Thursday, 21 June 2012

Small Island, Big Voices



Latest addiction: the British Library's online sound archive, especially the "Survey of English Dialects" category:


"The Survey of English Dialects (SED) was a groundbreaking nationwide survey of the vernacular speech of England... From 1950 to 1961 a team of fieldworkers collected data in a network of 313 localities across England... the informants were mostly farm labourers, predominantly male and generally over 65 years old as the aim of the survey was to capture the most conservative forms of folk-speech."

Apart from the gorgeous rhythms and cadences of the different dialects, what makes this collection so addictive is the contrast between the interviewers' bemusement and the farm labourers' gruff banter:

Hampshire farm labourer: "Locust is good to eat... that used to be sweet."


Interviewer (bewildered/vaguely disgusted): "What's locust exactly?"


Farm labourer: "Well locust is a bean! Locust beans!"

Or take this brilliant recording from Great Snoring, Norfolk:

http://sounds.bl.uk/Accents-and-dialects/Survey-of-English-dialects/021M-C0908X0059XX-1000V1

The only word I understood was "pheasant", but the mere fact that this interview was recorded in a place called Great Snoring, Norfolk, makes it worth listening to.

In fact, I'd recommend the entire collection as a masterclass for dialogue & characterisation. Take this cheerful duo in Shropshire:

Interviewer: And did you have very good food and that?

Farm labourer: Oooh, we used to kill a couple of good fat pigs!

Interviewer: How did you kill a pig?

Farm labourer: Oooh we had a butcher... a butcher going round, like.

Interviewer: And then what did you do to it after it had been killed?

Farm labourer: Oooh we hung it up! ... saltpeter and salt... leave it like that for three weeks then turn it... you got to have saltpeter though.

Interviewer: And how long does it keep?

Farm labourer: Oooh... three years? Push it up the chimney. Get the ham up the chimney.

I'll end with one more line from my favourite recording, the one from Hampshire. It sort of summarises the spirit of the entire survey: 


Interviewer: "What was this tale you were telling me... someone went up to Bedwin or somewhere?"

Wednesday, 13 June 2012

ALIVE! The Great Huayhuash Trek




Every now and then, a writer needs a break from her characters. And what better way to escape than to go on an eight-day Andean trek with very little oxygen, lots of snow and no showers? The Huayhuash mountain range in Peru promised all that, plus freezing nights in a tent at more than 4000m, a deadly scree-covered descent from 5000m, and a writerly epiphany.


Andean farmhouse


Here's the epiphany: a bit of oxygen deprivation does wonders for literary morale. 

  
When I handed in my manuscript just before leaving for Peru ("Of Love and Other Wars", a love story set among Quakers during the Second World War) - when I handed in the manuscript, I hit a post-partum low. The plot, the characters, the whole sodding book just weren't quite right. I began to endlessly re-write it in my head, even though I'd already gone through 73 (seventy-three) drafts.

However, once I was on the 160-km circuit of the Cordillera Huayhuash, with no sign of civilisation or literary critics anywhere, the manuscript miraculously improved in my mind. Waking up in a frosted tent, reaching for the water bottle only to find that it had frozen overnight, I began to feel that writing a book wasn't the hardest thing in the world after all. As my lungs seized up and my head throbbed with altitude sickness, the plot and characters acquired a new depth. At 5000m, I thought that if the sharp winds suddenly knocked me off the pass, "Of Love and Other Wars" wouldn't be the worst legacy to leave behind.



Dan at 5000m plus height of rock

So here's a quick Q&A to help you plan your trip in case you, too, are a writer on the run (or a non-writer looking for a spectacular trek). Don't forget to pack thermal undies and alpaca legwarmers as it does get rather cold. As for the rest... 


Fearsome security patrol building a snowman


Q: Isn't the Cordillera Huayhuash were all those tourists got mugged?

A: Well, yes, but that was several years ago. Frequent robberies (and the resulting drop in tourist numbers) prompted the communities in the area to get together and devise a rather clever system for improving security. Now tourists have to pay a fee of about 20 soles at each camp site. The money goes straight to the local communities who in turn look after the gorgeous camp sites and somewhat less gorgeous outhouses, and also organise patrols along the hiking paths. The patrols are a bit of a joke - two guys with a rifle left over from the 1980s civil war, plus a radio blaring Andean tunes - but I actually found their relaxed attitude very reassuring. They certainly didn't seem worried or scared.

In the old days, patrols would fire gunshots at night to let any bandits know who was in charge, but the tourists weren't big fans of that method, so they dropped it.



Q: What about the protesting miners?

A: When you're walking the Huayhuash trail, you're walking on gold. There are several gold and iron ore mines in the region, and miners are currently pushing for better terms (eg for the big mining companies to fund local irrigation projects). Not that the family-run artisanal goldmines seem any better than the big ones - we passed one that was little more than a pile of rubble over a handmade death trap.

The village of Huayllapa, which we visited on day six, owns part of the beautiful Diablo Mudo mountain, and until recently villagers were considering opening a goldmine there. However, they've now decided that tourism presents a better and more sustainable income stream (they've built a school and a library with the camp site fees), so the mining plans are off for the time being. 




Q: Is the Huayhuash trail really one of the world's ten most beautiful?

A: I don't know, since I haven't seen the other nine. But it was certainly the most beautiful mountain range I'd ever seen. Our photos don't quite do it justice. There were so many moments that felt unreal, dreamlike, as if I was moving across an unexplored planet. 

Dog and donkey having a party



Q: How difficult is it really?

A: Pretty difficult if you're an unfit writer with an urban lifestyle. Expect 5-8 hours of hiking every day, crossing eight passes in as many days. Dan and I could have done with an extra day or two of acclimatisation; we both suffered quite a bit for the first two days. Then again, one woman in our group tackled the trek with a raging bronchitis and dragged herself from camp to camp on the emergency horse, coughing all the way. So that's an option, though not one I'd recommend.




Q: Follow the herd or free-style it?

A: It's possible to organise the entire trek yourself. You can hire a guide, donkey driver (arriero), cook and donkeys at the Casa de los Guias in Huaraz, but it takes a bit of time and effort. We went for the convenience of joining a group. Our trekking companions were a Colombian who writes vampire novels in Bogota, and an American couple who like to practice crevasse rescue in their back garden (with paper bags over their heads, to better simulate the darkness of the crevasse - I'm not making this up).

Quechuandes, a Huaraz-based company, organised the whole trek including transport between Huaraz and the trailhead. The food was much better than expected - trout, delicious soups, even popcorn. Carlos, our guide, was excellent and knew lots about the area, its history and politics.

We took the eight-hour Cruz del Sur coach from Lima to Huaraz - very comfy, amazing views. Stayed at the rather fancy El Patio hotel in Monterrey just outside Huaraz for a bit of pre-trek luxury and booked the Lazy Dog Inn, a lovely mountain inn, as a reward lodge for post-trek rest and recovery.




Q: And the bathroom situation?

A: Better than I thought, since there were outhouses at almost every campsite. We each got a bowl of warm water every morning for a quick wash, and visited some lovely natural thermal baths on day four. I recommend packing some Nivea/Johnson facial wipes as an Andean shower substitute.


 Q: Favourite moments?

A: Sitting in the thermal bath with hail prattling down on my head; crossing a pass and feeling like I was stepping into another world; gazing at the starriest sky I'd ever seen; eating fried dough balls and drinking tea on an Alpine meadow surrounded by glaciers; discovering that drinking bottles can be used as a hot water bottles; tasting the first spoonful of hot pumpkin soup after another epic day.

"And the 5000m pass," says Dan.


Courtyard and proud house owner in Huayllapa

 Q: Least favourite moments?

A: Bad cold on day six and seven; waking up at 3am with my lower lip shaking from the cold; altitude sickness; the scree slope up to the sixth pass.




...and now we're at the wonderful Lazy Dog Inn, watching hummingbirds and doing nothing much. Beds and duvets really are a fantastic invention. So are hot showers.