the poor breeding season leaving the birds no reason to stay around. 

This July there was another reason for heading to Shetland – the return of the Tall Ships. These magnificent boats last put in an appearance in Shetland in 1999, so their reappearance was long overdue. The harbour at Lerwick is pretty picturesque at any time, but adding in the Napoleonic-era sight of masts and spars towering over the waterfront buildings really does make it special. There were almost 60 official Tall Ships in town, including 15 of the huge Class A boats (for those of the right age – think, Onedin Line), and lots more tourist yachts in town to see the festivities.  During the few days leading up to the events in Lerwick, the ships were gradually turning up around the Shetland Islands – their progress being more than slightly impeded by the fierce (and unseasonal) northerly winds coming straight down from the Arctic. I'm not sure that the helicopter escort provided to the Europa was needed, but it did add extra drama to the images. 

There have always been close links between Shetland and Norway. There is a still controversial story about Shetland being handed over from Norway to Scotland in lieu dowry at the time of a Royal wedding in the 15th Century. Over the years there have always been important trading links between Shetland and Norway.  One of the reminders of this close link is the Shetland Bus memorial in Scalloway, commemorating the Second World War communications link into the Norwegian Resistance movement. The Tall Ships provides another reminder of close relationship between Shetland and Norway. Almost a third of the bigger boats were flying Norwegians flags, and these mostly crewed by teenagers. The breaking news from Oslo on the Friday cast a shadow over the event – every boat in harbour had flags at half-mast, and the Norwegian boats suspended their ‘open-ship’ tours on the Saturday.

No Wrong Weather at the South End - Shetland June 2011

A week on Shetland can, at any time of the year, offer a huge variety of weather, and at the height of summer there is certainly plenty of daylight to enjoy the meteorological variety. The trick, if that's the right word, is to choose your entertainment to match the weather.

If the weather is bright and sunny there is no better entertainment than visiting Sumburgh Head. The road up to the RSPB Reserve and Sumburgh lighthouse is lovely, but you get an even better view of the sea and the Head by walking slowly up from the Sumburgh Hotel (an ideal place for a lunch stop) and Jarlshof. At this time of year you'll certainly get to see eider, oystercatcher, terns, wheatears, various gulls and maybe a bronxie (great skua) or an arctic skua, as well as gannets heading to or from Noss. On the cliffs as you get up to the Head you'll see guillemots, razorbills, shags and puffins. Out to sea you'll also see rafts of guillemots and puffins taking a break from nest duty. The downside of the bright sunny weather is that as well as being good for us, it's also good for puffins. So while there may be a few puffins sitting around the cliffs, most will either be sitting on eggs in their burrows, or will be out at sea.

If you come back on a wild and blustery day (which could very well be the next day), it may not be quite so pleasant to wander up the coastal path but your reward is likely to be lots more puffins. If the seas are rough, the fishing is much less easy, so if there aren't yet young demanding to be fed, the puffins not lurking in burrows will be sitting around the cliff tops very willing to pose for photographs.

But what if it rains? When the rains falls and the wind blows it's not very pleasant to wander around at Sumburgh Head. On days like this, the ideal antidote is to find one of the local voes and sit and wait for otters to appear. Wet, windy weather may not be ideal for us to be outside, but (provided you can find somewhere up-wind) it's perfect weather for otters and for otter spotters.

We had all these sorts of weather in a few days around the south end - and got to see puffins and otters, and to get sun-burnt too.

Update:  There are more pictures on Flickr and on Picasa

Another update: A rather scrappy audioboo version of the post - still working on this aspect!

More fun by Ferry, May 2011

We’re at the start of National Ferry Fortnight. This is a campaign by the UK’s ferry operators to encourage us to go places by boat rather than just jumping onto planes. This seems really relevant to us. Not only are we planning to go north to Shetland by NorthLink ferry in the next few days, but we’ve also decided to abandon our plans for a long haul trip in October and to instead spend some time using the many Caledonian MacBrayne ferries that frequent the west and north of Scotland. There is something about going places by ferry that just feels more civilised than most forms of air travel – the pace of life is slower, there’s space to walk around (and to take pictures), you can eat and drink if and when you want to, and on overnight crossings it’s possible lie down in a real bed without needing to re-mortgage the house. Ferries were always part of my younger travelling life.   I can recall many crossings of the North Channel between Larne and Stranraer, and also lots of times when summer holidays involved ferry routes.  Rosslare to Le Havre was always my favourite way of getting from Ireland to France, and some of the strongest memories involved using the Caledonian Macbrayne ferries to go to the Outer Hebrides.   I can even recall quite a few Dover to Calais crossings when I was student – this was the direct route for weekends in Paris before the Channel tunnel was an option. Once my student days had passed I seemed to rather abandon ferries and go pretty much everywhere by air. I can remember the excitement when we booked CalMac to go to Islay about ten years ago. I also realised that although many things had changed in the UK over the almost 20 years since my last long ferry crossing, the meals on the CalMac ferry were still pretty much the same. Mind you it is hard to improve on fish and chips or scotch pies. Over the last ten years I’ve left the British mainland by ferry heading in lots of directions – I’ve been across the North Sea to Norway and to Denmark, I’ve gone south from Weymouth to the Channel Islands and I’ve revisited the Outer Hebrides and gone north from Aberdeen to Shetland several times. In the case of the Shetland route lots of time in the last twelve months. Getting to Shetland by the Northlink ferry takes much longer than the air route (even on FlyBe’s bad days), but it always feels like a more satisfying (and authentic) way to make the journey. No matter how bumpy the crossing has been it’s always good to see and on rough crossings feel the ferry come into Bressay Sound as it approaches Lerwick. This autumn I’ll be heading up to Shetland, but I’m planning to do this by one of the more indirect and ferry intensive routes. Rather than heading to Aberdeen and getting the direct ferry from there we’re intending to head to Oban on the west coast of Scotland then use CalMac to go North via the Hebrides. The first leg of the trip goes through the Sound of Mull then across to Coll and Tiree in the Inner Hebrides. After a few days there we head north west across the romantically named Sea of the Hebrides to Barra on the southern tip of the Outer Hebrides.  From there slowly northwards to South Uist, Benbecula, North Uist, Harris and finally Lewis. When I first visiting the Outer Hebrides in 1975 that collection of islands would have involved lots of ferry crossings, now-a-days the Uists and Benbecula have been causewayed together so getting from Barra to Stornoway on Lewis only needs two short ferry crossings. From Stornoway, the next step is eastwards across the Minch with CalMac to Ullapool then across Caithness and Sutherland to Gills Bay for the short ferry crossing to Orkney. Then finally picking up the Northlink Ferry for the overnight crossing into Lerwick. As I've been putting these words and images together, I've realised how many of the routes I've mentioned have either changed or stopped operating altogether .  The ferry from Stranraer now goes into Belfast rather than Larne (although there is still a Cairnryan to Larne), the Rosslare ferry now goes to Cherbourg and the Newcastle to Bergen service I used to get to Norway has stopped altogether. And one of the services I've always wanted to use - from Shetland to the Faroe Islands - has disappeared before I got a chance to use it. In places were the services receive a life-line subsidy the services do continue to run, but in other places where market forces dominate the routes are more than slightly vulnerable. I hope that National Ferry Fortnight does succeed in encouraging more passengers, I'd be really sad to see any more services disappear.

Leeds April 2011

Never look a gift trip in the mouth.

It’s all about overcoming prejudice.  When it was suggested that I might like to spend a day in Leeds, my first reaction was close to “Great. What’s second prize? Two days in Leeds?”.

I was wrong.  My two days in Leeds this month were entertaining, the weather was warm and sunny, the hotel was good and the food was excellent too.  Can’t think where I got my anti-Leeds (or is it anti-Yorkshire) prejudice from.

I’ve been to Leeds, usually to visit the University, quite a few times over the years, but I think the most recent visit was close to 10 years ago.  My overwhelming recollection is Bleak.  I remember the place being cold and usually wet.  It’s also an inconveniently long way North.  I should clarify that things only qualify as being an inconveniently long way North – in my book – if they involve being in the North of England; Scotland, Shetland, Norway, Iceland fall in a different category.  I’ve never claimed consistency on this point. 

I wound up staying on the 14^th floor of the Park Plaza in the centre of Leeds – with a splendid view of the railway station, and far enough above it to not notice any noise – and spent most of my two days around the University.  I was trying to find ways to describe the University campus, and I’m pretty sure I recognise bits of it from late 60’s sci-fi films or TV programmes.  There are huge concrete buildings, fountains, elevated walkways linking the huge buildings and, during the Easter vacation, very few people.  All it was missing was the cast of Doctor Who (I’m picturing the folks from UNIT and Jon Pertwee) .  In the sunlight and with blue skies the campus looks really dramatic – but I bet it’s bleak when there’s a strong north-easterly blowing with some horizontal rain to accompany it.

Leeds April 2011

I guess my conclusion is not to judge places based on distant memories.  It’s always worth revisiting places, particularly if you can arrange to revisit them when it’s sunny.  Next time a trip to Yorkshire gets suggested I’ll ask about the third prize – maybe I’ll get three days in Leeds that time.

Being a tourist

One of the challenges of being at home is that you don't behave like a tourist.

At home there are regular pressures around things like doing the garden, sorting the laundry, doing the shopping and (heaven forbid) going to work. It's no wonder that being on holiday is more fun - there's time to do things like go to museums, sit and watch the birdlife, take photographs, sit in a coffee shop slowly finishing a cappuccino and even (just occasionally) doing nothing. This second set of things are just harder to fit in when I'm at home.

I think it's time to try and get the balance right, or at least better, even when I am at home. I've been taking at least one photo a day for a long time, the last day when I didn't take a picture was 23rd December 2004, but I think there needs to be a bit more than this.

So today is a landmark. For the first time (that I can remember), I've abandoned the gardening and left the laundry and come out to sit in one of the coffee shops in Headington to have slow (large) cappuccino - and a croissant - and to sit and read one of the magazines that arrived this morning and to write a blog post about being a tourist just round the corner from the house.

And to add another image to my occasional Cafes of Headington series.

Shetland March 2011

After Shetland in the snow in December and Shetland in the wind and rain in February, this was definitely Shetland in the spring.

The sun shone, the daffodils were out, the birds were starting to reappear on the cliffs and the wind didn't blow (too much).

I was really pleased to see the birds back on the cliffs at Sumburgh Head - fulmar, guillemot, razorbill and shag much in evidence and even one or two puffins putting in an early season appearance.  And I can't remember ever seeing so many oystercatchers - in one field near Bigton I counted over 60 oystercatchers farming the field to the slight consternation of the six sheep who thought it was theirs.

One unexpected sight was the Smyril Line ferry Norrona passing close to Sumburgh Head on the Sunday afternoon. At one time the Norrona used to call into Lerwick regularly giving Shetland ferry routes to a Denmark, Norway, Iceland and the Faroe Islands  - this service got caught up in a variety of legal and logistical knots resulting in the ferry now by-passing Shetland most of the time, and leaving Shetland with ferry links only to Aberdeen.  I'd be very pleased to see this service reappear.

Shetland March 2011

Room with a View

I'm sitting typing this looking out of the office window in Shetland. It's a beautiful sunny morning in late March - and the only domestic sound I can hear is the kitchen clock ticking in the background.  If I push the window open I can hear the waves in the voe just below the house, and the herring gulls and fulmar crying as they swoop down over the waves.  In the distance I can see Sumburgh Head and directly in the foreground the Scatness peninsula reaching down to Horse Island.  A little further to the right is Lady's Holm and behind it on the horizon the outline of Fair Isle. After dark last night I could see the three flashes of the Sumburgh Light and on the horizon the two flashes of the Fair Isle North Light.

This week the waves in Quendale Bay have been very gentle, a real contrast to the energy we saw on the last visit. The big winter storms were a reminder that just along the coast was the site of the Braer disaster in January 1993, even my ill-educated eye can see how much of the beach at Quendale was moved around last winter.

We first looked at the house 10 months ago, and finally bought it last summer.   At that time it was a freshly refurbished empty house and when we stayed there it felt a bit like a very lightly furnished rental cottage not unlike the ones we'd stayed in on previous visits.  Over the last eight months we've gradually filled up the house with our stuff - big furniture bought locally in Lerwick, smaller stuff  brought up from the south of England in several car loads, and pictures unearthed from various cupboards down south have finally been hung around the house.  It now feels like a northern home rather than just somewhere to visit.

My original plan had been to spend a lot of the summer up here watching birds and waves, and taking photographs as the days lengthened into Simmer Dim, and then gradually retreated into long autumn and winter evenings.  I'm actually only going to be able to spend a few weeks here over the summer but I will be based in Shetland over the dark months next winter and with the exception of a few trips to the southern hemisphere to see some sunlight and to take some pictures on some other remote islands,  I'll really be calling Shetland home.

One of the things I've always wanted to have in front of me is a sea view - this house has it in plenty.  However I must admit I'd never given serious thought to the fact that the view might be a problem. My Oxford view is a relatively unchanging (or at least slow changing) street or garden view.  My Shetland view is the constantly changing sea - each bird cry or crashing wave brings the possibility of something different happening, and even if there isn't anything dramatic the ebb and flow of the tide ensures that even minute to minute things do change.  It all makes it far too easy to look up from the keyboard, and then glance back and find that 20 minutes have somehow disappeared. Maybe in the winter it'll be easier to concentrate on the computer screen - although the hypnotic lights from Sumburgh Head might still be a problem.

Ten Top Travel Experiences

I blame the folks at Wanderlust Magazine – they sent a reminder that they’re asking for ten top travel experiences.  This is ten I put together at lunchtime today.  I’d probably pick a different set on other days.  I can see two themes – one involves getting up early, the other involves wildlife – which probably explains why the first one is the first one….

Penguins at Dawn.   Having gentoo penguins pecking my boots on the beach at dawn on Sea Lion Island while I tried to photograph them is a wonderful experience.  Wide angle wildlife photography doesn’t get any better. (Falkland Islands, 2009)

Polar bears dining.  Sitting in a Zodiac watching polar bears feeding on a whale skeleton – there were other people there but I was too absorbed watching to notice them. (Svalbard, 2010)

Lunch en route.   Sharing lunch with a local family on a steam train from Coonoor to Ooty.  The train was delayed – and the family travelling on the train with us produced leaves to use as plates and rice with serious pickles and insisted we share.  Now referred to as a ‘Palin’ moment – if it has been included in one of his travel programmes you would have assumed that it had been staged. (India, 1994)

Seeing forever.  Having read about how clear the Arctic air was it was amazing to arrive in Kulusuk and really see what this meant in terms of how far you could see. (Greenland, 2007)

Early Start.  Seeing the El Tatio Geysers at dawn – required a very early start from San Pedro de Atacama and many hours being driven along unlit and in places very rough roads over high passes but arriving at El Tatio as the sun just started to strike the geysers was more than worth it. (Chile, 2007)

Tiger's Nest. First close-up sight of the Tiger's Nest (Taktshang Goemba) – it’s first revealed through the trees in the distance high above you and occasionally re-appears as you climb up the track, then after a long haul when it’s completely invisible you suddenly reach a turn on the path and the Monastery is visible bathed (if you are lucky) in bright sunshine. (Bhutan, 2008)

Tiger. After several days seeing fresh pug marks along the tracks finally seeing a tiger in the wild for the first time at Nagarhole NP. (India, 1994)

Nesting Albatross.  Sitting on the edge of a black-browed albatross colony on Saunders Island. (Falkland Islands, 2009)

The Treasury.  First sight of the treasury in Petra after walking through the Siq first thing in the morning with no-one else around. (Jordan, 2006)

Getting in touch with your inner Viking.  Seeing Up HellyAa - everyone should do it at least once. (Shetland, 2007)