Jo Lennan.

As hikers go, I am more your fairweather sort. I like to lounge and idle. Give me a pack and I’ll stuff it with books, venison pie and a bottle of Marlborough port. I prefer a certain style of hike: a run of days, a couple of friends and a stunner of a track. The point is the simplicity of walking, the single path when you’ve set off. It’s become a summer fixture, a way to mark the season and contemplate existence. In my case this time round, it also comes ahead of a milestone birthday, the kind that looms like an accusation, like I ought to have done more with my dilettante years to date.

Which brings us to the Milford Track in New Zealand’s Fiordland. Or, more precisely, a boat is what brings us to it, a tidy little ferry whose barometer sits on ‘Fair’. This atmospheric indication bodes well for what’s ahead, a 54 kilometre trail through glacier-carved valleys to the coast of the Tasman Sea. Though it is sometimes described as the finest walk in the world, this means the scenery, not the weather, because Fiordland is notoriously rainy…


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by TOAST ( 30.09.12 )

If you were tempted or intrigued by our post last October about Joanna Osborne and Sally Muir’s instructive book on how to knit yourself a pet dog, Best In Show, but found yourself daunted by the level of knitting skill required, then you’re in luck… On Friday 12th and Saturday 13th October Joanna and Sally will be holding a two-day dog-knitting workshop at the V&A to celebrate the launch of a third book in their Best In Show series. Bring along a photograph of your own dog and they will instruct and guide you in how to replicate him or her in miniature. They’re both brilliant company too!

Find out more about the workshop on the V&A website here. Learn more about Joanna and Sally here.


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by TOAST ( 28.09.12 )

If Not Now, When #1 by Ori Gersht. 2009. Lambda print on aluminium, 100 x 240 cm, edition of 6.

From the exhibition Moments of Reprieve: Representing Loss in Contemporary Photography at Paradise Row, London until… tomorrow (22nd September ’12)!  Move quickly to catch it…


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by TOAST ( 21.09.12 )

Jonny Bealby

The Georgians have a saying… at the beginning of time when God was giving out land to the various nations of the world the Georgians were too busy drinking to attend. Arriving late, God was angry and asked why they had dishonoured Him so; there was now no land left to give them.

But the Georgians replied that far from dishonouring God they were late simply because they were drinking to His health and this had taken quite some time. God was pleased by their answer and so gave them the tiny bit of land he had been keeping for himself…


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by TOAST ( 21.09.12 )

A short film featuring Toast’s autumn/winter 2012 menswear. We were in St Ives, Cornwall – down on the misty coast and then in the light-filled Porthmeor Studios – where Francis Bacon, Ben Nicholson, Patrick Heron, among many others, once worked.


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by TOAST ( 21.09.12 )

Shivu IV (Great First Bend), Yunnan Province by Nadav Kander, from his beautiful and wondrous series ‘Yangtze, The Long River’.

www.nadavkander.com


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by TOAST ( 14.09.12 )

In the first of three dispatches from China, Sara Wheeler treks from Yunnan to Sichuan.

The shadow of a black-necked crane crossed the fretted light beneath the arms of a Himalayan yew. That curious evanescence of air particular to the Tibetan plateau sparkled through a quiet Chinese dawn, and my horseman yelled out the old song of the mountains.

I was trekking from Yunnan into Sichuan, two provinces now officially Chinese but once integral parts of the kingdom of Tibet. On the western flanks, both abut the foothills of the Himalaya, and the tang of snow was never far off, even when the sun shone. This corner of China – not in itself small, but dwarfed by the magnitude of the nation – characterises a facet of the Middle Kingdom forgotten in the dizzying rush to modernise…


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by TOAST ( 14.09.12 )

James Seaton.

A flight to Baku, nothing seen but its scatter of lights as we came in low over the Caspian. On again to Tbilisi, arriving late and tired. 2am to bed, a room overlooking the mediaeval city wall striding a hill, two large and handsome Georgian churches lit up beside it.

Up at five and away with the dawn into a wide, rolling country. Two hours to a handsome house – high ceilings, polished parquet, shafts of sunlight – where, at a long table on a glazed veranda, breakfast of fruit, yogurt, eggs, local bread awaited us. Windows open to the breeze, lace curtains shading the glare of the warming day, a genial gang – a dacha scene from Tolstoy.

Two more hours east, the mountains on the horizon growing. Past the great 11th century Alaverdi Monastery – and then the road getting smaller, smaller – and finally turning to a rough – very rough – track. No preamble of foothills. Into the mountains.

The western slopes: heavily forested and very, very steep, great drifts of snow lying in hollows, rushing water, pine scent, sparkling air. Zagging up and up and up and so grateful for the sure-footedness of the cars, skittering cms from drops of… thousands of feet. Past the tree line and still only half way up. Light like a blade. Four hours and never more than 10mph – and at last the pass, 11,000 feet into the sky. Looking down on a golden eagle, patrolling the wind.

Clear sight to the high, snow-covered Caucasian watershed a dozen miles east – Chechnya beyond. Then across the pass with the wind and down into high meadows, a different country. Following a young river into its gorge. Pines, steep grass, crags, alpine. More hours, the going less alarming now – and then, ten hours from Tbilisi, six from the lowlands, the gorge opens…

…wondrously, into a wide, open bowl, a hidden verdant land held in the palm of the great mountains. Open grassland, stands of trees, hay meadows, occasional crop strips, horses, a galloping horseman – and here and there hamlets of wooden houses poised high up on the tall surrounding shoulders.

We were in Tusheti.


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by TOAST ( 10.09.12 )
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