Scary numbers

How many humans are killed each year by sharks? I've seen several answers to that question, but 10-20 seems a good guess. According to Wikipedia the most shark attacks ever recorded were in 2000, and there were 16 fatalities that year.

How many sharks are killed by humans? Again, the answers vary, and I've seen numbers from 73 million to 200 million. Elizabeth Kolbert, in her August 2 New Yorker review of The Scales Fall, says the number is 100 million, quoting David Helvarg in his book Saved by the Sea: A Love Story with Fish.

20 humans. 100 million sharks. And WE are afraid of THEM?

Humans are, without a doubt, the most destructive force this planet has ever known. I used to think we would not survive as a species because we would nuke ourselves to death. I now think it is much more likely that we will die off after making the planet inhospitable to human life.

Will things change? I don't know, but I have a theory that it will take something truly massive to wake people up to the reality of dwindling resources. I mean truly massive. A famine that kills 500 million people, an earthquake that levels New York, a tsunami that wipes London off the planet. I know this sounds like the plot of a bad sci-fi movie -- wait, it WAS the plot of a bad sci-fi movie: 2012 -- but I honestly think it's what might have to happen before we wake up. Before we stop eating meat, stop overfishing the oceans, stop polluting the seas with oil, stop changing the climate with carbon dioxide.

I'm not an optimist; you all know that. I'm glad I won't be around to be proven right. You better hope your kids will be around to prove me wrong.

More cathedrals

My best buddy Don and I seem to be waging a friendly battle of the blogs as we both watch Starz TV's version of Pillars of the Earth and write about cathedrals we have visited. So far he has written about Salisbury, Köln, Trier and Sainte-Chapelle -- that last not of course a cathedral, but a fantastic Gothic experience nonetheless. I wrote about my ten-day tour of British cathedrals and he asked for more detail, so here we go.

Winchester was my first stop. This beautiful eleventh century cathedral is noteworthy for Jane Austen's tomb and because of a problem with water seepage. The picture at left is of Antony Gormley’s eerie, mesmerizing statue Sound II in the crypt; throughout much of the year it is knee-deep in water, as it was when I saw it. A nearby statue of William Walker celebrates the brave deep-sea diver who, from 1906 to 1911, single-handedly saved the cathedral by working underwater and in total darkness six hours a day to shore it up. Winchester is likely the only cathedral to be immortalized in popular song: the New Vaudeville Band’s eponymous ditty and Crosby, Stills and Nash’s Cathedral.

I’ve already talked about Salisbury, my favorite English cathedral. Of all the pictures I shot, I love most the one below; it clearly shows the breathtaking height of the tower, as well as the bucolic setting of this magnificent building. (Note: apologies for the image quality; my scanner is broken and this is an iPhone photo of the original).

Ely Cathedral is noteworthy for its painted ceiling and for its castle-like appearance, as well as for its unique octagonal lantern. I loved the afternoon and night I spent there, for Ely is a charming, not-so-crazy-as-others Cambridgeshire town.

My visit to York Minster was serendipitously magical. The plan, as always, was to tour the cathedral for a couple of hours and then find a B&B. I was crushed to learn that would not be possible as a medieval mystery play was being presented that day and there was no admission except to see the play, which was long ago sold-out. I was directed to the box office in the hope that a ticket might be returned. I had only just walked in when an old lady tottered up to me, shaking something in her hand and asking “need a ticket, sonny?” I was thrilled and then thrilled again as I watched a three-hour pageant of color, comedy, beauty and spirit unfold within the walls of this majestic place. The town was overrun because of the play so I was unable to secure a room in York for the night, but I will never forget the afternoon I spent there.

Durham (below) was the farthest north I got on my trip. Its cathedral is probably the greatest Norman building in existence, maybe the greatest ever built. Of all the churches I visited, this one has the most amazing setting imaginable. It is built on a peninsula in the River Wear and its west end looks into a deep gorge. It is simply stunning.  I stayed at a B&B 20 minutes away; walking toward the cathedral is another experience I will never forget. If one of the aims of a cathedral’s design is to humble us mere mortals, this one works, in spades!

I loved Lincoln Cathedral (below) as well. (Ok, let’s face it: there are no cathedrals I don’t love. Well maybe one: Washington, DC’s Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, the largest Roman Catholic church in the United States. Oh wait, it’s NOT a cathedral; it’s just hideous.) If Durham is special for the way it towers over the trees and the river, Lincoln is the same, only this time it’s the neighboring buildings that are dwarfed by this massive gem. As I mentioned in the last post, I enjoyed a Sunday service here followed by tea and pastries in the Chapter House. I found the people incredibly friendly and very interested in my solo wanderings through their cathedral-laden country. When asked which was my favorite, I of course answered “this one,” just as my favorite roller coaster is the one I am riding at the time.

Don also asked for a word about Chartres, outside of Paris. She is not a huge cathedral but is considered by many to be the single best expression of French Gothic architecture. From a distance she appears to float over the fields; it is only when you are closer that you see there is a town around her. The stained glass within is on a par with that of Ste-Chapelle, and the contrasting towers make the building more approachable I think, as the undecorated South tower, dating from the 1140s, contrasts with the more ornate North tower from the sixteenth century.

My brother and I took a train from Paris, arriving in Chartres at approximately 12:30. After twenty minutes in the cathedral he wanted to go to lunch, saying that restaurants close at 2:00pm and so we should eat now and come back again after lunch. I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving, so I sent him off on his own. 90 minutes later he found me, walking the famous labyrinth, mesmerized by this beautiful creation.

On another trip I had an ugly-American moment. I was climbing one of the towers when I noticed a group of 20-somethings climbing ahead of me. They had friends on the ground and were yelling to them, making a noisy nuisance of themselves. One of them passed me on his way down and asked me the time. I shrugged my shoulders and said, “Je suis désolé, je ne parle pas anglais.”

Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Chartres

Earthly Pillars I Have Known

My friend Don recently blogged about Ken Follett's Pillars of the Earth, one of my all-time favorite books and currently a Starz mini-series -- which I am enjoying, with reservations. It got me to thinking about cathedrals I have known and loved. Along with ocean liners, they are my favorite man-made creations -- though a hot Krispy Kreme glazed donut is right up there too.

In 2000 I took a spectacular vacation: six days crossing the Atlantic on QE2, ten days touring English cathedrals and then the Eurostar to France to join Ransom for a friend's wedding. The days in England were magical. I had no set itinerary, just a BritRail Pass and a desire to see as many cathedrals as I could. Some might call it a forced march, as this itinerary from day one attests: 7:15am, disembark QE2; 7:40, train to Winchester; 8:15, coffee and pastry because the cathedral was not yet open; 9am, tour Winchester Cathedral; 10am, bus to Romsey to tour the abbey; 1pm, train to Salisbury; 2pm, quick tour of Salisbury Cathedral; 3pm, bus to Stonehenge; 5pm, back in Salisbury in time for Evensong, followed by a 90-minute tour of the roof and tower, then dinner and, finally, rest. Whew! (That's Salisbury Cathedral above; the tallest spire in England and my favorite English cathedral).

Most days were nowhere near as crowded, but I did manage to visit Bath and Tewkesbury Abbeys and the cathedrals in Wells (note the incredible scissor arches), Gloucester, York, Lincoln, Durham, Peterborough, Norwich, Kings College Cambridge, St. Alban's and Westminster. A highlight was Evensong whenever it was offered; another was tea and scones in the Chapter House after the Sunday service in Lincoln. The cathedrals drip with history but what really captures my heart is simply the architectural splendor; most of them are immense and the interior spaces are the most awe-inspiring I know.

Notre Dame in Paris is of course another fantastic cathedral, though I like Chartres even more, and Amiens and Rouen more than that. A cruise on the Rhine River in Germany provided two of my three all-time favorite cathedral moments: first, rounding the bend in the river for our first glance of the mammoth Köln (Cologne) Cathedral (picture at right) dominating the cityscape and second, walking around the closed but beautifully lit cathedral at night as a fine mist fell. It was an extraordinarily emotional moment, so much so that touring the interior the next day was almost anti-climactic.

Closer to home there's of course St. Pat's in New York, a cathedral I don't much care for, both for it's too-pretty symmetry and for its politics. Far better is St. Thomas, just up Fifth Avenue -- one of the most glorious naves in Christendom with a reredos that will knock your socks off (picture below). But the ultimate American church experience is up by Columbia University: the Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine. Started in 1892 and still unfinished, it is nonetheless the largest cathedral in the US (50% larger than the National Cathedral in Washington) and the fourth largest in the world. It is not a "pretty" cathedral, but it is massive and imposing while yet being welcoming to all people and all creeds, i.e. no Roman Catholic homophobia and self-righteousness here. And John the Divine was the site of my all-time

favorite cathedral moment. I took Chris there in 1978 or so. It was already a very special place to me and I wanted to share it with him. He was an architecture student though so I feared he might not like it as much as I did, seeing it through his more critical eyes. I couldn't have been more wrong. We walked the length of the nave in silence and as we turned around to look at the rose window there were tears in his eyes; he was overcome with the vastness and power of the space. I daresay you will be too.

I have another, even more important, connection to John the Divine. When Ransom and I married in 1996 we received many lovely gifts but my favorite came from Sally, my best man. She made a donation to the cathedral, giving a North Tower stone in our name to the eternal glory that is this magnificent place.

I found this website which seems to be a pretty good place to start for anyone who wants to explore the world's cathedrals. Or you could just come with me next time.

The nave of the Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine, New York City