Some Bees doing well - One colony perished

For late October I found me Apiary very busy yesterday with plentiful amounts of pollen being carried in. Ivy forage is plentiful and very beneficial just now. and is in close proximity. To a varying degree the top inside each hive was heavy with condensation. I raised those slightly to give better ventilation but today will be checking again to gauge if its working. The lost colony had been struggling through the summer and I had hoped I might feed them through the autumn but perhaps I left it too late. Now the job of cleaning up and disinfecting everything remains. The bars are to be scorched and washed in hot soda solution. Likewise the hive itself will be thoroughly cleaned out and disinfected.

Come December I intend to treat all three surviving hives with oxalic acid vapor against the veroa mite, the same treatment as done the previous December. 

A wartime Baby

My arrival was not the best time to be borne. During the second world war when my dear mother worked in a munitions factory nursing the injured machinists prone to having small fragments of metal shed into their eyes. The diet at the time was meagre and for me included dried banana and powdered egg. To buy any food at all required the ration book to be shown and I believe there was something like four ounces of butter or margarine allowed per week. My father was working away from home surveying. Bonding with his first son never took place. My first and second brothers arrived at three-yearly intervals with a fourth brother arriving when I was twelve.
In the early years, my mother made soft toys to supplement the family income but soon after war ended their first home was bought close to the seaside. After a couple of years, it was sold in favour of a larger house on the seafront but the cat ran away and I was ill with tonsilitis.
Another move took us a mile or so back from the sea, but it was another victorian terrace and not well heated. I remember several winters sharing a bedroom with my two brothers and that room faced north. Frost would often form on the inside of the sash window.
Those were not the happiest years of my life, with parents often squabbling for reasons I could not fully understand. I was maltreated by this unpredictable father and felt some resentment even towards my mother for tolerating his behaviour.

My early education was unsatisfactory as well, due to the fact that I was sheltered from mixing with much of the rough and tumble to be found in the community. My father believed he was a cut or two above the rest, so I was put into a tiny little private school of seventeen boys, under the one proprietor/schoolmaster, who had his favourites and had put his retirement on hold. The rest of us boys were less well encouraged to learn anything at all. I learnt to make pea shooters and cotton-reel tanks.
Consequently, I failed my 11+ and reached secondary school, but the woodwork master and music masters both saw that I had potential and I was entered for the 13+ to grammar school to be further educated.

By that time the family had moved a few miles down the coast and I had built my first canoe as well as many a balsa wood model aircraft and a model boat or two. Tools were hard to come by and I remember frequently cutting fingers on the makeshift razor blade tools I could find.
I taught myself a rudimentary kind of ballistics, having access to spent cartridge cases and black powder or propellant gleaned from fireworks.  My father made his own cartridges for his punt gunning sport. Today I would probably be locked up for my exploits.
At this time cars were fewer on the roads and children would happily run off to explore the countryside or seashore without any worries.
At seventeen I obtained my driving licence at the first attempt and within a couple more years acquired my first MG two seater. It was a barn find at £45 and driven back from Pipers Pool in Cornwall.
That sports car was later sold to be replaced by a better MG open sports model which absorbed all of my savings.
To a greater or lesser extent, I suppose I am today re-living those years, albeit with a lessened vigour, but undiminished in terms of enjoyment. My mother always said enjoy yourself while you are young - they are the best years - I found her pessimism to be unwarranted.

Discovering myself

A time of life for quiet reflection.
Working backwards along that timeline is a long story I have to tell, and it would be silly to bore you, dear reader, with the mundane struggle we all endure at some time.
Look through my blog posts,  and it should not be difficult to discover much of what I do so I will dig out some nuggets from the inner me.
Gone are the days of vain pretence and the coy retreat into the quieter self. There is confidence in feeling I am one of the elders.
I don't circulate much and neglect the cultivation of new friends and fail to nurture the friends I already have. Within that circle, I count myself fortunate enough to have two younger brothers.
I enjoy the music of the 20s - particularly this band Tuba Skinny.

America's music and the best  to come from there in a long time. 

I always doubted the presence of a divine spirit and despise the hypocrisy of the church, where the cloak of respectability provides cover for a multitude of child abusers.
I believe only a parent may be trusted with the care of the child and yet even they sometimes are found wanting. The exception to that rule will sadly always hold true.
The unsung heroes of this world are generally the mothers - only they hold in their hearts the gift of boundless love for the child.

Regards the mysteries beyond our planet; so much is being discovered today that there is a veritable flood of information, theories and speculative ideas from the science of space physics. All of us have access to the library of the internet and news media. Findings we can all enjoy by placing our own spin on where we are at, and how we imagine ourselves lost and found, floating round and round on a spinning globe.
I think of the cosmos as being in a state of confused regularity.  I mean the alternating destruction and regeneration of matter into its constituent parts and back again to its condensation into the elements already familiar to us.
As for the expansion of the cosmos from the so-called big bang. (In my view a fallacy). I suggest the cosmos has always been present in one form or other.
Some things are unbelievable because we lack the imagination to speculate on that which might be very real. The puzzle has a solution, and the solution is doubtless standing there in front of our eyes
Current findings suggest the universe is expanding, but different methods suggest the rate of expansion is different, according to which method of measurement is used. With eighty per cent of the matter believed to be dark matter of unknown form or whereabouts, it is of little wonder that a measure of uncertainty has crept into the calculation. Most of what we know is brought to us in the form of light and radiation. Slow light appears red, fast light appears blue.
May I postulate the notion of a universe that is swimming in a form of dark matter that is the same dark matter that coalesces to form a black hole, but dispersed throughout the cosmos in the form of a solidified gas. infinitely tiny, each unit might remain at its original density but be so small as to be undetectable except in its ability to regulate the speed of light through it. That might explain why light travels at a uniform speed.
Sound travels through the air at a speed dependant on the temperature and density of that air; or through water at a greater speed, due to the greater density of water compared to that of air.
My further postulation is, therefore, that light may seem to be travelling at a uniform speed throughout our localised galaxy but may be moving through the wider universe at a slower speed due to the more rarified density of the dark matter gasses through which that light travels. The apparent recession of the outer cosmos, away from us, could be due to that difference in the speed of light. Giving the false impression of a cosmos that is expanding and receding away from us at its outer reaches.

And that last word "reaches" is the wrong one to use because the inference is of an outer limit or extent. An all too easy mistake to make, when my notion is of an infinite cosmos with no outer limit.
Why? - Because mathematics is the language determining all that happens out there and we have all heard of the term infinity.
It's here that my imagination runs away with itself. My understanding of it is very sparce but I like it for the width of its ability to describe the simple and the complex. Here's the funny thing - it's a language that's out there to be discovered, and we only know the half of it. Conjectures abound that are yet to be proven and lots more that are untested and beyond our imagination. 

September honey Harvest

I know it is late in the season to be taking honey from the hive but I
have been slow to harvest much at all any earlier. Due to wet and windy weather and projects elsewhere, the opportunities simply were not there.
A hindrance to harvesting this year was a degree of cross combing that needed sorting out, with most of the honey stores being spread out amongst the horizontal log shape of the colonies. Harvesting was tricky to do without blundering down into the brood nest.
My attempts at queen breeding have been postponed till next year.
However, my inspection yesterday went well. Smoker lit and fuelled with oak havings which I light up with the help of a few capfuls of methylated spirits. Despite this and being wrapped up well under my smock and veil, I was stung lightly through my sock and again on the lower right leg from a bee that ventured up my trousers!
Three of the colonies are doing quite well with no depletion in numbers as yet.
The fourth colony have not recovered in number after being shaken down from an old hive into my own Cathedral top-bar hive. The idea is to enable interchangeable bars and easier manipulation.
I shall feed from now on, till Christmas or they may not overwinter.

I prefer to use the honey without extracting from the comb and managed to gather 10lbs in all.

Wear out a Morgan gracefully

Preferring not to allow the Morgan to gather dust in the garage. Weather permitting, it's driven with enthusiasm at every opportunity, and with the hood down.

From acquisition day with less than 7,000 miles on the clock in 2011, it is now approaching 70,000 miles, but with little or no change to good performance or cosmetic good looks.

The bodywork and underlying mechanics are sound and the M.O.T. regularly passed with hardly a comment. The majority of maintenance is done by myself and I have only once suffered a breakdown when the radiator failed. The common weakness here was rectified later by fitting an all aluminium radiator.  All the fluids are regularly monitored and changed.

Particularly impressive is the way the ECU keeps the engine in tune. Starting is instantaneous and the engine has always run perfectly. This includes several trips abroad using all kinds of terrain and types of road. To get a flavour of these ventures, see elsewhere on this Blog.
As well as the radiator change I have renewed the rear brake shoes, replaced disk pads, replaced sliding pillars with hard chromed ones, sheathed the pillars in leather to keep out dirt/grit. Replaced a master cylinder, added spotlights, added triple horns, replaced washer fluid tube, added a clock and voltmeter, renewed the auxiliary ribbed belt (very simple to do), adjusted tracking, tied down all loose wiring, renewed perished parts of the cooling tubing. adjusted the handbrake cable, greased the spider universal joints to the transmission and steering. Oiled the leaf springs and hangers from time to time. Bled the brake system several times. Made a dashboard of wood and more recently a wood steering wheel and matching gear knob. Kept a log of all work carried out, together with mileage and dates on which this was done.

I have a decent hydraulic jack and axle stands for getting safely underneath.

In the garage, I normally drape a softcover dust sheet over the top.

A planned trip to Cadiz had to be postponed this year  (2019) because of a minor medical issue and lack of free time through childminding duties. However, there have been some lovely ventures and newly discovered venues closer to home in the south-west UK, including Newton Ferrers and Noss Mayo.

Woodcarving of Swifts

When my daughter asked me to make her a trophy for her keep fit gymnasium, I came up with the idea of this pair of swifts in flight over the rooftops. Each swift comprises of eight separate pieces of Wenge wood glued together in such a way that the distinctive wood grain shows up a little like feathers and renders the sculpture less liable to split. Wenge is an African hardwood not previously used by me. It tends to blunt tools quickly but finishes well and is quite durable.

Two further pairs were made to be gifted to William and Matthew, I chose a slightly more swept-wing shape with a narrower chord. The bodies were also slimmed a little and set with glass bead eyes. The twin pairs each have one with wings raised and the other with wings drooped.

Each wing was chamfered and joined together with a centre section scarfed between them. The body is built up with two laminations below and one above the wings. Thin separate tail feather pieces were slotted in a saw cut made in the tail after the body was completed. Carving from one single piece would result in loss of strength and consume five times as much wood - prohibitively expensive! I finished by applying my own blend of beeswax and flax oil and mounting the pair onto a base of English Oak and Red Oak.

Making a steering wheel.

The Morgan 4/4 already had a wood steering wheel the Mota Lita but it is really substantially aluminium alloy with only the rim made of wood and that is plywood with little intrinsic strength, having laminations that are radial and so adding no rigidity.
A recent wandering through a classic car show sparked the idea, seeing a 1914 Hupmobile with its wooden spoked wheels and a crude wooden steering wheel that has stood the test of time.
.
Having already made a few wheels for toys for my young grandchildren I knew it could be done for the Morgan and set about the job with a wooden mould onto which the timber would be built up in laminations approximately 1/16th in thick. Cascamite resin glue was used for the outer rim and its a sticky job requiring glove protection for my hands.
Firstly the laminations are cut and planed to size and steam softened over boiling water in a pan. Allowed to cool and held to the mould with crocodile clamps. The tricky bit is ensuring full contact between the layers. There are probably better methods than mine such as vacuum bagging or wrapping with string to exert sufficient pressure. But this was to be a prototype and seems to have succeeded but admittedly, could be bettered.

Spokes most of which were rejects. Note the sharpened one drove through the redwood plank.

Hub and rim moulds

The outer rim is easier to fabricate than the inner hub because the clamping has more space to fix the clips. For the hub I resorted to laminating the outer layer free of the mould; after setting, the inner laminations were inserted and clamped from the inside as they naturally expanded to meet the surface of the outer layer. The ends of all the layers were feathered at both ends and tapered so that there were no but-ends or gaps. Once completed the two rings were lined up and marked out for drilling. Holes go into the outer rim from the inside approximately ⅓ in deep so as not to penetrate through to the outside. The inner hub was drilled to the full depth so that the spokes could be inserted from the centre of the circle and out through to the rim.
Spokes were cut from mature bamboo and approximately 3/32 in diameter. Each one drove through a suitably drilled hole in a piece of steel bar to ensure they were of a similar size.
Finally, the whole thing was sanded smooth and a coat of linseed oil applied. If you are not sure of the strength of bamboo to make spokes I can confirm that it is more than adequate, having driven a sharpened test spoke through a 1 ¼” plank without any harm to the wooden “nail”. 

With the steering wheel now in place, I am delighted with the result and tested with a drive out to Bristol. Further drives around Devonshire including Dartmoor and the narrow lanes have confirmed the wheel to be a success. Lighter in weight and more sensitive to the way a Morgan gives back road surface feeling. 

Also fabricated is a new gear stick knob to match the wooden dash, replacing the alloy one that was cold to the touch.

For previous attempts at wheel building, see earlier post: Balance Bike

A punt gun goes Bang

My father was a wildfowler outside office hours. That is to say at weekends, some weekdays and many a night, alone or in the company of like-minded souls of a sporting nature. His father and two of his brothers would often accompany him and many, many hours would be spent in pursuit of wildfowl on the Exe Estuary.
This was not a sport with rigid rules but more of hunting instincts, stalking a living prey for reward,
the meat, the kudos, cash and accolade amongst his friends over a pint or two.
My early childhood saw some of the drama of this almost obsessive pursuit of pleasure. Not always a happy experience and one or two occasions quite frightening.
What brings me to tell this brief true story of misfortune or blessing is the recent interest shown by a new generation of wildfowlers that somehow seem to have awareness of the prowess of my father's skill in the field and I have had cause to delve a little deeper into some old notes he kept on the flyleaves of an old book on the subject.

On the 23rd of February 1940 he records at 2.30pm off Exminster he shot 7 Brent Geese, but at 4.30 his punt gun exploded at Greenland, a large mudflat off Exminster in the middle of the Exe Estuary.
He records that his father Lionel came to his rescue and towed him ashore to Woodbury Station -actually, it was the Exton Railway station which is right on the opposite Estuary side to the Turf Locks Hotel. From there he would have accompanied him to RD&E Hospital. (His father would presumably have been waiting at the Turf to drive him home or possible he had been alerted by a shout from there and rowed out to the rescue ).
A month later father records that he was discharged from the Royal Devon and Exeter Hospital and retrieved the punt, but the now damaged punt gun was "chucked overboard"; exactly where is not revealed, but my memory seems to tell me of having read somewhere that it was off Lympstone.
The punt was holed but would have been repairable and presumably, he was headed back to the Dawlish Warren creek where the punt was normally hauled out onto the mud beside the railway line at Cockwood.
Today the scene is quiet, pictured here in high summer from Exton Station.

Looking south-west

Under the rail viaduct

Looking towards Exmouth from the station

Looking towards Topsham

Turf Hotel in the middle distance

Father's notes record the accident

A similar punt with breach loader gun. Father's gun was an older type of muzzleloader

Ply Dinghy Completion

Six months of work has, at last, come together in one beautiful craft fit for purpose. Some pottering, a little fishing venturing along some of Devon's Estuaries, and even some waterborne photography when the light is right.
The inside is varnished with Epiphanes clear and the outside hull finished in Epoxy clear resin (Sicomin 5550 using a medium-fast hardener). She has three flotation bags, a pair of oars and helmsman with plenty of local experience of messing about in boats; what could possibly go wrong after so many hours of labour.
Helen is, even now, against my plans for some waterborne enjoyment and shows little inclination to join me on the water. However, I do have one or two good friends happy to come fishing even though I am no real fisherman.
Now about to add a winch to my road trailer that will ease recovery from the water, even though the weight is not much over 90K with the Seagull 40+ outboard in place.

Off Teignmouth, South Devon

One very nice Bass

Something nice for supper

A professional boatbuilder would probably not have indulged in such methods as I have over the choice of woods and construction. He would struggle to justify the time. The transom alone consists of twenty separate pieces of wood whereas the normal way would be to cut that out from just two pieces of plank. 

Launch Time

Staithes & Runswick Bay

Surf spots found by son William lead him to far away places we should see;  thats what we have been doing today. Delightful little fishing villages nestling between cliffs and stradling streams that have made natural harbours.  When the storm swell rises and the surf is high William parks his camper van at the top of the hill to clamber down the steep cliff path.
Wandering through these places today was a delight. Sitting in the sun nibbling crab sandwiches tea and ice cream. Gardens in full blossom. Gull chicks on every other rooftop.

The Cobble high and dry at low tide

Looking towards the lifeboat station

Captain Cook hailed from these parts

Spot the gull chicks

Gardens in full blossom and full sun

Whitby Fish & Chip Sunday

The Magpie restaurant comes highly recommended and its certainly popular. With a queue waiting by 11am for opening time. We wait and make for an upstairs table overlooking the harbour to get served within five minutes. So many day trippers thronging the narrow streets and piling into vessels to circuit the harbour and coastline this fine weather. Bikers in leathers walking bow legged, hot and flushed in the heat,  focusing on the railway station cafe.
Stopping there in the carpark we get hustled in by a bevy of revvy bikes impatiently following behind.
A walk along the breakwater to the lighthouse rewards us with some lovely views of the coastline and beach where three donkeys give children rides and a lady patrols the sand with a pooper-skooper bucket. In the distance we see a quieter cove and make our way north a mile or so for more wanderings,  tea and cake. Parking charges are higher here than in Devon but not to worry!
Two more days to spend around the coast,  delighted with our new Airbnb. A converted barn amidst farmland down a narrow lane, well secluded and quite spacious. 

Try as I might, the task of persuading Helen to let me call in to a metal suppliers is met with hostile negatives, and it looks as if I shall have to get the metal keel strips for my dinghy build back home in Devon. Up here it is available at a very reasonable price  off the shelf and I try to mollify Helen with the promise of a stainless steel cooker splash back but still no agreement is forthcoming. 

Heading North in a Heatwave

The Morgan 4/4 performed perfectly today after a chilly 6am start from Kenton near Exeter. A fine clear morning with our journey predicted to take four hours with the hood down and wind in our hair. It actually took six hours due to several stops for refreshments on the way to Creswell, Derbyshire. The Morgan was treated to a full change  of engine and gear box oil together with a greasing of the suspension the day before we left home,
M42 traffic and confusing road signs made for some nervous moments. At the point where this road reaches the M1 four traffic lanes need careful attention, not to get onto the wrong road. The M6 toll road north east of Birmingham could easily have been taken by mistake.
Before clocking in to the Airbnb we made a leisurely visit to Creswell Crags where new geological digs are finding clues about the long human habitation of the caves extending back into times of the lion, rhinoceros and cave bear. Animals on the menu of those hunters down the ages.
Tomorrow a family anniversary will be celebrated and the day after, some sight seeing onto the Yorkshire moors.
Our brief tour north extends to the sea later on, including Whitby while warm weather is guaranteed.
Meanwhile records are broken with 46 deg in France and similar highs in Spain. With wildfires in Catalonia global warming can no longer be denied.

Cresswel Crags

Newbuild Dinghy after a few coats of Varnish

On target for launching by mid July for some fishing and pottering.
This twelve foot labour of love is by no means perfect but has been a most satisfying project to undertake in my advancing years.  One of those ideas that seems to seed from reading a small book big on content, that taps into skills fast disapearing in this age of plastic and glass.

And if  I can build it  - I can mend it !

The spoon blade paddles are of ordinary selected deal, but should, more correctly have been of Spruce.

There are a couple more coats required to the interior and thereafter just the hull to varnish and paint. Oh! and the rubbing strips to be fitted to keel and bilge runners.

Seagull 40+ outboard

Spoon bladed paddles

Cathedral TopBar Hive Progress

Approaching mid-summer and looking out for signs of swarming. One hive looks like a supersede queen cell is being made in mid comb so its best left undisturbed. Another hive cropped of my first honey of the season. The 2 combs were removed and the top half  taken while the lower drawn comb was reattached to the bar using a hair slide calliper. A colony that was shaken down into a top bar out of a flat topbarhive is building comb well and looks healthy - I have been supplementing food for them.
I had intended introducing a Nicot cage but due to a clumsy calamity with my smoker setting alight my wood shavings close to the Nicot frame it rapidly distorted and became unusable. I am going to have to replace it right away if the queen breeding idea is to go ahead.

A very full hive

Combe being drawn out

Foundation being drawn from the bottom up

The queen spotted on this comb to the far right

Cold Moulded Ply Dinghy nearing completion

Items soon to be completed on this build:
Seating, timbers beneath the seats.
Attaching knees with coppernails and roves
Fabricate a pair of oars
Rubbing strips of brass or stainless steel to keel.
Sand and preparation for varnish  /  paint.

Floor timbers beneath seats will be steamed and glued into position tapering to a feather edge on top of the existing.

Ply hull is 1/2 in. thick 

Rear seats to be widened and rounded on edge

Dinghy progress and somewhere to venture

Having just added gunnels with their capping of Sycamore and the stem and stern knees, this little craft is beginning to look quite robust. The hull gives a bell like sound if knocked with a knuckle - perhaps the largest wooden bell in the UK !
Next will come the seats and some timbers beneath them, to add rigidity where the trailer meets amidships. Most trips in useage will require towing to a launch site. The local estuaries include the Dart, Teign, Exe and even more appealing is the Salcombe / Kngsbridge Estuary or Ria; unusual because it has no large river feeding it, just a series of small streams from Frogmore, Bowcombe, Batson, East Allington, Sherford and other surrounding villages, rising at springs some 140 metres above sea level.
The Salcombe-Kingsbridge Estuary is tidal up as far as Kingsbridge, the bridging point five miles inland. Like the other estuaries of South Devon, the original deep river valley has been inundated by later sea level rise, with the tide flooding in to create a wide expanse of water. 

I am now  more confident I shall complete by mid July.

 

Seat riser wedged in place

Beginning to firm up with knees in place

Rowlock cheeks added

Transom knee