Oil train passing Jeziorki, dusk

This time of year is great for evening walks, around sunset. It pays to go with your tripod. I caught this oil train, double headed by a an M62 Gagar and TEM-2 Tamara shortly after it passed W-wa Jeziorki station. The cisterns belong to Petrolot, the state monopoly selling aviation fuel to airlines; the train is en route to Okęcie airport.

Summer dusk, Jeziorki

I could see that photographically, this was going to be an interesting evening in Jeziorki. There was strong light from a setting sun in the north-west, while from the north, a heavy bank of thundercloud moved in a south-easterly direction, crossing Warsaw and giving everything from Bemowo across to Otwock a good soaking, accompanied by much lightning and thunder.

Yet Jeziorki, and indeed I'd guess the whole of Ursynów, was spared a drenching. Above: Fields between ul. Kórnicka and ul. Baletowa. The stormclouds are massing from the left. Below: the railway line from the fields of Dawidy Bankowe. The clouds are now over Praga, the scene illuminated by the last rays of the setting sun.

This time last year:
Classic cars in Warsaw and London
Summer twilight moods, Jeziorki

Another trip to Czachówek

Friday evening and a trip to the shops to buy a paper and a bag of crisps. The railway station is temptingly near... hell, here comes a southbound train. Leap on, buy ticket to Czachówek Południowy (above), return. Eleven zlotys, just over two quid there and back. And when I get there, two hours to stroll around some lovely Polish summer countryside.

And what could be more quintessentially rural Poland than the scene above? A narrow path, a wooden fence - that Polish lovely word 'opłotki' - a lane running between fences or hedges - a white painted cottage, a cherry tree full of ripe fruit, clear blue skies, yet lots of vivid greens for the time of year.

Trains terminating at Czachówek Południowy use this canopied platform (above) to the north of the through-train platforms.

I've mentioned in previous posts the junction layout at Czachówek, where two lines cross. There are four spurs running off the main lines to connect them. The two northern spurs running north-east and north-west are in daily use; the south-western one rarely, but the south-eastern spur is evidently not used at all. Despite that, PKP is still using electricity to light signals on this spur line (something I've also observed on the unused line at Tymbark). Above: A Warsaw-bound Koleje Mazowieckie train between Czachówek Południowy and Czachówek Górny on the main line. The photo was taken from the spur - as you can see, it's totally overgrown.

Above: Now this is a mystery. For some reason, the concrete sleepers on the south-east spur have been systematically smashed. A prelude to track lifting? I'd guess that trains could not use a line in this state. Signalling is still operational, though. A case of one hand not knowing what the other is doing?

And back to Czachówel Płd. for the train home. Strong sunlight from a midsummer sun just before dusk nicely illuminates the facade of the ticket office and waiting room (above).

This time last year:
Piccadilly Circus - mapa mundi

Ghost in the machine

The older I get, the more seriously I take the notion that inanimate objects, well, maybe don't actually "have a minds of their own," but at least have souls.

When things break down irredeemably, the causes can be traced, the breakdowns diagnosed. A radiator hose splits, causing coolant to escape, causing the engine to overheat, the cylinder block to seize up. A malicious virus rips into your hard disk and starts devastating data and starts spreading out across the net.

It's the undiagnosable ones that interest me; it's the maddening 'intermittent faults', the ones that mysteriously cure themselves whenever you take your car/camera/laptop to have it fixed. "Sorry sir, can't find anything wrong with it..." "But it was not working properly only this morning!"

Maddening intermittent faults such as the leakage of light or lens flare (can't even say which!) onto the film frame of my Leica M6 camera. I've discussed this on the Rangefinder Forum, a handful of other members have had similar (though not identical!) flare issues - and no one has been able to diagnose the problem. I snap two frames side by side, one had it, the very next one doesn't. The crankset on my bike. One minute creaking - next minute silent. Can't replicate it.

Or the recent battery memory problem I had with my Nikon D80. Snap a pic, and the battery dies. Cycle on/off and it's working. Happens one in every six shots. Then one in three. One in 20. One in one. I buy another battery. Same story. Then, all of a sudden - gone! Cleared up! By itself!

My theory is that if you care for your stuff, it will repay you with years of good service. I don't mean 'care' as in 'not abuse', I mean care as in 'being emotionally attached to'. My dear, immaculate showroom condition, one owner from new, 16 year-old Nissan Micra is a good example. I feel it knows I care about it and doesn't want to let me down. Despite the fact that I drive it down ul. Poloneza several times a week. And I'm sure Dyspozytor feels that well-maintained Px48 or Ty-2 steam locomotives have souls too.

Does that sound silly?

Everything's made of atoms - you, me, my Nissan Micra, the EN-EL3 battery that powers my Nikon D80, the Magic Flute CD that's kept on being played frequently over 20 years. It was Jonathan Wood who coined the expression 'the atomic will'. What is it, I ask, that keeps ALL the universe's hydrogen atoms' electrons whizzing around their nucleii for the best part of 13 billion years?

It's WILL, I tell you! Tap into that sub-molecular, elemental force and be in harmony with your things!

And, as if by magick, I stumble upon this article linked to a comment to a New Scientist article about consciousness within single-cell organisms. I can't pretend to have read the whole thing, but there are chunks that are philosophically mind-blowing. The history of consciousness bit is fascinating. When - and how - did consciousness first appear on our planet? And when the world of quantum physics starts to intrude upon mankind's understanding of consciousness, then things get really interesting.

To put the centuries-long debate about the nature of consciousness into perspective, it's worth reading the Wikipedia article on the Philosophy of Mind. In a nutshell, there are two schools of thought - dualism, which holds that consciousness and body are two separate entities, and monism, that consciousness is simply a product of the body. I hold the first view.

"Be seeing you," land of Big Brother...

The end of a commuting era

The cars! No! Not the cars!

Is this Pyongyang on Kim Il Sung Day? Are we in Chernobyl? No, it's Thursday lunchtime on ul. Przemysłowa, Powiśle, one mile as the crow flies from the very centre of Warsaw. Normally, you cannot squeeze a paperback between the bumpers of cars parked along this street. OK, we're into the second week of the school holidays - but, like, where have all the cars gone?

I arrived back at the office today knowing that something's changed for ever. Gone are the free-and-easy days of driving to work, when finding a space was the commuter's only worry. As of yesterday, Warsaw's parking meter zone was extended out towards Powiśle (where our offices are). Residents can still park for free, but an eight-hour stay will cost commuters nearly 30 zł, around six quid. A significant chunk of most people's daily earnings around here.

My strategy for getting around this is not perfect, as Warsaw's wonderful Metro runs three bus stops short of my office and starts a long way from home. So I drive (20 mins) to Metro Stokłosy (lit. "Hundred Sheaves") station, which has a Park + Ride facility - free parking for those using public transport to get into the centre. To park for free, you need a network ticket valid for at least 24 hours. As this costs 9 złotys (less than two quid), for which I get parking plus two Metro and two bus rides, it makes good sense. In terms of petrol, currently 4zł 70gr/90p a litre or thereabouts, taking Metro and bus to work from Stokłosy is saving me around a litre's worth a day. So overall I'm less well off and having to make that awkward change from Metro to bus at Politechnika station; time-wise I'm losing out too, and I miss not listening to TokFM (quick plug for EKG with Tadeusz Mosz, an excellent economics talk-show).

So for all my talk about the benefits of cycling to work (which I'll do tomorrow) and public transport, I actually feel a sense of loss at being deprived of the liberty of driving to work and parking outside the office for free. Still, public policy needs to be a mixture of stick and carrot.

I wait for a decent carrot in the form of improved public transport to and from Jeziorki. Above: Stokłosy P+R at 7:15am; plenty of space available.

This time last year:
Towers of London

This time two years ago:
Maybugs in July
High summer in Jeziorki
Wild deer near Las Kabacki forest

Late June lightning

The new tripod proves itself in extreme conditions. At half past ten on the last day of June, we were in the middle of a most terrifying/exciting thunderstorm, which passed over Jeziorki. Two exposures make up the above image; the first was lit up by lightning from the north of us, which illuminated the estate like studio lights. The second exposure, of the sky to the south of us, caught two flashes. The tripod was so stable that the sky from the second photo could be superimposed upon the foreground of the first. And I must say, I'm rather pleased with the result.

Three hill walks around Dobra

For three days in a row (Saturday, Sunday, Monday), Eddie and I climbed to the summits of the three nearest hills surrounding Dobra - Łopień (951), Ćwilin (1071m) and Śnieżnica (1007m)

Saturday was the wettest day, the forestry tracks in the hills were very muddy; our footwear proved stout - non-slip and waterproof. Above: on our way towards the top of Łopień. Eddie proved himself very fit when it comes to hill-walking. Every so often, I'd have to break into a run to keep up with him.

Sometimes we'd follow the paths, at others, we'd head through the trees towards the highest point. In circumstances such as these, a mobile high-res GoogleEarth and GPS solution would be ideal. Common sense suggests that it's easy to find the way up (to reach summit just keep climbing until you can do so no longer); it's harder finding the right way down.

Despite the showers, it was warm. At the summit, a large meadow and a ghastly plague of flies. Below: Camera pointed up from chest-height into the middle of the swarm of flies. There was no escaping them, save a swift descent into the trees.

At least they were not biting. Some corks dangling from the brim of my Australian-style bush-hat would have helped!

The weather was better on Sunday. Above: View of the village of Jurków, with Łopień to the left, seen from the lower slopes of Ćwilin. Fewer flies today. We walked into Jurków and ordered a pizza each at the restaurant there - a mistake, as the wood-stove pizzas were so gigantic that even after a two-hour hike, we couldn't finish them. Price per pizza (depending on topping): a mere two-three quid).

Monday's walk began in the mid-afternoon, after the rains had passed. We left Dobra and headed west along the DK28 before turning right into a road running uphill, which passed this house. Then we turned left into the wooded slopes, navigating on the basis that we had to keep moving uphill. The sun beat down on sodden earth, which smelt of cow's breath.

After a steep scramble to get onto the ridge the runs along the top of Śnieżnica, the path took us through dense forests, which prevented a decent view to either side. Eventually, we reached the ski slope that we'd ski'd on in January, walking down it this time to Kasina Wielka. From there we continued along the railway track until we reached the DK28.

This time last year:
Naval celebrations in Gdynia

Perfect Road Configuration

Here's my favourite kind of road; it needs to fulfill the following criteria: it must run through a forest. It must twist and turn; which means double unbroken white lines on it. There should be a steep hilly slope on either side of it, and reasonable empty of all other traffic. Smooth, no pot-holes. And the road's aesthetic should be appreciated, by taking it slowly. No rush. Above, below: roads around the Tatras.

Horse-drawn in the Tatras

Living around Warsaw, one gets the idea that Polish agriculture is modernising at rocket-speed. Cows have ear-tags, subsidised farmers are acquiring new tastes, and proof of their innovation is visible in every supermarket (just check out the varieties of home-grown tomato on offer, not to mention the availability of fresh corriander!). But driving along the roads of southern Małopolska, one realises that the horse is still an essential part of farm life.

Loading the mown hay onto the cart, harnessing the horse and trotting off from the pasture to the barn, as it's been done since man domesticated the horse and invented the wheel. Pneumatic tyres and modern clothing the only visible signs of the 20th Century

The horse-drawn cart is still a very real alternative to the car or the bus for a journey into town. Forget about timetables and money for petrol. The horse is fuelled by home-grown hay and oats. On Sundays, families in their folk finery will make their way to church pulled along by the horse.

Overtaking a horse-drawn cart on a series of twisting hairpins requires steady nerves, good judgment and luck!

And its not just a Polish thing - across the border into Slovakia we encountered this vehicle labouring up the hill towards. These Slovaks have at their disposal double the horse-power of their Polish counterparts!

Poland's short on mountains, really!

I have been less than charitable about the Polish Tourist Organisation's depiction of Poland as 'land of mountains and sea'. The latter is too cold for my tastes. The former - well, if one uses the most demanding definition of the word 'mountain' in English - height above base of at least 2,500m, then Poland has no mountains at all!

Above: You may need to do a double take on this pic, looking south along the road that runs from Nowy Targ towards the Slovakian border. Rearing above the gentle undulations are the Tatra mountains. The highest point in Poland, Rysy, is 2,499m above sea level. All the peaks in the Tatras over the magic 2,500m reside in Slovakia. And my guess is (correct me if I'm wrong), that the horizon in this pic is composed of Slovakian peaks (this being taken north of Białka Tatrzańska).

Part of the problem is linguistic. The Polish word for 'hill' and/or 'mountain' is góra. Just as Polish does not have separate words for 'arm' and 'hand' (both are ręka). Yes, there are diminutives of góra (górka, pagórek), but to 'go upstairs' is iść na górę, 'go uphill' is iść pod górę. While I find it difficult to find lexicographic evidence, I feel that Poles (and let's face it, 97% of us live at less than 500m above sea level) are more inclined to be liberal with the 'm' word.

See this post, in particular this photograph*, in which the overcrowding in Poland's Tatras becomes all too apparent.

But this is not to heap disrespect on the undulating south. Poland has much in the way of attractive and interesting upland, generally unknown to most Poles and foreigners alike. From the Sudety in the south-west to the Bieszczady in the south-east, there is much excellent walking territory here. And indeed, the fact that Eddie and I have returned to Dobra in the Beskid Wyspowy for the third time in a year signifies that for us at least, there's upland charm in abundance around these parts.

*Photo by courtesy of Ewa Świętochowska

On foot to Limanowa

Unlike last year, where we had a wonderful surprise upon climbing the hill to Dobra Station and finding a steam train there ready to depart to the railway musuem in Chabówka, this year the rails are still. I read some months back on the Polishrail blog that the line will not be used for tourist steam specials this season and is likely to be turned into a cycle path. Above: Dobra station, nothing happening.

Heading east from Dobra, we soon come across a bridge over the Łososina river (above), certainly not a walk for those suffering from vertigo.

The Kolej Transwersalna, like many railways running through hilly terrain, offers ever-changing vistas; not knowing what's around the next bend makes the walk all the more interesting. Below: the last bend before Tymbark; two signals are still lit, although a train hasn't run over this line since January.

Below: the track straightens out before Tymbark, the fruit-juice town. Eddie shows amazing stamina; he walks at my pace and it's impossible to wear him out. On a breakfast of six strawberry pierogi and cream, washed down with a coffee and a Pepsi, he managed to cover over 20km today.

Below: Looking back towards Tymbark across another river bridge. The fruit juice company would do well to tidy up the back of its factory; it's not a good advertisement for its products.

Below: Looking towards Piekiełko (literally 'Little Hell') station, between Tymbark and Limanowa. In the window of the station building is a timetable from 2002.

Below: The line runs uphill into Limanowa, which is quite a large town, spread out over a large area. Limanowa itself is a drear town spoilt by porrly-designed advertising hoardings with a plethora of typefaces and colours. Eddie and I had a swift snack at a petrol station before taking the first minibus back to Dobra.

Below: abandoned track, between Kasina Wielka and Mszana Dolna. A nice study in contrasting textures; moss, iron, wood, flowers, stone.

A few days later, Eddie walked another section of the track, from Kasina Wielka towards Mszana Dolna, as far as the DK28 road. Together with the stretch we walked last summer, we've now covered some 22km of this railway on foot; and it's well worth it. Below: Looking back towards Kasina, the track curves across a short river bridge.

Below: the track dips down towards Mszana Dolna. Definitely worth walking this way before either the rails get lifted or train services resume again.

Kraków Air Museum

No change in the weather; drizzle alternating with downpours. An opportunity to drive to Kraków (a ghastly mistake in itself - the city, though beautiful, is the road infrastructure black hole of the country that is the road infrastructure black hole of the EU).

The museum is an eclectic mix of old Soviet aircraft that once served with the Polish People's Air Force (LWP), the NATO types that once faced them down across Cold War borders, Polish-designed gliders and sports planes and, for me the most interesting, WWII types flown by Polish airmen in the west. Above: A Tiger Moth, the British basic trainer on which most Poles flying with the RAF got their first taste of flying in. Behind it, an American Piper Cub. (Another Polish Tiger Moth photo in this post). Tripod is a must for hangar photography - huge depth of field without having to use flash. These pics all taken with aperture at f22.

Above: The PZL P 11c fighter. The plane that formed the front line air defence of Poland 70 years ago. Its magnificent manouevrability could not overcome its weedy two light machine gun armament and its low top speed (weedy engine, fixed undercarriage). Its brave pilots gave as good as they took, screwing the maximum out of the aged airframes to take a pop at the Hun.

It was only when the same pilots, who'd managed to make it to England via France, were seated in Hurricanes and Spitfires (eight guns, top speed double that of the P 11c, oxygen, radios, retractable undercarriage), did they show their true worth. They were used to having to get up really, really close to the Nazi planes before opening up. When they brought four times the firepower to bear on the enemy from that distance, they shredded the opposition.

This needs to be remembered. Polish pilots fighting in the Battle of Britain were not 'kamikazes'. They were highly skilled survivors, the best of the best, given first-rate equipment and organisation. As a result, Polish 303 Squadron had the highest kill rate of any Allied squadron in the Battle of Britain.

Sadly, the museum's Spitfire was covered up with plastic sheeting as a nearby exhibit was receiving a re-spray.

Old Soviet kit is two a penny in Polish museums. Soviet factories churned out so much of this stuff on the basis that should the Cold War turn hot, they'd need 50-1 numerical superiority to overcome NATO's superior determination, aircraft, weapon systems, avionics and ground control (anyone who doubts this should read about what happened over the Beqaa Valley in June 1982). Many Warsaw Pact junk jets grace the car parks of Poland's petrol stations, motels and roadside restaurants.

The strangest exhibit here is the world's first and only jet biplane. The is the Polish-built PZL M-15 Belphagor agricultural aircraft. Chemicals were contained in two tanks between the wings. It was not a success. To my surprise, I learn that 175 of these weird beasties were built.

Much of the museum's inventory is stored in the open air; if the collection of MiGs and Sukhois oxidises into dust, that's no great loss, but the unique stuff needs to be housed better. So we were delighted to see new buildings going up.

In the meanwhile, the entrance to the museum is a muddy track full of huge puddles. Below: Eddie attempts to get back to the 'car park' (mud by the side of the road).

A good day out despite the weather and the awful traffic into and out of Kraks. Tickets (5zł children, 7zł adults, nothing extra for photography) are extremely cheap - too cheap in fact; a bit more on the ticket price could go into more effective protection of exhibits.

Dobra in the drizzle

It's been the wettest, dullest June since we first arrived in Poland. Eddie and I have returned to Dobra, a place we've come to feel very much at home in. We reach Dobra on Sunday evening, the longest day of the year. We should be celebrating midsummer, but there's little cheer in the weather.

Above: The Łososina river is swollen, though still metres away from bursting its banks. We hear that year by year, the water levels in this river have been falling.

Walking around Dobra waiting for the weather to clear. No chance says the TV weathergirl - the sunshine will arrive on Saturday. Drizzle gives way to rain; then the rain relents and is replaced by drizzle. Exactly like North Wales in July.

We return to our guest house (highly recommended, our third stay here in 12 months) and do something we almost never, ever do - watch television.

In search of decent Polish beer

The Polish breweries are now mostly foreign owned. SAB Miller, Carlsberg, Heineken have snapped up the big brands and dominate the market. The few surviving local independent breweries have fallen on hard times.

The beers that are readily available tend to be sweet and heavy like a late-August afternoon; sunny, humid, with more than a hint of thunder, plenty of fruity smells in the air. Gone are the Polish beers that reminded me of British Light Ales and Pale Ales (remember those?) before the UK market went under a tide of taste-free fizzy lagers. (Thank God for real ales, however; but the saving grace of British brewing is to be found in Poland only in the largest urban hypermarkets and specialist shops.)

Żywiec gives me dreadful headaches. Tyskie, which used to be a reliable tipple, is now little different to Lech, which to me tastes like a suspension of dust in sugary water. Beers I liked have disappeared - Okocim Zagłoba, Dojlidy Magnat. Warka is dreadfully sweet.

So it was with a measure of optimism that I tried Okocim Premier Pils, recommended by my friend Krzysztof. Same old story - too sweet. On Saturday I came across something called Grand Imperial Porter - very dark, good head, strong - but ruined for me by what tasted like half a sackful of sugar added to it.

I conclude that sweetness is a measure of the Polish beer-drinking demographic - young and very young. The predominance on the market place of young beer drinkers has shaped the taste of the nation's ales.

Wherever Poles take their beer, there's always large plastic bottles of fruit syrops about. If an Englishman asked for a large dash of raspberry syrop in his beer, he'd be considered effeminate, to put it mildly. Here, you'll see many a shaven headed, bull-necked type knocking back the Tyskie, the Zywiec or the Lech discoloured by syropy, sugary goo.

The beer companies have not been slow to spot this, and have launched their own sugary fruit-flavour concoctions - 'beers' like Redd's, FreeQ, Gingers. And mainstream beers have become sweeter. New launches, like the 'English style' beer 'Dog in the Fog', posing as a 'smooth beer' (thinks draughtflow beer like Boddingtons), turn out to be ghastly in taste. Even the much-praised Perla from Lublin, said to have a strongly hoppy flavour, is actually quite lacking in hops. If you like hoppy beers, try the German Jever pils.

And so after 12 years in Poland my quaff of choice is not Polish, but Czech - Pilsner Urquell.

They're building a house

Slowly, mercifully slowly, and individually, the fields around our house begin to fill with houses. On Thursday morning I spotted some activity in the field next-but-one to us, indicating that work has got underway on what will be the seventh house start in our immediate vicinity since we moved here in 2002. At this rate, it will take decades for Jeziorki's housing density to reach that of suburban London.

Above: The land has been cleared, and is ready for the builders. The fences are going up. Below: Within two days, trenches for the foundations have been dug and the cement is being poured.

The aim of any house builder will be to have the structure up and enclosed by the winter. The most expensive and time-consuming part, fitting out, can drag on for years.