Journal articles on the topic 'Hamilton (Ship)'

Abstract Many of the Great Lakes Areas of Concern include harbours and navigable channels that experience disturbance of bed sediment due to the passage of large ships. Sediment resuspension due to ship passage may impact efforts to restore habitat and remediate contaminated bed sediment through in situ treatment. To examine the impacts of ship passage, water column profiles of temperature, pH, turbidity and dissolved oxygen, as well as suspended sediment samples, were taken at varying distances behind ships entering an industrial slip area of the Hamilton Harbour Area of Concern during the summer of 1995. Weekly water column profiles and suspended sediment samples also were collected at three sites in the slip area and a harbour control site to characterize ambient water quality. Ship passage significantly increased turbidity above ambient levels due to sediment resuspension, although the increase was less in the deeper areas of the slip. Levels of turbidity and suspended sediment concentration associated with ship passage exceeded that recommended for a moderate level of fish habitat protection. In association with the increased turbidity, levels of dissolved oxygen declined and often were less than 5 and 6.5 mg L-1, the Canadian Water Quality Guideline for later life stage warm and cold water fisheries, respectively. Based on the sample data and in situ flume experiments, the estimated depth of bed erosion due to a ship passage ranged from 1 to 8 mm. The impacts of sediment disturbance due to a ship passage should be considered when selecting and designing appropriate sites and technologies for remediation.

Abstract Hamilton Harbour is an enclosed body of water situated at the western end of Lake Ontario and containing about 2.8 x 108 m3 of water, polluted by municipal and industrial effluents. It is connected to Lake Ontario by a ship canal, which facilitates a substantial exchange of water between the two water bodies. Exchange of harbour and lake water through the canal reduces the theoretical hydraulic residence time of the harbour and contributes to improvement of the harbour water quality through dilution and oxygenation. Without it, the Hamilton Harbour water quality situation would be more critical. The beneficial effect of dilution by Lake Ontario far exceeds contamination of western Lake Ontario by Hamilton Harbour water.

Abstract Large-volume water samples were collected from the ship canal connecting Hamilton Harbour and Lake Ontario while detailed simultaneous measurements of water speed and direction were made. The 10-day sampling period in July 1989 and a 14-day sampling period in March 1991 were considered representative of typical stratified summer and unstratified winter flow regimes. The water samples were analysed for PCBs and PAHs, which are known major organic contaminants in Hamilton Harbour. Supporting physicochemical measurements were also made. The water movement data were combined with the contaminant concentrations and the uniform channel dimensions to calculate annual loadings of 2.8 kg/ year PCBs and 37.5 kg/ year PAHs from Hamilton Harbour to Lake Ontario. These estimates were compared to other published estimates of loadings of these compounds from Hamilton Harbour and also from the atmosphere and the Niagara River. It was concluded that Hamilton Harbour is not a significant source of these compounds in comparison to the atmosphere and the Niagara River. The PAH export estimate was found to be small when compared to in situ sediment burdens of PAHs and also present day discharges to the harbour.

Abstract The concentrations and relative abundances of sixteen priority pollutant polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons (PAHs) were measured in suspended particulates and benthic sediments from Hamilton Harbour. The PAH concentrations in suspended particulates, often as high as PAH concentrations in benthic sediments, ranged between 4.41 and 106.02 µg/g. The highest PAH concentrations were found in areas close to the industrial sites. Selected samples of suspended particulates from western part of Lake Ontario were also analyzed for PAHs to learn about the transport of PAHs from the harbour to Lake Ontario via the Burlington Ship Canal. The results reveal export of PAHs along with the other contaminants from Hamilton Harbour to Lake Ontario. In addition to PAHs, n-alkanes were determined in all samples, as they are readily determined from the extracts and they are useful in deciphering the sources of suspended particulates, hence particle-associated PAHs.

The exchange flow through the Burlington Ship Canal connecting Hamilton Harbour with Lake Ontario is investigated, using a two-layer internal hydraulics model. The summer exchange features an upper layer of polluted Harbour Water flowing from the harbour into the lake, whereas a lower layer of fresh Lake Ontario Water flowing from the lake into the harbour. We predict this exchange, taking into account the effects of both friction and barotropic forcing of multiple frequencies. Predictions of density interface and volume flux compare well with experimental and field data. The interface varies non-linearly with distance along the canal, with and without barotropic forcing. Our results indicate that the exchange flow is highly frictional. The barotropic forcing comprises oscillation modes of different frequency; these individual forcing modes cause the interface and layer velocities to fluctuate significantly in time, but their influence on the time average flows through the canal is minimal.

According to most countries’ norms, and to find the effect of the bridge collision the equivalent static method was designed for bridge-ship collision, ignoring the dynamic effects of shocks. It is sharply different from actual situation. So based on the theory of Winkler foundation, shearing strain theory of Timoshenko and potential energy variation functional principle of Hamilton, the simulation models of bridge piers was built considering the pile–soil interaction. Lateral transient vibration equation of bridge piers was concluded. Based on the theory of integral transform, the differential equation of the collision system and the boundary conditions were transformed with Laplace transformation; the analytical solution of the stress wave in frequency domain was concluded. And then the inversion of solution in frequency domain was carried out using Matlab based on the Crump inverse transformation. Finally the dynamic response law of displacement, normal stress and the shear stress of bridge piers were obtained.

ABSTRACTThis paper explores the life and activities of Hugh Hamilton Lindsay (1802–81), an East India Company official who worked at Canton from 1820. Lindsay's is a key voice in the challenge to the Company's policies in China on the cusp of the abolition of its monopoly, and to British policy on the eve of the first ‘Opium War’ with the empire of the Qing. Lindsay first made his mark on Sino-British relations by leading a covert East India Company foray north along the Chinese coast in 1832 in the ship Lord Amherst, and in widely disseminating his bullish conclusions and policy recommendations in publications and reports that followed. He is known as a bellicose pamphleteer, but a more complex picture emerges if we follow Lindsay and his commercial activities as the British fanned out from Canton into the Chinese ‘treaty ports’ opened after 1842, and across Britain's wider developing empire in Asia. His field of operations developed to include the British colony of Labuan and led him into a heated public conflict with Sir James Brooke in the early 1850s. Lindsay was never happy with the status quo: he lobbied and hectored, and in business he innovated, and pushed hard on the frontiers of British power and influence. Commercial opportunity drove him, but so did a specific vision of the ‘English character’, and notions of pride and national and personal honour.

Abstract:In 1940, the British Admiralty detained a British passenger ship sailing from Lisbon to New York at the port of Hamilton, Bermuda, for a contraband search. Customs authorities seized four crates containing hundreds of artworks by leading European artists. Suspected of being sent to New York for sale by the French art dealer Martin Fabiani for the economic benefit of German-occupied France, the captured collection—originally the property of art dealer Ambroise Vollard—was confiscated as a prize of war and sent to Ottawa, Canada, for wartime safekeeping. The National Gallery of Canada stored the collection from 1940 to 1949, when British courts instructed the collection’s Canadian custodian to release it to its rightful owners, Fabiani and the Vollard heirs. This essay reframes the wartime journey of the Vollard-Fabiani collection and challenges the long-held notion that it belongs to the narrative of Nazi-looted cultural property. This essay also highlights an important role played by the National Gallery of Canada during World War II.

This paper describes the systems engineering approach that was used by National Steel and Shipbuilding Company (NASSCO) in performing tradeoff analyses associated with the design for conversion of SL-7 containerships to T-AKR Fast Logistics Support Ships for the U.S. Navy. This design effort involved the development, from a baseline set of minimum performance requirements, of an initial design to maximize the ship's mission capabilities within a firm cost constraint. A series of tradeoffs among various design features was performed to arrive at the most capable, cost-effective solution. Tradeoffs had to rationally consider the competing requirements of difficult-to-quantify mission criteria—such as cargo capacity, capability to load/unload within specified times, and endurance—as well as cost. NASSCO, with consulting support from Booz, Allen & Hamilton, developed a formal systems engineering model as a consistent means for validating rational design decisions, based on the collective experience and engineering judgments of the team members. The model ensured a common focus on the multiple attributes of mission capability within the overall cost constraint. The approach was based on concepts and techniques of system requirements analysis, multi-attribute utility analysis, pairwise comparison of attributes, and analytic hierarchy modeling blended into a practical systems engineering application. The NASSCO design approach, including support provided by systems engineering, led to development of a highly capable T-AKR design. The systems engineering approach that was used has broad applicability to the design of Navy ships where cost is only one of many criteria for evaluating the attractiveness of design alternatives.

Martin Rivers Pollock was born in Liverpool on 10 December 1914. He came from an old legal family, being the great-great-grandson of Sir Jonathan Frederick Pollock, Bt. (1783–1870), a Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, barrister, MP for Huntingdon, Attorney General in Peel's first administration and Chief Baron of the Exchequer from 1844 to 1866. His father, Hamilton Rivers Pollock, also went to Trinity College, qualified as a barrister but never practised, and in 1914 was with the Cunard Steam Ship Company, before spending World War I with the Liverpool Regiment and the Royal Air Force. His mother was Eveline Morton Bell, daughter of Thomas Bell, of Newcastle-upon-Tyne. After the war his father inherited a fortune from an uncle, and the family moved to Wessex, where they lived first at splendid Anderson Manor, Dorset, and then Urchfont Manor, Wiltshire, his father living as a country squire and JP. Pollock had a conventional upper-class education, beginning with a nanny, followed by West Downs School (1923–28) and then Winchester College (1928–33). His first scientific enthusiasm was for astronomy, but he decided he was insufficiently mathematical to pursue it further (his mathematics master was Clement Durrell, author of some famous texts including Advanced algebra), so he then decided to study medicine. His Wessex schooldays were influenced by the nearby Powys brothers, the youngest (Llewelyn1) having been a Cambridge friend and contemporary of his father. Through Sylvia Townsend Warner2 he met her cousin Janet, daughter of Arthur Llewelyn Machen3, who eventually, in 1979, became his second wife. He went up to Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1933, having done his first MB and the first part of his second MB while still at school, and opting to do the two new half-subjects (Pathology and Biochemistry) that had just been instituted—he remembered thinking at the time that biochemistry was going to be the key subject for medicine in the future. Already while at school he had become a theoretical Communist, and as an undergraduate worked very hard, both at his medical studies and in political activity (such as selling the Daily Worker) for the Party—and knew most of the soon-to-be notorious Cambridge Communists of the time, including Guy Burgess4 and Donald Maclean5. He was now a Senior Scholar, and graduated BA first class in 1936; he started to spend a fourth year reading Part II Biochemistry. He decided in April 1937 that he had spent too long at Cambridge, so moved on to his clinical studies at University College Hospital. He also felt he should try to become qualified before what he saw as the inevitable war started, although he was nearly distracted into joining the International Brigade and going off to Spain—he had been a friend of John Cornford6, who did go to Spain and wrote and died there, and of Norman John (but widely known as James) Klugmann.

Mechanical nonlinear vibration of slender structures, such as beams, strings, rods, plates, and even shells occurs extensively in a variety of areas, spanning from aerospace, automobile, cranes, ships, offshore platforms, and bridges to MEMS/NEMS. In the present study, the nonlinear vibration of an elastic string with large amplitude and large curvature has been systematically investigated. Firstly, the mechanics model of the string undergoing strong geometric deformation is built based on the Hamilton principle. The nonlinear mode shape function was used to discretize the partial differential equation into ordinary differential equation. The modified complex normal form method (CNFM) and the finite difference scheme are used to calculate the critical parameters of the string vibration, including the time history diagram, configuration, total length, and fundamental frequency. It is shown that the calculation results from these two methods are close, which are different with those from the linear equation model. The numerical results are also validated by our experiment, and they take excellent agreement. These analyses may be helpful to engineer some soft materials and can also provide insight into the design of elementary structures in sensors, actuators and resonators, etc.

An experiment was conducted at Corona of Agriculture (COA)”, Gunjanagar-3, Chitwan, Nepal to complete a project granted by University Grant Commission (UGC), Second Higher Education Project (SHEP) in 2013. Four (average 380 m2) ponds (W, X, Y and Z) with four different diets as D1 (20%), D2 (30%), D3 (40%) and D4 (50%) protein contents were used to conduct the experiment properly to determine the varied proportion of dietary protein on the growth performance of major carp rohu Labeo Rohita (H) in relation with RNA: DNA ratio. After 12th weeks of culture, average length, average weight and specific growth rate of fish were found significantly (P<0.05) higher in the carp with D3 and D4 diet fed fish. Similar results were observed in average total protein, albumin and globulin contents. RNA content increased rapidly with age. The average RNA content increased highest in D2 and D3 diet fed fish while, DNA content were highest in D3 diet fed fish. RNA: DNA ratio was recorded highest in D2 and D3 diet fed fish. RNA: DNA ratio, an indicator of protein synthesis and have been used to accurately estimate the growth rate and feeding condition of fish hence, as the dose of protein increased RNA and DNA contents also increased with age of carp cultured during experiment. Thus, it was clear from this study that the incorporation of protein in diet enhances the growth of fish regardless of species weight groups and the doses, as the average weight of fish was significantly lower in control diet fed fish as compared to the treated one.

Wind and wave loadings have a predominant role in the design of articulated offshore towers for its successful service and survival. Such towers are very sensitive to the dynamic effect of environmental loads. The compliant nature of these towers with environmental loads introduces geometric nonlinearity due to large displacements, which becomes an important consideration in the analysis of these towers. This article deals with the dynamic response of a bi-articulated offshore tower to wind, wave, and current forces. The exposed portion of the tower is subjected to the action of wind, while the submerged portion is acted upon by random wave and current forces. Wind load is modeled by Ochi and Shin spectrum, while the wave load is characterized by Pierson–Moskowitz spectrum. The nonlinear dynamic equations of motion are derived by Hamilton’s principle. Response of the tower is determined by a time domain iterative (Wilson-θ) method. Power spectral density of important parameters such as surge, tilting motion, hinge shear, and bending moment are presented under high and low sea states. It is observed that response of tower due to current modifies the peak energy of power spectral density functions.

Background:The diagnosis of axial spondyloarthritis (axSpA) is challenging and hindered by delay. There may be an opportunity to identify sacroiliitis for further rheumatology review in inflammatory bowel disease (IBD) patients who undergo Computed Tomography (CT) for non-musculoskeletal (MSK) indications.Objectives:To identify what proportion of IBD patients who underwent abdominopelvic CT for non-MSK indications have axSpA and to explore the role of an imaging strategy for identifying axSpA.Methods:Abdominopelvic CT scans of verified IBD patients were identified retrospectively from eight years of imaging archive. Patients between 18-55 yrs. were selected as having the highest diagnostic yield for axSpA. CT review (using criteria from a validated CT screening tool developed by Chan1) was undertaken by a trained radiology team for presence of CT-defined sacroiliitis (CTSI). All CTSI patients were sent a screening questionnaire. Those with self-reported chronic back pain (CBP), duration > 3 months, onset < 45 years were invited for rheumatology review. This included a medical interview, physical examination (joint count, MASES, dactylitis count, BASMI), patient reported outcomes (BASDAI, BASFI, BASGI, Harvey-Bradshaw-Index, Partial-Mayo-Index), relevant laboratory tests (CRP, ESR, HLA-B27), axSpA protocol MRI, and remote review by a panel of experienced rheumatologists with a special interest in axSpA.Results:CTSI was identified in 60 of 301 patients. Thirty-two (53%) responded to the invitation to participate and 27 (84%) were enrolled. Of these, eight had a pre-existing axSpA diagnosis and five did not report chronic back pain. Fourteen patients underwent rheumatological assessment; three of 14 (21.4% [95% CI: 4.7%, 50.8%]) had undiagnosed axSpA. In total, 11 of 27 (40.7% [95% CI: 22.4%, 61.2%]) patients had a rheumatologist verified diagnosis of axSpA.Conclusion:One in five patients (60/301) with IBD who underwent abdominopelvic CT for non-MSK indications have CTSI and at least one in five (11/60) have axSpA. Five percent (3/60) were previously undiagnosed. This highlights a hidden disease burden and a potential strategy for identifying new cases.References:[1]Chan J, Sari I, Salonen D, Inman RD, Haroon N. Development of a Screening Tool for the Identification of Sacroiliitis in Computed Tomography Scans of the Abdomen. J Rheumatol 2016; 43(9); 1687-94.Acknowledgements:We are indebted to Baljeet Dhillon and Shin Azegami for their assistance in the scoring of the CTSI.Disclosure of Interests:Chong Seng Edwin Lim Grant/research support from: AbbVie, Louise Hamilton: None declared, Samantha Low: None declared, Andoni Toms: None declared, Alex MacGregor: None declared, Karl Gaffney Speakers bureau: AbbVie, Eli Lilly, Novartis, UCB Pharma, Consultant of: AbbVie, Eli Lilly, Novartis, UCB Pharma, Grant/research support from: AbbVie, Gilead, Eli Lilly, Novartis, UCB Pharma.

A decline in oil-related revenues challenges Norway to focus on new types of offshore installations. Often, ship-mounted crane systems transfer cargo or crew onto offshore installations such as floating windmills. This project analyzes the motion of a ship induced by an onboard crane in operation using a new theoretical approach to dynamics: the moving frame method (MFM). The MFM draws upon Lie group theory and Cartan's moving frames. This, together with a compact notation from geometrical physics, makes it possible to extract the equations of motion, expeditiously. While others have applied aspects of these mathematical tools, the notation presented here brings these methods together; it is accessible, programmable, and simple. In the MFM, the notation for multibody dynamics and single body dynamics is the same; for two-dimensional (2D) and three-dimensional (3D), the same. Most importantly, this paper presents a restricted variation of the angular velocity to use in Hamilton's principle. This work accounts for the masses and geometry of all components, interactive motor couples and prepares for buoyancy forces and added mass. This research solves the equations numerically using a relatively simple numerical integration scheme. Then, the Cayley–Hamilton theorem and Rodriguez's formula reconstruct the rotation matrix for the ship. Furthermore, this work displays the rotating ship in 3D, viewable on mobile devices. This paper presents the results qualitatively as a 3D simulation. This research demonstrates that the MFM is suitable for the analysis of “smart ships,” as the next step in this work.

A multi-layered three-dimensional hydrodynamic model has been developed to provide flow fields and water level changes in Hamilton Harbour. The field data collected in Hamilton Harbour during 1990 & 1991 field seasons was used for model verification. The simulated currents were compared with current meter data. Results from the trajectory model are in good agreement with the drogue experimental data. A quantitative criterion to evaluate the trajectory comparison was established with the help of the trajectory model using the random-walk approach. By using the water level changes in the Burlington Ship Canal, the model predictions were validated with the measurements at three water level stations in the Harbour. These comparisons demonstrate that the models can simulate the major features of the water current and level changes in Hamilton Harbour.

This paper presents a new method in multibody dynamics and applies it to the challenge of stabilizing ship motion induced by onboard crane operations. Norwegian industries are constantly assessing new technologies for more efficient and safer production in the aquacultural, renewable energy, and oil and gas industries. They share a common challenge to install new equipment and transfer personnel in a safe and controllable way between ships, fish farms, and oil platforms. This paper deploys the moving frame method (MFM) to analyze the motion induced by a crane, yet controlled by a gyroscopic inertial device. We represent the crane as a simple two-link system that transfers produce and equipment to and from barges. We analyze how an inertial flywheel can stabilize the ship during the transfer. Lie group theory and the work of Elie Cartan are the foundations of the MFM. This, together with a restriction on the variation of the angular velocity used in Hamilton's principle, enables an effective way of extracting the equations of motion for an open-loop system. Furthermore, this work displays the results in three-dimensional (3D) on cell phones. The long-term results of this work lead to a robust 3D active compensation method for loading/unloading operations offshore. Finally, the simplicity of the analysis anticipates the impending time of artificial intelligence when machines, equipped with onboard central processing units and internet protocol addresses, are empowered with learning modules to conduct their operations.

About half way through Yann Arthus-Bertrand’s film Home (2009) the narrator describes the fall of the Rapa Nui, the indigenous people of the Easter Islands. The narrator posits that the Rapa Nui culture collapsed due to extensive environmental degradation brought about by large-scale deforestation. The Rapa Nui cut down their massive native forests to clear spaces for agriculture, to heat their dwellings, to build canoes and, most importantly, to move their enormous rock sculptures—the Moai. The disappearance of their forests led to island-wide soil erosion and the gradual disappearance of arable land. Caught in the vice of overpopulation but with rapidly dwindling basic resources and no trees to build canoes, they were trapped on the island and watched helplessly as their society fell into disarray. The sequence ends with the narrator’s biting remark: “The real mystery of the Easter Islands is not how its strange statues got there, we know now; it's why the Rapa Nui didn't react in time.” In their unrelenting desire for development, the Rapa Nui appear to have overlooked the role the environment plays in maintaining a society. The island’s Moai accompanying the sequence appear as memento mori, a lesson in the mortality of human cultures brought about by their own misguided and short-sighted practices. Arthus-Bertrand’s Home, a film composed almost entirely of aerial photographs, bears witness to present-day environmental degradation and climate change, constructing society as a fragile structure built upon and sustained by the environment. Home is a call to recognise how contemporary practices of post-industrial societies have come to shape the environment and how they may impact the habitability of Earth in the near future. Through reflexivity and a ritualised structure the text invites spectators to look at themselves in a new light and remake their self-image in the wake of global environmental risk by embracing new, alternative core practices based on balance and interconnectedness. Arthus-Bertrand frames climate change not as a burden, but as a moment of profound realisation of the potential for change and humans ability to create a desirable future through hope and our innate capacity for renewal. This article examines how Arthus-Bertrand’s ritualised construction of climate change aims to remake viewers’ perception of present-day environmental degradation and investigates Home’s place in contemporary climate change communication discourse. Climate change, in its capacity to affect us globally, is considered a world risk. The most recent peer-reviewed Synthesis Report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change suggests that the concentration of atmospheric greenhouse gases has increased markedly since human industrialisation in the 18th century. Moreover, human activities, such as fossil fuel burning and agricultural practices, are “very likely” responsible for the resulting increase in temperature rise (IPPC 37). The increased global temperatures and the subsequent changing weather patterns have a direct and profound impact on the physical and biological systems of our planet, including shrinking glaciers, melting permafrost, coastal erosion, and changes in species distribution and reproduction patterns (Rosenzweig et al. 353). Studies of global security assert that these physiological changes are expected to increase the likelihood of humanitarian disasters, food and water supply shortages, and competition for resources thus resulting in a destabilisation of global safety (Boston et al. 1–2). Human behaviour and dominant practices of modernity are now on a path to materially impact the future habitability of our home, Earth. In contemporary post-industrial societies, however, climate change remains an elusive, intangible threat. Here, the Arctic-bound species forced to adapt to milder climates or the inhabitants of low-lying Pacific islands seeking refuge in mainland cities are removed from the everyday experience of the controlled and regulated environments of homes, offices, and shopping malls. Diverse research into the mediated and mediatised nature of the environment suggests that rather than from first-hand experiences and observations, the majority of our knowledge concerning the environment now comes from its representation in the mass media (Hamilton 4; Stamm et al. 220; Cox 2). Consequently the threat of climate change is communicated and constructed through the news media, entertainment and lifestyle programming, and various documentaries and fiction films. It is therefore the construction (the representation of the risk in various discourses) that shapes people’s perception and experience of the phenomenon, and ultimately influences behaviour and instigates social response (Beck 213). By drawing on and negotiating society’s dominant discourses, environmental mediation defines spectators’ perceptions of the human-nature relationship and subsequently their roles and responsibilities in the face of environmental risks. Maxwell Boykoff asserts that contemporary modern society’s mediatised representations of environmental degradation and climate change depict the phenomena as external to society’s primary social and economic concerns (449). Julia Corbett argues that this is partly because environmental protection and sustainable behaviour are often at odds with the dominant social paradigms of consumerism, economic growth, and materialism (175). Similarly, Rowan Howard-Williams suggests that most media texts, especially news, do not emphasise the link between social practices, such as consumerist behaviour, and their environmental consequences because they contradict dominant social paradigms (41). The demands contemporary post-industrial societies make on the environment to sustain economic growth, consumer culture, and citizens’ comfortable lives in air-conditioned homes and offices are often left unarticulated. While the media coverage of environmental risks may indeed have contributed to “critical misperceptions, misleading debates, and divergent understandings” (Boykoff 450) climate change possesses innate characteristics that amplify its perception in present-day post-industrial societies as a distant and impersonal threat. Climate change is characterised by temporal and spatial de-localisation. The gradual increase in global temperature and its physical and biological consequences are much less prominent than seasonal changes and hence difficult to observe on human time-scales. Moreover, while research points to the increased probability of extreme climatic events such as droughts, wild fires, and changes in weather patterns (IPCC 48), they take place over a wide range of geographical locations and no single event can be ultimately said to be the result of climate change (Maibach and Roser-Renouf 145). In addition to these observational obstacles, political partisanship, vested interests in the current status quo, and general resistance to profound change all play a part in keeping us one step removed from the phenomenon of climate change. The distant and impersonal nature of climate change coupled with the “uncertainty over consequences, diverse and multiple engaged interests, conflicting knowledge claims, and high stakes” (Lorenzoni et al. 65) often result in repression, rejection, and denial, removing the individual’s responsibility to act. Research suggests that, due to its unique observational obstacles in contemporary post-industrial societies, climate change is considered a psychologically distant event (Pawlik 559), one that is not personally salient due to the “perceived distance and remoteness [...] from one’s everyday experience” (O’Neill and Nicholson-Cole 370). In an examination of the barriers to behaviour change in the face of psychologically distant events, Robert Gifford argues that changing individuals’ perceptions of the issue-domain is one of the challenges of countering environmental inertia—the lack of initiative for environmentally sustainable social action (5). To challenge the status quo a radically different construction of the environment and the human-nature relationship is required to transform our perception of global environmental risks and ultimately result in environmentally consequential social action. Yann Arthus-Bertrand’s Home is a ritualised construction of contemporary environmental degradation and climate change which takes spectators on a rite of passage to a newfound understanding of the human-nature relationship. Transformation through re-imagining individuals’ roles, responsibilities, and practices is an intrinsic quality of rituals. A ritual charts a subjects path from one state of consciousness to the next, resulting in a meaningful change of attitudes (Deflem 8). Through a lifelong study of African rituals British cultural ethnographer Victor Turner refined his concept of rituals in a modern social context. Turner observed that rituals conform to a three-phased processural form (The Ritual Process 13–14). First, in the separation stage, the subjects are selected and removed from their fixed position in the social structure. Second, they enter an in-between and ambiguous liminal stage, characterised by a “partial or complete separation of the subject from everyday existence” (Deflem 8). Finally, imbued with a new perspective of the outside world borne out of the experience of reflexivity, liminality, and a cathartic cleansing, subjects are reintegrated into the social reality in a new, stable state. The three distinct stages make the ritual an emotionally charged, highly personal experience that “demarcates the passage from one phase to another in the individual’s life-cycle” (Turner, “Symbols” 488) and actively shapes human attitudes and behaviour. Adhering to the three-staged processural form of the ritual, Arthus-Bertrand guides spectators towards a newfound understanding of their roles and responsibilities in creating a desirable future. In the first stage—the separation—aerial photography of Home alienates viewers from their anthropocentric perspectives of the outside world. This establishes Earth as a body, and unearths spectators’ guilt and shame in relation to contemporary world risks. Aerial photography strips landscapes of their conventional qualities of horizon, scale, and human reference. As fine art photographer Emmet Gowin observes, “when one really sees an awesome, vast place, our sense of wholeness is reorganised [...] and the body seems always to diminish” (qtd. in Reynolds 4). Confronted with a seemingly infinite sublime landscape from above, the spectator’s “body diminishes” as they witness Earth’s body gradually taking shape. Home’s rushing rivers of Indonesia are akin to blood flowing through the veins and the Siberian permafrost seems like the texture of skin in extreme close-up. Arthus-Bertrand establishes a geocentric embodiment to force spectators to perceive and experience the environmental degradation brought about by the dominant social practices of contemporary post-industrial modernity. The film-maker visualises the maltreatment of the environment through suggested abuse of the Earth’s body. Images of industrial agricultural practices in the United States appear to leave scratches and scars on the landscape, and as a ship crosses the Arctic ice sheets of the Northwest Passage the boat glides like the surgeon’s knife cutting through the uppermost layer of the skin. But the deep blue water that’s revealed in the wake of the craft suggests a flesh and body now devoid of life, a suffering Earth in the wake of global climatic change. Arthus-Bertrand’s images become the sublime evidence of human intervention in the environment and the reflection of present-day industrialisation materially altering the face of Earth. The film-maker exploits spectators’ geocentric perspective and sensibility to prompt reflexivity, provide revelations about the self, and unearth the forgotten shame and guilt in having inadvertently caused excessive environmental degradation. Following the sequences establishing Earth as the body of the text Arthus-Bertrand returns spectators to their everyday “natural” environment—the city. Having witnessed and endured the pain and suffering of Earth, spectators now gaze at the skyscrapers standing bold and tall in the cityscape with disillusionment. The pinnacles of modern urban development become symbols of arrogance and exploitation: structures forced upon the landscape. Moreover, the images of contemporary cityscapes in Home serve as triggers for ritual reflexivity, allowing the spectator to “perceive the self [...] as a distanced ‘other’ and hence achieve a partial ‘self-transcendence’” (Beck, Comments 491). Arthus-Bertrand’s aerial photographs of Los Angeles, New York, and Tokyo fold these distinct urban environments into one uniform fusion of glass, metal, and concrete devoid of life. The uniformity of these cultural landscapes prompts spectators to add the missing element: the human. Suddenly, the homes and offices of desolate cityscapes are populated by none other than us, looking at ourselves from a unique vantage point. The geocentric sensibility the film-maker invoked with the images of the suffering Earth now prompt a revelation about the self as spectators see their everyday urban environments in a new light. Their homes and offices become blemishes on the face of the Earth: its inhabitants, including the spectators themselves, complicit in the excessive mistreatment of the planet. The second stage of the ritual allows Arthus-Bertrand to challenge dominant social paradigms of present day post-industrial societies and introduce new, alternative moral directives to govern our habits and attitudes. Following the separation, ritual subjects enter an in-between, threshold stage, one unencumbered by the spatial, temporal, and social boundaries of everyday existence. Turner posits that a subjects passage through this liminal stage is necessary to attain psychic maturation and successful transition to a new, stable state at the end of the ritual (The Ritual Process 97). While this “betwixt and between” (Turner, The Ritual Process 95) state may be a fleeting moment of transition, it makes for a “lived experience [that] transforms human beings cognitively, emotionally, and morally.” (Horvath et al. 3) Through a change of perceptions liminality paves the way toward meaningful social action. Home places spectators in a state of liminality to contrast geocentric and anthropocentric views. Arthus-Bertrand contrasts natural and human-made environments in terms of diversity. The narrator’s description of the “miracle of life” is followed by images of trees seemingly defying gravity, snow-covered summits among mountain ranges, and a whale in the ocean. Grandeur and variety appear to be inherent qualities of biodiversity on Earth, qualities contrasted with images of the endless, uniform rectangular greenhouses of Almeria, Spain. This contrast emphasises the loss of variety in human achievements and the monotony mass-production brings to the landscape. With the image of a fire burning atop a factory chimney, Arthus-Bertrand critiques the change of pace and distortion of time inherent in anthropocentric views, and specifically in contemporary modernity. Here, the flames appear to instantly eat away at resources that have taken millions of years to form, bringing anthropocentric and geocentric temporality into sharp contrast. A sequence showing a night time metropolis underscores this distinction. The glittering cityscape is lit by hundreds of lights in skyscrapers in an effort, it appears, to mimic and surpass daylight and thus upturn the natural rhythm of life. As the narrator remarks, in our present-day environments, “days are now the pale reflections of nights.” Arthus-Bertrand also uses ritual liminality to mark the present as a transitory, threshold moment in human civilisation. The film-maker contrasts the spectre of our past with possible visions of the future to mark the moment of now as a time when humanity is on the threshold of two distinct states of mind. The narrator’s descriptions of contemporary post-industrial society’s reliance on non-renewable resources and lack of environmentally sustainable agricultural practices condemn the past and warn viewers of the consequences of continuing such practices into the future. Exploring the liminal present Arthus-Bertrand proposes distinctive futurescapes for humankind. On the one hand, the narrator’s description of California’s “concentration camp style cattle farming” suggests that humankind will live in a future that feeds from the past, falling back on frames of horrors and past mistakes. On the other hand, the example of Costa Rica, a nation that abolished its military and dedicated the budget to environmental conservation, is recognition of our ability to re-imagine our future in the face of global risk. Home introduces myths to imbue liminality with the alternative dominant social paradigm of ecology. By calling upon deep-seated structures myths “touch the heart of society’s emotional, spiritual and intellectual consciousness” (Killingsworth and Palmer 176) and help us understand and come to terms with complex social, economic, and scientific phenomena. With the capacity to “pattern thought, beliefs and practices,” (Maier 166) myths are ideal tools in communicating ritual liminality and challenging contemporary post-industrial society’s dominant social paradigms. The opening sequence of Home, where the crescent Earth is slowly revealed in the darkness of space, is an allusion to creation: the genesis myth. Accompanied only by a gentle hum our home emerges in brilliant blue, white, and green-brown encompassing most of the screen. It is as if darkness and chaos disintegrated and order, life, and the elements were created right before our eyes. Akin to the Earthrise image taken by the astronauts of Apollo 8, Home’s opening sequence underscores the notion that our home is a unique spot in the blackness of space and is defined and circumscribed by the elements. With the opening sequence Arthus-Bertrand wishes to impart the message of interdependence and reliance on elements—core concepts of ecology. Balance, another key theme in ecology, is introduced with an allusion to the Icarus myth in a sequence depicting Dubai. The story of Icarus’s fall from the sky after flying too close to the sun is a symbolic retelling of hubris—a violent pride and arrogance punishable by nemesis—destruction, which ultimately restores balance by forcing the individual back within the limits transgressed (Littleton 712). In Arthus-Bertrand’s portrayal of Dubai, the camera slowly tilts upwards on the Burj Khalifa tower, the tallest human-made structure ever built. The construction works on the tower explicitly frame humans against the bright blue sky in their attempt to reach ever further, transgressing their limitations much like the ill-fated Icarus. Arthus-Bertrand warns that contemporary modernity does not strive for balance or moderation, and with climate change we may have brought our nemesis upon ourselves. By suggesting new dominant paradigms and providing a critique of current maxims, Home’s retelling of myths ultimately sees spectators through to the final stage of the ritual. The last phase in the rite of passage “celebrates and commemorates transcendent powers,” (Deflem 8) marking subjects’ rebirth to a new status and distinctive perception of the outside world. It is at this stage that Arthus-Bertrand resolves the emotional distress uncovered in the separation phase. The film-maker uses humanity’s innate capacity for creation and renewal as a cathartic cleansing aimed at reconciling spectators’ guilt and shame in having inadvertently exacerbated global environmental degradation. Arthus-Bertrand identifies renewable resources as the key to redeeming technology, human intervention in the landscape, and finally humanity itself. Until now, the film-maker pictured modernity and technology, evidenced in his portrayal of Dubai, as synonymous with excess and disrespect for the interconnectedness and balance of elements on Earth. The final sequence shows a very different face of technology. Here, we see a mechanical sea-snake generating electricity by riding the waves off the coast of Scotland and solar panels turning towards the sun in the Sahara desert. Technology’s redemption is evidenced in its ability to imitate nature—a move towards geocentric consciousness (a lesson learned from the ritual’s liminal stage). Moreover, these human-made structures, unlike the skyscrapers earlier in the film, appear a lot less invasive in the landscape and speak of moderation and union with nature. With the above examples Arthus-Bertrand suggests that humanity can shed the greed that drove it to dig deeper and deeper into the Earth to acquire non-renewable resources such as oil and coal, what the narrator describes as “treasures buried deep.” The incorporation of principles of ecology, such as balance and interconnectedness, into humanity’s behaviour ushers in reconciliation and ritual cleansing in Home. Following the description of the move toward renewable resources, the narrator reveals that “worldwide four children out of five attend school, never has learning been given to so many human beings” marking education, innovation, and creativity as the true inexhaustible resources on Earth. Lastly, the description of Antarctica in Home is the essence of Arthus-Bertrand’s argument for our innate capacity to create, not simply exploit and destroy. Here, the narrator describes the continent as possessing “immense natural resources that no country can claim for itself, a natural reserve devoted to peace and science, a treaty signed by 49 nations has made it a treasure shared by all humanity.” Innovation appears to fuel humankind’s transcendence to a state where it is capable of compassion, unification, sharing, and finally creating treasures. With these examples Arthus-Bertrand suggests that humanity has an innate capacity for creative energy that awaits authentic expression and can turn humankind from destroyer to creator. In recent years various risk communication texts have explicitly addressed climate change, endeavouring to instigate environmentally consequential social action. Home breaks discursive ground among them through its ritualistic construction which seeks to transform spectators’ perception, and in turn roles and responsibilities, in the face of global environmental risks. Unlike recent climate change media texts such as An Inconvenient Truth (2006), The 11th Hour (2007), The Age of Stupid (2009), Carbon Nation (2010) and Earth: The Operator’s Manual (2011), Home eludes simple genre classification. On the threshold of photography and film, documentary and fiction, Arthus-Bertrand’s work is best classified as an advocacy film promoting public debate and engagement with a universal concern—the state of the environment. The film’s website, available in multiple languages, contains educational material, resources to organise public screenings, and a link to GoodPlanet.info: a website dedicated to environmentalism, including legal tools and initiatives to take action. The film-maker’s approach to using Home as a basis for education and raising awareness corresponds to Antonio Lopez’s critique of contemporary mass-media communications of global risks. Lopez rebukes traditional forms of mediatised communication that place emphasis on the imparting of knowledge and instead calls for a participatory, discussion-driven, organic media approach, akin to a communion or a ritual (106). Moreover, while texts often place a great emphasis on the messenger, for instance Al Gore in An Inconvenient Truth, Leonardo DiCaprio in The 11th Hour, or geologist Dr. Richard Alley in Earth: The Operator’s Manual, Home’s messenger remains unseen—the narrator is only identified at the very end of the film among the credits. The film-maker’s decision to forego a central human character helps dissociate the message from the personality of the messenger which aids in establishing and maintaining the geocentric sensibility of the text. Finally, the ritual’s invocation and cathartic cleansing of emotional distress enables Home to at once acknowledge our environmentally destructive past habits and point to a hopeful, environmentally sustainable future. While The Age of Stupid mostly focuses on humanity’s present and past failures to respond to an imminent environmental catastrophe, Carbon Nation, with the tagline “A climate change solutions movie that doesn’t even care if you believe in climate change,” only explores the potential future business opportunities in turning towards renewable resources and environmentally sustainable practices. The three-phased processural form of the ritual allows for a balance of backward and forward-looking, establishing the possibility of change and renewal in the face of world risk. The ritual is a transformative experience. As Turner states, rituals “interrupt the flow of social life and force a group to take cognizance of its behaviour in relation to its own values, and even question at times the value of those values” (“Dramatic Ritual” 82). Home, a ritualised media text, is an invitation to look at our world, its dominant social paradigms, and the key element within that world—ourselves—with new eyes. It makes explicit contemporary post-industrial society’s dependence on the environment, highlights our impact on Earth, and reveals our complicity in bringing about a contemporary world risk. The ritual structure and the self-reflexivity allow Arthus-Bertrand to transform climate change into a personally salient issue. This bestows upon the spectator the responsibility to act and to reconcile the spectre of the past with the vision of the future.Acknowledgments The author would like to thank Dr. Angi Buettner whose support, guidance, and supervision has been invaluable in preparing this article. 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When the National Trust was established in 1895 its founders, Canon Rawnsley, Sir Robert Hunter and Octavia Hill, were, as Cannadine notes, “primarily concerned with preserving open spaces of outstanding natural beauty which were threatened with development or spoliation.” This was because, like Ruskin, Morris and “many of their contemporaries, they believed that the essence of Englishness was to be found in the fields and hedgerows, not in the suburbs and slums” (Cannadine 227). It was important to protect these sites of beauty and historical interest from development not only for what they were but for what they purportedly represented—an irreplaceable repository of the nation’s “spiritual values”, and thus a vital antidote to the “base materialism” of the day. G.M. Trevelyan, who I am quoting here, noted in two pieces written on behalf of the Trust in the 1920s and 30s, that the “inexorable rise of bricks and mortar” and the “full development of motor traffic” were laying waste to the English countryside. In the face of this assault on England’s heartland, the National Trust provided “an ark of refuge” safeguarding the nation’s cherished physical heritage and preserving its human cargo from the rising waters of materialism and despair (qtd. in Cannadine 231-2).Despite the extension of the road network and increasing private ownership of cars (up from 200,000 registrations in 1918 to “well over one million” in 1930), physical distance and economic hardship denied the majority of the urban population access to the countryside (Taylor 217). For the urban working classes recently or distantly displaced from the land, the dream of a return to rural roots was never more than a fantasy. Ford Madox Ford observed that “the poor and working classes of the towns never really go back” (Ford 58).Through the later nineteenth century the rural nostalgia once most prevalent among the working classes was increasingly noted as a feature of middle class sensibility. Better educated, with more leisure time and money at their disposal, these sentimental ruralists furnished a ready market for a new consumer phenomenon—the commodification of the English countryside and the packaging of the values it notionally embodied. As Valentine Cunningham observes, this was not always an edifying spectacle. By the late 1920s, “the terrible sounds of ‘Ye Olde England’ can already be heard, just off-stage, knocking together its thatched wayside stall where plastic pixies, reproduction beer-mugs, relics of Shakespeare and corn-dollies would soon be on sale” (Cunningham 229). Alongside the standard tourist tat, and the fiction and poetry that romanticised the rural world, a new kind of travel writing emerged around the turn of the century. Through an analysis of early-twentieth century notions of Englishness, this paper considers how the north struggled to find a place in H.V. Morton’s In Search of England (1927).In Haunts of Ancient Peace (1901), the Poet Laureate, Alfred Austin, described a journey through “Old England” as a cultural pilgrimage in quest of surviving vestiges of the nation’s essential identity, “or so much of it as is left” (Austin 18). Austin’s was an early example of what had, by the 1920s and 30s become a “boom market … in books about the national character, traditions and antiquities, usually to be found in the country” (Wiener 73). Longmans began its “English Heritage” series in 1929, introduced by the Prime Minister, Stanley Baldwin, with volumes on “English humour, folk song and dance, the public school, the parish church, [and] wild life”. A year later Batsford launched its series of books on “English Life” with volumes featuring “the countryside, Old English household life, inns, villages, and cottages” (Wiener 73). There was an outpouring of books with an overtly conservationist agenda celebrating journeys through or periods of residence in the countryside, many of them written by “soldiers like Henry Williamson and Edmund Blunden, who returned from the First War determined to preserve the rural England they’d known” (Cunningham 229; Blunden, Face, England; Roberts, Pilgrim, Gone ; Williamson). In turn, these books engendered an efflorescence of critical analyses of the construction of England (Hamilton; Haddow; Keith; Cavaliero; Gervais; Giles and Middleton; Westall and Gardiner).By the 1920s it was clear that a great many people thought they knew what England was, where it might be found, and if threatened, which parts of it needed to be rescued in order to safeguard the survival of its essential identity. By the same point, there were large numbers who felt, in Patrick Wright’s words, that “Some areas of the nation had been lost forever and in these no one should expect to find the traditional nation at all” (Wright 87).A key guide to the nation’s sacred sites in this period, an inventory of their relics, and an illustration of how its lost regions might be rescued for or erased from its cultural map, was provided in H.V. Morton’s In Search of England (1927). Initially published as a series of articles in the Daily Express in 1926, In Search of England went through nine editions in the two and a half years after its appearance in book form in 1927. With sales in excess of a million copies, as John Brannigan notes, the book went through a further twenty editions by 1943, and has remained continuously in print since (Brannigan).In his introduction Morton proposes In Search of England is simply “the record of a motor-car journey round England … written without deliberation by the roadside, on farmyard walls, in cathedrals, in little churchyards, on the washstands of country inns, and in many another inconvenient place” (Morton vii). As C.R. Perry notes, “This is a happy image, but also a misleading one” (Perry 434) for there was nothing arbitrary about Morton’s progress. Even a cursory glance at the map of his journey confirms, the England that Morton went in search of was overwhelmingly rural or coastal, and embodied in the historic villages and ancient towns of the Midlands or South.Morton’s biographer, Michael Bartholomew suggests that the “nodal points” of Morton’s journey are the “cathedral cities” (Bartholomew 105).Despite claims to the contrary, his book was written with deliberation and according to a specific cultural objective. Morton’s purpose was not to discover his homeland but to confirm a vision that he and millions of others cherished. He was not in search of England so much as reassuring himself and his readers that in spite of the depredations of the factory and the motor vehicle, it was still out there. These aims determined Morton’s journey; how long he spent in differing parts, what he recorded, and how he presented landscapes, buildings, people and material culture.Morton’s determination to celebrate England as rural and ancient needed to negotiate the journey north into an industrial landscape better known for its manufacturing cities, mining and mill towns, and the densely packed streets of the poor and working classes. Unable to either avoid or ignore this north, Morton needed to settle upon a strategy of passing through it without disturbing his vision of the rural idyll. Narratively, Morton’s touring through the south and west of the country is conducted at a gentle pace. In my 1930 edition of the text, it takes 185 of the book’s 280 pages to bring him from London via the South Coast, Cornwall, the Cotswolds and the Welsh marches, to Chester. The instant Morton crosses the Lancashire border, his bull-nosed Morris accelerates through the extensive northern counties in a mere thirty pages: Warrington to Carlisle (with a side trip to Gretna Green), Carlisle to Durham, and Durham to Lincoln. The final sixty-five pages return to the more leisurely pace of the south and west through Norfolk and the East Midlands, before the journey is completed in an unnamed village somewhere between Stratford upon Avon and Warwick. Morton spends 89 per cent of the text in the South and Midlands (66 per cent and 23 per cent respectively) with only 11 per cent given over to his time in the north.If, as Genette has pointed out, narrative deceleration results in the descriptive pause, it is no coincidence that this is the recurring set piece of Morton’s treatment of the south and west as opposed to the north. His explorations take dwelling moments on river banks and hill tops, in cathedral closes and castle ruins to honour the genius loci and imagine earlier times. On Plymouth Hoe he sees, in his mind’s eye, Sir Walter Raleigh’s fleet set sail to take on the Armada; at Tintagel it is Arthur, wild and Celtic, scaling the cliffs, spear in hand; at Buckler’s Hard amid the rotting slipways he imagines the “stout oak-built ships which helped to found the British Empire”, setting out on their journeys of conquest (Morton 39). At the other extreme, Genette observes, that narrative acceleration produces ellipsis, where details are omitted in order to render a more compact and striking expression. It is the principle of ellipsis, of selective omission, which compresses the geography of Morton’s journey through the north with the effect of shaping reader experiences. Morton hurries past the north’s industrial areas—shuddering at the sight of smoke or chimneys and averting his gaze from factory and slum.As he crosses the border from Cheshire into Lancashire, Morton reflects that “the traveller enters Industrial England”—not that you would know it from his account (Morton 185). Heading north towards the Lake District, he steers a determined path between “red smoke stacks” rising on one side and an “ominous grey haze” on the other, holding to a narrow corridor of rural land where, to his relief, he observes men “raking hay in a field within gunshot of factory chimneys” (Morton 185-6). These redolent, though isolated, farmhands are of greater cultural moment than the citadels of industry towering on either side of them. While the chimneys might symbolise the nation’s economic potency, the farmhands embody the survival of its essential cultural and moral qualities. In an allusion to the Israelites’ passage through the Red Sea from the Book of Exodus, the land that the workers tend holds back the polluted tide of industry, furnishing relief from the factory and the slum, granting Morton safe passage through the perils of modernity and into the Promised Land–or at least the Lake District. In Morton’s view this green belt is not only more essentially English than trade and industry, it is also expresses a nobler and more authentic Englishness.The “great industrial new-rich cities of northern England—vast and mighty as they are,” Morton observes, “fall into perspective as mere black specks against the mighty background of history and the great green expanse of fine country which is the real North of England” (Morton 208). Thus, the rural land between Manchester and Liverpool expands into a sea of green as the great cities shrink on the horizon, and the north is returned to its origins.What Morton cannot speed past or ignore, what he is compelled or chooses to confront, he transforms, through the agency of history, into something that he and England can bear to own. Tempted into Wigan by its reputation as a comic nowhere-land, a place whose name conjured a thousand music hall gags, Morton confesses that he had expected to find there another kind of cliché, “the apex of the world’s pyramid of gloom … dreary streets and stagnant canals and white-faced Wigonians dragging their weary steps along dull streets haunted by the horror of the place in which they are condemned to live” (Morton 187).In the process of naming what he dreads, Morton does not describe Wigan: he exorcises his deepest fears about what it might hold and offers an incantation intended to hold them at bay. He “discovers” Wigan is not the industrial slum but “a place which still bears all the signs of an old-fashioned country town” (Morton 188). Morton makes no effort to describe Wigan as it is, any more than he describes the north as a whole: he simply overlays them with a vision of them as they should be—he invents the Wigan and the north that he and England need.Having surveyed parks and gardens, historical monuments and the half-timbered mock-Tudor High Street, Morton returns to his car and the road where, with an audible sigh of relief, he finds: “Within five minutes of notorious Wigan we were in the depth of the country,” and that “on either side were fields in which men were making hay” (Morton 189).In little more than three pages he passes from one set of haymakers, south of town, to another on its north. The green world has all but smoothed over the industrial eyesore, and the reader, carefully chaperoned by Morton, can pass on to the Lake District having barely glimpsed the realities of industry and urbanism, reassured that if this is the worst that the north has to show then the rural heartland and the essential identity it sustains are safe. Paradoxically, instead of invalidating his account, Morton’s self-evident exclusions and omissions seem only to have fuelled its popularity.For readers of the Daily Express in the months leading up to and immediately after the General Strike of 1926, the myth of England that Morton proffered, of an unspoilt village where old values and traditional hierarchies still held true, was preferable to the violently polarised urban battlefields that the strike had revealed. As the century progressed and the nation suffered depression, war, and a steady decline in its international standing, as industry, suburban sprawl and the irresistible spread of motorways and traffic blighted the land, Morton’s England offered an imagined refuge, a real England that somehow, magically resisted the march of time.Yet if it was Morton’s triumph to provide England with a vision of its ideal spiritual home, it was his tragedy that this portrait of it hastened the devastation of the cultural survivals he celebrated and sought to preserve: “Even as the sense of idyll and peace was maintained, the forces pulling in another direction had to be acknowledged” (Taylor 74).In his introduction to the 1930 edition of In Search of England Morton approvingly acknowledged that a new enthusiasm for the nation’s history and heritage was abroad and that “never before have so many people been searching for England.” In the next sentence he goes on to laud the “remarkable system of motor-coach services which now penetrates every part of the country [and] has thrown open to ordinary people regions which even after the coming of the railways were remote and inaccessible” (Morton vii).Astonishingly, as the waiting charabancs roared their engines and the village greens of England enjoyed the last hours of their tranquillity, Morton somehow failed to make the obvious connection between these unique cultural and social phenomena or take any measure of their potential consequences. His “motoring pastoral” did more than alert the barbarians to the existence of the nation’s hidden treasures, as David Matless notes it provided them with a route map, itinerary and behavioural guide for their pillages (Matless 64; Peach; Batsford).Yet while cultural preservationists wrung their hands in horror at the advent of the day-tripper slouching towards Barnstaple, for Morton this was never a cause for concern. The nature of his journey and the form of its representation demonstrate that the England he worshipped was more an imaginary than a physical space, an ideal whose precise location no chart could fix and no touring party defile. ReferencesAustin, Alfred. Haunts of Ancient Peace. London: Macmillan, 1902.Bartholomew, Michael. In Search of H.V. Morton. London: Methuen, 2004.Batsford, Harry. How to See the Country. London: B.T. Batsford, 1940.Blunden, Edmund. The Face of England: In a Series of Occasional Sketches. London: Longmans, 1932.———. English Villages. 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