Watchet, Dunster and Dunkery Hill: Day 23 of the South West Odyssey (English Branch)

The South West Odyssey was a long distance walk.

Five like-minded people started in 2008 from the Cardingmill Valley in Shropshire and by walking three days a year finished at Start Bay on the South Devon Coast in May 2019.

As if trying to upstage sunny Tuesday, Wednesday skipped the misty start and went straight for the blue skies.

Our start was a little less slick as first we needed to place a car at the end of the walk near the top of Dunkery Hill on Exmoor. This involved a lengthy drive, a diversion around closed roads and some epic reversing on narrow lanes where passing places were few and far between. Setting off back to Watchet we saw an Exmoor stag sitting in the gorse barely ten metres away. It was the only one we were to see.



The Somerset section of the walk

A little later, weighed down by a ‘full English’ we set off up the coast road generously protected by the kind people who organise the signs at the Somerset Highways Department.

Those nice people at Somerset Highways think about us as we leave Watchet (photo, Francis)

Expecting to follow the road for over a kilometre before joining the coastal path, we happily encountered a 'permissive’ path on the edge of Watchet and were able follow that and then the official path almost all the way to Blue Anchor.

The Coastal Path, Watchet to Blue Anchor

Daws Castle sits on the cliffs outside Watchet. Francis missed it as his binoculars were trained on a bird flapping across the sea but fortunately Mike was able to describe the ruined battlements, towers and turrets in great detail. Named for the 16th century owner of the field, Daws Castle is Iron Age in origin but was rebuilt by Alfred the Great in 878 as a defence against Viking raiders.  Except in Mike’s imagination it is now a barely discernible earthwork.

Sometimes the path followed the cliff top, sometimes it traversed the edges of field, many of them sprouting a spring crop of caravans, but usually it stayed in the belt of woodland in between. It is not a pretty piece of coastline but Francis managed to photograph the best of it.

The coast west of Watchet (photo, Francis)

Approaching Blue Anchor the path has suffered severe erosion and we were directed inland on an irritating and time-consuming diversion, but it was better than falling in the water.



The Blue Anchor, Blue Anchor

We reached the road by the 17th century Blue Anchor Inn which gives its name to the village. The rest of the village and the inevitable West Somerset Railway station is a kilometre away along a seaside promenade.....

The promenade, Blue Anchor
(there were fisherman, honest, even if none of them are in this picture!)

.... lined with static holiday caravans on the landward side. Fisherman stood along the prom dangling their lines in the water.

Static caravans, Blue Anchor

At the end of the prom the road turns inland and we carried straight on along the stony beach. We spoke to a fisherman on his way home, pleased with his morning’s catch of three dogfish. Soon after, we paused for coffee.



Coffee on the beach near Blue Anchor

I was happy enough with my photo, but someone (who?) suggested I should use the ‘delay’ function and include myself in the picture. I found a suitable rock, put the camera on top and lay on the shingle to line up the shot,….

Lining up the shot (photo, Alison)

…pressed the shutter, leapt to my feet, like a greyhound from the trap….



Like a greyhound from the trap (photo, Alison)
Not convinced? If greyhounds lived to be over 60 and grew to be 100Kg this is exactly how they would move.

….and took up my place. Alison found this amusing and decided to document the proceedings. Whether my resulting picture was worth the effort is a moot point.

And was it worth it? Probably not

The original plan had been to follow the path where it turned inland, but instead we stayed on the beach for a further kilometre before turning up Sea Lane towards Dunster. This route was a tad longer but avoided walking 600 metres along the A39.

Sea Lane heads straight to Dunster and provides good views of Conygar Tower.



Conygar Tower, Dunster

The ‘Riverside Jubilee Path’ runs round the edge of the village of Marsh Street beside the River Avill and leads to an underpass beneath the A39 from where it was a short step to the High Street of 'medieval' Dunster.

'Jubilee Riverside Path', Marsh Street

Dunster sets out to attract tourists, so the Yarn Market square has been reduced to a quaint carpark. To be fair the village has many attractions, most notably a Norman castle on an outcrop to the east, a still functioning water mill* and Conygar Tower on another outcrop to the west. Conygar means Rabbit Garden, and the tower may look brooding but is merely a folly, built in 1775 by a man with more money than taste.

Yarn Market, Dunster

It was a little early for lunch but it was our only opportunity for refreshment and the afternoon promised to be strenuous, so we made a brief stop.

As we sat in the pub garden the church clock struck one. As one single 'bong' was obviously not enough it launched into a tune that seemed familiar but no one could recognise, complete with the occasional mid-phrase pause that mechanical systems specialise in. It went on for five minutes.

 

Light refreshment to the sound of bells, Dunster

The rise from sea level to Dunster at around 70m had been painless. The afternoon started with a climb onto the ridge behind the village which involved an ascent of over 200m. The path through the woods around Grabbist Hill (again part of the Macmillan Way West) was well-made and for the most part gently graded and we gained height easily. After a couple of steeper sections we emerged onto the ridge and followed it for some three kilometres to Wootton Common.

Climbing Grabbist Hill

To the north we could see Minehead and had a good view of  'Butlin's Minehead', one of the three surviving Butlin's Holiday Camps.  Despite the warm sunshine the sea beyond was hiding in the mist.

Minehead, Butlin's Holiday Camp is on the right with the 'medieval' awnings

Low dry stone boundary walls, often with a hedge laid on top are a feature of the area. One such wall ran beside us on the ridge. Like many others it no longer serves any function and beech trees, once part of the hedge but no longer managed, are reclaiming the wall for nature.

Dry stone wall overwhelmed by a beach tree (photo, Alison)

Wootton Common is a tree covered knoll at the western end of the ridge. It is the highest point and a pleasant enough spot, but hardly my idea of a common.

Approaching Wootton Common (Is Francis photographing Minehead or watching a bird?)

We were now at 295m and planned to finish at the car park on Dunkery Hill, the day’s high point, just below 450m. The fly in the ointment was that between Wootton Common and Dunkery Beacon we had to descend to the village of Wootton Courtney at around 100m.

 

Starting the descent to Wootton Courtenay (it got steeper!)

The path descended steeply through the trees, and then over fields. Alison suggested that treating ourselves to an ice-cream in Wootton Courtenay would be a good plan, and by keeping this in the forefront of my mind I was able to ignore the pain in my knees.

Wootton Courtney basked pleasantly under the unusually warm April sun. The Post Office is now a community run post office and general store and Alison heartily approves of such enterprises, but perhaps not when they as are resolutely closed as this one was. The village boasts 250 residents, a vineyard and a pottery, but no other retail outlet so we went ice-creamless.

Alison looks at the community notice board, Wootton Courtenay
(It probably says when the wretched Post Office is open)

We took the minor road down to the hamlet of Brockwell from where the Macmillan Way West starts the climb up Dunkery Hill.

At the day’s end a climb of over 300m is hard work (and calling it 1000ft sounds even worse) but stings in the tail are a traditional part of these walks. We climbed through the belt of trees quite quickly, but the last two and a half kilometres, on a stony moorland track through gorse and heather was more challenging.

Through the belt of trees, Dunkery Hill (photo, Alison)

I engaged bottom gear and got on with the long slow grind. The others soon left me behind, but Mike dropped back and kept me company (thanks, Mike). Like many such paths there were frequent false summits, one every hundred metres for part of the way. 'What do you think we'll see when we get to that one?' Mike asked at one point. 'A stony path heading upwards through the heather.' I said and, would you believe it, I was right. And again and again and again.

A stony path upwards through the heather to another false summit, Dunkerley Hill 

Looking back was more encouraging, Wootton Courtenay seemed a long way back and a long way down, so we were definitely making progress.

Wootton Courtenay seems a long way back and a long way down

Eventually we emerged onto a flatter area with a higher ridge above. At the top of the ridge we could see sunlight reflecting from the windscreens of parked cars. Briefly it looked like we might have to dip down before the final ascent, but thankfully the path skirted the end of the combe before turning to climb across the face of the ridge at a much gentler gradient than it had appeared from a distance.

It had been hard work, but the top of Dunkery Beacon was now scarcely a kilometre away and a hundred metres above us; it would be easy when we were fresh in the morning.

Returning to Watchet we drove back through Blue Anchor. The same fishermen were lounging against the promenade wall, but the tide was long gone and they were dangling their lines in thick mud. I presume they were just reluctant to go home.

Having investigated Watchet's top two restaurants the day before, we again had to walk only fifty metres, though in a slightly different direction, to restaurant number three. Trip Advisor comments had tended to praise the size of the portions rather than the quality though, to be fair, The Star serves good quality pub food  (with a few pretentious touches) at reasonable prices. Battered cod comes as 'medium' or 'large' and one comment referred to the fish sticking out over the end of the plate. Brian proved this was no idle boast. Mike went for a medium, not because he is less of a trencherman but because (to nobody’s surprise) he wanted to leave space for a dessert.

 

The cider is cloudy, the cod overhangs the plate. Brian looks happy. Star Inn, Watchet

It had been a hard day, 20 km with a fair amount of climbing, but it had also been varied with beach, village and moorland sections, and the sun had continued its unseasonal but very welcome warmth. Another top class day.

*Lynne visited the castle and the mill where she bought some muesli. I had a bowl for breakfast today (16/04/15). It was fine, if rather ordinary.

The South West Odyssey (English Branch)

Introduction

Day 1 to 3 (2008);Cardingmill Valley to Great Whitley

Day 4 to 6 (2009) Great Whitely to Upton-on-Severn via the Malvern Ridge

Day 7 to 9 (2010) Upton-on-Severn to Andoversford
Day 10 (2011) Andoversford to Perrott's Brook

Day 11 (2011) Perrott's Brook to the Round Elm Crossroads

Day 12 (2011) Walking Round Stroud

Day 13 (2012) Stroud to North Nibley

Day 14 (2012) North Nibley to Old Sodbury

Day 15 (2012) Old Sodbury to Swineford

Day 16 (2013) Along the Chew Valley

Day 17 (2013) Over the Mendips to Wells

Day 18 (2013) Wells to Glastonbury 'The Mountain Route'

Day 19 (2014) Glastonbury to Langport

 Day 20 (2014) Along the Parrett and over the Tone

 Day 21 (2014) Into the Quantocks

Day 22 (2015) From the Quantocks to the Sea

Day 23 (2015) Watchet, Dunster and Dunkery Hill

Day 24 (2015) Dunkery Beacon to Withypool
Day 25 (2016) Entering Devon and Leaving Exmoor
Day 26 (2016) Knowstone to Black Dog on the Two Moors Way
Day 27 (2016) Morchard Bishop to Copplestone
Day 28 (2017) Down St Mary to Drewsteignton
Day 29 (2017) Drewsteignton to Bennett's Cross
Day 30 (2017) Bennett's Cross to Lustleigh
Day 31 (2018) Southwest Across the Moor from Lustleigh
Day 32 (2018): South to Ugborough
Day 33 (2018): Ugborough to Ringmore
Day 34 (2019): Around the Avon Estuary to Hope Cove
Day 35 (2019): Hope Cove to Prawle Point
Day 36 (2019): Prawle Point to Start Bay: The End
+
The Last Post

That's All Folks - The Odyssey is over

From the Quantocks to the Sea: Day 22 of the South West Odyssey (English Branch)

The South West Odyssey was a long distance walk.

Five like-minded people started in 2008 from the Cardingmill Valley in Shropshire and by walking three days a year finished at Start Bay on the South Devon Coast in May 2019.

For various reasons this year’s instalment of the Odyssey was moved forward to April. Early spring weather is notoriously unreliable so we were prepared for anything, but hoped it might at least be dry. The forecast, though, suggested much better than that. The morning was cool as we reassembled outside the Sun Inn in West Bagborough, but once the mist burned off we were promised a day of unbroken sunshine.

Lynne, the party’s only non-walking member this year, took the obligatory photograph and then, as we walked west along the road, she drove off to research family history in the Somerset archive.



Ready to go, West Bagborough

West Bagborough (pop 358) sits on the southern slopes of the Quantock Hills. Bagborough probably means Badger’s Hill and as badgers cannot tell left from right it matters little that there is no East Bagborough. The village is best known for the ‘West Bagborough Hoard’, 681 Roman silver coins buried here in the 4th century and unearthed in 2001.

 

The Somerset section of the South West Odyssey

We turned uphill towards the church which is dedicated to St Pancras, not the London railway station but an obscure teenage martyr beheaded in Rome in 304AD.



Pulling out of St Pancras, West Blagborough

From the church our path contoured along the flank of the hill. A kilometre later, a right and left round Rock Farm led to more contouring forty metres higher up until we reached Triscombe.



Contouring from Rock Farm to Triscombe

The hamlet of Triscombe is a kilometre up a narrow road off the A358. It is too small to be expected to have a pub, or if there was one once, it would now be closed, but the immaculately thatched Blue Ball Inn looked both traditional (well as traditional as gastro-pubs go) and prosperous.

The Blue Ball Inn, Triscombe

From Triscombe we headed up Triscombe Combe (so good they named it twice), a stiff climb up a rocky gully. An even steeper climb on a grassy track around Great Hill cut off the corner to the Macmillan Way West which runs along the top of the Quantock’s southernmost ridge. The path is an offshoot of the Macmillan Way, which we encountered near Chedworth in 2011, a 290 mile route from Boston in Lincolnshire to Abbotsbury on the Dorset coast promoted to raise money for the Macmillan Cancer Support charity.

Starting up Triscombe Combe

Skylarks sang above the grassland as we paused for coffee at a point which the map calls 'Fire Beacon' though there was no obvious reason why.

 

Coffee at Fire Beacon, Quantock Hills

We followed the ridge for four kilometres. Sometimes rocky, sometimes grassy it was a lovely path through flowering gorse and heather with fine views over the valley to our left and the rest of the Quantock range to our right.

 

On the Quantocks (picture, Francis)

Brian and Francis identified meadow pipits and stonechats perching on the gorse. They hung around long enough for all to get a good look at them, but the chiffchaffs, though easy to hear are harder to see and only the serious birders got a sight of them (they are not that exciting, anyway).

 

On the Quantocks

We passed some wild ponies. 'Dartmoor ponies are different from Exmoor Ponies,' Brian informed me before asking 'Are Quantock Ponies different again?' I had no idea, which did not prevent me getting into a complicated conversation which led to our questioning whether Exmoor ponies were a 'breed' or a 'sub-species' (and what, if anything, is the difference).

It was not the first conversation I have been involved in on a subject about which my ignorance is total. Subsequent research tells me that Exmoor ponies are a particular breed related to the primitive wild horse. There is little special about Quantock ponies which have been living wild on these hills only since 1956.

Quantock Ponies

Despite the good views, the broad ridge is a little featureless. The map labels several otherwise undistinguished points such as Halsway Post and Bicknoller Post. Reaching them we discovered that the ‘Posts’ actually are posts and what is more they tell you that they are. I find this oddly reassuring.

 

The Halsway Post, proud to be a post

Nearing the end of the ridge we swung left onto a track inappropriately called The Great Road; great in neither width nor length, it is a track not a road.

The (not very) Great Road, Quantock Hills

The Great Road soon came to its end in a car park where a small but undeniably real road toils up to the ridge. Ignoring this road, we turned right, dropping down the edge of the ridge into Vinny Combe, the steep and slippery descent made easier by a set of steps. It was a pleasant walk along the combe bottom until it widened into an ugly disused quarry from which we exited onto the A39 at the village of West Quantoxhead (there is an East Quantoxhead a few kilometres away, but why both have an 'x' when the hills are spelt with a 'ck' is a mystery).

Alison arrives in Vinny Combe

The village is a cluster of prosperous looking houses off the main road, while St Audrie’s church stands across the road. It was built in 1858 on the site of its dilapidated medieval precursor. Opposite the church is the modern looking Windmill Inn, which provided us with a couple of satisfying pints of lunch.

 

St Audrie's, West Quantoxhead (picture, Francis)

After walking northwest all morning we turned southwest through the village and continued down Luckes Lane, from where well-signed field paths took us down to Williton (yes that is its name - puerile jokes are available and you can make them yourself).

Field paths to Williton

We crossed the West Somerset Railway at Williton Station. With over 20 miles of track between Bishops Lydeard and Minehead, the West Somerset is Britain’s longest standard gauge heritage railway. The line operates from March to October running several trains daily, mostly operated by steam. It is largely single track but the station provides one of the passing places and we were lucky to see two steam trains.

West Somerset Railway steam train leaves Williton Station

A scruffy track around the Williton industrial estate was enlivened only by a few chickens marshalled by this self-important character. More field paths took us to Watchet, which sounds like another made up name though the town is much better known (though only slightly bigger) than Williton.

I'm beautiful, and I know it

Less than a kilometre of field paths separate Williton from Watchet. A perfectly good farm track seemed to run just the other side of the hedge from the path so we set off up it. It quickly became clear that it was not a perfectly good track, but a linear quagmire. We abandoned track for field only for the path to end and decant us back into the clarts.


Alison picks her way carefully round the mud, Watchet

We walked Watchet from south to north, passing the West Somerset Railway station and reaching the harbour with its statute of the Ancient Mariner by Scottish sculptor Alan Herriot. Samuel Taylor Coleridge lived at nearby Nether Stowey for several years and the setting off point for the Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner was inspired by Watchet harbour. I can't say it looks very inspiring with the tide out but it did make me think…

‘Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs

Upon the slimy sea.’

The Ancient Mariner, Watchet
'Instead of the cross, the albatross
About my neck was hung.'

Our B&B was beside the harbour - and for Lynne and me there was a sea view, though limited by the sea wall which is high, concrete and ugly but sometimes very necessary. It had been an excellent day’s walk under blue skies in a temperature that would have graced early June never mind April. The Quantocks in the morning had been great walking country, and if the afternoon was less impressive, the steam trains made up for it.

With a harbour and a muddy shoreline but no beach Watchet, unlike nearby Minehead, is hardly a holiday resort, indeed walking through the town’s landward side, it had looked a little depressed. Around the harbour, though, all we needed was close at hand. A fifty metre stroll took us to the Pebbles Tavern, which serves no food but is eccentrically rated by Trip Advisor as the town's best restaurant. Its attraction lies in its range of gravity served local beers, and an impressive selection of Somerset ciders. Somebody had to check them out and Brian nobly volunteered to sacrifice himself. I don't mind cider being cloudy, but some of the rougher, and therefore more highly prized specimens seem to me to have a flavour of rotten wood. Still at 6+% alcohol, Brian thrived on them.

Indian restaurant and our B&B, Watchet

From the Pebbles we made our way to Trip Advisor’s second ranked restaurant, which does sell food, in fact it was the Spice Merchant Indian restaurant nextdoor to our B&B. So that was it, a walk in the sunshine, a couple of pints and a curry - good day!

The South West Odyssey (English Branch)

Introduction

Day 1 to 3 (2008);Cardingmill Valley to Great Whitley

Day 4 to 6 (2009) Great Whitely to Upton-on-Severn via the Malvern Ridge

Day 7 to 9 (2010) Upton-on-Severn to Andoversford
Day 10 (2011) Andoversford to Perrott's Brook

Day 11 (2011) Perrott's Brook to the Round Elm Crossroads

Day 12 (2011) Walking Round Stroud

Day 13 (2012) Stroud to North Nibley

Day 14 (2012) North Nibley to Old Sodbury

Day 15 (2012) Old Sodbury to Swineford

Day 16 (2013) Along the Chew Valley

Day 17 (2013) Over the Mendips to Wells

Day 18 (2013) Wells to Glastonbury 'The Mountain Route'

Day 19 (2014) Glastonbury to Langport

 Day 20 (2014) Along the Parrett and over the Tone

 Day 21 (2014) Into the Quantocks

Day 22 (2015) From the Quantocks to the Sea

Day 23 (2015) Watchet, Dunster and Dunkery Hill

Day 24 (2015) Dunkery Beacon to Withypool
Day 25 (2016) Entering Devon and Leaving Exmoor
Day 26 (2016) Knowstone to Black Dog on the Two Moors Way
Day 27 (2016) Morchard Bishop to Copplestone
Day 28 (2017) Down St Mary to Drewsteignton
Day 29 (2017) Drewsteignton to Bennett's Cross
Day 30 (2017) Bennett's Cross to Lustleigh
Day 31 (2018) Southwest Across the Moor from Lustleigh
Day 32 (2018): South to Ugborough
Day 33 (2018): Ugborough to Ringmore
Day 34 (2019): Around the Avon Estuary to Hope Cove
Day 35 (2019): Hope Cove to Prawle Point
Day 36 (2019): Prawle Point to Start Bay: The End
+
The Last Post

That's All Folks - The Odyssey is over

The Story of the Emerald Buddha

The Many Connections of a 50cm Tall Jade Buddha

Attempting to talk of the joys of mathematics usually produces quizzical, if not downright unbelieving, looks. During thirty-six years teaching the subject I never stopped learning and I always took delight in the surprising links between apparently separate ideas - there's an example at the end.

The joys of travel are more widely – and perhaps more easily - appreciated. Occasionally we find the same name or idea popping up in different and sometimes widely separated locations and those unexpected links give me the same pleasure as their mathematical analogues.

Introducing the Emerald Buddha

This post is about the Emerald Buddha, a fifty centimetre tall piece of carved jade ('Emerald' referring to its colour rather than the gemstone) that we encountered for the first, but by no mean last, time in Bangkok in 2012.

The Emerald Buddha, Wat Phra Kaew. Bangkok

The Story Starts in Legend

Bangkok, though, is the end of a story that starts in legend in 43BCE when the Buddhist sage Nagasena carved the image in the northern Indian city now called Patna. There is a problem, though: modern scholarship dates the writings that concern Nagasena to a hundred years earlier and none mention his skills as a sculptor.

The Emerald Buddh Goes to Sri Lanka

The statue remained in Patna for 300 years until civil war necessitated moving it to a place of safety and the Buddha was taken to Sri Lanka. Moving important objects a short distance for safekeeping occurs regularly throughout history (see the Book of Kells for one example), but Sri Lanka is a very long way, and the Sri Lankans, who are happy to claim any Buddha connections they can, fail to mention this one.

The Thuperama Dagoba, Anuradhapura, Sri Lanka, the Buddha's right collarbone is believed to be beneath this dagoba

The Emerald Buddha is Sent to Burma but ends up in Cambodia

In 457 the Burmese King Anuruth requested the Emerald Buddha to enhance the development of Buddhism in his country. There are many stories of bits of the Buddha - hairs of which there were, presumably, plenty and odd body parts that survived his apparently inefficient cremation - being sent around Asia for this purpose, but giving away the Emerald Buddha sounds like uncommon generosity. According to legend, the vessel carrying the Buddha to Burma was shipwrecked on the coast of Cambodia and it fell into the hands of the Khmer emperors.

The great days of the Khmer empire ended in 1432 when Angkor Wat was sacked by the Thais. The Emerald Buddha was carried off and after visiting several locations settled in Chiang Rai in the northern Thai kingdom of Lanna.

Angkor Wat, the great temple of the Khmer Empire, Cambodia,

Wat Preah Keo, (The Silver Pagoda) adjacent to Phnom Penh’s Royal Palace contains a 17th century replica known as the 'Emerald Buddha of Cambodia'. Although, according to the legend, the Emerald Buddha was in Cambodian keeping for almost a thousand years, it was only ever theirs because they found it. Cambodia in general - and Phnom Penh in particular - have little claim on the original but they seem happy enough with their replica and an almost life size solid gold Buddha figure made locally in 1908.

Wat Preah Keo, The Silver Pagoda, Phnom Penh
I failed to take a satisfactory picture of the Silver Pagoda so I have borrowed this one from Wikipedia

To Thailand and Legend Gives Way to History

Another legend states it became lost and was found in Chiang Rai in 1434 inside a stupa that was split by a lightning strike. Whatever the truth of the lightning story, the first incontrovertible evidence for the Emerald Buddha’s existence is in Chiang Rai in 1434.

Chiang Rai was a major city in Lanna, but the capital was the confusingly similarly named Chiang Mai, 150km away. Objects like the Emerald Buddha gravitate towards capital cities, and it reached Chiang Mai in 1468.

South East Asia

To Laos, First in Luang Prabang, then Vientiane

In 1546 the throne of Lanna became vacant and Prince Setthathirath, heir to the Lao kingdom of Lang Xan, was invited to sit on it. In due course he became king of Lang Xan as well and in 1552 he moved the Emerald Buddha to the Lang Xan capital of Luang Prabang, where he built Wat Xieng Thong.

Wat Xieng Thong, Luang Prabang

In 1564 he moved his capital to Vientiane, taking the Emerald Buddha with him. We first encountered Setthathirath dressed like a big boy scout, sitting in front of That Luang in the centre of Vientiane.

King Setthathirath in front of That Luang, Vientiane

He built his personal temple, Wat Pha Keo, to house the Buddha

Wat Pha Keo, Vientiane

In time Vientiane became a vassal state of Siam. In 1779, the Thai General Chao Phraya Chakri put down an insurrection and carried off the Emerald Buddha. General Chakri later became King Rama I of Thailand (the current king is the ninth of the Chakri dynasty [Update: Rama IX died in 2016, the current king is the tenth of that dynasty]) and in 1784 installed the Emerald Buddha in Wat Phra Kaew in Bangkok where it remains to this day.

Wat Phra Kaew, Bangkok

Anyone (or at least anyone who can afford the entrance ticket) may go and see the image. They must behave respectfully and sit quietly on the floor, remembering to arrange themselves in the eastern fashion with legs folded backwards. To point your feet towards the Buddha is extremely ill-mannered and will quickly earn an unobtrusive but nonetheless stern rebuke from one of the stewards.

And so the Emerald Buddha is in Bangkok, which is where, mathematics apart, this post started. The Thais consider it the palladium of their country and it is touched only by the monarch when he changes the Buddha's vestments three times a year. The sage Nagasena, who (allegedly) made, it (allegedly) said the Emerald Buddha would bring "prosperity and pre-eminence to each country in which it resides." Laos would like it; Wat Pha Keo, destroyed in 1828 has been rebuilt and awaits its return, but is doomed to remain a museum that is missing its main exhibit. The Cambodian are sentimentally attached to it but are content with their replica, while the Sri Lankan are hardly aware they ever had it – if they ever did.

Finishing where we started with the, Emerald Buddha in Bangkok
This is the uncropped version of the photograph at the start, taken, of course, from outside the hall of the Emerald Buddha. Taking photographs inside would bring down the wrath of god - or at least of the stewards

Yet to be established is where in the long journey from 50BCE Patna to modern Bangkok does legend turn into fact. Art historians say the carving style is that of 14th century Lanna, suggesting India, Sri Lanka and the Cambodian shipwreck are firmly in the realms of myth and legend. Whether it was ever in Cambodia is problematic and it may well have originated in Chiang Rai, though the lightning strike story is unlikely. It was, it seems, made in northern Thailand and now resides in southern Thailand, and that, for the foreseeable future, is where it will stay.

And to Finish a Little Mathematics

Everybody knows that for all circles, the circumference divided by the diameter gives a constant known as π.

π = 3.142.... the dots indicating that the numbers go on, never stopping and never falling into a pattern.

Anybody who took (and remembers) A level maths, should also know that if you work out the little sum below and then multiply the answer by 4, then the more terms you use the closer the answer gets to π. If you take an infinite number of terms, then it is exactly π.

1-1/3 + 1/5 - 1/7 + 1/9 -1/11 + ....

Of course, calculating an infinite number of terms is impossible, but you can get π to as many decimal places as you want by taking enough terms.

The proof is well within the scope of year 12/13 mathematics, but the proof (which does not involve radii or circumferences) does not explain why it is true. What is the connection between this simple sequence of fractions and a circle? I do not know, I not sure anyone knows, but the connection exists.

There are actually a number of infinite series which converge to π. This one, known as the Gregory-Leibniz series, is the simplest. Should you pick up a calculator to check I am telling the truth, be warned that it converges painfully slowly; after 5 terms you get to 3.396…. , others can be much quicker.